#what are you doing? being the bait: pt.2

[jupiterthedoom]

theo raeken — son of athena —🔬♟️

[hyuckiefluff]

the wicked game of love pt.2 | lee haechan

pairing: slytherin! haechan x ravenclaw! fem. reader genre: rivals to lovers, smut, angst wc: 21k+ (full fic) summary: Lee Haechan was a pure-blood heir raised to hate everything you are. You, a half-blood girl who knew better than to let your guard down around someone like him. You were never supposed to want each other—until one disastrous kiss shatters everything you’ve worked to protect. cw: explicit sexual content, jealousy themes, toxic family dynamics, blood status discrimination, public sex, use of magic during sex, oral (m. receiving), marking, unprotected sex, mean lee haechan, miscommunication, emotional hurt/comfort, mutual pining, secret/forbidden relationship. a/n: soo i did pass out from exhaustion last night hence why this is being posted later than intended lol. while writing this fic, i had the realization that magic can make the smut much more interesting and i explored that here so enjoy akskdkd pls let me know what you guys think<33

READ PART 1 HERE

"You are the knife I turn inside myself; that is love. That, my dear, is love." — Franz Kafka, Letters to Milena

Your mother never summoned you to her office.

Conversations, when they happened, took place over tea in the sunroom, or in passing as she adjusted her hair by the mirror. But this time, a folded note slid under your bedroom door. Her unmistakable script read 'We need to talk. Office. Now.' The familiar knot in your stomach that came with anything regarding her tightened.

She was standing behind her polished desk when you walked in, every line of her posture sharp with restrained tension.

“I’ve just received the updated intern roster,” she said coolly. “Care to explain why you’re working with Lee Haechan?”

Your lips parted, caught completely off guard. “It’s not like I requested him. We were assigned.”

“I can fix that.”

“What?”

“There’s an opening in the Magical Transportation Division,” she replied, crisp as frost. “I’ll make the arrangements by tomorrow.”

“No.”

The word slipped out before you could temper it.

Her brow arched. “Excuse me?”

“You’re the one who forced me into this internship, mother. You wanted me to be useful, and now that I’m doing it, there's suddenly a problem?”

“I obviously didn’t expect them to pair you with that boy.” she scoffed.

You stepped forward. “I’ve already started the project and we’re making great progress. I’m not switching just because you don’t like that boy”

There was a second of silence. Her face didn’t change, but you felt the temperature in the room drop. It was rare for you to contradict your mother’s orders. The few times you did, she made sure you regretted it in some way.

“His father nearly cost me the election,” she said at last, her tone clipped, as if she was speaking to a political rival and not her daughter. “That family doesn’t make allies with people like us. You think working beside him is safe? Smart?”

“I don’t know,” you said, teeth clenched. “But it’s my decision.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Just be careful, Y/N. That boy was raised to play games at the highest level. Don’t think for a second you’re immune.”

You didn’t answer. You just turned and left, fists clenched so tight your nails bit into your palms. For the first time in your life, you walked away from your mother and her commands.

On the other side of the city, Haechan stood just inside the heavy oak door of his father’s study. Mr. Lee reclined in a leather armchair, firewhiskey swirling in his glass.

“You’re progressing nicely,” his father began, voice smooth and cool. “That Portkey proposal is attracting the right sort of attention.”

Haechan remained silent. Compliments from his father were never just compliments—they were lures, baited with hidden intent. Tonight, something about it set his nerves on edge.

“I hear you’ve been partnered with the Minister’s daughter.”

“Yes, father.” 

“That’s convenient. Even I must admit, she’s grown into quite the pretty little distraction.”

Haechan’s jaw tightened instantly, but he held still.

“Though, I suppose one can’t expect too much refinement from a girl of her… blood status,” his father continued with a faint curl of disdain at his mouth. “Still, sometimes mixing blood has its uses… if not for lineage, then at least for entertainment.”

A flare of anger shot through Haechan’s chest and he bit the inside of his cheeks to keep him from cursing at his own father but he still couldn’t stop a reply from spilling out. 

“Her blood status isn’t relevant.” 

His father gave a cold chuckle, eyeing him knowingly. “Of course it’s relevant. She’s half-Muggle, raised without any real sense of tradition. It shows. Though perhaps that’s part of her charm, there’s something compelling about a girl who doesn’t fully realize her own value yet. Makes her easier to handle.”

“She’s not a prop, father,” Haechan bit out sharply, his voice harder than intended. 

His father’s expression darkened instantly. Haechan exhaled slowly, trying to regain composure. “I meant she’s useful… professionally.”

Mr. Lee set his glass down with a soft click. “Spare me the schoolboy morals. Everything is leverage, even you.  The sooner you accept that, son, the smoother this will go.”

Haechan always felt like cold water was being poured down his spine whenever he talked to his father. Perhaps he should be used to dealing with the man by now, after all, he’d been groomed for these games since childhood.

But tonight, his venom felt stronger than usual.

“Understood,” Haechan said finally, voice flat but vibrating with barely checked anger.

His father gave a slow, satisfied nod and reached again for his brandy. That was his way of dismissing him without a word. Haechan’s fingers curled at his sides, but he turned and left before the mask cracked.

He didn’t go to his room. He went straight to the Floo. Because if his father saw you as a pawn, Haechan needed to remind himself you weren’t—and, if he was being honest, remind himself he wasn’t either. Tonight, he needed one choice that belonged to him alone.

He apparated silently in the shadowy alley across from your home, his robes instantly dampening in the evening drizzle. He drew his wand, scanning the formidable iron gates and the darkened windows of the imposing Ministerial residence.

He knew the security enchantments protecting your house weren't a joke. They were designed to deter intruders, and specifically enemies of the Minister, so they recognized magical signatures instantly. One wrong move and alarms would blaze, calling Ministry Aurors to appear.

But Haechan hadn’t come this far to turn back.

So he approached the gate carefully. He’d studied enough ward breaking magic to know that subtlety mattered far more than power. He drew a quiet breath and raised his wand, whispering the careful countercharms he'd memorized from watching his father’s dealings.

One by one, the protective enchantments yielded reluctantly under his gentle pressure. He felt sweat trickle down his neck despite the chill night air. His pulse hammered as the wards strained, uncertain, hovering on the brink of recognition.

Then the charms faded back into place, accepting his magic as familiar enough. He stepped carefully through, heart slamming wildly against his ribs.

He moved soundlessly across the manicured lawn toward the side of the house. Climbing ivy clung stubbornly to the aged stone of the manor, it felt slick under his fingertips as he located your window. There was a light inside from a small lamp, which told him you were awake. He took a quick, anxious breath before reaching up and knocking lightly against the glass.

You flinched, wand whipping toward the window reflexively before your eyes widened in shock at the sight of Haechan standing on the narrow ledge beneath your window. You hurriedly unlatched the lock and slid the window open just enough to whisper furiously, “What the hell are you doing?”

“Let me in,” he breathed, desperate and shaking slightly from adrenaline. “Please.”

You hesitated only a fraction of a second before pulling the window fully open, helping him awkwardly inside. He tumbled through onto your bedroom floor, landing softly in a half-crouch, rainwater dripping from his robes onto your plush rug.

“Are you insane?!” You hissed, closing the window quickly. “The wards—”

“I know, I almost didn’t get through.”

“Why would you risk it?” you demanded, though your voice softened as you took in his shivering state. “My mother will have your head if she finds out you’re here.”

“I had to see you,” he admitted roughly. “I didn’t know where else to go. Everything’s so damn complicated… and the only one I trust right now is you.”

“I assume you also had a talk with your father.”

You reached toward him instinctively, fingers gently brushing the damp fabric of his robes.

“Yeah.” He sighed. The tiredness in his eyes and the tension in his jaw was enough to tell you that the conversation went as well as the one with your mother did.

“Let’s get you dry,” you said after a moment.

This wasn’t wise. It was barely safe. If your mother found out, Haechan would be in the kind of trouble you didn’t even want to imagine. But the quiet desperation in his eyes made it hard to think about any of that.

You waved your wand, murmuring a silent warming charm. Dry air spiraled from the tip making him shiver, eyes shuttering as the spell did its job.

“Thank you,” he murmurs.

“Your clothes are still a bit wet,” you scolded softly then faltered when you realized what you just implied.

He gave you a lopsided smile. “Permission to remove them?”

“Only because you’ll ruin my rug.” you looked away shyly.

He shrugged off the heavy coat and you levitated it away into the coat hanger in the corner.  When he started on the pants, your fingers moved first, unfastening the buttons faster than his shaky fingers. They fell down his legs, leaving him only in his boxers and a thin shirt that clung damply to his torso.

“Arms up,” you muttered. He obeyed without comment. 

You peeled the wet fabric over his head and your gaze stuck to the skin exposed—tanned, goose-pimpled, marked by a trail of tiny moles from collarbone to ribs.

“Enjoying the view?” he murmured, fond teasing curling the words.

“Just checking,” you said loftily. “There were rumors around Hogwarts that you had a nice form.”

Slowly, you pressed your mouth to a mole below his collarbone causing him to inhale sharply.

“And what was that for?” he whispered, amused.

“Experimental verification.”

You kissed the next mole, then the next, mapping them with your lips. He stood still, breath catching each time your mouth grazed his warm skin. By the time you kissed the last mole, over his throat, his hands moved to your hips.

He bowed his head, letting his forehead rest against yours. “I’m sorry for showing up out of nowhere. I just—-” He broke off, searching for something he couldn’t quite say. Whatever his father told him tonight, he locked it behind his teeth.

“You can stay the night if you want,” you whisper.

“Yes,” he breathed. “Please.”

You lead him toward the bed, shimmied out of your sweats and tugged him under the blanket. He curled behind you, one arm around your waist, fingertips tracing patterns over the slope of your ribs until your breathing slowed.

“Tomorrow’s going to be complicated,” you mumbled drowsily.

“It always is.” He brushed a kiss behind your ear. 

Morning sunlight spilled across the duvet in stripes, warming your shoulders a moment before it reached the long line of Haechan’s body curled behind you. His palm rested open on your stomach, thumb stroking lazy half-circles under your night shirt. 

“Good morning to you too,” you muttered. 

“Good morning, princess,” he murmured, voice still rough with sleep. His lips found the shell of your ear. “Any chance Ms. Thatch will accept a late proposal?”

You smiled into the pillow. “Only if you can convincingly argue we were under hard circumstances.”

“Hard?” He noses aside your hair, pressing a soft kiss to the curve of your neck. “Well, something’s definitely hard.”

You didn’t realize what he was talking about until he shifted his hips closer and you felt it hard against the small of your back.

“Are you serious?” you said, turning your head. 

“It’s not exactly something I schedule.” He exhaled a slow laugh.

“And here I thought you came over just for some emotional stimulation.” 

He leaned down and kissed you slowly, morning-sweet, but at the same time his hips nudged you for more.

“I'll stimulate whatever you need, princess”

You choked on a laugh until his hand slid further under the hem of your shirt.

“Is this your idea of a morning greeting?” you asked breathlessly.

He leaned in, mouth brushing your collarbone. “This is my idea of relieving some tension.”

Your thighs parted to cradle his hips instinctively when he moved on top of you. His mouth traced the line of your collarbone, then lower, until he was kissing your perked nipples over the shirt. Your fingers slipped under the waistband of his boxers and squeezed boldly enough to make him curse softly into your chest. 

He palmed your other breast in response, thumb flicking your nipple until your back arched. You bit your lip to muffle a whimper, then pushed him onto his back with delicious authority.

“My turn.”

You shimmied down, lips dragging across the constellation of moles scattered across his chest and stomach. Every kiss made him sigh softly. You pulled his boxers down fully and when your mouth closed over his cock, he choked on a breath.

Haechan speared shaky fingers through your hair, muttering every filthy compliment he could remember. You licked the underside of his cock, then took him in almost fully, resisting the urge to gag when he hit the back of your throat.

You sucked as far as you could and stroked the rest of with your hand. Haechan’s head fell back, mouth open in delight. “Fuck… ah—fuck that feels… so good—“

His hips started shaking under you but suddenly he stopped you and flipped you over. “Need to be inside you.”

Heat flared when he settled between your thighs, the hard length of his cock pressing where you were already aching. One hand cradled the back of your knee, guiding your leg around his waist and the other cupped your cheek as he kissed you again.

“Tell me how you like it,” he whispered, rocking just enough to tease. You arched, heels digging into the backs of his thighs.

“Like this,” you answered, voice gone rough. “Just—please—”

He slid in, filling you in one smooth glide that knocked the breath from your lungs. A broken sound escaped his throat. “Fuck, baby—” The rest dissolved into a soft groan as he drew back and thrusted again, deeper.

Your hands roamed his back, nails grazing lightly down muscle and spine. Each slow stroke dragging delicious friction inside you.

“Eyes on me,” he whispered, pupils blown wide. Your eyes fluttered open and the contact stole your breath more than the thrust that followed. 

Pleasure starts to flow through you quickly when he slid his hand and started stroking your clit, your body tightening around him in response. He felt it and swore softly causing his pace to falter.

“Don’t stop,” you warned, looping both arms around his neck and pulling him close.

He kissed you hard, hips snapping a little faster, rhythm still controlled but hungrier now. Every glide set off sparks, every slide of his thumb over your clit pushing you closer.

“Hae…I—I’m gonna cum,” you gasped against his mouth.

“Me too, fuuck” he groaned.

He angled his hips deeper, and the change nearly sent you tumbling. Your walls clenched, pleasure hitting in a blinding rush. Your cry is muffled against his shoulder.

He followed with a hoarse groan, hips stuttering as the orgasm crashed through him. He kept moving in soft thrusts until the tremors faded and your limbs loosened.

He collapsed to his elbows, weight braced so he doesn’t crush you, brushing damp hair from your forehead with trembling fingers. 

“That,” you managed breathlessly, “was incredible.”

He laughed and kissed the tip of your nose. “I live to please.”

The mantle clock in the sitting room chimed eight-thirty. And you remembered the briefing you had in thirty minutes. You groaned while he grinned, entirely unrepentant.

“We can still make it,” he said, stroking a thumb along your cheek. “Five minutes to shower, two to dress. That leaves twenty three for breakfast and another round.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you sighed, but the fondness in your voice undermined any scold. You press a final kiss to the mole on his neck, then roll out of bed, summoning clean clothes with a flick of your wand.

“Shower,” you declare.

He pushed up, stretching like a satisfied cat. “Lead the way, Ravenclaw.”

Haechan left your house first so as to not draw any suspicion in case your mother or any of her workers were around. You arrived at the Ministry with an armful of research notes, ready for the briefing. Haechan said he’d wait for you outside the lifts so you expected to see him leaning against the wall and making some sarcastic remark about your supposed “lateness”.

But he was nowhere to be seen.

Five minutes turned into ten, and frustration melted into annoyance as you glanced around. Eventually, irritation won out and you began to make your way to the briefing room.

It wasn't until you heard the soft click of footsteps behind you that you looked over your shoulder, and there was Haechan.

But he wasn’t alone.

Beside him was a girl you vaguely recognized from Ministry galas. She had impossibly long legs, hair so pale it seemed woven from moonlight, and appraising green eyes. The kind of ethereal beauty that belonged to Veela rather than witches, an almost unsettling allure that made you instinctively stand straighter.

"Sorry…" Haechan muttered as they approached. His eyes carefully avoided yours. "Lost track of time."

The girl turned smoothly toward you, offering a delicate hand adorned with expensive rings. "Cassia Selwyn. I'm an old friend of Haechan’s."

You forced your expression into neutral politeness, shaking her hand briefly. "Y/N. Nice to meet you."

Cassia tilted her head, silver-blonde hair slipping gracefully over one slender shoulder as her eyes slowly took you in. "Haechan’s told me all about you and your…little project. Sounds charming."

Your spine stiffened at her patronizing tone. "Yeah, well, it's important work."

"Oh, I’m sure," she purred indulgently, already dismissing you as she turned back toward Haechan. Her slender fingers reached out to adjust the knot of his tie, a gesture so familiar and easy it made your stomach twist. "Don't forget dinner tomorrow. My father's expecting you."

"I haven't agreed—"

Cassia leaned in, her voice dropping into a coaxing tone. "You know how disappointed he'll be if you don't show. Your father as well.”

Haechan’s jaw twitched—a subtle tell of annoyance you’d learned to read over the years—but he remained silent, clearly unwilling to argue further in front of you.

"I'll see you soon, Hae," she murmured sweetly, eyes sliding back to you briefly with faint amusement. And then she swept away, leaving a trace of expensive perfume in the air.

You stared after her for a tense second. "Cassia Selwyn," you said eventually. "That name sounds familiar."

Haechan let out a short breath, eyes glued stubbornly to your notes on the table. "Her father's head of International Magical Cooperation. He's also my father's closest political ally. She’s… uhm, she’s also interning here at a different department.”

Recognition clicked as soon as he said that. You remember reading about the Selwyns in Hogwarts' registry of notable pureblood families. Their ancient lineage was so prestigious, the closest thing you could relate it to was the British Royal family. Cassia’s effortless elegance suddenly made a lot of sense.

"Ah." Your voice felt strained, even to your own ears. "Well. Now I see why you needed to rearrange your whole schedule around her."

Haechan sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's complicated."

"I bet," you muttered, jealousy slipping out despite your best efforts. "Maybe next time, give me some notice before you skip out on research to handle your personal affairs."

His eyes flashed defensively but he remained silent. Somehow, the quiet felt worse than any argument. At least when you were fighting, you knew where you stood. Now you felt lost in uneasy silence.

Before you could fully descend into that bitter feeling, a flying memo fluttered overhead, dropping onto your outstretched hand. You read it aloud, quite grateful for any distraction from the tense atmosphere.

"Ms. Thatch wants to see us before the briefing," you announced stiffly, walking away without waiting for him.

"Oh, there you are!" Ms. Thatch beamed as you entered. Her eyes flickered briefly behind you. "Where's Haechan?"

"Right here," he said flatly, stepping in a second behind you.

"Good!” she chirped, either not noticing or purposely ignoring your frosty demeanors. "You’ve both heard about our summer charity event, I presume. Since your project is the most promising out of all the interns, I have volunteered you to present at the event. It’s the perfect opportunity for you to find sponsors. The Minister herself will be there, as will your father, Mr. Lee."

Your eyes darted toward Haechan, who was stubbornly silent, making no effort to voice his usual objections.

"Actually, Ms. Thatch," you said quickly, "we haven't fully finalized the proposal yet. It might be too early to—"

"We'll do it." Haechan interrupted calmly, catching you completely off-guard.

Your gaze snapped toward him, incredulous and suddenly furious. He carefully avoided meeting your eyes.

"Wonderful!" Ms. Thatch clapped her hands enthusiastically, lipstick-stained teeth on full display. "I'm certain you'll manage beautifully! As I said, you're the strongest interns we've had this term. I’m not just saying that because of your parents."

A stiff smile was all you could muster in response, leaving the office after she finished explaining all the details.

You were hot on Haechan’s heels, ready to confront him about exactly what the hell he thought he was doing. But before you could even open your mouth, a deep, familiar voice stopped you cold.

"Son," Mr. Lee’s smooth, cold tone sliced through the air behind you.

You both turned slowly. Haechan’s expression hardened instantly, tension sharpening the lines of his face.

His father’s eyes flickered briefly over you, before settling firmly on his son again. "A word. Alone."

Haechan glanced at you for a second before nodding stiffly at his father and walking away, leaving you alone in the echoing corridor, with nothing but dread twisting tight in your stomach.

The next morning you found a fresh stack of parchment waiting on your usual table in the Archives with Haechan’s handwriting. A terse note sat on top.

Finished cross-referencing 1908–1911 tariff updates.See margin for flagged conflicts.—L.H.

When he finally appeared, he offered only a curt nod before sliding into the seat opposite you. For two hours he spoke in clipped sentences—“Need the ledger from shelf three-C,” “Double-check the French translation,” “Sign here so Thatch can log the revision.” Every time your questions strayed toward anything personal like Cassia, the meeting with his father, or even how he’d slept he deflected with a pointed glance at the parchment and a quiet, “Focus, Y/N.”

By the end of the week the chill had crystalized into routine: he arrived early, buried himself in research, left the moment your tasks ended. No playful shoulder-bumps in the corridor, no midnight trips for coffee, no sly grins when you corrected his footnotes. Only efficient partnership, as if the night he’d fallen asleep in your bed belonged to someone else’s life.

