#it's a state with only 2 escalators

[redgoldblue]

Fuck It Friday (also on saturday bc fuck it)

tagged by @itwoodbeprefect ❤️ ❤️ 

I’ve been doing a lot of rereading of the 23k of state of disrepair that’s already written and very little writing of it so here. y’all can join me in that.

------

“Again, I understand why you had to go on this little Eat Pray Love trip.”

Steve looks up, slightly startled, but doesn’t get a chance to say anything before Danny continues.

“And I’m not mad at you about it. But if you ever leave me again, Steven, I will kill you myself.” It doesn’t come out quite as rock-hard as Danny might have liked, softened by a miniscule waver in his voice at the end. Most people wouldn’t even pick it up, but he hears it, so he’s sure Steve does too.

“No vacations without Danny. I’ll write it down.” When Danny looks over at him, he’s looking back, quiet and heavy, solemn enough that Danny knows he understood.

“Exactly,” he replies. “Don’t start taking too long at the store either, or I’ll be heading for the kitchen knives.”

Steve shakes his head. “Of course your murder weapon of choice would be a butcher blade.”

“Don’t demean the classics,” Danny chides. “They got many a housewife out of a bad marriage.”

“You know, I don’t think I like the turn this conversation is taking.”

Danny stops, considers, and frowns. “Me neither. I think I just called myself a housewife.”

“And this a bad marriage,” Steve adds, gesturing between them, an offended emphasis on ‘bad’.

------

tagging @faorism @bookwhimses @osointricate @thomtrebond if any of y’all care to *to the tune of Devo’s Whip It* fuck it

[daisukitoo]

I have been thinking about small children and small dogs.

It is sometimes observed that small dogs can be unholy terrors. I have come to think this is more because of unintentional training rather than a lack of training.

If you have a large and potentially dangerous dog, you will probably seek to train it just so it does not damage your home or family. If you have a 2 kg dog, you just pick it up and move it if it is misbehaving.

This inadvertently trains your small dog to escalate if it wants any degree of self determination. It avoids someone but gets picked up. It runs away but gets picked up. It barks, it growls, it gets scolded and picked up. If it goes absolutely berserk and does its best to kill someone, it might not get picked up. You have taught your dog *this* is what it takes to be taken seriously as a very small animal.

Small children are often treated a lot like small pets. They are small people filled with needs and wants, almost powerless in the face of a nigh incomprehensible world. And larger people scold them and pick them up when their needs and wants are inconvenient for the larger people.

I have been around many small children this week and seen many meltdowns. Some of them are just exhausted and overstimulated. Some are probably classic brats who have been taught they can get their way if they just whine enough, which is a variation on the same idea.

But I must believe that some of them have learned this is the *only* way they will get *any* attention to their stated wants and needs.

Your parents have a plan and an agenda for the day, and you were not consulted because you are 4 years old, but you are still a human being with needs to understand and to some extent control your environment, and if the only way you can get anyone to listen to you for 5 minutes is to make those minutes absolute hell for everyone involved, yourself included, well, that is what it takes.

When you are 4 years old, fairly petty inconveniences can in fact be the worst thing that has ever happened to you. Small children can have the best and worst moments of their lives several times a day. They are learning the bounds of "normal," and they don't have many days that could have been worse.

It can be hard being a Very Small Animal.

[goldenstring6123]

Lnds: Fighting with them

Warning: ANGST NO COMFORT! Arguing, fighting & toxic responses to a fight. Self insert. Reader may or may not be the MC

Author's note: Here's my take on getting into fights with your LNDS boyfriend— realistic responses edition! some of you may not like this, be warned.

Fighting with Zayne:

He is a professional, and his method is simply de-escalation. Dealing with so many types of patients, he knows how to handle things from children fighting to burly men wanting to pack a punch. He talks out of conflict or stalls them long enough until security gets to where he is; this happens inside and outside the hospital. During this incident, though he appears cool-headed, he is also aggravated. A keen observer would notice the ghostly frown on his face and his mildly defensive stance.

With you, he's more lenient. More gentle and more understanding. Utilizing a more empathic approach to your conflict. He never raises his voice or shows an ounce of hostility. Zayne would most definitely be more comforting. He is quick to apologize by verbal words or sweet actions.

When push comes to shove and you somehow manage to get on his nerves, which happens once in a blue moon, he'll either:

Scenario 1: He'll stop talking or looking at you for hours. He'll try to calm himself down and stare off into the distance, recalling whatever got him on his nerves. He'll try to find a solution or workaround and meet you halfway. Of course, he'll demand an apology from you if he rightfully deserves it, and if not, he's more than willing to give you an apology instead.

Scenario 2: He'll ask you to leave his house to cool off both of your heads. He'll bury himself in his workload, turning off his phone. When you confront him, he won't speak first, asking if you need something from him. He won't apologize or meet you halfway with his words; in fact, he won't be gentle with them; he'll convey his feelings and messages to you more frankly to the point that it is harsh. His words are somewhat calculated, as if he had already planned what to say, but that would mean he won't let you slip a word in.

By then, the anger within you has already been extinguished. At the end of any scenario, Zayne is the last to apologize for being angry. Still, he states his anger has a reason and that he cares for you and his well-being.