You told yourself it didn’t matter—you had a proposal to polish and sponsors to impress—but the hollowness followed you everywhere, rattling like a loose Snitch inside your chest.

The Ministry gardens glittered beneath strings of floating lanterns; orchestral music drifted over rows of donation tables. You arrived with a stack of project summaries tucked under your arm, determined to network, to prove Ms Thatch’s faith wasn’t misplaced.

You were halfway through charming a prospective backer when the crowd started murmuring., everyone’s attention sliding toward the main archway.

Haechan walked in at his father’s side, looking immaculate in midnight-green robes. Cassia Selwyn glided beside him, her hand nestled in the crook of his arm. Her pale hair swept over one shoulder, her expensive gown shimmering frost-silver under the lights. Together they looked carved from an old pure-blood portrait.

Your throat tightened. Haechan’s expression was cool, polite, but you saw the moment he spotted you.  A flicker ofregret? Apology? But it vanished as Cassia leaned in to whisper, her crimson lips close to his ear. He nodded once, mask settling back into place, and let himself be steered toward the VIP tables.

“So,” your potential sponsor prompted, oblivious to the scene, “does the phased tariff model begin year one, or do you anticipate a six-month grace period?”

You swallowed, forcing your voice steady. “Six months,” you replied, though your eyes kept drifting to the far end of the lawn where Cassia laughed lightly at something Mr Lee said, her fingers still resting on Haechan’s sleeve.

For the rest of the evening you played your role but every glance across the crowd found him beside her, shoulders squared, distance in his eyes. And each time, the hollow flutter in your chest grew a little sharper.

When the orchestra launched into a waltz, sponsors swept onto the dance floor. Cassia turned, hand outstretched in silent invitation. Haechan hesitated before taking it.

They moved flawlessly together, was she all poised grace, and he the  perfect partner. Applause rippled as they passed, Ministry officials nodding approval. You stood at the edge of the lawn clutching your untouched glass of elf-made wine, wondering how something that had never officially started could sting so much.

Your mother appeared suddenly at your elbow, startling you so badly you nearly spilled your drink.

“Are you romantically involved with the Lee boy?” she asked coolly.

Your gaze snapped up, shock widening your eyes. “What? No! Why—why would you even think that?”

She raised an eyebrow slowly. “You know I’m not one to entertain gossip, darling. But whispers at the Ministry tend to travel fast.”

You swallowed, heart rising to your throat. “What whispers?”

“The Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports approached me the other day about something he overheard.” She paused to sip her wine, calm and unbothered. “A rather heated conversation between Mr. Lee and his son... apparently about you.”

Your stomach tightened uncomfortably. “About me?”

“Yes. It seems that Mr. Lee explicitly instructed his son to stay away from you. I dismissed it as ridiculous at the time. How involved could you possibly be with that boy to warrant all that fuss?” Her sharp eyes turned toward the far end of the garden, landing pointedly on Haechan. “But tonight, seeing the way he’s been parading around with the Selwyn girl, smiling only for the photographs yet repeatedly throwing you those longing glances… I suspect perhaps Mr. Lee was right to worry.”

You felt your face flush deeply, skin prickling under your mother’s scrutiny. She'd always read you far too easily.

“Mother, I—”

She shook her head slightly, cutting you off. “Don’t lie to me, Y/N. It’s written all over your face.”

You lowered your eyes, lips pressed tight to avoid betraying anything further.

“Let me give you a piece of advice,” she continued impassively. “Don’t let yourself get more tangled with him than absolutely necessary. I’d hate for you to find out the hard way exactly why I'm warning you about this.”

She touched your arm briefly before walking away from your frozen form. The only sound your brain could register after that was the anxious pounding of your heart and the echo of her words.

You were still reeling when a familiar shadow fell across the refreshment table.

“There you are,” Haechan said softly. Up close, his formal robes looked stiff and constricting, as though he’d rather be wearing else.

“Got bored of your date so soon?” you muttered, trying to sound disinterested.

“She’s not—” His jaw worked. “Forget it. I actually came to review our talking points. Thatch expects us to pitch before dessert, and this” he lifted his champagne “isn’t helping me focus.”

“You’ve memorized those points twice over.”

“Just humor me, please?” His eyes flicked toward the hedge-lined maze beyond the garden. “Let’s go somewhere quieter.”

“Fine,” you sighed reluctantly after a minute of glowering.

The both of you slipped through the open arch between garden walls, careful to make sure no one was watching. Not that it mattered. Even if your intentions were innocent—and you weren’t entirely convinced they were—people would talk. They always did.

The deeper into the maze you walked, the more muffled the party became. Only the sound of your heels against cobblestone and Haechan’s steps behind you remained. You reached a quiet alcove surrounded by ivy and waited with arms crossed, pretending not to notice the way his eyes dragged across your bare shoulders.

“Okay,” you said, grabbing it from him. “What point of the presentation were you so desperate to—?”

“Your dress,” he murmured instead. “It’s distracting.”

You blinked. “That’s not a point in the presentation.”

“No,” he agreed, stepping closer, “but it’s why I couldn’t focus back there.”

“Try a little harder then, we need to present this soon”

“Mm,” he hummed, pulling out the folded parchment with your notes from his jacket pocket. “Start reading then.”

You took the parchment and started reading, brows furrowed as you scanned it. “The primary concern is the—”

Suddenly he was behind you, his hand reaching for your waist. You paused. “Haechan…”

“Keep going,” he said quietly. “I’m listening.”

You swallowed hard and stared at the words, trying to focus. “The primary concern is the inconsistency between—”

His hand slid higher.

“Are you seriously—?”

“This helps me focus,” he said, leaning in so close you could feel the heat of his breath at your neck. “Don’t stop now. You’re doing so well.”

The rasp in his voice and the way his hands kept feeling you over your clothes was making it very difficult to even breathe let alone read the stupidly messy words on the parchment. Why was his handwriting so bad?

“Keep reading,” he murmured again, lips grazing your ear.

You tried. “Um—the projected savings…and… and the reallocation of private funding—”

His thumbs skimmed small circles through the thin fabric of your gown, sliding higher to the tense line of your ribs. The parchment fluttered in your fingers.

“…and, uh, incentives for small-scale producers…” You hated the tremor in your voice, he clearly loved it. You could practically hear him smirk.

“You missed the compliance clause,” he whispered, letting one hand slide under the fall of your hair, settling against the back of your neck. 

You licked your lips, found the line, forced the words out. “Clause sixteen… sets non-compliance penalties at.. at seven percent—”

His other hand traced the curve of your waist, sliding lower, drawing you back until you felt the press of his chest. The parchment crinkled. The pulse point in your neck pulsed wildly against his mouth.

“Seven percent is too lenient,” he murmured. “We should make them beg to meet the standard.”

You swallowed hard. “We should… probably get back.”

“In a minute.” He nudged your hair aside and pressed an unhurried kiss below your ear that made your knees wobble slightly.

“Is this really the time?” you gasped.

“Shh.” His hand at your neck slipped forward, guiding your chin to tilt slightly. “Eyes on the notes, princess.”

You tried, and failed, to focus on the words. Every line blurred as his lips traced slow paths from your jaw to your shoulder. The maze felt impossibly still, as though even the garden itself was holding its breath.

“Haechan, if someone finds us—”

“They won’t.” A gentle nip at your earlobe. “Read the next bullet.”

You forced your gaze down. “Improved… audit protocol… mandatory quarterly—” Your voice broke when his hands slid to your hips, drawing you back against him fully. You felt the unmistakable evidence of how little “reviewing” mattered to him just now.

“Quarterly audits,” he echoed, his tone husky. “Brilliant idea.”. Soft lips drifted to your collarbone.

“This is— spectacularly stupid,” you whispered, though your body melted under his hands.

“Stupid,” he agreed, skating calloused fingers up the slit of your gown until night air kissed your thighs. “Let’s be quick, then. Prove we’re brilliant later.”

The parchment crinkled in your grip, words dissolving into texture. Somewhere beyond the maze someone laughed too loudly, and you discovered recklessness had the flavor of champagne and something breathtakingly alive.

“This... this is too risky,” you breathed, head tilting back as his fingers ghosted over your skin.

“I’ll be quick,” he promised, mouth dragging along your jaw.

Of all the things you’d done with Haechan, this was easily the most idiotic. More reckless than letting him go down on you in the Archives. More dangerous than that kiss behind the velvet curtain at the gala. Especially after the warning from your mother—you knew better. You should have walked away.

But Haechan always knew how to get what he wanted and he knew exactly how to make you want it too.

The thought that he was here, fingers sliding past your underwear, while your mother, his father, and Cassia Selwyn were probably sipping champagne and wondering where you’d slipped off to... gave you a guilty rush that made your legs open slowly.

“Okay,” you whispered at last.

His hand slid under your panties in response, fingers cupping you firmly and spreading you open. You were already, shamefully, soaked.

“Always so eager for me,” he muttered, rubbing teasing circles over your clit. “For someone who whines so much.”

“We… don’t have time for your mouth,” you snapped breathlessly, shoving him back against the ivy-covered wall and yanking at his belt.

“I love it when you boss me around,” he groaned, eyes half-lidded as you worked his trousers down. “Makes me feel like a very bad boy.”

“You are,” you hissed. “A fucking disgrace.”

“Fuck” His boxers hit the ground, cock slapping up hard against his stomach—red, slick at the tip, and twitching. 

You grinned. “Someone’s happy to see me.”

“You have no fucking idea,” he rasped, grabbing your hips and dragging you closer. His hands slid down, squeezing your ass. “Every time we’re in the same room, all I can think about is this.”

“If only you weren’t so busy playing daddy’s little puppet…” you purred, kissing along his jaw.

His breath hitched, but the smirk didn’t fade. “Don’t talk about my father while your hand’s around my cock.”

“Oh?” You tightened your grip enough to make him hiss between his teeth. “Does it kill the mood?”

“No,” he groaned, rolling his head back against the ivy. “Makes me want to fuck that little attitude out of you.”

That was all the warning he gave before grabbing your waist and hoisting you up easily. Your back hit the ivy wall as his hips jerked forward, cock grinding hard between your thighs. Not inside yet but pressed right where it hurt most, dragging against soaked lace.

“Haechan—fuck—”

“You wore this for me, didn’t you?” he whispered fingering your lacey panties, lips at your throat. “This little slit that barely covers anything. You wanted me to rip them off you tonight.”

“Shut up and do it,” you snarled, grinding against him.

He growled something unintelligible, biting down on your shoulder hard enough to leave a mark, then reached between you to yank your panties so hard they ripped easily. The head of his cock slipped through your slick folds and you both gasped.

“You’re so wet,” he rasped, voice breaking as he dragged the tip over your clit once. “Fuck, you were ready for this before I even touched you.”

He slid in with one hard thrust that knocked the air out of your lungs. You gasped, eyes fluttering shut, nails digging into his shoulders.

“Eyes on me.” He growled, snapping his hips forward again, deeper this time.

You looked at him and whatever was in your expression made him moan. “There she is,” he whispered. “Fucking beautiful when you give in.”

His thrusts turned punishing, dragging against everything inside you that made your spine arch and your thighs clamp tight around his waist.

“This—” he panted, “—this is mine. This body. These sounds. You can pretend otherwise but—” he slammed into you, hard enough to make you cry out, “—this belongs to me.”

You didn’t answer, couldn’t answer. Your breath was caught in your throat, stars flashing behind your eyes as the heat coiled lower and lower.

“You gonna cum for me?” he whispered, biting at your earlobe. “Right here where anyone could walk by? Your mother. My father. Cassia.”

“Don’t stop,” you begged, voice shaking. “Please, don’t fucking stop—”

“Say it,” he demanded, hand sliding between your bodies to rub tight circles over your clit. “Say who’s making you cum.”

“You,” you gasped. “You. Fuck, Haechan—please—”

You cried out when your orgasm hit, nails scoring red lines into his back as your walls clenched around him. He groaned low and rough, fucking you through it. Seconds later, he spilled into you with a strangled moan, forehead pressed to yours.

Only the sound of your panting, the distant music from the gala, and the rustle of ivy around you could be heard.

“That was a good review.” He whispered against your lips.

His cum was still dripping down your thighs when he kissed you again, but only for a breath. Then he pulled back, and looked down at his wrist watch. 

“We still have about ten more minutes before the presentation” he said, voice wrecked.

“So…?” you asked, still trying to catch your breath.

“I wanted to try something”

Before you could ask what, he flicked his wand and your dress vanished in a puff of smoke.

You gasped. “Are you serious?”

“Very,” he murmured, tapping your sternum next. “Desino gravitatem.”

Your body lifted off the ground like a marionette cut from strings, floating weightless as the ivy trembled behind you.

“What the—”

But his hands were already back on you, guiding your hips forward in midair. You were suspended, spread and hovering high enough for him to slot between your thighs again. He flipped you with a wrist flick, your back now to him, ass lifted, legs dangling.

“Perfect,” he muttered, gripping your waist like he was trying to memorize the feel. “Jaemin once bragged about using this spell on a girl. complete bollocks, by the way—he can barely do a simple leviosa half the time. but i’ve been dying to try it ever since.”

“And it didn’t occur to you to maybe ask first?” You snapped, flailing slightly.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“… I mean, I hardly have a choice now, do i?”

he chuckled, the sound warm and low against your back. “I promise you’re gonna love it. Prefect’s honor.”

“You were never a prefect.”

“Yeah, but I’m very committed to pleasing you.”

He pushed back inside you with a groan, the new angle making you curse violently as your body trembled in midair. His hand wrapped around your throat with enough pressure to steady you as he thrust upward into you.

Every time his hips slammed into you, your body jerked forward. The lack of gravity and the angle made it feel like every thrust reached your head.

“You like this?” he growled. “Being my little floating fucktoy?”

“I hate you.” You moaned.

He smacked your ass. “Try again.”

“Fuck— s’good… don’t stop—” you whimpered.

“Better.”

Your moans were getting louder, echoing through the enchanted ivy, the charm he’d placed keeping you perfectly in place even as you writhed midair.

And then he did something insane.

He cast Gemino, the duplication charm.

Instantly, a spectral copy of himself shimmered into view in front of you. The second Haechan—transparent and golden at the edges—grabbed your hair and kissed your mouth while the real one kept fucking you from behind.

Your brain nearly short-circuited, too overwhelmed.

“This is crazy,” you moaned into the phantom’s mouth, barely coherent.

“So’s half the shit we’ve already done,” the real one panted.

And when his fingers slid between your legs again, teasing your swollen clit as the illusion bit down gently on your lower lip, you came so hard you screamed his name loud enough that it had to echo into the party.

The hovering charm flickered, and Haechan caught you against him before you could drop, still inside you, panting.

“You’re deranged,” you whispered, clinging to him.

His mouth was at your ear. “I know you loved it.”

“Please bring my dress back.” you said, shivering slightly. 

He quickly made your dress appear again.

“What even were those spells?” 

“Why? You wanna try them on me?” he smirked.

You shoved him and summoned a hand mirror to fix your appearance. Every bit of your makeup was smudged and your hair was a mess. You sighed and fixed it. Haechan simply brushed his hand through his hair. You reached up and wiped off some lipstick that was smudged on his lips. Also, put a glamour charm to cover the bruises that were starting to bloom where your lips had been on his neck.

“Ready to kill this presentation then?” He asked.

“Let’s go” you replied.

And kill the presentation, you most certainly did.

The Ministry atrium felt almost gentle the day after the fundraiser. Probably because you were still riding the high of a perfect presentation, the fact that many donors had signed, Ms. Thatch had all but done a cartwheel, and the Portkey Tariff proposal just needed a last polish before being sent up to the Department heads. Life, for once, was cooperating.

You arrived early, as usual, so you stopped by the breakfast nook near level five to enjoy a quiet moment before the day started. You even let yourself order the overpriced chamomile from the enchanted dispenser.

The peace lasted precisely three and a half sips, until you noticed two witches at a nearby table. One pretending to stir her tea for the tenth time, the other tilting the Prophet so conspicuously towards you it might as well have had your name printed on the cover.

You checked your face in the reflection of your spoon but nothing was off. No food in your teeth, your lipstick wasn’t smudged, no eye buggers. Nothing on your face explained the sudden interest.

A weird feeling twisted in your guts. Your first thought was, no way. Your second thought was, check anyway. So you walked to the newspaper stand and picked up a copy.

The front page was an article about the Turkish Minister’s retirement, nothing crazy. You scanned further, flipping pages of Quidditch standing, goblin policies, and other uneventful news. Until you finally found an article about the fundraiser on page six. 

You scanned the article quickly. It was mostly praise for the decor, attendance from international guests, and a nod to the interns’ presentations. And then, just beneath the column, in a faint gray box labeled Social Notes & Curiosities:

"Not all moments at this year’s gala were on the official itinerary. Several sharp-eyed partygoers noted that two unnamed interns vanished into the hedge maze for “several curious minutes” during the height of the festivities, returning just before the closing presentation looking flushed and disheveled. Sources declined to identify the pair, but wondered aloud whether young ambition sometimes… overgrows the path.”

Blood drained from your face so fast you felt light-headed. No names…but anyone with half a brain could add them. You folded the paper with shaky hands, and left the nook on autopilot, hunting for Haechan.

Before rounding the corner toward the Archives hall you heard voices whispering in a heated argument. 

“I just wonder if you’re serious about your future, Haechan.” you recognized Cassia Selwyn’s silk-smooth voice.

“So you planted that story?!” Haechan sounded pissed.

“Don’t look at me like I'm the villain. You and I were promised to each other before we could even read. You wandering off with her—”

“Is none of your business.” He spat.

Cassia's tone sharpened. “It is when it jeopardizes the alliances our parents built. I won’t let a half-blood charity case ruin everything just because you’re in your rebellious phase.”

You pressed flatter against the wall, pulse roaring.

Haechan’s reply was almost a growl. “If you ever bring her into this again—”

“You’re the one who brought her into this,” she cut in. “But soon enough you’ll remember why duty always wins over puppy love.”

Something, maybe his fist, hit the wall. You flinched though it was a few meters away.

“I’m warning you, Cassia. Stop your little games.”

He stormed off in the opposite direction; Cassia’s heels clicked leisurely the other way. Only then did you realize you hadn’t breathed for a full thirty seconds.

You were already seated when Haechan walked into the briefing room.

He pulled out the chair next to you like he always did. Your fingers kept moving over the edge of your parchment, smoothing the crease you'd created while standing outside that hallway, listening to Cassia carve pieces of you apart.

"You okay?" He asked under his breath.

"I'm fine." Too fast. 

You didn’t need to look to know he was frowning.

"You sure? You kind of—"

“—We're starting,” you cut in, straightening as Ms. Thatch entered the room with her usual whirlwind energy.

“Brilliant work last night, everyone!” She said, stacking folders with a flick of her wand. “Now, just a few corrections and then the proposals will officially be on their way to senior review. And”—she paused, smiling brightly—“We’ve got a new addition to the team for the rest of the internship.”

The door creaked open behind you.

“This is Emil Chartier,” Ms. Thatch announced. “Our international liaison from Beauxbatons. Top of his class in Diplomatic Transmutation, fluent in six languages, and here to help polish our draft for European compatibility.”

You turned just as he stepped forward. He was tall, with a willowy frame, and wearing robes in a midnight-blue cut so precise the velvet seemed poured onto his shoulders. He had sun-touched blond curls, one errant lock deliberately tucked behind a narrow ear. High cheekbones, a mouth that hinted at a permanent half-smile even when perfectly neutral, and eyes that looked grey at first glance, but slightly amber at the edges when the light caught.

He stepped forward on soft-soled dragonhide shoes and stopped at a conversational distance from the table.

“Bonjour,” he said, voice smooth as warm honey. “I’m very excited to join you all. I’ve read your project outlines, they were brilliant.”

“I’m thrilled to be here. Your project outlines were brilliant.”

The words floated over the entire table, but his gaze never wavered from you.

Haechan scoffed next to you. It was barely a breath but you felt it. Then his quill bent as he pressed down just a shade too hard, blotting ink across his notes.

Emil continued obliviously. “I’m especially interested in the tariff-equalisation clause. The logic is elegant, I’d love to discuss it in more detail.”

His smile was soft, earnest. Yours flickered back before you could help it.

Ms. Thatch clapped her hands. “Very well! Then Y/N and Haechan can work closely with Emil for this final stage.”