Fighting with Xavier:

When you manage to annoy him, he pouts, still acting cutesy on purpose. He does this more often than anyone could imagine because, in this way, he can demand consolation in the form of baking pastries/desserts or kisses.

When things get hot between the two of you, he'll ignore you for a short amount of time, refraining from entering the same room as you because you know neither of you would give in to the argument, So it was better for you to both calm your minds down, even just for 5 minutes.

When all things go in the wrong direction, Xavier's the type to fuss, complain, and just generally become verbal. He never swears and raises his voice per se but heavily pushes the side of the argument onto you, whether you were wrong or right. Sometimes, he fails to understand your side of the conflict, and sometimes, he flat-out ignores it and acts all childish, turning a deaf ear.

He's capable of not talking to you for days, and he makes it more apparent that he's avoiding you by requesting to switch partners. And when this happens, most of the time, it's you who makes the move to apologize. But on bad topics, it doesn't end there. He still insists on his side of the fight. All while speaking and arguing, he tries to get close to you in an attempt to hold your hand, but you always push him away. You

One time, he got too close to you to make you understand, pressing you against the wall and holding your hand a bit too tightly, and out of sheer anger and fear, you resorted to brute force, slapping him across the face. This took him back to reality and, with it, took his anger as well, exchanging it for grief. Only then did he realize that he messed up in more ways than he could think.

Fighting with Rafayel:

Rafael is the hardest to deal with when angered. He's sensitive and quick to be influenced by emotions. Though people call him a "drama queen," Rafayel becomes a real pain in the neck when people get on his nerves. If he doesn't get what he wants, he'll make sure that the other party loses more than him, and he does that thanks to his network and his money. This seldom happens as He doesn't work with anyone in broad daylight. He locks himself in the studio; only Thomas usually talks to him.

At most, he gets into conflicts with cats.

It's a different thing when he makes shady transactions, though. When he's made into a fool, those people are dealt with by his hired men. Assassinations, theft, blackmail, whatever makes the other party beg on their knees.

With you, though, it's a whole other story.

Conflicts with Rafael are, unfortunately, toxic; He's easy to provoke and quick to retort. It's a gamble when you're with him. On some better days, you can get away with a conflict through an apology and dinner, or better yet, he concedes, and you can have your way.

It doesn't take a genius to know that this will escalate into a shouting match on bad days. Banters, insults, and harsh words are thrown at each other without pause, and it only stops when either of you walks out. It was a mindless conflict led by sheer anger, plus his pettiness and your annoyance. He makes himself look like the victim and points out your flaws more and how you failed to be understanding; conflicts with him end up with tears and devoid of an apology. Neither of you ever even remembered what you were fighting back.

When he has no strength to fight with you, he goes silent. He locks his home and only contacts you for a short period. He vents his anger on his paintings, to which Thomas immediately tells him to take a break and apologize to you. He doesn't, and it's not until a week later that he contacts you again.

Fighting with Sylus:

He's patient but, at the same time, impatient.

When something is amiss, or someone fails to do their task, rather than bother to be angry or inconvenienced, he'd eliminate the cause of that problem. It saves him from emotional exhaustion.

When in conflict with other people, you best place your bet on him being the aggrevator. He's more of the person to start conflicts than be on the receiving end. If there is one thing to know about him when he starts one, he finishes it, leading the other party on their knees, running away or six feet under.

Sylus is a big man who holds himself to his ego, so people tend to be weary when approaching him. Burly, prideful men are eager to fight him, and they somehow get a taste of their own medicine, praying they end up alive after this fight.

With you, however, it's a different story. Conflicts between you and Sylus are primarily caused by too much bickering and you taking his words to heart. Sometimes, he lets his tongue slip too much in amusement. A quick cold shoulder treatment and you blocking his chat is the way for him to show a gram of remorse. Despite being terrifying, he's pretty good at consoling and apologizing.

But when you start to get on his nerves, you're in a tight situation. He doesn't treat you like a partner; he treats you like some sort of business partner, spewing harsh facts with a tinge of insult. He doesn't let you slip a word in; if you manage to, he'll always have something to say again. He raises his voice slightly, asks rhetorical questions, and makes you look foolish. All the while, he looks like he still has his composure. He acts as if he's not your lover, creating a clear boundary between your relationship, and more often than you'd like to admit, this, too, got on your nerves. He never makes a move on you, neither does he curse or do anything terrible. He just sits there all arrogant, as if he always has the upper hand with your emotions.

But there was one particular fight where you're the one who's fuming red with pure, dry anger. You scream at Sylus, reprimanding and scornful, sometimes lunging a few soft items his way, which he catches, yet he never does anything. He stays in his place, but he is undeniably infuriated as well, only this time, he's silent. He lets you go off, not responding to your rhetorical questions and all the words you hurl his way, and when you are finally done speaking, he tells you to leave, grabbing you by your arm and throwing you out of his house.

He hasn't contacted you for a month, and you have been forbidden from going anywhere near the N109 zone. You thought it was the end of whatever you guys had. You sent your break-up message, and to your surprise, he's seen it yet— there was never a response.

That night, you wake up in his bed and in his grasp.