“Magnifique!” Emil chirped, pulling the chair beside you. He gave Haechan a polite nod, then turned back to you. “I was especially impressed by your cross-referencing in the North Sea tariff section.”

Haechan made another annoyed sound but you didn’t look at him.

“That was all her,” he said, voice casual but tight around the edges.

“Then she deserves the praise,” Emil replied easily, eyes sliding toward you with warmth. “I admit, I was curious to see if the one behind the proposal was as impressive in person.”

You managed a quiet laugh. It was almost disorienting, being noticed in the way Cassia had said you never would be. As if your worth was obvious, not conditional.

You reached for the inkpot, intending to refill it. Emil caught the movement and reached over first. “Allow me,” he said, voice low. “Can’t have ink stains ruining those clever hands.”

Haechan’s quill snapped with a quiet crack. No one else seemed to notice—Ms Thatch was already launching into the agenda—but you caught the tiny muscle that jumped in his jaw, the way his eyes narrowed a fraction before he repaired the quill with a flick of his wand.

Emil blinked at him, then whispered to you. “Should I be worried I've offended someone?”

“Not at all,” you murmured, returning the smile, even as your heart twisted in your chest.

You didn’t wait around after the meeting ended. You gathered your notes and slipped out before the room even cleared. The air in there felt too suffocating. You needed quiet and space.

But of course, you didn’t get that.

“Y/N—wait.”

Haechan’s voice chased you halfway down the northeast spiral before you finally stopped, turning sharply just outside the records annex.

“What?” you snapped.

He blinked. “...You’re upset.”

“Wow, nothing gets past you.”

Haechan stepped closer, one hand gripping the railing. “Okay. sarcasm noted. Can you just…tell me what’s going on?”

You gave a breathy, incredulous laugh. “What’s going on is I just found out you’re playing with me while you pretend you’re not already betrothed to.”

His eyes darkened. “You heard that conversation.”

“All of it.”

“Then you know she’s full of shit.”

“Doesn’t really matter, does it? Because she still has a claim to your future.”

He moved to speak, but you weren’t finished.

“And you know what the worst part is? I already expected it. I should’ve known that someone like you would end up with someone like her”

“Is that what you think?” he said finally, voice too soft.

You crossed your arms. “I spent the morning reading about us in the prophet and then i had to sit next to you like nothing happened. while that new intern—who doesn’t even know me—managed to actually say something nice about my work the way you never have.”

Your voice broke a little on the last word, but you pushed through.

“And it just made me realize... maybe it wouldn’t be this hard with someone else. Maybe I wouldn't feel like I have to prove myself every second just to be taken seriously.”

Haechan's jaw clenched. “Why are you even bringing him into this?”

“Why not?” you snapped. “He’s not the one being yanked between his family’s expectations and his own guilty conscience.”

“You don’t think I'm trying?” he said, louder now. “I'm walking a tightrope every damn day trying to keep my father from pulling me out of this internship entirely. If he knew what happened in the maze—if he knew how far this has gone—”

“He’d what?” you challenged. “Marry you off faster?”

The silence was confirmation was enough.

You sucked in a breath. “So that's it. Cassia was right.”

“No,” he said immediately, stepping forward. “She’s not. She doesn’t know how I really feel about you. She doesn’t get to decide that. Not her, or my father, or anyone.”

His eyes were shining with rage and desperation.

You stared at him for a long second, heart racing, unsure if you wanted to slap him or kiss him or cry.

“…I can’t do this if i’m just a rebellion phase for you,” you whispered.

His expression shattered.

“You’re not.”

The words hung limp between you, nothing to cling to, nothing to soften the fall. You turned and walked away, fingers curling into fists at your sides. Not because you didn’t believe him.

Because you did.

And that made everything worse.

You found yourself in one of the small auxiliary lounges on level seven—mostly unused, with a cracked fireplace charm and mismatched armchairs that smelled dusty. You curled into one near the window, letting the sun slant across your skirt as you stared down at the proposal draft without reading a single word.

You didn’t cry. You were past that. You were just angry and hurt. And tired in a way that had nothing to do with spellwork or policy corrections.

A soft knock broke your silence.

“May I?” Emil asked gently, gesturing to the seat across from you. “I noticed you left in a hurry.”

You hesitated, then nodded.

“I wanted to apologize,” he said after sitting down.

“For what?”

“For… Perhaps inserting myself too comfortably this morning. I didn't realize things were so tense.”

You exhaled, shaking your head. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Actually, you were the only person who treated me like… just a person today.”

He offered a small smile. “Well. You are quite an impressive person.”

You gave a tired laugh, but it came from your chest this time. “You barely know me.”

“True. But I saw how your colleagues looked at you when you spoke in the meeting. Especially him.” Emil's tone stayed neutral, but his eyes were kind. “Whatever else is happening… I don't think you’re as alone as you feel.”

You looked down at your hands. “I don't know what I am to him. And I'm scared to ask.”

“Then don’t,” he said gently. “Not yet. Let him decide if he’s brave enough to make it clear.”

You sat with that for a long moment. He didn’t press just reached into his satchel, pulled out a little wrapped croissant from the café cart, and placed it on the table between you without a word.

“Is this for me?”

“Consider it strategic morale support.”

You smiled despite yourself.

Haechan stared at the shredded parchment in his hands. His third failed attempt at rewriting the trade summary. Ink had smudged from his fingers to his temple sometime during the last hour, but he hadn’t noticed. Or cared.

Your voice still echoed in his head. “Maybe it wouldn’t be this hard with someone else.”

He scrubbed a hand down his face and stood abruptly. The movement knocked over a stack of annotated notes and sent one sliding under the archive cabinet. He let it stay there.

He didn’t know why he always did this—why he always ruined the one thing that felt like it mattered the second it got real.

His father’s voice drifted in his memory: “Sentiment makes you weak. Attachments make you vulnerable.”

But you didn’t make him feel weak. You made him want to be braver.

His eyes flicked to the small framed article pinned to the wall. A piece from last year’s Ministry Gala, featuring his father’s speech about legacy and honor and discipline. Haechan wondered if anyone would ever write something about him without including the word Lee in the headline.

He couldn’t fix this with you. Not until he figured out how to stop being a coward.

So he kept quiet. Let his father go on assuming he’d ended things. Let him believe the engagement to Cassia was back on track. It bought him enough time to work out how to unravel the noose his father had spent years looping around his neck.

In reality, this wasn’t just about you. It was also about being looked at like a pawn, about being maneuvered like his only use was to cement power through maintaining the bloodline.

Cassia was the first knot he had to cut.

He knew it had to be public. Loud enough that no one—especially his father—could twist it into a temporary setback or a lover’s quarrel. It had to be permanent.

The perfect opportunity was already on the calendar.

Cassia’s father’s birthday dinner which was set to be held at The Gilded Laurel, an old wizarding restaurant perched on the Cornish cliffs. Known for its fairy- enchanted chandeliers and tables that float slightly above the floor, it was a staple for the pureblood elite. Every detail of the evening would be noted, photographed, whispered about. If he broke it off there, in front of her family, in front of his father, in front of the Prophet’s most loyal leeches… there would be no going back.

He wasn’t nervous about facing everyone. He was only terrified of what you’d think by then. Of whether you’d already decided you were done waiting.

Because every hour that passed without him telling you the truth… It was another hour you might spend believing that you didn’t matter. That he’d chosen her. That you’d just been a mistake in between his family’s expectations.

But you weren’t. And he’d prove it, even if he had to burn everything else down to do it.

The night of the dinner party came faster than expected. Haechan arrived with his father’s hand resting on his shoulder. Cassia greeted them at the entrance in a blue satin dress and a smile as perfect as porcelain.

“Try to look happy,” she murmured while the photographer adjusted his focus.

“Working on it.” Haechan replied noncommittally, eyes already scanning the room for the biggest audience.

The crystal goblets chimed and soup bowls floated down onto their table. Conversation swelled about trade numbers, Ministry gossip, Quidditch brackets. Haechan nodded in all the right places while cataloguing where the reporters were.

After the plates were cleared and dessert was served, Mr. Selwyn rose with his glass aloft.

“To family, old alliances, and future unions.” His gaze lingered on Cassia and Haechan. Polite applause followed.

Haechan stood before it died away.

“I’d like to add something,” he started.

“I know this dinner is meant to celebrate Mr. Selwyn, as well as our families and legacy.” He looked at Cassia, who was staring at him with a frozen, perfect smile. “But it would be dishonest of me to sit here and pretend like this engagement is moving forward.”

A cold silence flattened the whole room, nothing but the sound of a few utensils falling onto plates could be heard. 

Mr. Lee’s smile held, but his eyes flared sharp. “Haechan, sit down.”

“No, father.” Haechan answered, louder. “I need everyone here to hear me say it clearly. I’m not marrying for Cassia Selwyn.”

Cassia’s chair scraped back. For a second she looked sixteen again—hurt, furious, the mask of perfect grace gone. “You’re being ridiculous. We’ll discuss this in private.”

“No,” Haechan said, softer. “We won’t.”

Around them, guests exchanged delighted whispers. Without waiting for permission, without offering another explanation or bowing out gracefully, he turned his back on the table and walked straight out the gilded doors.

The last thing he heard before exiting was his father yelling his full name, followed by the distinct clatter of a wine glass hitting the floor.

He didn’t look back.

He only hoped it wasn’t too late to go find you.

The Floo spat him out inside the Ministry's atrium, ash on his robes and adrenaline still curling in his throat.

He hadn’t even stopped to breathe a second. Just left the restaurant, ignored the growing swarm of reporters trying to get a quote, and apparated straight to the only place he knew you'd be this late.

Because you never missed work. Not even when you were heartbroken.

The records floor was humming with cataloguing charms, but mostly empty. He moved through the aisles, scanning each reading nook, until he saw the sliver of warm light at the far end.

And you half-asleep on a bench with a file open in your lap, hair pulled into a messy knot, as if you'd given up on keeping it tidy hours ago. Peeking out from the edge of your notes, was a crumpled copy of The Daily Prophet.

The headline was impossible to miss. “Selwyns Host Private Dinner Amidst Engagement Rumors” A charmed photo of Cassia smiling beside him at the Summer Fundraiser. The article’s subheading speculated—rather confidently—that an official announcement was imminent.

Haechan swallowed, guilt tangling hot in his chest. The paper looked crumpled, proof you’d read every word and probably re-read it.

He approached quietly.

You didn’t look up when he got close, but your spine straightened defensively.

“I thought I’d find you here.” He said softly.

You didn’t answer.

“I ended it.”

That made you turn.

He looked a little wild. Hair windswept, face flushed, pupils still blown from whatever reckless high he'd just walked out of. But his voice was calm and clear.

“What?”

“I broke it off at her father’s birthday dinner. In front of the whole Selwyn clan. My father. The press.”

“Really?” was all you managed to breathe out.

He nodded once. “I said I wouldn’t marry her. That I never planned to. And then I left.”

“Just like that.”

“Just like that.”

You stared at him.

For weeks he’d let the world believe what it wanted. Let it write another name next to his. Let you become a mistake he’d made. And now, here he was, standing in front of you after the storm finally broke.

Haechan stepped closer as if he’d been reborn in the fallout. Shoulders squared, back unbowed, silk tie loosened like he could breathe for the first time in years. The usual tension around his mouth was gone, replaced by a flicker of something almost boyish. Relief, or maybe exhilaration at finally choosing his own future.

He looked lighter, taller, as if someone had cut the invisible strings that kept him posed for family portraits. And when his gaze found yours, it wasn’t apologetic but certain.

For the first time, he was standing in front of you looking sure of what he wanted.

“I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness,” he said. “And I’m not expecting it. But I needed you to hear this from me first.”

You couldn’t find any words to reply, all your thoughts were a mess. You almost thought he was a figment of your tired mind for a second.

He continued. “You said something the other day that stuck with me. That it felt like you had to try harder to be liked around me.”

“I hated that,” he said. “Because you’re the only person I’ve ever liked without trying at all. The only person I actually wanted to be seen with, not hidden. And I’ve been an idiot… No, worse than that. I’ve been a coward.”

You looked away, eyes burning.

“I don’t know what’s going to happen with my family after tonight,” he continued, voice quiet now. “But none of it matters if I lose you.”

“You could’ve told me,” you whispered after a few seconds.

“I know.”

“You let me believe I was just…” You swallowed hard. “nothing.”

“You’re everything to me, Y/N.”

He took another step and kneeled down, your eyes finally met his.

“Tell me what to do,” he said. “And I’ll do it. I don’t care if I have to claw my way back. Just give me a place to start.”

You were quiet for a long time, heart beating so hard it would surely bruise your ribs. “Why should I?”

“Because I’m in love with you.”

The words hit you harder than that rogue Bludger had in your third year. No wind-up or grand speech. Just the truth, raw and terrifying, dropped between you like a vial of undiluted Veritaserum.

You stared at him, eyes growing shinier with unshed tears. “You waited until now to say that?”

“I waited until I could mean it with every ounce of my soul,” he said. “I was a fool. I kept thinking I could keep you close while trying to satisfy the expectations placed on me. I thought maybe if I stayed quiet long enough, I’d find a way where no one got hurt.”

“Well,” you said, laughing without humor. “That didn’t work out so well, did it?”

“No,” he admitted. “It didn’t.”

“I don’t know what to say…”

“That’s okay.”

“And I still don’t know if I’m just something you want because your father told you not to.”

“Y/N, I promise—”

You cut him off. “But I missed you.”

His mouth parted, eyes flickering with shock and relief. As if he’d been waiting to hear those words, and didn’t think he deserved them.

“May I?” he asked, voice tight, almost broken.

You nodded.

He stepped into your space, slowly, reverently, afraid you might vanish. His forehead touched yours first. Then his lips.

This kiss wasn’t like the ones before, hurried or frantic or reckless. It was slow, as if he was building a home in the shape of your mouth.

You gripped the front of his shirt and pulled him closer, kissing him back with all the ache of the weeks you’d spent apart. Your tears slipped between his lashes, and his hands shook slightly as they cupped your cheeks.

“I missed you,” you breathed, pressing your forehead to his. “You fucking idiot.”

“I missed you more,” he said, smiling softly. “You brilliant, beautiful girl.”

His arms wrapped around your waist, holding you so tightly that for the first time in weeks, your ribs didn’t feel hollow anymore.

this was going to be longer, but i felt like the scenes i cut out did not match the vibes i wanted in the end… soooo there’s a bonus scene here if you’d like to support my writing

[nyxs2]

Ma Meilleure Ennemie (pt 3/?)

The fire consumes everything it touches, turning what was into ashes. Curiously, Silco also leaves a trail of destruction in his wake.

Silco x fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+, MDNI)

Word Count: 6K

Warnings: smut, resolved sexual tension, dirty talk, degradation, public sex, rough sex, angry sex, unprotected sex, creampie, blood and violence, biting, threat of death, choking, canon-typical Silco violence, death of secondary characters being referenced, possessive behavior, you work in the brothel, Silco POV (when to start smut). Set before the events of Act 2 of the first season of Arcane.

Part 1 Part 2

Pay attention to the tags. If you're uncomfortable with violent situations or explicitly intense acts, PLEASE DO NOT READ. Once again: this is NOT a fluffy romance. Our protagonist has her own issues, and to be clear, while there are violent themes, Silco would never harm his dove. You have been warned—proceed at your own risk.

"I heard that Silco seems to be sponsoring a prostitute."

The bottle on its way to your lips stopped midway. Kate's words echoed like thunder, even though they had been spoken in an almost murmured tone. Nothing—absolutely nothing—could have prepared you for a sentence like that, not even the most horrible, bitter drink Zaun had to offer.

Beside you, Kate seemed almost uncomfortable. There was no accusation in her voice, but something about her tone overflowed with sadness, perhaps even anguish. The kind of look that made it clear she already knew the answer even before making the statement. She still insisted on visiting you, despite the apparent control Silco had over the brothel.

The brothel, which until two months ago had been your refuge—a place where the outside world and all its horrors were muffled by artificial lights and drunken laughter—now felt more like a prison. A suffocating space filled with glances you didn't want to interpret. That's why, on the night Kate showed up, you suggested going somewhere else. Somewhere Silco's shadow didn't hang over you.

Vander's statue was a landmark. For many, it symbolized the resistance and hope that had long since vanished. A kind of silent guardian of Zaun, a reminder of better days. Some people even wished the metal structure would come to life, that Vander would return to protect his people. But to you, that monument meant something deeper. Vander had saved you once. You'd made a promise to him—a promise you had yet to fulfill.

"Yeah... I heard about it."

"It's you, isn't it?" Kate shot back immediately. Her voice was soft, almost delicate, like a confirmation rather than an accusation.

You couldn't look at her. The thought of being called Silco's prostitute made something inside you churn, heavy as lead. Dealing with him in the privacy of a room was one thing, but carrying that title... it made you feel dirty in a way no amount of long baths could wash away.

"How did you find out?"

Kate sighed, fiddling with the ballerina pendant on her necklace. She always did that as a way to calm herself, an almost involuntary motion. "I did my research."

"You should've been a cop, not a designer." you tried to joke, but the humor fell flat, hanging in the air with no response, no laughter. Kate didn't take the bait. She simply said your name, with a sweetness that hurt, like she was trying to soothe a wounded animal. Reluctantly, you finally looked at her. That's when you noticed the worry etched into her green eyes, a worry you didn't feel you deserved.

"Don't worry," you said, your voice hoarse, almost harsh. "It could be worse. Silco could've just kidnapped me."

"That doesn't change the fact that you're still in danger."

You let out a low grumble, almost childish, like a petulant kid trying to dodge a scolding. She was right, but you preferred to live in ignorance.

"If I figured out who the 'prostitute' was, others can too. And if the chemical barons realize Silco has any interest in you, they'll try to use you to get to him."

"I know how to protect myself, Kate."

"From pickpockets and creeps, maybe. Not from assassins."

"Alright, what do you want me to do?"

The words escaped your mouth with force, your voice laced with irritation, hitting a sharper tone than you'd usually use with her. You stood from where you'd been sitting at the foot of Vander's statue, desperately trying to maintain some semblance of control. But, if you were honest with yourself, the idea that you still had control was a cruel joke. Overnight, your life had taken a turn you hadn't planned for—or asked for. To say you were angry would've been a massive understatement. And now Kate was pressing all the wrong buttons.

"Come with me to Piltover."

Her voice was firm, serious, but there was something more. A kind of unshakable hope glimmered in her green eyes as they locked onto yours, as if she could see something you couldn't. And there was something else... something that made your stomach twist. Affection. "Alright, so the place I'm staying in is the size of a shoebox," Kate continued, a small, awkward smile appearing on her lips, "But we can make it work together. Silco has no power in Piltover."

Those words. That tone. That damn hope. They doused your anger like a bucket of ice water. What remained was pure, raw shock as you stared into her emerald eyes. You saw it. The resolve. The conviction. And damn it, she was willing to risk everything... for you. Suddenly, it all made sense: why she kept coming back, even knowing the risk. Even indirectly challenging Silco. Because, in her mind, you were worth it.

Kate spoke your name again when she noticed your mind wandering for too long, her tone sweet as honey. "Please, come with me."

At some point, the lines had blurred for Kate, and considering Silco's actions, this practically put her neck on a silver platter. Bile rose in your throat, and you wanted to vomit.

"It's better if we don't see each other anymore." your voice came out dry, cutting. The tone was rehearsed, even if you hadn't prepared these words. You took a step back, putting space between the two of you. "Whatever you think we have, it's nothing more than professional."

Kate's eyes widened, shock written across her face as if you'd slapped her. The pain that followed nearly made you falter, but you pressed on. You had to, for her sake.

"I can't believe you're naive enough to think I feel something for you, let alone want to run away."

"What?" Kate whispered, her voice barely audible, but you saw it. You saw her eyes start to glisten with tears.

"I pity you." your voice was a venomous whisper. "Falling for a prostitute? Seriously? Kate, I expected better from you."

"Why are you acting like this?" her voice trembled, heavy with pain. "This isn't you."

"What do you know about me?" you shot back, your voice as sharp as shattered glass. "Oh, come on, sweetheart... it was all an act. Did you really think I cared? It was in my best interest to keep some naive girl paying my way. All I had to do was say a few sweet words."

She called your name again, her voice breaking, a final, desperate attempt to pull you back from the edge. A futile attempt.