Author footnotes: I know this isn't the romantic type of lnds post but once in a while I want to make their relationships realistic, like, try to apply how people in real life would act.Layout by me, using canva premium | Do not repost | Dividers by cafekitsune MASTER LIST | Buy me a thread?

[cutielando]

driving around | l.n.

synopsis: in which you're too stubborn for your own good

a/n: thank you so much @rayaharper for requesting this !!❤️

my masterlist

“You’re not driving”

“Why not??” 

“You’re sick, I’m not risking putting you behind the wheel just because you’re stubborn”

You had been bickering like this for nearly 10 minutes now, neither of you wanting to compromise for the other. 

It’s not like you were that sick, you were coughing a bit, with a runny nose, sore muscles and a little temperature. You were basically fine and good to go.

But Lando didn’t agree on that.

He blamed what he called the “Verstappen stubborn gene.” He always made fun of you and your brother, Max, for sharing that stubborn trait that he hated so much.

It was also because he was a stubborn person as well, which meant that you would oftentimes clash regarding pretty much everything.

Just like you were doing now.

You were insisting to drive you and Lando to the track so he could get some more rest and the boy was having none of it.

“Just because I’m a little sick doesn’t mean I’m incapable of driving, Lando” you complained, rolling your eyes which hurt right in your sinuses.

That should have been the first sign to stop you from being so adamant to drive, but you weren’t about to give up so easily.

“Little sick? You’ve been burning up for 2 days and can barely get any sleep without waking up in cold sweat. You hardly eat anything and your sinuses are clogged” he reasoned, making you look at him.

He was right. Everything he was saying was the truth.

But it still didn’t sway you.

“It’s just a cold, I can manage just fine” you said before opening the door and getting into the driver’s seat.

Lando sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He hates how stubborn you were at times, and he knew that his attempts to get you to let him drive would be in vain.

With that being said, he just sighed once again and got into the passenger seat.

“Just so we’re clear, I don’t condone this and I’m really not okay with you driving in this state” he said once he buckled up, tracking your every movement with his eyes.

“Babe, I’ll be fine. It’s just a short ride, it’s not like I’ll be driving for hours” you attempted to soothe him, but it clearly wasn’t working.

He only hummed and looked back at the road, keeping an eye on you from the corner of his eye.

As you started the relatively short drive from your hotel and towards the track, you could slowly feel your eyes burning, the soreness in your muscles escalating with each minute and your headache coming in strong.

It was in those moments that you knew he had been right and you shouldn’t have insisted on driving. You could feel nausea coming quickly onto your body, making you swallow harshly in order to tame it for now.

You had barely made it to the track safely, Lando already knowing that you would be way too tired to even watch the race after this.

“I told you so” he said, standing beside you as you weakly managed to get out of the car.

You glared at him, the movement hurting your sinuses even more. 

“I just wanted you to get some more rest before we got here” you said, pouting at him with glossy eyes.

He sighed when he looked at you, bringing you into his arms right away. He kissed your forehead, frowning once he felt how hot you were and saw how sick you actually looked.

“I know you did, but baby, you’re sick. I don’t want to rest when you’re feeling like this, I want to take care of you. And I can’t do that when you argue with me and put me on the spot for wanting to help you” he said, gently trying to make you see that he only wanted what was best for you.

Deep down, you knew you had been wrong, and right now in Lando’s arms, you realized just how much you had needed his warmth and his hug.

“I’m sorry for being stubborn” your voice was small, but he still heard you.

“Come on, let’s get you to hospitality and find some medicine and a quiet place to rest for you” he let go of you and opened the door to take your bags, taking your hand and leading you to the McLaren hospitality.

He manages to avoid the paparazzi on the way to the motorhome, keeping you close to his body.

Once you got to the motorhome, Jon was waiting for Lando there, his eyebrows instantly furrowing once he saw the state you were in.

“What’s wrong with her?” Jon asked Lando once he sat you down at a table and wrapped his jacket around your body.

Lando sighed, looking back at how you were practically sleeping on the chair before he turned around to talk to his trainer.

“She’s been sick for the past few days and today she insisted on driving us to the track even when I told her she’s too sick to drive. We just barely got here okay because she got worse on the road” he explained, his voice hushed as he kept stealing glances at his passed out girlfriend.

“Have you talked to her doctor or something?” Jon asked worriedly, caring for you just as much as Lando ever since the two of you were introduced.

Lando nodded. “I did, she said we should just wait for it to pass, that she should get plenty of rest and shouldn’t do much, but you know how she is” he explained further.

“You have one stubborn girlfriend, mate” Jon joked, bumping his shoulder in order to help the driver relax.

Lando chuckled, nodding knowingly. 

Just as he was about to say something else, you whined as you started to wake up, trying to wrap the jacket even tighter around your body.

“Lan?” your voice was small, your eyes slowly blinking open.

“I’m here, baby. Come on, let’s get you to a room where you can rest up. Jon will look after you” he said while picking you up bridal style.

The three of you made your way upstairs to a free room, Lando immediately bundled you up in your blankets that he brought for you and helped you take your medicine.

Even in your current state, somewhere between reality and sleep, you realized just how much you needed to rest and how truly sick you were.

“Thank you for taking care of me and sorry for insisting on driving today” you said when he finished fussing over you and leaned down to kiss your forehead.