"But now I don't need you anymore."

You saw it. The exact moment the first tear slipped from her eyes, just before Kate turned and ran. Without another word. Without looking back.

You stood there, motionless, like an extension of Vander's statue. Frozen. Empty. Guilt weighed on your shoulders like lead, but you didn't allow yourself to feel anything beyond the void. If Silco was horrible, you were a monster. Maybe that's what you deserved. Maybe, in the end, you and he were cut from the same cloth.

But your self-deprecating thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps.

"Breaking hearts, are we?" Silco's voice resonated in your ears, low and dripping with acidic humor. "And here I thought you were the merciful one."

The surprise lasted only a second when you heard his voice—low, laden with that familiar arrogance that made the air around you feel heavier. For a moment, you almost believed it was just in your head, a ghost of guilt or confusion tormenting you. But a single glance was enough to confirm it wasn't your imagination. Of course not. It was obvious Silco would know where to find you.

Especially since you'd abandoned the brothel in the middle of your shift. Someone had likely informed him that his latest acquisition had walked out unexpectedly.

The scent of burnt tobacco hit you before you fully saw him, and you closed your eyes briefly, trying to control the surge of emotions bubbling up inside you. Anger, frustration, maybe even a touch of resignation. You inhaled deeply, as if the tobacco in the air could numb whatever was consuming you. But it was futile.

The bottle was still in your hand—a bitter consolation. You lifted it to your lips, letting the liquid burn its way down your throat. The mediocre alcohol was doing its job but was nowhere near enough to drown out the chaos in your head.

"How long have you been spying on us?" your voice came out calmer than you'd expected, a stark contrast to how you felt inside.

It was impressive, even to yourself. You should've been furious; after all, everything in your life had started crumbling because of him. Because of his manipulations, the insidious control he wielded over everyone and everything around him. The last month had been hell, and Silco had been the chief architect of your downfall.

And yet, here you were. Talking to him. Not smashing the bottle over his head.

"Long enough to understand what you're trying to do." he finally said. His voice was calm, but it carried an undertone of subtle disdain, as if the situation were almost amusing to him.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Silco move slowly, leaning against the base of Vander's statue. He crossed one ankle over the other, assuming a relaxed posture that seemed devoid of any threat. But you knew better. Beneath the casual façade, there was an almost palpable tension, like that of a snake ready to strike at any moment.

"Driving her away, keeping her safe... all so I have no reason to go after her." he continued, his eyes boring into your back, savoring each syllable in a way that sent a chill down your spine. "Such nobility on your part. A shame it's all for nothing."

The words hung in the air between you, as dense as the cigar smoke swirling around him. You wanted to retort, but your throat went dry, the words catching somewhere between pride and fear. He knew. He knew exactly what you were doing. And worse, he seemed to find it amusing.

Without warning, he pushed off the statue and took a step toward you, closing the already narrow gap between you. Your heart leapt in your chest, but you stayed rooted to the spot, your hands gripping the neck of the bottle, channeling your fury into the inanimate object.

He noticed. Of course, he noticed.

"Drinking won't make it go away." he said, his voice now almost gentle. Almost. The soft tone only made the harshness of his words cut deeper.

You barely had time to process the emotions boiling within you when Silco reached out and took the bottle from your grasp. Your body reacted before your mind could catch up, your fingers stretching out in a nearly desperate attempt to reclaim it. But he held it out of your reach with an ease that made your blood boil.

Your gaze locked onto his, and like a thread on the verge of snapping, you finally broke. It was as if everything you'd been holding back had been unleashed all at once, a storm of emotions sweeping away any control you had left. Before you could even think about the consequences, your body had already made the decision.

The sound of breaking glass echoed through the space, the liquid spilling onto the floor in a dense pool alongside the faint clatter of the cigar falling. A small fire ignited mere inches from your feet. It was that sound, along with the smell of smoke, that finally pulled you back to reality.

Your arm was raised, caught firmly in Silco's grasp. His fingers wrapped around your wrist with enough force to stop you but not to hurt. You realized just how close you were to his face—mere centimeters away from striking him.

And that's when you saw it: his face. For the first time, Silco looked genuinely surprised, frozen in place. His good eye was wide, as though he couldn't believe what had just happened. It was almost impossible to imagine a man like him with such an expression. But the moment didn't last. Like a mask falling and quickly being replaced, his expression shifted in an instant. The shock gave way to his familiar façade of coldness and absolute control.

You, however, didn't back down. There was no regret in your eyes, no hesitation in your movements. Your emotions were a haze, but you kept them locked behind a hardened, defiant expression.

"Leave her out of this, Silco!" you said, your voice low but carrying a weight that cut through the silence like a blade. The words were laden with something you couldn't quite name—anger, sorrow, perhaps something deeper. "I'm the one you want? Well, here I am, right in front of you."

The words hung in the air, echoing in the space between you. Silco didn't respond immediately, but his eyes didn't leave yours, as if he were analyzing every nuance of your expression. Searching for something—maybe doubt, maybe fear.

In a swift, precise movement, he pulled you forward, erasing the distance between you until your body was pressed against his. The heat radiating from you was palpable, even through the layers of clothing, and the subtle scent of alcohol mixed with your perfume filled his senses, igniting something you couldn't quite interpret.

His other hand moved just as firmly, gripping your chin with enough force that you had no choice but to meet his gaze. The touch was almost rough, a blend of control and anger that reverberated through you down to your bones. Silco's mismatched eyes burned with a fierce intensity, so piercing it seemed impossible to look away.

"Don't test me." he growled, his voice low and laced with latent danger. "My patience has its limits."

And then, with calculated abruptness, he let you go. The movement was so sudden that you almost stumbled backward. He stepped away, creating space between you as if he needed to regain composure, though his arrogant demeanor remained intact.

"What are you going to do?" your head tilted slightly to the side, your tone laden with challenge. "Kill me?"

You weren't naive. His threats weren't empty words. You knew Silco was holding himself back—why exactly, you weren't sure. Perhaps it was the mounting tension between you, an invisible thread that seemed to pull you closer to something as destructive as it was inevitable. Anyone else who dared to attack him would have already lost an arm, or worse.

And yet, you didn't back down.

"Or maybe with me, it's different." your voice dropped to a sharp whisper as you took another step forward, so close you could feel the heat of his breath. "Because you know, Silco, that no matter how much you threaten me, I doubt you have the guts to actually do anything to me."

Silco's eyes narrowed at your words.

"You think you know me, don't you?" he shot back, his voice laced with disdain. "You think you understand what I want, what I'm capable of."

"Then tell me if I'm wrong."

It was you who closed the distance between the two of you, ignoring the crunch of glass shards beneath your feet with each step or even the crackling fire nearby. The phantom of his grip still burned on your wrist, but you didn't rub it. You wouldn't show weakness—not now.

Every muscle in his body seemed tense, ready to strike, but he didn't move. He didn't raise a hand to push you away, nor did he take a step back. Instead, he let you approach, let you bridge the gap until you were so close you could feel his warm breath against your skin.

"You're right. With you, things are... different." he admitted, his voice now almost regretful, as though confessing something he hated to admit even to himself. "But don't be mistaken. I'm still the man who built an empire on blood and fear, and I wouldn't hesitate to remind you of that if necessary."

The shadows cast by the light made Silco's silhouette even more intimidating. His orange eye seemed to pierce into your very soul, devouring you, like staring into the abyss and having it stare back.

"Go home." his face was mere inches from yours, close enough for you to see every line, every scar etched into his marked skin. He was trying to maintain composure; that much was clear. "Before I do something we'll both regret."

You raised your chin, your body radiating a fierce pride that defied any implicit threat in Silco's words. Any sense of self-preservation had already been smothered by the chaotic mix of emotions boiling inside you: burning anger over Kate's situation, frustration with Silco's manipulations, and, above all, the overwhelming attraction clouding your judgment.

You knew you were tempting fate at this point, provoking the beast, pushing Silco to a dangerous edge. But honestly? You didn't care. Maybe, deep down, a part of you wanted to see how far he would go, how much he could tolerate your words before finally losing control.

"I didn't think a simple fuck would destabilize the great Eye of Zaun this much." your voice dripped with sweet venom, every word as sharp as a blade. You saw the muscle in Silco's jaw tighten, and it only fueled your audacity, like pouring gasoline on a fire. "A whore was enough to make you lose your grip... how pathetic."

The words came out drenched in scorn, and you savored every syllable as though you were exposing an open wound, pouring salt on it with relish.

You barely had time to react before you were slammed against the wall, the cold surface digging into your back with force. The impact knocked the air from your lungs, and before you could even try to recover, Silco's hand was at your throat, squeezing just enough to send a wave of panic coursing through your entire body. Your mouth opened instinctively, searching for the little air you could manage to pull in, your chest rising and falling in short, desperate movements.

Your hands shot upward, but not to fight him—you knew that would be useless. Instead, you grasped his wrist, your fingers digging into his skin with force, your nails leaving small marks. The touch was deliberate, as if trying to remind him that you would still fight back, even if the odds weren't in your favor.

"You want to know what's pathetic?" he growled, his voice low and dripping with menace. "You." his thumb pressed firmly against the pulse point on your neck, feeling the frantic rhythm of your heartbeat beneath your skin. "I could snap your pretty neck and leave your body here for the rats to feast on."

The words were cold, cutting like steel against your skin, but there was something else beneath them. A suffocating heat seemed to hang between you, an almost palpable field of tension. It was dark, twisted—a desire that seemed to want to consume you both. Your breaths mingled in the closeness, a suffocating dance of anger and something more, something neither of you was willing to admit.

"Keep talking." he murmured, his voice dripping with dangerous, lascivious undertones. "I want to hear what insults that pretty mouth of yours will throw at me."

Your body betrayed you in the worst possible way. The initial fear that had tensed your muscles began to shift, the adrenaline coursing through you dulling the pain and heightening every sensation. Your heart pounded in your ears, each beat echoing like a warning of how precariously your life hung in his grip. But it wasn't just fear making your heart race—it was him.

Silco was close. Too close. His body practically covered yours in that position. His scent filled your senses, erasing any remnants of rational thought. His eyes burned into yours, that hypnotizing contrast—one eye filled with the intensity of anger, the other an empty abyss, equally devastating.

And then you saw it in those piercing mismatched irises. Hidden beneath the anger. An unmistakable flicker of desire. It was raw, overwhelming, and dangerously familiar. You recognized it because you felt the same. Your body seemed to plead against your will, the proximity igniting something dark and unspoken between you.

Your lips parted, and the words slipped out in a rough whisper before you could stop them.

"I hate you."

Your voice broke, but not from weakness. There was weight in it, a hatred so dense it seemed to poison the air around you—a hatred for everything he was and for everything he made you feel. A hatred for him, but perhaps an even deeper hatred for yourself, for wanting him despite knowing how wrong it was. You hated him. You wanted him. And in that moment, it was impossible to tell where one feeling ended and the other began.

Silco's fingers tightened around your throat just enough to send another wave of alarm through your body. His eyes—those mismatched irises that burned with something dark and ravenous—studied you intently. A slow, predatory smile spread across his lips, revealing the jagged edges of his teeth, a threat and a twisted invitation all at once.

"I know you do, dove."

He leaned in closer, the distance between you shrinking until his nose brushed against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the scarce space separating your lips. Silco's free hand moved upward, gripping your jaw firmly, though his thumb traced the delicate line of your cheekbone with an almost cruel gentleness. It was a stark contrast to the strength of his grip around your throat, and that duality sent heat coursing through your veins.

He pressed his body even closer against yours, pinning you completely against the cold wall, as if he wanted to crush you there, as if he wanted to make sure you had nowhere to escape—as if you belonged to him. Every inch of his presence was overwhelming, suffocating. You felt the weight of his thigh shift, sliding between your legs and applying an unrelenting pressure that stole any breath you had left in your lungs.

And then he claimed your lips.

It was a shock—a collision as overwhelming as the shove against the wall. His lips crashed into yours with a force that shattered any remnants of resistance you might have had. There was nothing gentle about the kiss. It was raw, primal, a clash of teeth, tongue, and desire that had been restrained for far too long. He kissed you as if he wanted to devour you, as if every part of you needed to be consumed until there was nothing left but him.

You tried to regain control, but there was no space for it. He allowed no room for anything but his all-encompassing presence, the way he took everything you were, claiming the right to possess every piece of you. His fingers around your throat tightened—not enough to truly hurt, but enough to make you aware of his power, enough to make you feel it.

His touch was possessive, almost as if he were branding you, inscribing his presence onto you in a way that no one else could erase. And as he deepened the kiss, you realized, with a mix of anger and fascination, that he was getting exactly what he wanted.

Your hands, which had been gripping his wrists in a desperate gesture, slid downward to clutch at the rough fabric of his vest. You pulled him closer, ignoring the pain that radiated through your body. There was something strangely comforting in the brutality of his touch.

The kiss wasn't a gesture of affection; it was a collision of wills, a clash of searing fury and uncontrollable desire. It was a war with no victors, only the promise of mutual destruction. You matched his every advance with equal intensity, every bite and scratch an attempt to wound him, to leave your mark on him just as he was leaving his on you.

It was twisted, and you knew it. The hatred you felt for him was intoxicating, burning inside you like a wildfire consuming everything in its path. But what was worse—and you hated to admit it—was the fact that a part of you wanted this. You found a strange solace in the shared violence, as though, in some perverse way, it was the only truth between you. This contained violence was a language you both understood perfectly.

Your teeth sank into his lip with force, and the metallic taste of blood spread between you before he finally pulled back. "You don't own me." you whispered breathlessly, resting your forehead against his.

His hand slid down, gripping your thigh with bruising strength as he hitched it up to his waist. You gasped, feeling the hardness of him against you, a visceral reminder of how much he wanted you. Silco pressed his body even closer to yours, the cold wall at your back seeming to vanish against the searing heat of him in front of you.

"Not yet, dove. Not yet."

Silco's Pov ━━━━━━━༺��━━━━━━━

Silco chuckled darkly at her feeble attempt to slap him again, his eyes glinting with humor as he once again grabbed her wrist. However, he released her grip without much resistance, watching curiously as her hands slid downward once they were free. He reveled in the way her hands shook as she fumbled with the clasps on his pants, anger and desperation rolling off her in waves and clouding her ability to complete a simple action that she could do even with her eyes closed.

He grabbed her hands, stilling their movements. With deliberate slowness, he guided them to the fastenings of his trousers, showing her how to undo the clasps and zippers. His hands covered hers, helping her slide the fabric down enough to free him, revealing the hard length of him, already straining towards her.

A low groan rumbled in his chest as he felt her fingers brush against him, the slightest touch sending sparks of pleasure racing up his spine. He was so hard it almost hurt, his cock throbbing with need. He wanted to bury himself inside her, to claim her in the most primal way possible.

But first, he had other plans. With a sudden movement, he grabbed her thighs, lifting her effortlessly until she was wrapped around his waist. He pinned her against the wall, the rough brick scraping against her back. His hands slid up her thighs, pushing her skirt out of the way, revealing the lacy edge of her stockings.

"Look at you," his mocking tone, as if he were not equally thirsty. "So desperate for it, so needy. You want me to fuck you right here, where anyone could see?"

He rocked his hips forward, grinding his hardness against her core dress. The friction made them both gasp, pleasure sparking through their veins. Silco's hands slid higher, cupping her ass, kneading the firm flesh.

"I should make you beg for it." the whisper left his lips, his breath hot against her ear. But even as he said it, he knew he wouldn't. He was too far gone, too consumed by the need to have her. Right there, at that exact second.

"Don't you dare." her voice tried to be threatening, Silco realized, but at that moment her threat sounded more like a plea than anything else. "Otherwise I..."

"Otherwise, what? You are not in a position to make demands."

Despite his words, she did what she always did. She ignored him. Her eyes rolled back with a boldness only she could muster as she brought her fingers to her lips, her tongue darting out to wet each one before returning them back down. She fingered him, spitting, with some difficulty due to the awkward angle. Silco's head fell forward, falling onto her shoulder as she continued to pump him. His hands returned to her thighs, adjusting his grip to keep them steady. Then when she adjusted him against her entrance, Silco couldn't help but hold his breath.

The sensation was almost too much to bear, the tight grip of her walls around him sending shockwaves of pleasure through his body. He gritted his teeth, fighting back a groan as she sank down onto him, inch by torturous inch. For God's sake, how he missed that.

But even as his body reveled in the feel of her, his mind was racing with dark thoughts. This wasn't lovemaking, not by a long shot. This was a fuck, plain and simple, a coming together of two people driven by anger and lust and a desperate need to hurt each other. It was twisted and wrong and so fucking good that it terrified him.

His hands gripped her thighs hard enough to bruise, his fingers digging into the soft flesh as he pulled her down onto him, burying himself as deep as he could go. The angle was brutal, almost painful, but it only served to fuel the fire raging inside him.

He set a punishing pace, his hips snapping against hers with a force that made her cry out. Each thrust was a declaration of ownership, a physical manifestation of the dark hunger that consumed them both. He angled his hips, hitting that spot inside her that made her writhe, that had her clawing at his clothes and screaming his name.

"Mine." his voice murmured, more to himself than to her. It wasn't a statement of possession meant to irritate her, since she seemed so absorbed in her own pleasure that she didn't even notice the words leaving his lips.

His hands slid up her thighs, gripping her tightly as he thrust into her, his movements hard and fast. Silco could feel her body tensing above him, could hear the way her breath hitched in her throat as she neared her peak. The knowledge that he was the one pushing her to this point, that he was the one making her lose control, filled him with a sense of satisfaction. He wanted to break her, to shatter her in a way that only he could, so, remake her in his image.

But even as he thought it, he knew it would be an almost impossible task. She would never give in to him. Not easily. She was too wild, too defiant, too stubborn to be tamed. And God help him, but that was what attracted him. That fire, that passion, that refusal to submit even in the face of his worst brutality. It called to something deep within him, something he'd thought long dead.

That's why he wanted to try. Someone who had been a revolutionary was anything but someone who gave up easily.

He forced himself to meet her gaze, his mismatched eyes boring into hers with an intensity that bordered on frightening. Her eyes were wide, pupils blown with lust and something else, something darker that he couldn't quite name. It unsettled him, the way she looked at him, like he was her salvation and her damnation all rolled into one.

He leaned in closer, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of her neck. He bit down hard, leaving a bruise in the shape of his teeth. The coppery taste of blood filled his mouth, mixing with the salt of her sweat. It was a heady combination, one that made his head spin and his cock throb with need.

And then she was coming, her walls clamping down around him like a vice. The sensation was almost too much to bear, the rhythmic squeezing of her muscles pushing him over the edge. He let out a guttural groan, his hips losing their rhythm as he spilled himself inside her, filling her with his seed.

For a moment, they were frozen in place, their bodies locked together in the aftermath of their release. Silco could feel the warmth of her skin beneath his hands, could hear the ragged sound of her breathing as she tried to catch her breath. And for a fleeting second, he wondered what it would be like to hold her like this, to wake up next to her and see her sleep-tousled hair spread out on the pillow.

Well, if everything went the way he planned he would see this scene.

━━━━━━━༺༻━━━━━━━ 

The post-climax sensation that always followed those moments left you vulnerable, as if every layer of yourself had been stripped away, leaving you exposed and defenseless. This time was no different, though the intensity was greater. It had been quick, physical—an explosion of mutual rage converted into something far more primal.

Your body ached, especially your back. The constant friction against the rough wall during the act had taken its toll. And yet, there was no regret. You had wanted it—the brutality, the intensity, the force. Silco's body also bore the signs of weariness; you could feel it in the way he leaned against the wall, seeking support for both himself and for you. His arms still held you, firm but no longer tense—just enough to keep you close.

His arms tightened around your waist for a moment, holding you firmly against him as if trying to prolong the contact, before slowly lowering you back to the ground. Even then, he kept one arm around your waist, his open hand pressed against the curve of your lower back, steadying you until the trembling in your legs subsided. No words were spoken.

After what felt like an eternity, you began adjusting your clothes. Each movement was mechanical, automatic, as though your mind had shut off, unable to process what had just happened. Across from you, Silco did the same.

Without the sexual intensity or the anger that had dominated the air minutes ago, the silence now felt even heavier. A kind of emptiness that made room for dangerous thoughts to take shape in your mind. But you didn't want to think. Not now. Thinking meant facing the consequences, and you simply didn't have the strength to deal with that yet.