Lando shook his head, brushing a strand of your hair from your eyes.

“Don’t apologize, just get some rest and I’ll see you after practice, okay?” you nodded, settling into the tiny bed and allowing yourself to succumb to your sleep.

Lando left you in the room partly against his will, but with the reassurance that Jon would take care of you while he was in the car.

And, at the end of the day, he was always going to take care of you, no matter what.

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[astrocafecoffee]

Astro observation (part 2)

✨ For entertainment purposes only, enjoy ✨

✨ MASTERLIST

✨ ASTRO OBS. (PART 1)

🔥 Taurus sun individuals usually eat slowly and savor their food enjoying each bite. They dislike being rushed during meals.

🔥 Sagittarius rising peoples thrive on variety in their excercise routine. They might regularly switch between different types of workouts to keep things interesting.

🔥 Capricorn rising peoples might enjoy dishes like roasted meats , stews and well balanced meals that provide both comfort and nourishment.

🔥 Sagittarius sun - very good in mathematics and calculation.

🔥 Groom conjunct your vertex/ Hera asteroid in draconic synastry can indicate they being your spouse/ you have a soul tie with them.

🔥 I have seen many Libra 12th house peoples often have people pleasing tendencies and have problems with creating healthy boundaries.

🔥 11th House mars people's communication style with friends can be direct and assertive, which can sometimes come across as agressive if not managed carefully.

🔥 Mercury in its debilitated sign ( Pisces) individuals may struggle with tasks that require precision, detailed analysis or strict logic.

🔥 I have seen when someone's 9th lord in their 12th house or vice versa , they often marry people from other states, cultures, and countries .

🔥 Aries moons can be quick to anger but also quick to forgive and forget.

🔥 juno in 7th house of Groom persona chart means your fs is your wish fulfilment, ( dreams come true 👀)

🔥 Virgo placements may excel in stock market.

🔥 Aries placements tend to tackle problems head on with immediate action. They prefer to address issues rather than letting them linger or escalate.

🔥 water placements are obsessed with beaches and coastal environments , where Earth signs with mountains.

🔥 I have also seen this many water placements either love water areas or hate it. There's no in between. I have seen cancer moons/ Pisces rising peoples having thalassophobia.

🔥 in Vedic astrology, Rahu in 7th house / rahu conjunct Venus/ rahu conjunct 7th lord indicates foreign spouse.

🔥 Webb asteroid in natal 11th house is self explanatory 🙃.

🔥 prey Asteroid ( 6157) in 4th house individuals often see their home as refuge where they can shield themselves from outside world. If it's negative side manifests in someone's life then there might be themes of feeling vulnerable or taking advantage within the family and home environment.

🔥 Gemini placements individuals are often misunderstood by peoples.

🔥 cancer moons emotional up and downs can weaken their immune system , making them more vulnerable to infections.

🔥 Scorpio placements likes to feel in control of their surroundings and emotions and they fear situations where they feel powerless.

🔥 Aquarius mars peoples value their independence highly and can be quite stubborn about doing things their way.

🔥 Jupiter in Aquarius people may involved in activism , volunteering or supporting charitable organisations.

🔥water moons , Capricorn placements often prone to depression.

🔥 Venus in Capricorn peoples may fear being vulnerable or getting hurt , which is why they often appear guarded more in relationships.

🔥 Aries mars often have fear of rejection . If they sense any hint of rejection they might quickly pull back or move on to avoid facing their fear.

🔥Pluto in Sagittarius peoples maybe fascinated by esoteric subjects, occult and hidden truths. This interest in the mystical and unknown can lead them to explore astrology, tarot or other metaphysical studies.

🔥 Asteroid Medusa conjunct midheaven in natal chart means this individual's career may dealing with controversial and taboo subjects , leading to transformation and growth. They could work in fields related to psychology, healing, crisis management or any area that requires confronting difficult truths.

🔥 Asteroid Born conjunct juno in synastry suggest a relationship that feels spiritually significant , with a strong sense of being " meant to be" or karmic linked.

🔥 Hera asteroid conjunct sun in synastry means the Hera person might view the sun person as an ideal partner, seeing them as someone can commit to for the long term . This aspect can indicate a relationship that has potential to lead to marriage or a deep , committed relationship.

Thanks for reading 🖤

- piko ✨

[probablyasocialecologist]

Palestinian trade unions issue an urgent global call to action, calling on workers everywhere to halt the sale and funding of arms to Israel — and related military research. As Israel escalates its military campaign, Palestinian trade unions call on our counterparts internationally and all people of conscience to end all forms of complicity with Israel’s crimes - most urgently halting the arms trade with Israel, as well as all funding and military research. The time for action is now - Palestinian lives hang in the balance.  This urgent, genocidal situation can only be prevented by a mass increase of global solidarity with the people of Palestine and that can restrain the Israeli war machine. We need you to take immediate action - wherever you are in the world - to prevent the arming of the Israeli state and the companies involved in the infrastructure of the blockade. We take inspiration from previous mobilisations by trade unions in Italy, South Africa and the United States, and similar international mobilisations against the Italian invasion of Ethiopia in the 1930s, the fascist dictatorship in Chile in the 1970s and elsewhere where global solidarity limited the extent of colonial brutality.  We are calling on trade unions in relevant industries: 1. To refuse to build weapons destined for Israel. 2. To refuse to transport weapons to Israel. 3. To pass motions in their trade union to this effect. 4. To take action against complicit companies involved in implementing Israel’s brutal and illegal siege, especially if they have contracts with your institution.  5. Pressure governments to stop all military trade with Israel, and in the case of the US, funding to it. We make this call as we see attempts to ban and silence all forms of solidarity with the Palestinian people. We ask you to speak out and take action in the face of injustice as trade unions have done historically. We make this call in the belief that the struggle for Palestinian justice and liberation is not only a regionally and globally determined struggle. It is a lever for the liberation of all dispossessed and exploited people of the world.