You turned to face him. Silco, as always, seemed ready to say something. But before he could open his mouth, before he could release a single word or give you that smug smile that always made your blood boil, you struck him.

Your slap wasn't as strong as you wanted—it was all your exhausted body could muster—but it was enough. Silco froze for a moment, his eyes widening more from surprise than pain, but he said nothing. He didn't react. And somehow, that infuriated you even more.

Without waiting for a response or reaction, you turned and walked away.

[...]

The following days passed. The path to the brothel, the routine, the people you crossed paths with—it all seemed normal, yet strangely distant. Neither Kate nor Silco appeared, and you were grateful for that. Still, the peace was an illusion. Your mind offered no respite, replaying the memories of that night every time you closed your eyes. The touch, the anger, the desire, and, finally, the emptiness—it all returned like a silent torment.

Lost in thought, you barely noticed the movement around you. It was a physical jolt—a body colliding hard against yours—that finally pulled you from your trance. The impact was so abrupt that you nearly fell.

"Hey!" you snapped, irritated, but the person was already gone, running into the growing crowd around you. It was only then that you realized something was wrong. Urgent, desperate voices overlapped around you.

"A house is on fire!" someone shouted, the phrase ringing out like an alarm. "Hurry!"

Your body moved before your mind could catch up. Your legs began running, following the crowd heading in the same direction. As you turned the corner, the chaos came into full view.

The flames danced wildly, consuming the modest building like ravenous predators. Thick smoke filled the air, burning your nose and throat, making it difficult to breathe. People ran back and forth, some coughing, others carrying buckets of water in a frantic attempt to contain the fire. Children cried as adults tried to organize some form of aid. It was pure chaos—stifling and inescapable.

You stood there, frozen, your eyes locked on the fire that seemed to grow with every passing second. But then, another jolt brought you back—this time, more deliberate.

When you turned, you found a figure that seemed out of place amidst the surrounding chaos. She was tall and muscular, with an imposing presence. The red cloak she wore draped over her shoulders, concealing her left arm in an almost calculated way. She wasn't looking at the fire—she was looking at you.

"Silco sends his regards." before you could react, she dropped something to the ground.

Your breath hitched. The world spun. Pain bloomed in your chest, spreading like poison as realization set in. A necklace with a ballerina pendant. You knew that necklace.

And it was covered in blood. Part 4

┊ TAG LIST ┊

@fandomsinthegalaxies

@defmxl

@aise-30

@cold-blooded-girls

@queenofspades6

@heidiland05 If you want to be added to the list, let me know in the comments.

[revelboo]

Lol you announced you were planning one for Rung and now I am chomping at the BIT. Waiting with baited breath

He’s a good boy bot

Anything For You Pt 2

Rung x Reader

• “It’s not poisoned,” he, Rung, you remind yourself, says. That doesn’t make you feel any better about the gray bars he’d given you. Especially since they don’t look or smell appealing at all. If the giant alien robot is to be believed, you’re on a ship far from home. Beamed up by accident with no way to get you home for the time being. You’d listened to him explain that he’s not going to hurt you, where you are, and who he is while keeping a death grip on what you suspect is an alien box cutter. And he’d given you… food. Or what he claims is food.

• “And there are other people here? Humans?” You ask, breaking a corner off of one of Ratchet’s nutrient bars and crumbling it in your fingers to send crumbs everywhere on his desk. Nodding slowly, he retrieves a blanket from the stash he’d kept for the human now in Megatron’s care and offers it to you. Just like the bars and knife, your immediate response is to snatch it to you. And frown. “So you guys space magicked a bunch of people here and can’t space magic us back?” Space magic?

• “Brainstorm claims he can’t because he’s not sure what went wrong to make his device pull humans to us. And his invention was dismantled.” Actually aggressively destroyed by Rodimus, but the end result was the same. The unwanted effects of it somehow still happening. Something Brainstorm had shrugged and labeled ‘residual reality displacement.’ In the same bored tone he uses wherever he’s asked to do something he doesn’t care about. “But I’ll try to make you comfortable until we can get you home.”

• Shifting where you’re sitting on the case of your big knife, you tentatively try a bite of the bar and it’s not awful, but definitely not good. “Why?” And he frowns like your question surprises him. But really? It’s not like he owes you anything, so why go out of his way to help you? No one does anything unless they’re getting something in return. So what’s his angle? What’s he want from you?

• “Because it’s the honorable thing to do?” Bemused at your arched brows, even as inexperienced with humans as he is, it’s easy to tell you don’t believe him. Cynical, little thing. Making him want to know why. Wanting to know you. What makes you ‘tick’ as he’d heard one of the other humans say. It’s his nature to want to understand. To help. “You don’t trust me, do you?”

• “Why would I? I don’t know you,” you mutter, deciding you’ve waited long enough and you’re not bleeding out of any orifices, so the bar is probably safe. Taking a bigger bite, you point with the rest. “So what do you want from me? What’s that ride back home cost? A kidney? Blood?” He reels back slightly, like he’s not only shocked, but offended. Not that you believe it. No one’s that nice without an ulterior motive. People always want something and you doubt big, alien robots are any different.

Previous

Next

[anistarrose]

If you were an a-spec exclusionist (or even "neutral") in the 2010s on Tumblr, if you remember laughing at "cringe aces," and have since come around to realize "hey that was kinda shitty, obviously aces and aros are queer," then you've obviously taken a huge step forward. But if you haven't actually evaluated what subtler forms of aphobia look like, and unlearned those too, then you absolutely need to do that, or else internalized biases will persist in this community that make a-specs feel unsafe.

The most rampant and insidious type of aphobia on Tumblr in the past few years hasn't been about explicitly saying you hate/want to exclude asexuals. Aphobes themselves say they've moved on from "discourse blogs," now preferring to make superficially "normal" posts with subtle aphobic dogwhistles, and people who don't consider themselves "exclusionists" still pass those dogwhistle posts around! And sometimes, "subtle" is giving the aphobes way too much credit, because a-spec terminology and microlabels are still constantly mocked, and used as punchlines.

Below, I've linked a variety of posts about what aphobia looks like, what commonly misunderstood/mocked a-spec terminology really means, and how a-spec people differ from common stereotypes and misconceptions. I don't expect everyone to read every one of these posts. There are some long ones. But I know Tumblr would be a significantly less hostile experience for a-spec people if everyone unlearning aphobia looked at, and reflected critically about, at least a few.

Subtle Aphobia; A-Specs and Sex Positivity

[Plain text: "Subtle Aphobia, Aces and Sex Positivity."]

Sex Repulsion Vs. Sex Negativity - Know the Difference

“Anti-Sex” and the Real Sexual Politics of the Right (Spoiler alert: religious purity culture is not "anti-sex." Rather, it's actually opposed to sexual autonomy.)

Just Being Acephobic Vs. Actually Calling Out Sex-Negativity

Acephobia and Ableism, Queer Social Spaces "Discourse"

Common Modern Aphobia, Critical Thinking Questions About "Cringe" Ace Posts on the Dashboard

"Virgin" as an insult just perpetuates sex negativity

Tumblr polls as harassment bait

Hey, What Do Those Terms We Mocked Actually Mean?

[PT: "Hey, What Do Those Terms We Mocked Actually Mean?"]

Origin, Use, and Etymology of "Allosexual"

Why "Queerplatonic" Doesn't Have a Set Definition, and Why That Matters (from the actual people who coined it!)

"Queerplatonic is to relationships what nonbinary is to gender"

"Amatonormativity" as Defined by Dr. Elizabeth Brake

Amatonormativity Affects More Than Just Aces and Aros

On mocking people's labels — "I want to limit your ability to communicate"

Masterpost of A-Spec Readings

Aromantic Allosexuals (Yes, Including Men)

[PT: "Aromantic Allosexuals (Yes, Including Men)"]

"Aroallos are often treated as inherently "more sexual" than other allosexuals. Here's why that assumption happens, and why it's bullshit."

Romantic Attraction Is Not Required To Respect Women

You can't support aroallos without unlearning sex negativity

Further Readings on Aphobia

[PT: "Further Readings on Aphobia"]

The problems with "Asterisk Acceptance"

"Aces are Valid" doesn't cut it

Compulsory Sexuality Is An Issue For Everyone

When sex-positivity in fandom swerves into compulsory sexuality and othering aces. (This is the only "fandom"-adjacent post I'm linking, but doing so because 1. I know the demographics of this site, and 2. this post is so well-put that its point is generalizable to non-fandom topics too.)

Aphobia Was Bad, It Was Bigotry, It Was Part of the TERF Pipeline

Bi person discusses parallels between aphobia and other queerphobia

Bi and trans person discusses parallels between aphobia and other queerphobia

Asexual Women of Color Navigating White Patriarchy

"Trauma is not a factor by which queerness should be measured" - excerpt from Refusing Compulsory Sexuality, and related discussion

Arophobia: "You say you accept aromanticism, but..."

The Aromantic Invalidation Pipeline

A-Spec Experiences Growing Up in Purity Culture Religions

"The World is Not Made For Single People"

Asexual Theory Masterpost

[antiquarianfics]

Accidental pt. 2

What happens when you accidentally kidnap the exact man you were looking for?

pairing: mob!bucky x reader

warning(s): canon level violence, kidnapping, profanity

a/n: the comments on the last pt. were so affirming, omg. thanks, guys. anyway, here's a second part. ig the same idea stands: if this does well, maybe i'll do a pt. 3?

part 1

»»———-———-———-———-———-———-———-««

"You're looking for a man by the name of Barnes, James Barnes. He's the owner of the bar you took me from, and he's the head of the Barnes Family. He'll have the answers you're looking for."

"Where can I find him?"

The man grins, a dashing smile.

“I’m right here, Doll.”

—

Somehow, against your instincts, you manage not to take a step back. You keep your feet planted in front of the man, eye twitching a little, jaw clenching.

“You’re James Barnes?” You say, voice devoid of any real emotion.

“Disappointed? Looking for someone less handsome?” He shoots you a cheeky grin.

You scoff. “More like I wasn’t expecting to kidnap a mob boss.”

James laughs, a genuine laugh. “No, I bet you weren’t. However, I do have to say, I’m impressed. Not just anyone can take me by surprise.”

“How long?” You ask, ignoring his praise.

“What?” He raises an eyebrow.

“How long until your men come looking for you? I expected more time, but with you being in charge…” You trail off.

“Ah, yes.” He glances down at the very expensive watch on his wrist. “Well, if it’s 11 now, I’d say… ah. 7 hours before anyone notices.”

You raise an eyebrow. “That long? Really? Are you sure you’re important?”

He grins at you, a dashing grin. You shake your head slightly. You shouldn’t be thinking about his smile right now--you shouldn't be teasing him.

“Very. But my people know not to bother me at night. What I do on my own time is my business. You’re in the clear as long as I show up on time to my meeting. If I’m not there... Well, then people begin to worry.”

You let out an involuntary laugh. “In the clear? You're telling me I’m going to get away with kidnapping you? Actually, don't answer that. You're baiting me, and distracting me. I need answers. Back to my sister. Where is she?"

"I was wondering if you'd forgotten about that."

"Answer the question," you say, stepping forward and putting your knife back up against his throat. It seems to do the trick.

James' face grows serious, as if the man in front of you was no longer playing around with you and had switched into his regular business persona.

"She's alive."

You let out a relieved breath. Alive is something. Alive is good.

"Where are you keeping her?"

"Well, doll, I can't just tell you that."

"Sure you can," you say, repeating your words from earlier.

He smirks, "Why don't you just take the knife away from my throat first? I'm precious goods."

You roll your eyes at him, but you pull the knife away. You hold the knife up to him as if to say I will pull this out again and set it down on the table a few feet away, and as you turn around, you pull a chair from the same table up to James, placing it right in front of him. You sit, an expectant look upon your face.

"Look, doll, why don't you just go ahead and untie me now that you've put that knife away, and we can have a friendly talk about this?" He asks.

You scoff, yet again. This man, you think, is insufferable.

"Try again, pretty boy."

"So you think I'm pretty?" He smirks.

"I think you're annoying, and I think you know where my sister is. So, how about you stop wasting my time and tell me what I want to know?"

He sighs dramatically and lets his head roll to the side as if he's bored before lifting it to look you directly in the eye.

"Like I said before, she owed me something she couldn't repay."

"What's that?"

"That information's gonna cost you, sweetheart."

"You're in no position to be negotiating right now," you say indignantly.

"Sure I am. Don't forget I'm the most powerful man in Brooklyn."

"Don't forget you're tied up and I have a gun."

"You wouldn't shoot me."

"Fucking try me, doll."

He laughs, a real, genuine laugh. "Agree to my terms, sweetheart, and I'll tell you anything you want to know."

You huff. "What are your terms?"

"'Atta girl!" He exclaims cheerily.

You grab your pistol from its holster at your side and aim it at the man in front of you, resting the gun on your thigh. He glances down at it before raising his gaze back up to you. He clears his throat, but something tells you it's not because he is nervous.

"Go on a date with me."

Your eyebrows shoot up. He's joking, you think. A date?

"A date?"

"A date."

"You want to go on a date with the woman who knocked you out, dragged you to an unknown location, tied you up, is demanding information from you, and is currently pointing a gun at you?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I have my reasons."

"How do I know you won't just kill me when I show up?"

"Because that wouldn't be very gentleman like of me. My mama raised me better."

"You're a mob boss. You extort and kill people for a living."

He shrugs. "Well, what do you say? Do we have a deal?"

"No," you say.

"No?" He asks, confused.

"I have my own conditions." James tilts his head slightly as a signal to go on.

"You've already confirmed that my sister is alive which confirms you have her locked up somewhere. You will let her go and forgive her debt for whatever the hell it is that she owes you. Do that and once she is safely at home and I've laid eyes on her, you can have that date. Do we have a deal?"

James is staring at you, and as much as you hate it, you can't read him. Your heart is pounding, and you're hoping, praying even, that you've not pushed too far.

"Deal."

You blink once, twice before it registers that he has accepted the deal. Damn, you think, he really wants that date.

"Have her home by... What time was your meeting again? 7? Have her home safely by 7 tomorrow," you say, standing up from where you sat in front of him. You begin to move around the basement, picking up your things that you had brought with you in the whole kidnapping ordeal. Once you've collected your things, you start walking towards the stairs to leave. "If she isn't there, the deal's off."

"You're just going to leave me here?" James asks, pulling at his arm restraints.

You look over your shoulder at him and smile at him. "You're a mob boss, doll, I'm sure you'll get out of there in time." Then, with that, you ascend the stairs.

»»———-———-———-———-———-———-———-««

@cjand10 @vicmc624 @mostlymarvelgirl @livingoutsidethetardis

[bountydroid]

Darlin’

pt 2

Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x f!reader (right now there is nothing romantic, maybe in the future I am undecided.)

Description: After being captured by some cowboys, reader ends up in front of a ghoul and fearing for her life.

Notes: This is awful I apologize in advance. Please let me know what you think. This is just setting it up for the real story.

I sighed as I stumbled behind my captors. I am not even sure how you ended up in this situation. One day I woke up next to my fire surrounded by three cowboys, smiling menacing at me. Next thing I know my hands are tied and I am being forced to follow them everywhere. I heard them talking about a "last bounty" and rolled my eyes. I know their type, there is never really a last bounty.

It was night-time as we made our way to the graveyard, I was so tense you shuffled stiffly behind their leader as he tugged on the rope connecting the two of you.

"He's the best bounty hunter there is." Their leader rambles on. To be honest, I wasn't listening.

"How do we know which grave?" One of his companions asked.

"Well, Slim we look for the fresh one." He responded. "Dom Pedro has our friend dug up once a year. Cuts some pieces off and then puts him right back in the ground."

"That's awful," I mumble.

The four of us stop in front of the graveyard and see a cross with two bags of Rad-X hung above it. "Bingo." Their leader says.

"Shit." Slim replies. "You are telling me the supreme badass we're looking for is a godforsaken mutant?"

"Are you really going to let out a ghoul?" I asked, exasperated by the whole ordeal.

"Have some respec'!" Their leader interrupted. "That is your prospective coworker you's talking about Slim. And our ticket to a big payoff. And you -" He said turning around to me, "You's better keep your mouth shut. Who knows what he does with little girls like you? I imagine we will let him do whatever he likes." He growled.

"I thought you said you knew this guy?" His other companion asked.

"I said I knew of him. My pop worked with him once." He shrugged.

"Your pop?" His companion asked breathlessly. "How long's this asshole been moulderin' in the ground?"

"How do we know he's not feral?" Slim asked, obviously afraid.

"That is why we brought our little friend." Their leader said as he pulled out a cage with a chicken in it from behind his poncho. "A feral ghoul can't abide a chicken. If he goes for her, we kill him."

"Just like that?" I asked dryly. I knew this band of idiots barely stood a chance, and that this was likely where I would die.

"Shut up," Slim said before he grabbed a shovel and started to big. "Should make the bitch dig." He said turning to his friend who just laughed in response.

Some time later they finally had dug up the coffin. It was surrounded by chains, obviously keeping something strong within. I couldn't help the chill that ran up my spine. I looked over at the chicken tied to a stake and couldn't help but wonder, am I bait too? Is that why they brought me here?

The three of them watched with bated breath as they opened the coffin from afar, but I couldn't stand to watch and just kept staring down at the chicken at my feet. Their leader gave the rope tied to the coffin one last tug and it finally swung open.

A ghoul stumbles out of the coffin, groaning and coughing and cracking his bones. He obviously hadn't been let out in a long time. I couldn't help but feel bad for him. If he truly wasn't feral, then there was a person in there.

"Well well well." The ghoul finally spoke. "Why is this an Amish production of The Count of Monte Cristo or… just the weirdest circle jerk i've ever been invited to?"

I couldn't help the snort that escaped my mouth. His attention was then brought to me as I stood mostly hidden behind the leader of the gang.

After a brief silence, the leader started laughing as well, obviously trying to diffuse the tension. "Welcome back. I'm Honcho. Now you don't even know us-"

"No." The ghoul interrupted. "I do not." His gaze then moved down to the chicken. He slowly approached as he licked his lips in anticipation.

The four of us moved back in fear as he picked up the chicken.

"Does that count?" Slim asked. "Should I shoot him?"

"Would you shut the fuck up," Honcho responded. "We-uh, we got a proposition for you." He said as he moved his attention back to the ghoul. "A bounty came down. A huge one. Enough to be a last score for me and whoever's with me. Yeah. Now, somebody made a run from the enclave." He said pulling out a sketch of the bounty and his furry friend.

"Now what makes you think I'd give a good goddamn about that?" The ghoul asked, obviously not interested in the bounty.

It ain't where he's running from I figured you'd be interested in." Honcho said confidently. "It's where he's running to. That witch Moldaver in California. That's where you from ain't it?" He smiled. "Originally I mean."

The ghoul stared him down for a moment. "Now, what the fuck would you know about where I'm from?"

I tried to swallow but my throat was so dry from fear that it was painful. I slowly took a step back from Honcho. I could feel that this was going to go bad quick.

"Well that don't sound like gratitude, do it, boys? Honcho responded with a sour tone in his voice. "How about we put you right back in that hole so Dom Pedro can have his fun with you for the next thirty years?"

The ghoul smirked as he looked between the 3 cowboys, amused with Honcho's confidence. "Well, I'll tell you what boys, whenever somebody says they're doing one last job, that usually means their heart's not in it. Probably never was." He said as he kneeled back down to the chicken. "But for me? Well, I do this shit for the love of the game."

It was barely a second before he had his lasso around Honcho, easily pulling him off his feet and throwing him across the graveyard. I stumbled behind him a couple of feet before the rope he was holding came loose and I fell to the ground. I stayed down and covered my head as I heard gunshots and the two boys falling to the ground. I slowly looked up at the ghoul who was staring down at me with a blank expression before turning his attention back to Honcho.

"You are right, friend, about one thing. This right here? Was your last job." The ghoul said while aiming his gun at the cowboy. "My paycheck wasn't quite what you expected, but, well you know what they say. Us cowpokes.."

"Wait! The girl! I brought her for you! Thought you might be hungry." Honcho mumbled around the rope in his mouth. I was barely able to understand him, but it looked like the ghoul did.