[chaedomi]

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐑 𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑 ✦ twtptflob

fem!child!reader x the black agriche; minus fontaine (platonic!yan), violence, death, unhealthy relationships, everyone somehow finding a way to terrorize reader, the agriche family as a whole; flowers come in assorted colors and produce sweet nectar. as a result, flowers attract various kinds of butterflies, even the so-called deadly ones. pt. 2 ꨄ — masterlist

YOUR MOTHER was already a laughing stock and a huge disgrace to The Black Agriche. Due to this, she was confined to her room, away from the disgusted eyes that followed her form with every step she took. Her reputation further decreased when word spread in the household that she gave birth to a baby girl… a sickly one at that. Was she trying to ruin the image The Black Agriche carefully built for years!?

When LANTE found out, he was beyond livid. The disdain he held for your mother was very evident as the slightest hint of her has him in a sour mood and heads rolling. Still, he gave her a chance to redeem herself; birth a worthy child was all he commanded. However, the ending result only proved that she was indeed a useless woman.

Nobody could have stopped him from what he did next, not even the wails and desperate pleas of his other wife that knelt helplessly on the ground. Unleashing his bloodlust, your mother was brutally killed. The only ones spared were his other wife and you, as he deemed it foolish to judge you as a newborn. Perhaps your state was only temporary and as you grew older, you would impress him.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case. Although you weren’t sick, you grew to be a rather fragile individual. The littlest pressure has you crumpling in pain, wheezing breathlessly. A disappointment, really. Nevertheless, he kept giving you another chance to prove yourself. When you fail, he gives another and another, and another, and another-

It was then he realized how lenient he has been with you out of all people. Why he hasn’t diced you into a pile of meat as he claimed each time was beyond him. Every time you made a fault, he found himself scrambling for a reason to excuse your deplorable actions. It was unlikely of him and bothered him to a large extent.

Having enough of the confusing emotions you struck within him, an order was sent out, requesting your presence. Understandably, you were petrified as it was not common for the Head of The Agriche Family to express interest in seeing anyone out of the blue. And with an amused smirk, he watched as you nervously eat the desserts brought by the servants before dismissing you from his private room.

He continued doing this, either inviting you to the room or seeking you outside, the extreme feelings he experienced deepening with every interaction he held with you. Eventually, it escalated to a point where he didn’t want you to leave his side. He soon concluded that he will never understand what aspect of yours drew this uncharacteristic side out of him. And oddly enough… he was at peace with it. Maybe your mother was capable of doing good. Hmm…

Effortlessly, the killer of your mother lifted you from your seat. A touch meant to be comforting caused shockwaves of discomfort and fear to travel up your spine. His expression was unreadable, scrutinizing gaze never leaving your form. Eyes resembling the crimson red of blood, the picture was forever burned into your memory.

“...How strange.”

Unsurprisingly to most, SIERRA was the best friend of your mother. Looking past the horrible rumors that lingered inside the household about your mother, she decided to befriend her. And boy, was she relieved, discovering that your mother was nothing like the rumors had stated, no, your mother was just a sweet, harmless woman. The moments spent were very wholesome and a change of pace from the insanity that lingered in the household.

Though… everything went crashing down when your mother became pregnant with you. Don’t misunderstand Sierra… she was overjoyed over the announcement of you. What frightened her so much was that your mother fell terribly ill and without much reason. When your mother expressed her concerns about your health, Sierra also felt dread, wanting nothing horrible to happen to you. While it’s not related to health, Sierra knew what it’s like to be worried about your child’s well-being; she knew it all too well. Bless her kind-hearted soul, she hoped your mother would never experience the pain she was put through.

But, it appeared as though her prayers and hopes were all for naught as you were born sickly and frail. And aware of the monstrosity that will arise afterward, her heart shattered into a million pieces. Still, her knowledge of this evil pattern will never emotionally nor mentally prepare her for the disastrous event. Oh, she hated how powerless she was. Her screams, wails, and pleas were futile, having to witness the execution of her beloved friend at the hands of her husband. Why must the people she loves suffer so much?

She was left alone in the room, sobbing into her palm. Had it not been for the soft wails of your newborn self, she would have remained there on the ground, allowing the coolness of the tiles to seep onto her skin as she wept to her heart’s content. Frantically leaping to her feet and momentarily pushing her grief aside, she scooped your bundled self in her arms, listening to you calm down as a woeful frown etched itself onto her lips. Blinking away the stray tears in the corner of her eyes, she hugged you closer to her chest, rocking you slowly. She might as well enjoy what was left of her beloved friend.

History surely had its cruel way of repeating itself. As you aged, you developed a lovely personality; innocent and pure, contrasting the sadistic and aggressive personas the rest of your family members owned. Why it destroyed her the way it did was because your traits were on par with her deceased son, Ashil. Just what did she do to relive such a nightmare?

By some miracle, Lante seemed to favor you tremendously. The stress that was lifted from her shoulders was refreshing. …It was especially difficult to ignore how extremely clingy Sierra was toward you. Every hour of the day, every second, Sierra insisted to be by your side, never allowing you a moment of isolation. Even so, her clinginess will never compare to how overprotective she was. God forbid if you got injured in her sight, or somehow managed to sneak away from her watchful eyes for too long. She will fall into hysterics, holding onto the little thread of sanity she possessed as she smothers you with overbearing attention.

You almost screamed in terror at the figure looming above you. Thankfully, your brain reacted quicker as you identified the figure as your stepmother. What mostly unnerved you was not the fact that she most likely might have been watching you sleep, but how… lifeless she looked. You didn’t know she was able to make such a face. Quietly, you called out to her which successfully snapped her out of her trance. Wordlessly, the woman sunk to her knees and wrapped her arms around your small body, stuffing her face in your torso. Regardless of your utter confusion as to why she visited you in the dead of night, you returned the gesture, spurring her to tears. Doesn’t look like she’ll be leaving anytime soon…

“...It could have been you as well…”

When Sierra says she’s going to stay with you, she means that she is staying with you. She does a good job of it as well, much to your dismay. But her whimpers every time you tried to run away always filled you with guilt, grounding you next to her. And thus, due to Sierra’s stubbornness to leave you alone, this is how MARIA met you.

It was a bright and sunny day, the flowers were in season, and birds were chirping merrily… it was the perfect condition to host a tea party! What better way to relax under this glorious weather than to enjoy tea and desserts with her favorite guests? So excitedly, Maria sent invitations.

Sierra was one of the last few to arrive. When Maria went to greet her, what she wasn’t expecting was two instead of one. Honestly speaking… Maria did not care for both you and your mother. Yes, she has heard of the gossip of your mother circulating among the Agriche Wives, and yes, she has heard the talk of your birth. But for someone who has never seen you or your mother before, there was only so much fuel she could add to the fire.

Her eyebrows were raised as Sierra timidly states that she brought someone along. Since Sierra was mostly alone, it was a surprise to her. Though all questions died down in her throat when she caught a glimpse of you.

The umbrella that was tightly grasped in her hand fell to the ground, her jaw slackening as she stared at you with blown eyes. …Was it even possible to be more beautiful than Sierra and her daughter combined!? You were just as pretty as a flower!

Not much explanation was needed, she immediately fell head over heels for you. Forget the fact you came uninvited, come relax and have some tea! Squealing with a skip in her step, she snatched you from Sierra's side, ushering you to a comfortable seat where she and all the ladies present fussed over you. …You left with a stomach bursting from sweets that day…

Unfortunately, gaining Maria's affection means you're subjected to her bizarre actions. If you had Sierra visiting your room in the dead of night, you had Maria visiting your room at the crack of dawn. You've woken up to her beaming face far too many times to count…

Braiding your hair, dressing up, and playing pretend are Maria's favorite activities with you and they always end with her pinching your cheeks and kissing them before she leaves. She really wanted to lock you up for herself, a cute little doll all for her to admire, pamper and cherish.

Maria was very cheerful and a bit eccentric, so you mostly felt at peace in her presence. …But that all changed when you stayed at a party longer than you should have. What you saw was like a wake-up call for you, unless they were Sierra, no matter how sweet they make themselves appear, they were still an Agriche, dehumanized, and evil.

You suddenly felt the dessert you ate creep up your throat as you stared at the servant's corpse... what was left of it, at least. The spoon you used to eat the treat slipped from your fingers, falling onto the table with a loud rattle. Your second stepmother, the murderer, was unbothered by it all, a devilish smile occupying her doll-like features, calming dishing out orders for the servant’s body to be fed to the beastly creatures that resided inside the mansion. At the sight of you, her sadistic smile morphed into one filled with pure adoration. She made her way to you giddily and squeezed you into a hug, uncaring of the evidence of her killing smearing all over your body. Frozen, you just stood there as she lovingly pressed a sweet kiss on your cheek.

"My! Aren't you such a Cutie Pie!"

The first time she saw you, she only gave you a glance… before she almost stumbled over as she did a double take. Once she regained her composure, in quick, long strides, ROXANA closed the distance between you both, firmly placing a gloved hand on your shoulder. You flinched, nearly shooting off the ground. The hallways were pretty much empty, so where the hell did she randomly emerge from?

Her stare intimidated you as her eyes were practically glaring holes into your body. It remained that way for a while, her hand on your shoulder as she stared, you, too scared out of your mind to even breathe properly. Soon, her hard stare turned soft, her reddened lips curling into her iconic smile.

Do you know how long she has waited to see you? The answer, she’s been waiting for years. The Abysmal Flower is a book that was offered to her by a school friend in her previous life… to which she initially detested reading because of the triggering contents the novel entailed… but she got past that. Because of all the dark themes, your character was an abnormality in the novel so to speak, especially when you were a member of The Black Agriche. The Black Agriche was known for its criminal activities… Fraud, Theft, Drugs & Poison, and most importantly murder, taking away lives without batting an eyelid.