He stopped and turned around to look at me again. I stared back at him in horror, still on my stomach in the mud. "Well, that's no way to treat a lady." He smiled threateningly before turning back to his target, shooting the rope holding up his coffin, and watched as it dragged Honcho into the ground. "Us cowpokes, we take it as it comes." He finished.

Without a word he picked up his bag, threw it over his shoulder, and walked right past me.

I don't know what came over me at that moment, but I knew that I didn't want to be left alone. "Wait!" I said before I even knew what I was doing.

He stopped in his tracks but didn't turn around to look at me.

"I'll die out here on my own," I whispered. "I could lead you to the bounty. There is information that the idiots didn't share with you. I could help."

At this, he turned to look at me and crouched in front of my kneeling body. "I know exactly where I am going darlin'." He responded. "I don't need your help."

"But I do!" I said as I gave him the best puppy dog eyes I could muster as I held up my still-bound wrists.

He scoffed before looking up at the sky. "No." He said before getting up and walking away.

[yooniebub]

CSC pt. 2

taste me - @thedensworld

Can't friends taste each other? Seungcheol didn't know the answer. But he was certain that it'll be fair only if he could also taste you.

nom nom - @svtiddiess

After what seems like years of asking, your boyfriend has finally allowed you to bite his tiddies.

hit the books, hit the sheets - @hoshifighting

Where after weeks with your face buried inside of books on the brink of exhaustion, however, when the day of the exam arrives, your hard work pays off as you receive notice of an outstanding grade—an A+. Overwhelmed with pride and joy, Seungcheol decides to reward you for your dedication.

Seungcheol + mutual masturbation - @/hoshifighting

villain! cheol - @/hoshifighting

After facing constant rejection from your own boyfriend, you discover he’s a superhero flying around the city. Seungcheol, the so-called 'villain,' stepped in when you were left as bait, exposed to your boyfriend's enemies. It turns out, he's the one who truly took care of you.

gym rat roommate! cheol - @/hoshifighting

whenever we breathe ft. jww - @sluttywoozi

Weed always makes you a bit looselipped, especially around your two best friends, Wonwoo and Seungcheol.

(boy) friend material, pt. 2 - @/sluttywoozi

You'd think that, having matched with Seungcheol on a dating app, you would be, well, dating. You suppose you're lucky, but not that lucky.

black butterflies and deja vu -@ssentimentals

kiss a falling tear - @ssentimentals

kiss out of lust - @/ssentimentals

[20:08] - @hwanghyunjinenthusiast

cheeks are read like cherries in the spring - @scarletwinterxx

opposites - @gyubakeries

achilles' heel - @pochaccoups

after a knee surgery, your boyfriend feels off about his body. you’re determined to show him just how much you love it.

untitled - @woozivrse

[16:14] - @hannyoontify

untitled - @nonranghaes

untitled - @/nonranghaes

ex-conomics - @100vern

you supported seungcheol through years of being an aspiring athlete, and all you got to show for it was your undergraduate degree and an awkward, stuttered apology when he dumped you to go semi-pro. now he’s back after an injury derailed his career, and there’s only one problem: you’re the only one available to tutor him. you - 0; the universe - 1. talk about no return on investment.

rainy day with Seungcheol - @papajohnnyspizza

You and Seungcheol decide to spend a lazy morning together.

soft pillows, warm hugs - @babyleostuff

sleepy choi seungcheol means many things - dramatic, adorable, and very kissable

Seungcheol just needs a break from studying! - @cherrybr4t

remind me - @milfgyuu

You’ve had a little too much to drink at your sister’s wedding and can’t understand how or why Choi Seungcheol of all people is assigned to babysit you.

untitled - @etherealyoungk

coups fucking you against a wall - @love-strike

seen - @casuallyimagining

"you know that makes no sense, right?"

untitled - @wqnwoos

you are in love - @simpxxstan

[2:24am] - @soonyoungs

amnesia - @sailorrhansol / @sailorsoons

Choi Seungcheol has never been the type to commit to relationships - casual is more his thing. You’re fine with that - except you and Seungcheol seem to be terrible at casual when it comes to one another. 

untitled - @seungcheorry

pov - @bookyeom

pov by ariana grande

i wanna love me the way that you love me for all of my pretty, and all of my ugly too i'd love to see me from your point of view cause nobody ever loved me like you do

when in Rome - @highvern

After months of no contact, Seungcheol isn't sure what to expect when he sees you again at Jeonghan's wedding. He's prepared to apologize, to grovel, to bear the weight of a cold shoulder. Whatever it takes to have you back, his best friend since diapers; or whatever will ensure the last third of your trio has the best day of his life. But when he overhears the most recent development in your relationship, he must come to terms with something he was never prepared for, or risk losing you for good.

[sqfewrd]

MOONLIGHT (an obx!au)

mini series: pt 1 pt 2 pt 3

fisherman!Rafe Cameron x mermaid!reader

cw: slight ooc!rafe, mild language, somewhat innocent!reader due to not being raised on land, not edited!

Gloomy. The ocean was gloomy. At least from up on the surface, when you’re underwater and swimming through old shipwrecks, it’s… beautiful.

y/n sat on a small rock overlooking the ocean, glancing down at her legs, she felt strange without her tail. Her fingers clasped her necklace, tugging softly on the white seashell.

The sun had gone down, the moon casting light onto the water, this was the only time she could come out, afraid of the fishermen and humans on land. Her father always warned her. “They want to hurt you— hurt us” He would say his face hard as he spoke, y/n would only nod, accepting his words.

She sighed softly looking around, before jumping into the water, she opened her eyes once under, pressing her shell necklace, feeling her tail return. She swam away from the shore, moving deeper into the ocean. Passing schools of fish and dolphins frolicking.

Making it onto a giant rock in the middle of the water she leaned onto it, resting her head on her crossed arms. “Hello moon” she whispered softly looking up at the gray sphere “I missed you” she licked her lips. “I wish you didn’t have to go away when the sun came out, but I guess that’s what makes us alike in a way” she ran a hand through her wet hair.

she swam back onto shore, finding the stashed clothes she had stolen from some young girl awhile ago. She hadn’t gotten to steal some human shoes yet but that didn’t matter, she loved feeling the sand.

She made her way onto boardwalk, the street lamps on illuminating her path. She never did much but walk around never going too deep into the town. The fishermen lived by the shore, making it hard to do anything but walk.

Y/n jumped, a sudden thud hitting the wooden posts. She looked back seeing the boat. Before she could react the two men jumped off, their voices loud as they argued.

“Dad! Stop! Okay I’m sorry— I’ll do it— I—“ the older man of the two stood in place facing the younger one. “You’re sorry?!” He sneered, the younger one inched back, fear in his eyes but he tried stand his ground.

“I should've know, you're too stupid to even understand simple directions!" Y/n inched backed, hiding behind wooden barrels, watching as the younger man held back tears. his blue eyes dimming. "I’m sorry'' he repeated his head hanging low.

The older man walked away shaking his head in disappointment, unlocking the door to one of the many bait shops. The younger man sat at the edge of the dock, his legs dangling. His shoulders shook with quiet sobs. Y/n's heart broke, she didn’t know this boy but she felt so deeply for him.

Before she could think it through she walked toward him, quietly as to not startle him. “Are you okay?” Her soft voice broke the silence. He jumped, roughly wiping his eyes and standing. “M’fine” he cleared his throat. “Are you lost or something?” He tried to sound harsh, his soft blue eyes, now rimmed red giving him away.

She looked up meeting his eyes, they seemed so… familiar. “No— I’m—” the door to the bait shop opened. “Rafe! Hurry up— I don’t got all damn night!” The man yelled rolling his eyes the door closed again the bell dinging. Rafe looked back down at y/n. “If you’re not lost what are you doing out? it’s late.” he spoke his voice slightly raspy. “Just having a late night stroll'' she stood straight. His eyes scanned her body, "you don't have shoes on'' he stated, his eyes finding hers. she shrugged. "are you sure you're not lost?" he tried again.

"no, I’m not lost'' her eyes stayed locked with his. "okay'' he didn't believe her. "I feel like I've seen you around'' she shook her head. ''I just moved here” she lied, her cheeks tinting red, she hated lying. "oh, really? what's your name'' she swallowed roughly. ''uh..'' she looked around. "Lucy'' his eyebrows raised. ''Lucy?'' she nodded. "right, Lucy what?" she looked at him confused. ''what do you mean what? that's my name'' he gave her the same confused look. “No— what’s your last name— or do you not have a last name, ‘Lucy’” he stepped closer, she took a step back. “I do— but I don’t feel comfortable giving it out” he scanned her once more before taking a step back. “Okay” he nodded. “Rafe goddamnit!” His dad’s voice cut through again as he held the bait shops door open an annoyed look on his face. “I’m coming!” Rafe yelled back looking at his dad the same annoyed expression. His dad rolled his eyes going back inside. Y/n took the opportunity to jump back into the water. When rafe turned back to face her she was gone.

“What the fuck.” he breathe out

AN: okay my first rafe fic so… there will be some ooc!rafe, I’ll try my best to keep him as him as possible but to fit the story I’ll make changes. I’m trying to get back into writing so idk if this will be any good sorry. Constructive criticism is soo welcome just don’t be mean about it pls! 🐚🐚 (I feel like this is really bad but I haven’t written in like two years..)

(border credit: @aquazero)

[edawgz]

ᝰ.ᐟ THE WORST ONE

𖦹ׂ ₊˚⊹⋆ PART 3. You’ve been forced to document the team’s season for a campus sports feature. Geto hates being filmed, but you’re not exactly a fan of jocks either.

❚ ❙ ❘ innuendos. toxic ex passively mentioned. videographer media intern reader. begrudging reader x lowkey yearner geto. idk what to tag this. slow burn. fluff. comfort.

| masterlist. | benched main page. | jjk masterlist. | pt 2. | pt 4. |

lacrosse captain!geto who’s never sat near you on the team bus. not once. always keeps to the back with the guys, sprawled out across two seats like the world owes him comfort. but this trip? the last away game of the season? the bus is packed, seats are tight—and he doesn’t hesitate. just drops into the empty spot beside you like he’s been doing it all year.

lacrosse captain!geto who says “What, not gonna offer to share your headphones?” in a low voice, but smooth as ever

lacrosse captain!geto who's lips tug into a smirk when you try to play it off, try to roll your eyes and keep your focus on the small monitor you’ve been editing game footage on — but it’s kind of impossible to ignore the way his thigh is pressed solidly against yours, or how his cologne smells like clean linen and heat.

lacrosse captain!geto who rests his head against the window and glances at your screen without asking, eyes tracking your every edit like he’s reading your thoughts.

lacrosse captain!geto who murmurs “You really save clips of just me?” with half a smile curling on his lips. “Little self-indulgent, don’t you think?” you don’t rise to the bait. just nudge his knee with your own and mutter, “It’s for the article. Your teammates suck at interviews.”

lacrosse captain!geto who hums at that, amused.. and doesn’t deny it.

lacrosse captain!geto who doesn’t move his leg. not once. who lets the silence between you stretch until it’s too thick with unspoken things. and then, quiet, almost curious “So what do you actually think of us?” you blink, caught off guard. “The team?”

lacrosse captain!geto who nod at your question which he thought had all-too-obvious of an answer “The athletes in general. The ones you clearly hate filming.” your lips twitch. “I think most of you are insufferable.”

lacrosse captain!geto who raises an eyebrow at that, and fixes his posture against the seat to challenge your thoughts a bit more, “And me?”

lacrosse captain!geto who notices how you hesitate, long enough that his gaze flickers away from the window to watch you, eyes steady and unreadable. “You’re the worst one.”

lacrosse captain!geto who can't help grin.. slowly and sharp, like you've handed him exactly what he wanted. all while you can't help but think that maybe it’s the engine rumble beneath your feet or the low laughter from the rest of the team two rows back or the soft tap of rain hitting the windows

lacrosse captain!geto who's voice doesn't raise above a mutter when he says, “Good. Hate keeps things interesting.” and you really, really shouldn’t be this warm under your hoodie, but then his arm stretches casually behind you, resting across the back of the seat, and it’s not even touching you — but somehow it still feels like a claim.

lacrosse captain!geto who doesn’t say another word for the rest of the ride. doesn’t need to. just leans back with his eyes closed and a small, satisfied smile on his lips like he knows exactly what kind of edit you’ll make after this game — and exactly how many times you’ll replay it, just to get the cut right.

[kattsmuse]

Wholesome Activities with TF141 pt 2

It's cold and rainy today and I miss the sun, so I'm in the mood for some beachy fluff. (Maybe some not so wholesome beach day activities coming soon?) Possible expansions on these thoughts later as well.

Part 1: Staying in

Part 2: Beach Day

John Price

It doesn't take much convincing for John to go to the beach with you. He doesn't mind some time relaxing. Before you go, you make sure you're both ready. You've washed your favorite beach towels, gathered up sunnies for both of you, made sure you had plenty of hair ties for yourself, and packed up both of your books. You've triple checked that you have sunscreen and your little emergency first aid kit (you always have one). You're over prepared to stay the least. John and you made lunches and put them in a cooler with some drinks. Of course, John can't go to the beach without his tackle box, a fishing pole, and some bait.

You wade out to the water with him. The gentle ripples sit at his hips and your waist, and you just stand beside him. It's calm, and you've never understood why he loves fishing so much. That's until he puts the rod in your hand and stands behind you, showing you how to do it. His body shielding your back from the sun as he whispers in your ear when to jig the line. You simply feel safe in his arms as he teaches you how to be patient enough to wait for the bite.

Once on the sand, you're enjoying the sun (after John frets over your use of sunscreen, he wants to make sure you won't burn) and watching John wade out to his hips, casting his line out. You always make sure to get an area on the sand closer to the 'border' of the beach, or where the sand gets a bit marshy. That way John can fish while you swim, and he doesn't disturb other people. You love seeing him do what he enjoys, but you also acknowledge that you should spend a bit of time together.

Kyle Garrick

Going to the beach together was actually his idea. He adores the sand on his skin and the sound of the waves crashing on the shore. When packing up, you make lunches while he grabs some things for you to do while you're there. Your beach dates are usually consistent. You both lie on the large blanket Kyle had brought, soaking up some sun. You want to get a tan, but Kyle insists on lathering you both in sunscreen first. At least an SPF 15.

After an hour or so of tanning, you slide into the water and splash around. At some point, Kyle lifts you up and tosses you into deeper water, only for you to crawl back onto his back to drag you back down. It's so chaotic every time but you'd have it no other way.

When you're done swimming you have lunch, then probably toss a Frisbee or join another group's game of beach volleyball. You stay until it's nearly dinner time, just repeating these activities and enjoying being in each other's company. You don't get to do this often, and even though when you do it's the same general agenda, it's special every single time.

Simon Riley

Straight up, Simon greatly dislikes going to the beach. The sand is scratchy, there are too many people, and he usually walks away with a burn, no matter how much sunscreen he puts on. It's rarely fun for him. But when you casually mentioned that it would be nice to just go relax on the beach sometime, though he disagrees, he would plan it. You come home for work and one of your bags are already filled with sunglasses, hair ties, sunscreen, snacks, drinks, all kinds of things. You even see a brand new swimsuit sitting beside it.

You question it but he insists because it'll make you happy. You get there and because it's the afternoon, you struggle to find a place to put your things. This is a nightmare for Simon. But, thankfully for him, you're not there long before it starts to clear out. The sun isn't so blazing and people who've been there all day begin to go home.

You two end up lying on a blanket watching the clouds pass for a while before you take a swim. He didn't want to stay all day, but you do stay long enough to see the sun begin to set over the water. You didn't even get there until almost 6 p.m. because of work, anyway.

He's standing beside you, his arm wrapped around your body as you lean into him, the water gently waving up your torso as the singer paints the sky in magenta, navy and amber colors. At this moment... The beach is quiet, you're in his arms, and he's got the most beautiful views before him. Maybe it's not so bad after all. He presses a kiss to your temple, your faces bathed in the golden light.

Johnny MacTavish

Similar to Kyle, Johnny was pumped at this idea. He took you both shopping the day before to get some new towels and swimsuits just for the occasion. You get all kinds of summery snacks and drinks and you're on your way.

Immediately after setting up, Johnny picks you up over your shoulder and laughs as he runs to the water. You're screaming but there's a very clear jovial tone in the pretend terror. Once he's in, nearly to the drop off he flops back into the water, pulling you in. You come up and splash him laughing, before you jump onto his side, dunking him. Neither of you hold the other under long, just playfully dipping one another in. At some point, you end up on his shoulders, playing chicken with another couple (if Kyle is there, it's definitely him and his girl).

Once you're both worn out, you lie on the sand, soaking up the sun. He pats your bottom to see the sand ripple off it just for fun before he leads you to the concessions stand to get some ice cream.

You were both so excited and giddy to go, you didn't put sunscreen on at home. And because Johnny kidnapped you from the safety of the sand before you could apply any, you both burn. Once you're home and indoors, you see how red you both are and spend the night in the living room gingerly applying aloe to your bodies.

[starboykel]

Little Mermaid 🌊🐬 pt 2 !

part 1!

mermaid!reader x sailor!John Price

!!warnings: fluff, none really just super cute :) F!Reader

English isn't my first language! Not proofread, i apologize for any gramatical mistakes

It has been a few weeks since the strange encounter with the mermaid and captain Price hasn't stopped thinking about her since then. Her beautiful tail, who had shine in that moonlight, the cutesy way she spoke... He wasn't being able to get her out of his mind.

⋆｡𖦹°‧

A few months passed. He had lost hopes to find the mermaid again, she was probably too scared to get out of her place again, he tried staying up as long as he could but he was always dragged to bed by his sailors after 2 am...

Price had a mission today, catch some fish. He prepared everything and got on his boat, he wasn't planning on getting some big catch, just some small fishes that he could eat in 2 or 3 days.

He was in a safe distance from land but still a few far into the ocean, the sea was calm and he didn't had any worries...

While waiting for some fish to take the bait, he starts appreciating the landscape... Which was just the sun and water, but it was still beautiful.

After a few moments, he starts noticing a strange movement on the water, it was getting closer and closer and closer... He grabs his gun and points at it but when he sees the familiar color of the mermaid's tail, he immediately puts it back down.

"Y/N?! Is that you?!" He shouts, looking at the water for any sight of you until you emerged from the water, looking at him with curiosity.

You wanted to ask him what he was doing here, in the middle of nowhere, if he was lost but you couldn't figured out how to say it, it was too complicated for you.

He sighs in relief, "I thought you were dead." He says and sits back on the boat, "What brings you here?" He asks, grabbing a cigarette from his backpack and lightening it up.

When you doesn't answer, he looks at you with a raised eyebrow, "Did the cat got your tongue?" He asks. You tilts your head, looking at him confused... What's a cat?

"What... What cat?" You asks, trying to sound audible, the strong accent making it almost impossible. Price stares at you for a moment before realizing... You don't know what a cat is. He chuckles, looking at you softer.

"Cat is a domestic animal, a feline. You know what a pet is?" He added, looking at you and taking a puff of the cig. You nods, you've read about dogs before in your books but never cats.

"Well cats are... Like little lions, tigers. They hunt rats, cockroaches, uh... You don't know what any of these are, right?" He explained and then asked and sighed when you nod. He took off his phone from his backpack and showed you a picture of a cat, "that's my cat, his name is Whiskers, my daughter begged for a cat after she went to her friend's house, she takes care of him and such." He spoke, smiling.

Your eyes sparkles, that thing was cute! The cat's orange fur mixed with white was adorable, his big dark eyes and pointy ears were like nothing you saw before. Price chuckles, seeing how amazed you looked, you try reaching for the phone but he flinches, "Nuh uh. You're gonna get it wet." He puts his phone back on the backpack, you looks up at him confused and he smiles, "Don't give me that look... Hey, can you get on the boat?" He asks and gives him hand for you to grab. You grab his hand and he lifts you up like if it was nothing and puts you on the boat, that's when he gets a good look on your body.

Your tail was beautiful, shining in the sunshine, the jointed fingers and the fact you didn't had a belly button, it was weird but fascinating, you were so pretty, the wet hair and how the sun shines in your skin was mesmerizing.

"Oh god, you're so beautiful." He was amazed, he touches your cheek and caresses it, feeling your soft skin and how cute your eyes were, it was nothing like he saw before, big but with sharp pupils, probably to see better on the dark sea, you touches his hand, leaning into it, his touch was so comfortable and warm and your skin was chill, kinda blue.