You didn't belong with that, choosing peace as a method rather than violence. You were just a poor unfortunate soul inside a den filled with savages. It was a custom tradition in the household to eliminate those who stood outside their reputation as it displayed signs of weakness. But you remained unharmed by their gruesome acts. You see, the book portrayed you as possessing this indescribable charm where people feel more inclined to protect you than to harm you. Clearly, The Black Agriche was under this so-called charm of yours. It also extended to the novel’s heroine, Sylvia, who despite hating The Black Agriche, fell in love with you because of your angelic nature, viewing you as a younger sibling. Sadly, blinded by her rage and sorrow over the news of her brother’s killing, she wiped you out with the rest… falling into deeper despair after realizing she destroyed you as well.

Admittingly, Roxana held a grudge over Sylvia and the authors for that stunt. You were her favorite character by far and had so much potential. So even though the alarms blared loudly as her mind registered that she reincarnated as an Agriche and the trials that come along with the name, she was buzzing from glee now that she had a chance to see you… years after.

But after that ‘incident’ and the daily nuisances, she ought to handle for survival, the thought of you slowly slipped from her mind… until now. While no one will stupidly lay a finger on you inside the household, the same cannot be said for some outside the household. The Black Agriche has made quite the amount of enemies, after all. You being the favored one, including your predicament will make you a big target of these enemies. Thus, Roxana does her best to add extra security to your life.

Whenever she gets the chance, she will constantly check on you. If not, she will simply send one of her butterflies to always be updated about your whereabouts. Don’t you see? Whatever she does, it’s done in your favor… So, please enlighten her as to why you appear to be so antsy around her. She hasn’t done anything wrong, has she? She didn’t know you had a dramatic side… but, oh well, that’s endearing too.

She was nice to you, very very nice. For some reason though, it scared you more than it flattered you. You were unsure of why, but your instincts always screamed at you to avoid the blonde. She hasn’t done anything for you to fear her, only spoiling you with exquisite gifts and jewelry. But after what happened with your second stepmother… you didn’t want to take chances. A gloved thumb distracted you from your thoughts, gently caressing your cheek. Lifting your gaze, you peered into reddened hues, an emotion you were unable to decipher swirling in them. She smiled at you fondly, cooing even. Placing your hands on your lap, you smiled back, ignoring the nauseating churn in your stomach.

“Did I perhaps do something wrong? No? Then you don’t mind staying longer with your Big Sister, right~?”

Roxana’s extreme adoration for you had JEREMY torn between anxiety and anger. It’s already bad enough that he had to share his sister’s attention with the god-forsaken Blue Pedelian but now a whiny baby has come to steal the remainder of his spotlight!? He’s NOT happy. I mean, he was there longer than both you AND him. Though, it seems that his sister favors you more than the horny dog… Not that it makes it any better. It’s still annoying.

Jeremy has mentioned this several times to his sister, mostly about you. It was obvious he was jealous, but his complaints stemmed deeper than jealousy, it was fear that his sister will leave him if she attaches herself to others. Growing up in a loveless household was beyond excruciating and his sister, being the first one to treat him like a human and not a weapon, he continuously yearned for her affection. He didn’t want to return to what it was before, and if denying his sister interactions with others stopped that, he’s all in for it. Reassuring words from his sister, however, washed away the little panic inside him.

Still, it lingered on his mind, you. His sister doesn’t mention anyone just like that; if she does, it certainly isn’t to that extent. She’s always smiling, her eyes glitter in excitement, and she rambles on and on, very unusual for her. At least you make her happy… Nevermind. He’s still bitter about the whole thing.

In time, he finally asks his sister if he can meet the person that caught her eye. It could be anyone, considering the ungodly amount of siblings he had and since she was heading to where you were located, he might as well tag along too. His sister’s hesitation didn’t escape his eye, no matter how hard she tried to hide it. Looks like you held more value to her than he first presumed…

After contemplating her answer for a while, she gave in, beckoning him closer with a finger. As they walked together, she told him you were the shy type, and it's highly advised that he doesn't do something to overwhelm you. He wasn't sure if it was his imagination or not… but he felt as though there was a subtle threat underlying her words… Soon enough, they arrived at your bedroom doors.

What did you look like? What kind of person truly are you? His sister paints you a good light, going so far saying you were an angel descended from the heavens. But what if there was a dark side you skillfully concealed? That you were just another savage under the disguise of an innocent? It’s not like he doubted his sister’s judgment… just simply concerned for her well-being.

Well, he'll be damned. And slightly ashamed too. Look at you… you were so frail… and gentle too. The way you touched Roxana and spoke with her, (god, your VOICE!) was so soft, musical, and pleasing to the ears. He kind of flinched when the conversation held between you and his sister switched to him, his sister gesturing to him with a hand. His heart warmed, seeing how your big-doe eyes looked at him, the beautiful hue of them twinkling with curiosity.