You then see the fishes in the bucket and looks at it a bit confused, you points at it. He looks at it and smiles, "That's what i do to survive, pretty. I sell fish to feed my little girl." He explained and you nods understanding, your family had a similar business, your father hunts shrimp, crab from the deepest seas, the ones that tasted the weirdest and was still extremely delicious.

"Mine... Dad sells... Hm..." You starts but forgets the word for 'crab' and 'shrips', so you starts mimicking the movements of a crab, which makes Price starts laughing heartily, finding it funny and cute.

"Crab? It's that what you're trying to say?" He calms down a bit and asks and but nods.

"Yes... Crap!" He then laughs again, making you confused. "Crap...funny? Haha... Haha!" That just makes him laugh more at your attempt to laugh with him but clearly confused.

He takes a deep breath, "No, no. Crab, crap is what you say when something goes wrong, you know?" He says after calming down a bit, smiling.

You nods, "You know, you nod a lot, does your head doesn't hurt? You can always say 'i understand', 'got it' or 'yes'. C'mon, say with me 'got it'." He teaches you, "G...goot it...?" You try.

"No, no. Got it. Don't extend the 'o'." He smiles, explains. "Got... It.... Got it!" "Yeah! Like that!" His smile widen and he pats your head.

It was getting late and he had to go back to the beach, where the base was so he ruffles your wet hair, "I have to go, it's getting late and you should go too, it might be dangerous, the sea is full of surprises." He says. You smiles, your sharp fangs surprising him, "bye...bye!" You say before jumping on the water, swimming away on the big ocean.

He sighs happily and starts paddling back to base, he caught a good amount of fish and found the mermaid he was looking for, what a day...

┄┄ ︰ ┄୨୧┄ ︰ ┄┄

[siberat]

Bigger is Better

pt 2

Servo's flapped in excitement as Be.e gleefully chose the first dish. He liked to start things off on the lighter side—something liquidy. A Co.ntainer was selected, the lid twisted off, and a spoon was grabbed. Carefully, the smaller mech stepped forward, closing the distance between the pair. A happy little squeal erupted upon seeing the seated mech eagerly licking his lips.

“What you got zhere, hmmm?” Icy’s optics focused on the Co.ntainer as his servo idly rubbed his noisy belly.

“Oh, you are going to love this!” The Auto.bot chirped as he dunked the spoon in and scooped up a chunky Co.ncoction of large bites of cyberchicken, shards of purple amethyst, and mica chips that swam in a thick, creamy broth.

“It looks pretty, but I believe I asked vhat it vas.” The ‘Co.n’s lips pressed tightly shut.

“Is this how you gonna play?” BumbleBe.e gave the look. “Open up.” When those firm words barked out, the other’s mouth opened wide. And the yellow mech’s spark skipped a rotation. “There's a good mech.” The spoon flew inside only to be grasped between teeth, then slide out.

“Hmmmmmm...” Icy hummed as he chewed, then swallowed. “Zhis is rather tasty. Very creamy.” The mouth opened again, awaiting the seCo.nd offering.

“See? I told ya so.” A smile beamed as the other mouthful was given. “Chicken corn chowder. And I added extra cream to give it that rich thickness.” After each bite fed, that belly rumbled even more demanding. The sound was a welcomed chorus- music to his audials. Be.e simply adored the ‘Co.n’s ravenous appetite, loved how unashamed of the other’s desire to Co.nsume. While the paunch adorned now was empty and flabby, by the end of this picnic, those tanks will be ready to burst.

“I added some diced baCo.n bits and baCo.n grease to give it that zing of smokiness.” Be.e explained as excitement pinged through his frame. Now, cooking was a newly discovered hobby, and as much as Be.e loved to prepare meals, he loved discussing them. He could spend hours just going over ingredients and why they mixed well with anyone willing to listen.

Or not listen. Sadly, not everyone enjoyed his dedication to an in-depth explanation of every detail.

However, Blitz.wing nodded and hummed along, even asking questions that clearly showed he was paying attention. Plus, the talk of food made him hungrier. That servo never left his belly, be it rubbing or playfully pinching the flabby mesh that sausaged between his plating seams.

“Yes, baCo.n just makes every dish better!” Be.e rambled as he Co.ntinued to spoon-feed the other. “It’s because of the glutamate. Do you know what that is?”

Icy swallowed, then dabbed his lips politely with the cloth napkin. “Something zhat tastes good?”

“Oh, look who’s being a smart aft, huh?” The Auto.bot wagged the spoon before scooping more soup. “But it activates this sensory receptor on your glossa to add in that rich, savory flavor. Kinda like adding salt to a dish. But it’s also high in much-needed nutrients your frame needs, hence the cravings.”

“Makes sense.” Icy nodded as he chewed, listening to the little mech as he prattled on about the soup’s ingredients.

All too soon, the clinking of scraping the spoon against the bowl rang out, announcing the completion of this dish. An unhappy pout formed on Icy’s lips, but Be.e didn’t take the bait. Instead, yet another dish was selected.

Enough with the slow start- let’s get down to business!

A massive bowl of lithium noodles covered in richly seasoned red sauce with huge, round cyber meatballs plopped on top like landmines. This meal was claimed to feed a family unit of four, but it would easily count as one meal for the DeceptiCo.n. A side dish of garlic bread completed this meal.

But this dish was a tell-tale favorite, and Icy nearly salivated just looking at the heaping bowl. Yes, it was inexpensive, which was good for Be.e’s credits, but the dish was very homey and satisfying. Why? Its roots grew deep in Cyberton’s history, for one. But the dish was highly versatile. The sauces could be red, white, or oily, and the noodles could be long, penne, or bowties. Not to mention, the dish was very filling.

And pasta seemed to be the go-to meal when your lunch date seemed to be a never-ending garbage disposal.

“I see you went with the classics, nice.” Blitz.wing hummed, twiddling his fingers as he greedily eyed the plate. “And such a large serving!”

“I couldn’t have you go hungry,” Be.e puffed his chest out, proud at being able to provide such a large dish. “Close your legs.” Once those plump thighs slapped together, the bowl was set down upon them and a fork stabbed in, twirling around sauce-covered noodles. “You’re gonna have to open wide for this!”

Icy did as he was told, and the noodles entered his mouth, not without a flinging, dripping sauce over those lips and chin. The feedee didn’t seem to mind, instead focusing only on the perfectly seasoned sauce and melt-in-your-mouth noodles that now ran over his glossa. His optics shot wide open before he moaned in delight.

“You approve?” Be.e shimmied from one pede to another, grinning madly at the joyous sight before him.

“Very much so.” That deep red napkin dabbed at his lips and chin for any stray sauce. “Perfect mixture of oregano and basil.” His servo, with finger curled pressing his thumb, was brought to his mouth to give a ‘chef’s kiss’. “You are getting so good at cooking!”

“And you are getting so good at eating.” This time, a large meatball was offered, and to the Auto.bot’s surprise, the ‘Co.n took the entire sphere into his mouth.  “We’ll get this belly filled up in no time, huh?”

The triplechanger happily nodded his helm as that devious hand returned to rubbing at that belly. Oh, how Be.e would love to reach out and grope at that chub that jiggled on the frame! But Blitz.wing never offered for him to touch. That belly looked so soft and plush, inviting one’s face to smoosh right into it.

“AH ah... little bug,” Icy called out. “I’m ready for more..... Feed me....”

“AH... sorry ‘bout that.” This time, a thick golden brown slice of bread was offered, and the crispy side crunched within the other’s bite.

“Vhat has distracted you, hmmm?”

The question snuck out before more saucy noodles were shoved in. As much as Be.e tended to blurt out the first thing on his processor, he held his tongue: he was in no mood to boldly announce he wanted more than just observing! Yes, Blitz.wing swelled with pride when Be.e admired his paunch, but looking no longer satisfied his desire.

“So, did you read those comics I gave you?” The perfect topic changer! The Auto.bot previously rambled about superheroes, and the ‘Co.n was clueless, but showed interest. So, digital copies of comic series were provided for the other to enjoy.

“Hmmmm Hmmmm...” Icy nodded.

“Yeah?” Be.e grinned- he actually read them! “So, what ya think?”

“Zhey were... entertaining...” Icy eyed the bowl, watching the fork twirl in the noodles. His belly was still grumbling. As well as being rubbed by large, dark servos. “Zhere vasn’t much gore, though.”

“Not everything is as violent as you.” Another large mouthful was fed. “Who do you think would win a fight. Spiderman or Superman?”  The other’s helm tilted to the side as the large mouthful of food was chewed. “I think Superman would win- hands down!”

“Hmmmmm....” Blitz.wing swallowed, then took a deep breath of air. “I dunno, my little buggy. You only need a simple rock, and he is rendered useless.”

“It’s not just any rock.... you would need kryptonite!” Be.e nearly shouted as the next forkful of food zoomed everywhere as he talked with exaggerated hand movements. “And it’s not common.”

“Zhat’s a shame...” The tan and black flyer kept watching the moving food.

“Ah, sorry ‘bout that.” Be.e shyly smiled and fed the food. “But the chances of Spiderman having kryptonite? Slim to none.”

“Too bad.... it looked quite tasty.”

“Primus, Icy, you just wanna eat everything!”

The ‘Co.n grinned and slapped his belly. The belly flab that peaked out from the plating shook and jiggled. “Yes...I do...”

Be.e shook his head and smiled. Forkful after forkful of scrumptious meatballs and freshly made pasta were shoveled in. Each time, the greedy ‘Co.n devoured. Sauce soon lined his lips and dribbled down his chin and onto his chassis. By the time that large serving of noodles was gone, there were even splotches on that belly, resembling a Jackson Pollock painting.

“Just look at the mess I have made!” Icy announced with wide optics. His tongue licked at the slop on his lips while a digit scooped up the dripples on his belly only to be sucked off by his fingers with an audible pop. The Auto.bot stared at the chosen way to clean the mess.

“You... you got your napkin...” He stammered as he watched those digits swipe away the mess only to be licked clean.

“It’s all taken care of now.” Icy smiled. “Vhat’s next on the menu?”

“AH.... I have... this... you’re gonna love it!” Be.e brought out a large, wrapped item and set it on the other’s disappearing lap. “And it comes with a side.” Another large bowl was retrieved. Once Icy unwrapped the main course to reveal a huge, oversized burger, complete with crisp lettuce, crystal onions, and cyber pickles, his optics lit up.

“Zhis looks marvelous!” Chops were licked as the ‘Co.n happily squirmed in excitement. “How vill I fit this beast in my mouth?”

“How you gonna fit that beast in your belly is more like it!” The ‘B.ot grinned. This burger was special: everything was custom-made. The patty was just an enlarged patty of ground cybermeat, but the bun was kneaded and baked just for this feast. This burger was about four times bigger than the standard ener-burger and made with thrilled excitement.

“And I made you some loaded fries to go with it.” The container was held out to reveal waffle fries covered with gooey, melted petroleum cheese, more bacon bits, silica chips, and a side of ketchup and sour cream. “Did I do good?”

“You never disappoint, little bug.” Icy looked mesmerized, looking over the feast. “Zhere’s just one thing.” The burger was picked up and held out for the other.

“W..What?” A worried face washed over the yellow and black mech. “Is something wrong?”

“If I have any chance of getting zhat burger in my belly...” Said belly was slapped as it impatiently growled. “I’m going to have to remove my plating.” His fingers went for the underside of the abdominal plating, slipping into the accumulating flab. “You... you don’t mind, do you?”

 Be.e shook his helm no.

 A few tugs were given but were unsuccessful. “Ooff... zhis is so tight.” Blitz.wing sucked in, his chest puffing out as his belly slightly lessoned. He wiggled as he yanked, desperately trying to unclasp that stubborn armor.

Should he ask if he needed help? Be.e bit his lip as he gawked at the scene before him. Golly, he would love to slip his fingers into the soft squishiness of that flab! Feeling that sizeable bulge's pressure would be a dream come true! Just imagining that sensations made a shiver jolt through his frame... a tell-tale sign his body was heating up.

Perhaps offering a helping hand wasn’t the best idea... after all, he didn’t know if this attraction was returned. And the last thing he wanted to do was to overstep boundaries.

“Zhere we go.” Icy gasped for breath as the metal plating finally clicked, releasing its hold, and that fat belly bounced forward, slapping down on thickened thighs. Now free from its constraints, the tummy’s size was much bigger than anticipated! The abdominal plating was set aside, and hands returned to that massive beast that now took up a chunk of his lap and spilled ever so enticingly over his hips. “Zhat feels so much better!”

“That’s good!”  Be.e was mesmerized by the servo’s rubbing all over the rounded surface. The indents from the armor were etched into its surface, resembling intricate patterns and announcing just how tight the fit was. “Free’s up some space, yeah?”

“Yes, yes...” Icy cooed with optics half-lidded. “Plenty of room for you to feed me that massive burger, hmmm?”

At that suggestion and another grumble from the belly, the Auto.bot eagerly pressed the huge burger to the other’s lips.

master post

[wutheringskies]

List: Wei Ying's Attitude Towards Lan Zhan (Pt 1)

Cloud Recesses Arc (Chronological)

1. First Impression: Lan Zhan is very, very pretty with a stern expression on his face, as if he's in mourning. Learning of his reputation, learning that he's well-spoken, smart and academically an ace.

2. Their dynamic forms: Wei Wuxian is annoyed by how Lan Wangji treats him, how he appears to be an immovable polished piece of jade and wishes to break through his composure by annoying him - he wants to be treated specially.

3. Respecting Lan Zhan's talents and genuine desire for friendship: Learning that Lan Zhan's reputation isn't fake. Despite being so young, he can carry three people onto his sword, think logically, and help people. Secondly, Wei Wuxian respects his integrity as Lan Zhan punishes himself as well for breaking the rules, despite the gap in their status. He wishes to become closer to Lan Wangji as they share similar values.

4. The first tones of romance: Wei Wuxian has always been interested in seeing how Lan Wangji would be as a romantic partner, thus baiting him with porn and "girls in Yunmeng." As Wei Wuxian hangs out with his friends, he sees Lan Wangji alone and wants to give him friends as well - the kind that Lan Wangji will like - so, he gives him two rabbits, which were in a compromising position and turned out to be both male. Secondly, he is very interested in Lan An's story as this is a new context to be applied to Lan Wangji.

Pre-Sunshot Campaign

1. Lan Wangji as his maiden: Wei Wuxian unknowingly always puts Lan Wangji into the place of a "maiden" - what I mean by this is that, when the girls chase after him in Yunmeng, he sighs and thinks of Lan Wangji. When he sees Lan Wangji's forehead ribbons, he thinks of pulling a girl's ponytails and tugs it. Thus, he has moved on from baiting Lan Zhan with girls to see how he would be in a romantic context to placing Lan Zhan as the maiden in a heterosexual context.

2. Stage of Denial: As Wei Wuxian's feelings for Lan Wangji keep surging subconsciously, yet he keeps facing with one rejection after the other, a proud man as him enters the stage of denial. Here, he constantly lies to himself, gives excuses for his actions, hides his thoughts and reframes events - aka, he gaslights himself.

• We know he has been thinking of Lan Zhan well after studying in Gusu (he studied for 3 months, Jiang Cheng studied for a year. In the lotus pod extra he's still talking about Lan Zhan and it's a common occurrence, so at least until 9 months later, he's still talking about him) yet he says in Qishan Archery Competition that he has forgotten about him. Secondly, he says he doesn't recognize Lan Wangji, yet he mentions that his fingers look suited to playing the guqin, thus he already recognizes this handsome man and his emotions surge, yet he calms himself down by framing his thoughts to make himself seem less attached.

• This behavior continues throughout the Qishan Wen Indoctrination. He went to Mianmian's side to get the perfume pouch after he heard it had medicinal herbs, and Lan Zhan's leg was injured. Yet Lan Zhan gets jealous and refuses his help, Wei Wuxian later takes a jab at his broken leg when he's bejng supported by Jiang Cheng - upset that he was refused once more.

• At this point, 2 years after meeting Lan Zhan, Wei Wuxian is giving up on his thoughts of them becoming friends, even petulantly whining to Lan Zhan, that "why do you not like me???"

• He shoves all of his feelings down, and accepts that he needs to give Lan Zhan more space.

• Yet even after the Xuanwu Cave, we can see that though he wished to give Lan Zhan more space, he continued to ask questions after question about him to Jiang Cheng.

Sunshot Campaign

1. Takes a Hint: Now, Wei Wuxian is no longer a child. He has been through too many things, has too many responsibilities to worry about his "childhood ambition" of becoming friends with Lan Zhan. After his return, the first thing they do is have a fight - to Wei Wuxian's point of view, it is that, after each of his attempts to become closer have been squashed, now finally they're fighting - aka, they are on opposite sides. Thus, Lan Wangji suddenly turning 180 degrees back by wanting to take him back to Gusu registers as a "punishment." He simply can't even imagine a context where Lan Zhan likes him. Thus, this stage, I call - Wei Wuxian takes a hint (the wrong one.)

2. Confusion and Hurt: Wei Wuxian is already suffering through major identity crisis and plenty of trauma. In such a setting, he cannot evaluate Lan Wangjj's actions and arguments with him as "concern, care or worry." He cannot think of his opinions over digging graves etc as "righteous." Lan Wangji is "against him." Wei Wuxian suppresses his feelings well, and has moved on from wanting to be friends. Yet he does not agree with those who call them enemies - refusing to take Lan Zhan's behavior towards him as "hate."

Post-Sunshot Campaign

1. Hiding all his weaknesses: Now, Sunshot Campaign is over and Wei Wuxian is very aware that he's going to be hated by everyone sooner or later. He's scared and he doesn't know what to do, where he stands, and also regrets some of what he has done. He is without any backing, without any support - he covers up his vulnerability by standing up too tall, by talking arrogantly, by pretending that he's so strong - in his act, he doesn't notice Lan Zhan subtly moving towards him (metaphorically and literally), and walks past him, leaving him behind.

2. Shifting of Dynamic, Rekindling Hope and Extreme Fear and Vulnerability: Now that for the first time in years, that Wei Wuxian has time to breathe and momentarily, no immediate responsibilities or distractions his feeling surge again. He is still in denial about his feelings, but now the amount of gaslighting he does is truly remarkable. Firstly, he wished to place Lan Zhan in a romantic context (whether or not it included him), secondly he imagined Lan Zhan as a maiden for HIM, now thirdly, he is placing himself into the spot of "the maiden"

-> Throwing flowers at Lan Zhan along with other girls

-> Conveniently making the remark that of course, he doesn't imagine that Lan Zhan will ever take the initiative and kiss someone (aka, he wishes Lan Zhan will take initiative because he's put himself out there for so long, and he is tired.)

Now, Wei Wuxian's feelings towards Lan Zhan are very much real, the minor crush growing into something more - like a flower bud that wants to be watered to bloom. But since it isn't welcomed, he forces them back into his heart:

1. Admitting he finds Lan Zhan handsome - admitting some degree of physical attraction and admiration by throwing a flower at him.

2. Asking for his headband knowing it is somehow symbolic (something important to him, a privelege). Subconsciously playing Wangxian, and then finally getting kissed. For some reason, he FAILS to mention Lan Zhan's signature scent of sandalwood despite his senses being so keen. Why? In my opinion - it's him suppressing that thought. He knows the maiden is remarkably strong, he has an inkling that it is HIM so, he allows the kiss to go on, excusing it with the excuse that "how embarrassed the maiden will be once he sees her." After all, even when Lan Zhan asks him much later "you didn't know whom the person was so why didn't you resist, and then why did you tell me this?" Wei Wuxian doesn't answer him, but instead laughs at him for being jealous. In truth, I feel, this is another one of Wei Wuxian's deflections.

He knows admitting that he smelt the sandalwood would make it impossible for him to not relate to Lan Zhan. He knows only Lan Zhan was in the vicinity. He knows only Lan Zhan has showed any significant connection to him - someone like Wei Wuxian would definitely know if a girl liked him. But he can't read Lan Zhan. He also knows Lan Zhan is conveniently acting different than usual - yet, he doesn't probe too much, which is uncharacteristic of him. Not to mention, Lan Zhan is showing significant negative emotion towards him - asking him to go away. Wei Wuxian subtly sneaks in one of the doubts he's carried for three years now, "do you hate me?" But it's unanswered. Wei Wuxian is afraid and he's feeling self conscious again, eyes tearing up, so what does he do?

Act pretentious.

"Of course, I've a lot of experience. Even if it was you, it doesn't matter, haha. This isn't special to me. You aren't making me feel anything special. You aren't making me weak. You aren't hurting me."

After this, he is relieved. He has hid well. His feeling are hidden perfectly. To confirm, he even asks Lan Zhan og he's ever kissed, etc. Lan Zhan doesn't say yes or no, but Wei Wuxian has convinced himself that it wouldn't have been Lan Zhan. He makes up an imaginary maiden who kissed him. He says he never tried to find her to not embarass her. After he is sure it wasn't Lan Zhan, he is not interested in finding out who kissed him.

Successfully gaslighted □

The next incident is at Yunmeng, and it's by far the most obvious thing Wei Wuxian has done to show his feelings towards Lan Wangji. He casually admits that Lan Zhan is very handsome, and bestows plenty of flowers of all meanings upon him.

But the most important is the peony. Wei Wuxian reaches out towards Lan Wangji all the time. Each time, he's a bit more hurt, a bit more scared, a bit more vulnerable. So, this time, he's giving Lan Wangji and his surging feelings a chance - either Lan Wangji takes it and he allows his feelings to surge, or Lan Wangji doesn't take it and he swallows all his feelings back inside, rewrites the whole narrative and moves on with his life.

Thus, he throws out a flower that can either mean "a confession" or a separation.

He doesn't expect Lan Wangji to come up the inn. He expects it to be a separation. But he does come up - yet what follows is an argument, their last one. From Lan Wangji's point of view, it is also last time he asks Wei Wuxian to come to Gusu with him - to walk the same path moving forward, a last offer of protection. In a way both of them are confessing, yet they don't know.

When they part on dubious terms, Wei Wuxian doesn't know what to do - Lan Wangji DID come up, he did talk to him - that is not indifference or hate. It does not guarantee separation. Wei Wuxian just takes it as concern, without any confirmation from Lan Wangji himself.

Now, Wei Wuxian goes back to Lotus Pier in a dark mood. He says he met someone who wanted to lock him up - in a way, it must be addressed that Wei Wuxian's feelings are like chains for him. They don't liberate him. He needs to constantly suppress them. Jiang Cheng remarks it must have been Wei Wuxian who called out to Lan Wangji. Wei Wuxian comments that he himself is ridiculous. He is frustrated over his feelings, unable to understand why he is placing himself into a position like this, why he has hopes only for them to be crushed again and again, yet unable to actually realize anything as he hasn't admitted it all to himself yet. Later, they talk about Yanli and Zixuan, and Wei Wuxian finds himself the perfect cover to talk to his shijie. He asks why people like one another - why does he have to feel so scared and afraid and vulnerable - and tells himself he's asking on part of his shijie. He convinces himself that he won't ever like anyone that much, thus once again - suppressing his feelings.

Later, at Koi Tower, he drinks from Lan Wangji's cup, unable to see him be disrespected and presents his case to the banquet. He ends up having to threaten everyone. Wei Wuxian HAS to make himself into something he is not. He's unafraid. At least that is what he wants to think.

Wei Wuxian glanced over at him (Lan Wangji). In those eyes, light as cat’s eye chrysoberyl, he saw his own near-hideous reflection.

This is how he truly feels - not just about himself (my boy literally has to carry a fake persona and be so strong and so alone for YEARS) but also how he perceives Lan Wangji's attitude towards him, and it stings him, but luckily he has more things to do than worry about how Lan Zhan feels about him.

YiLing Laozu

1. A ray of hope, separation and acceptance: Few weeks in the Burial Mounds has matured Wei Wuxian. He is naturally someone who works better when there is a goal, when there are people depending onto him. He has made his decision to walk his chosen path to its bitter end. Far away from the public's eyes, with his fear of being hated and ostracized, realized, now it is like he has little to lose, so he tries to make the best of it. When Lan Zhan visits YiLing, Wei Wuxian doesn't throw any curveballs to him. He doesn't ask too much, doesn't hope for anything, doesn't play around. Just enjoys some company time with him. Even when Lan Zhan brings up their persistent issues and pushes back them into the sphere of reality, Wei Wuxian deflects and only then shows some of his frustration. Yet, when Lan Zhan leaves, he chases after him to bid him goodbye. He tells him of his chosen path, asks him to form his own opinions about things, shows some trust in his integrity. They eventually go their own ways, the mood sombre. This time Wei Wuxian accepts that they aren't meant to be friends, but does say that they aren't enemies. Just people meant to walk separate paths. Thus, his feelings are no longer useful to him. They can't lead towards anything. He accepts it.

2. Extreme, Extreme Hurt: Acceptance doesn't mean it does not hurt. Just how long has Wei Wuxian suppressed his feelings? Just how long has he swallowed every hurt, every rejection? Just how many times has he called out first? Just how many times had he waited? When Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji stand on different sides in Nightless City with their weapons pointed at each other, Wei Wuxian finally "terms" Lan Wangji's attitude towards him: I knew from the start that we would have a real fight like this one, sooner or later. You've always found me disagreeable, no matter what.

"Wei WuXian had already lost his judgement. He was already half-mad, half-unconscious. All evil was being augmented by him. He felt that everyone loathed him and he loathed everyone as well. He wouldn’t be scared no matter who came at him. It wouldn’t matter no matter who came at him. It was all the same anyway."

He'd been scared, vulnerable and weak for so long, masking it with a layer of arrogance and humor. Yet now he simply can't do it any longer and his fears spill out, the darker thoughts he'd suppressed. He's like a child crying, saying it won't matter whatever his feelings were, he'd hurt them all. He was done of being hurt and scared, of hiding, of being treated like the problem. Note, that he has always wanted to be Lan Wangji's friend, always stated that they weren't enemies even when everyone around him laughed at his audacity. Now, he is done harboring hopes. He is ready to spill out all those things he's been holding back, all the fears he held.

Yet later, Lan Wangji is the one who helps him, hides him away, talks to him softly. If any part of Wei Wuxian was conscious, he'd have felt utter and complete exhaustion. "Get lost." As in, he is done. He doesn't wish for Lan Wangji to owe anything to him. He doesn't wish to change his perspectives once again. He has lost all hope, all will. He doesn't want to deal with it anymore. He can't leave by himself, he can't pretend otherwise, he can't make excuses, he can't hide in the face of Lan Wangji's action - so he can only drive him away.

Conclusion

If Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji ever had a few years of peace after they hit the age of eighteen, they would've figured their feelings out. Yet, everytime something is about to come out of their relationship, Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji go through a major ordeal that pushes them back to base zero. In their first life, their relationship ends on a tragedy.

Lan Wangji's full-grown tree of his feelings doesn't get to provide Wei Ying with its shade, left forever alone until the tree eventually dies. Meanwhile, Wei Ying's sprouts never get the water it needs to grow spontaneously.

One can't fall in love as deeply as Wei Ying is with Lan Zhan after his revival in just three months. Thus, I hope this post made it easier to see just how deep his feelings ran. I will write a follow-up post about his attitude towards Lan Zhan in his second life!

Do let me know your thoughts as well.

[melpomenelamusa]

Danger in the forest Pt. 2 - Chimeras

~Original story~

Previous

CW: Used as bait, bound and gagged, chocking, bite.

Fidi ran without stopping.

At some point, she realized that Elafi was no longer following her, but she still didn’t stop. She was too scared. She found an old tree under which there was the opening of a burrow and, without thinking twice, crawled inside, curling up at the back. Her slim and flexible body allowed her to fit into the tight space without any problems.

There, she tried to catch her breath, feeling her skin covered in goosebumps.

Elafi. She had left him behind.

A wave of guilt washed over her, battling the panic inside her to determine which emotion would dominate her anguished heart.

Elafi had used his powers to give her a chance to escape. 

Fidi couldn’t help but be fascinated every time the deer boy used his strange and magical abilities; it was simply astonishing—something she never would have believed possible had she not seen it with her own eyes in the past few days.

Elafi had sacrificed himself for her. 

Fidi couldn’t help but recall Tigri’s face on the bridge, just seconds before she hit the water. Why could she escape while her friends couldn’t?

Suddenly, she heard footsteps crunching the leaves carpeting the forest floor. The girl covered her mouth with one hand, sinking deeper into the burrow.

"I know you’re around here, reptile," said a male voice nearby. "Come out. We have your little friend. If you want to see him one last time, I recommend you return to the camp within an hour."

The footsteps passed right next to the tree where Fidi was hiding. She held her breath until she heard the hunter walk away, his voice fading into the distance as he continued proclaiming his threat. Several minutes passed before she had the courage to come out of her hiding place. No one was in sight.

A part of her knew the right thing to do was return to the camp and save Elafi, but the thought of being captured again terrified her. Madame Lavenza was cruel, but she was sure that hunter men would treat her far worse... they could do even worse things.

Fidi wanted to cry. She didn’t know what to do. Her fangs itched, and her head hurt.

I don’t want to do this, a scared voice in her head whispered.

But someone has to, a second voice replied, firm and determined.

She began to walk with slow, uncertain steps. The skin on her arms was still bristling. She saw a broken branch—thick and long enough to wield like a baseball bat—and decided to pick it up. It was nothing compared to a shotgun, but holding it in her hands gave her a little confidence. If she was going to fall, at least she would fall fighting.

After walking for several minutes, she reached the camp again. Silence. The tent remained closed, and the vehicle was still parked by the road. There was no trace of the hunters or Elafi. Every instinct screamed that it was a trap and that running away would be the smartest choice. Maybe she could call Warrick—Fidi was sure he would know what to do—but the problem was that she didn’t know when he would return or if, by the time he did, the hunters and Elafi would still be there.

"I don’t want to leave another friend behind," she thought, stepping into the tent.

At the back, she could see the deer boy—either asleep or unconscious—tied to a metallic cylinder. Maybe if Fidi moved fast enough and freed him without being discovered, they could escape together. She began to approach him.

Suddenly, one of Elafi’s ears twitched, and his eyelids trembled. His eyes opened, and the moment they met Fidi’s gaze, terror flashed across his face.

"Nggh, gh awhh!"

Even with the gag in his mouth, it was clear that Elafi was trying to warn her. Fidi turned around just as the two hunters entered the tent, smug smiles plastered on their faces.

"Took you longer than we thought," one of them said.

The girl gripped the branch tightly in her hands, raising it like a sword and keeping her eyes locked on her enemies.

"Are you going to defeat us with that?" the shorter hunter mocked, pointing at the improvised weapon. Annoyed, Fidi swung the branch toward him. The man stepped back, dodging the attack easily. He laughed before turning to his companion. "I think we can have some fun with this one."

Elafi screamed behind the gag, struggling uselessly against his bonds.

"Shut up!" snapped the hunter.

Fidi took advantage of the distraction and swung the branch again, but this time the taller hunter grabbed the other end and yanked it forcefully from her hands. Fidi felt her body start to tremble.

"Grab her!"

Fidi darted away, with the hunters chasing her around the tent. For a moment, her agility and contortionist skills allowed her to evade their grasp, but it wasn’t long before an iron-like arm wrapped around her waist, lifting her effortlessly off the ground.

"Let me go!" the snake girl screamed, kicking wildly as panic crept into her voice.

The tall hunter held Fidi tightly while the shorter one watched with a smirk of amusement.

"You’ve got nowhere to slither off to now, vermin."

"Screw you," she spat, baring her fangs.

"Looks like this little bitch needs to learn to keep her mouth shut," the shorter hunter growled.

Suddenly, a second arm wrapped around Fidi’s neck. The girl dug her short nails into her attacker’s skin, trying to break free, but he squeezed tighter. Fidi opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came out. The pressure around her throat made it impossible to breathe. Tears welled up in her eyes as she struggled helplessly, looking for oxygen.

Elafi screamed and shook his head frantically. He looked terrified. Fidi tried to look at him, to offer some comfort, but her vision blurred more and more, and the shapes before her eyes became indistinct. Her lungs burned.

"Now the fun really begins."

Fidi felt her pulse pounding in her ears like a gong. Her brain screamed at her to fight back, sending signals down every nerve. The tingling in her fangs intensified, becoming uncontrollable. Her body knew there was only one thing to do if she wanted to survive:

Fidi opened her mouth and bit down.

Her fangs sank into the tense skin of the arm around her throat like a knife through butter. A rush of relief and pleasure flooded her as the pressure around her neck lessened. The man behind her screamed in pain, trying to drop her, but Fidi held on, biting harder and gripping the arm of her prey with her own hands.

She smelled sweat, adrenaline, and fear—it was intoxicating. The sensation lasted only an instant, but it felt wonderful.

The shorter hunter stared at the scene, wide-eyed and terrified, as if he was trapped in a horror movie, but after a few seconds, he snapped out of it. He rushed to pick up the branch from the ground and swung it toward Fidi’s head. She quickly let go of her victim and dodged the attack with ease.

Meanwhile, the taller hunter collapsed to his knees, screaming in pain. The skin on his forearm was red and swollen, with dark vein-like lines spreading from the bleeding bite mark. Fidi could see how the temperature in the infected area rose as her venom slowly spread through his bloodstream.

The snake girl wiped a strand of saliva from her lower lip with the back of her hand, a smile creeping onto her face.

"Y-y-you’re... a monster!" stammered the shorter hunter, holding the branch in front of him with trembling hands.

Fidi gave him a toothy grin, sticking out her forked tongue mockingly. Her yellow eyes were wide open, showcasing her thin, elongated pupils. She couldn’t help but savor the terror on her enemy’s face. She could even smell his fear.

"A-alright, you win!" the man stammered. He pulled a small knife from his belt and threw it at her feet before stepping back and raising both hands in surrender. "Take your friend and go."

They didn’t need to tell her twice. Fidi hurried to grab the knife and knelt beside the other chimera boy.

"Elafi, are you okay?" she asked.

The first thing Elafi did when the gag came off was scream:

"Fidi, watch out!"

The deer boy’s warning made her turn around immediately—but it was too late. The branch struck her head hard, and Fidi’s vision went dark before she collapsed to the ground, motionless.

Next

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Oh no! x2 Anyways, thanks for reading!⭐

[obsessive-valentine]

Yandere!Fisherman x Selkie!Reader

(PT.2)

Part 1

Theodore grows closer to the woman of his dreams, however the possibility the selkie could disappear under the water and never return has his leg bouncing and a growing desire to reach in and pull you from the water. He comes up with clever ways to keep your curiosity on him and attempts to suppress his urges to rip you from the ocean, that would scare you off for good if gone wrong.

He continued to stare into her eyes “Holy shit” he mumbled to himself sitting back into his chair, he wiped his face from his forehead to chin with his palm reliving disbelief again when he opened his eyes and saw her still there. She seemed confused by his reaction, her subtle curiosity changed into a concern stricken face, eyebrows furrowed and nose slightly flared as her head lifted a bit further out the water; her frown was still hidden under the blue but Theo got the hint.

His mouth open and closed like a fish as he wondered what he should do or say. Would she even understand me? I should have listened to gramps stories, that might have given me a clue what to do. “It’s okay, I’m okay, just never seen...” what should he call her? It felt wrong to call her selkie she’s so much more real to be given a made up name that’s not even a name, but he can’t just call you a creature no to derogatory... how does he go about asking your name, do selkies have names?

He rubbed his eyes mustering courage to speak “Do you have a name? I’m Theo” he blurted looking down at her again realising she had become more interested in on of his fishing lines pulling on it until she saw the end with the colourful bait. She had stop mid motion when hearing him talking to her; her hand over her head holding the line, the lure dangled in front of her face she tiled her head to look at him blankly.

God Theo never felt so dumb, of course she can’t speak. He almost face palmed before- “Theo” she acknowledged by repeating his name moving closer to the boat and pulling herself up on the ledge; body still in the water but arms sling over the boat side.

Butterflies welled up in his stomach migrating to his chest and heart fluttering when he heard the voice he almost looked to the sky’s thinking a divine being was speaking to him from the clouds. However now he had a good look at those lips he had no trouble believing such a voice could come from such desirable lips. He swallowed harshly “no name?” He asked again grasping to some clarity in his love fogged head, she shook her head in reply. ‘Odd’ was all he could think before anxiety alarms blared in his head.

He snatched the baited hook from her hands as she prodded at it, fingers tapping closer and closer to the sharp hook. Almost instantly regretting it as her hands recoiled so fast like they had been slapped away pushing off the boat as her body splashed back into the ocean. He fumbled instinctually once again leaning dangerously over the boat edge and thrusting his arm into the water to grasp the selkie. He’s not sure what he would have done had he grasped her, try to explain he was protecting her from a nasty prick maybe or apologise profusely.

Didn’t matter though, the selkie was long gone probably retrieved her coat and hidden among other seal friends. He hadn’t noticed a string of ‘no’s, ‘wait’s and such that were now reduced to mumbled were leaving his mouth until he ran his fingers through his hair and caught his breath.

He reluctantly went home that night after waiting a few hours longer looking for a seal beneath the waves.

...

He’d spend most of the night collecting any pretty objects laying around his cabin, anything to lure her and offer as an apology, remembering how lovingly she stared at the colours of the lure and shine of the metal. He’s going to make it up to her, he will be better.

He was heart broken seeing she wasn’t waiting in his boat but nevertheless he set out on his boat with a bucket of shiny and vibrant things by his feet his eyes scanned ever centimetre of the ocean surface, only to find she wasn’t in the ocean but rather resting on near by rocks watching from afar. His brain almost melted at the sight and hearts formed in his eyes.

He jumped to his feet with bucket in his hand taking a small handful of stuff hoping selkies had good eyesight and could see the offerings. Gracefully she slid into the water and seemed to be approaching him until she wasn’t and disappeared once again. Theo almost spilled the bucket when dropping it to the ground in frustration he sat in silence trying to come up with another plan.

That’s until some bumps and taps and a bit of scraping was heard from the bottom and then side of his boat, he turned sharply holding his breath and sighing relief when he saw those damned eyes again. With a armful of handpicked shells, rocks and a rather pretty but very alive crab she dumped her collection into his boat and they tumbled to the floor at his feet, the crab scurried off, though she couldn’t careless with her hand outstretched to something.

He tore his eyes from the beautiful pile of ocean gems, things you rarely find washed up but maybe in a expensive beach store, looking to where she was pointing ... “the bucket?” Theo assumed slowly grabbing it and placing it in front of her on a bench so she could lean over and look. She nodded grasping it and sticking almost her full face in it taking in the odd shapes and odd colours.

Theo watched on, perhaps she was trading? After seeing the fascinating things in the fisherman’s hands she retrieved her collection as a currency. They stayed like this for a few minutes, Theo watching the selkie rummage through the bucket of items occasionally taking one out and adding it to the neat row of seemingly favourites.

Despite finding her objects mesmerising all the same nothing could take his attention from the beauty in front of him “you want to sit in the boat?” He offered after watching her readjust her grip several times. She looked up at him and a small smile formed on her face of approval and in turn his.

“come on” he gently cooed at her offering his hands, from there he pulled her up to the boat becoming flushed at the realisation she was still naked, her skin was softer than he’d imagine almost to delicate for a creature withstanding the harsh cold of the ocean. Letting go of her arms once she was sat his eyes wandered to the seal skin under her arm that carelessly dropped to the bench when she reached for the bucket to continue her search.

The horrible desire to snatch it from the bench and lock it away to keep the poor girl bound to him for eternity fogged his mind. He grimaced as bile climbed throat at such a cruel thought. He shifted his eyes back to her face trying to ignore the naked figure in his peripheral, how can she be so naive to get so close with a stranger especially leaving a personification of her freedom within arms reach.

He shook his head ‘this is why I have to protect her, she needs me, humans can be cruel I have to protect her from them and keep her unharmed, untouched’. Grabbing his jacket he inched closer and slowly draped it over her, he knows she isn’t cold nor does she seem to care to cover up, but Theo tucked her into the jacket anyways... partially for his own sakes afraid all blood will leave his brain and embarrassingly migrate south if he caught another glimpse of her body.

She seemed to enjoy the comfort of the jacket contently carrying on sorting the bucket of oddities, Theo sat across from her watching her mostly but also picking up a few of her finds and asking her where she found them, while also explaining what some objects are that she had picked. He’s unsure she understood fully but she hummed along and would speak broken sentences here and there.

They would do this till sundown until he has to leave. He promises to meet her again at sunrise, no later.