Most recoil from his touch but, you reached out to him, interlacing your tiny fingers with his. He noticed how your hand trembled, looks like Roxana was correct, you were the shy type. Even so, you overcame your anxiety to greet him! Him! The final blow was the sweet giggle that escaped your lips, swinging your hand in his. Forget Angel, you were Heaven Sent.

It was very silly how easily he fell under your control, but can you blame him? When was the last time someone treated him with genuine kindness and affection other than his sister? He visited you a lot after that, to your surprise. You thought it was a one-time thing, but here he is, bringing spoils and stuffed animals every day. At that point, you had to ask for another room to store your gifts from him… Jokes and banter are common between you two, him doing most of the interaction, pinching your cheeks, and tickling your sides. Jeremy… turns out to be more childish than you, who is a child, and that said something. It amazed you when he’s on the verge of falling onto the ground and crying out whenever you declined his time with you.

Then there were instances that he was similar to a cat, cute and loving to the people he cherishes, pissy and hostile to others when they come near his cherished. What you hated about him was his ugly jealousy streak and the damage he brings with it. It can annoying when someone you like doesn’t spend much time with you as you’d like, but was it really worth bashing their head into the floor?

You walked hand-in-hand with your brother who hummed merrily. As for you, you were in a state of shock, silent as your mind tried to process what had happened prior earlier. Why did he… kill the servant? They were being nice to you were they not? It was just a lovely fresh-picked flower they wanted to gift out of the goodness of their heart. To you, you thought it was the prettiest one you’ve ever seen so far, the vibrant color palette reminding you of yourself. Mesmerized you were very close to taking the pretty thing, your chubby hands reaching to clasp at the plant. In the BLINK of an eye, the servant was no longer in their spot, the flower soaking in a puddle of blood on the ground, and your hands outstretched. The liquid was also splattered on your face, little droplets spluttered on your dress. In front of you was your brother, an enraged face overtaking his features. And underneath his boot was… the servant that offered the flower to you. What just happened…? Shrugging off how your irises dilated as he came closer, he knelt to the ground, scooping the flower from its puddle. And with a beaming smile, he patted your head, giving the bloodied flower to you instead.

“They’re out of their fuckin’ minds if they think I’d allow them to taint you.”

After your encounter with Roxana, she basically took over the role of bodyguard away from Sierra. Then you appreciated Sierra more, for mingling in Roxana’s presence had you stiffer than a board. The evening was a stormy one, the raindrops harshly beating against the roof, the low rumbles of thunder, and the faint flashes of lightning. For some odd reason, Roxana wanted to take a walk with you in this weather. You didn’t want to, but one word of hers led to another, and now you’re here. Too bad you were too scared to speak up.

Suddenly, she told you she had to run a small errand. It won’t take long, she insisted, and just like that, you were left “unsupervised” in the middle of the hallway. When you wanted to be left alone, you didn’t mean it like this. The hallways were eerily vacant and your room was nowhere nearby. The setting didn’t ease your growing anxiety; it was straight out of a horror novel where anything was capable of jumping you at any given moment. So… imagine how your soul left your body when you glanced over your shoulder, only to make eye contact with a face.

Gasping loudly, you spun around and stumbled backward, your small hands clutching at your clothes. Hair dark as the night sky, eyes red as blood… How did your father manage to silence his footsteps…? And most importantly, what could he possibly want from you…?  The deep frown he wore is a bad sign… Did you finally manage to push your father over the edge!?

The distant sound of heels hastily clacking against the floor trickled into your ears. Shortly after Roxana came into view, panting heavily as she shot a firey glare at the figure in front of you followed by a trail of threats. How did she have the courage to do that!? Did she not fear your father’s wrath? More so, why was he not responding? And who is this DION!? Too confused to study your fear of your sister when she lifted you into her arms, you wrapped your arms around her neck staring at a smirk creeping on who you assumed to be your father’s face.

The days continued smoothly (as the routine with Lante, Sierra, Maria, Roxana, and Jeremy occurred too often to be considered strange) and you lived your life as best as possible. But that was just the calm before the storm… 

Jumping from your seat, the porcelain cup slipped from your hands, shattering on the ground and spilling the milk. Your heart was hammering in your chest and your skin grew ice cold. Maria, Sierra, and the women present at the tea party also freaked out, the former rushing to both of your sides as they attempted to soothe your panicking self.

But that was a mistake for as soon as Maria touched you, you broke down into a fit of tears. They were confused, you were fine seconds ago! Was it perhaps the milk you drank with your biscuits that caused this!? Well, that certainly wouldn't slip by!

However, was that the answer to your panic? No. Someone was… watching you. It wasn't a normal glance… but rather one that instilled apprehensiveness in the hearts of numerous, and unfortunately, it was geared toward you. Left, right, and back, you frantically looked around, trying to identify who it was the person that had you so distraught. But, you couldn't, which made you cry harder and flail your arms about.

You knew the situation was very bad that the noise caught the attention of Lante, summoning him inside the greenhouse where the tea party was hosted. He was disgruntled, unsure of what to do. He didn't train himself to be a proper parent, so how should he know how to tame a crying child no less?

The best option he thought of was to carry you to your bed quarters and your stepmothers quickly complied, Maria whispering sweet nothings into your ears as she carried you, and Sierra lurking not too far behind.

There was some fun in isolation, you thought, as you found solace in the confinement of your room. Whenever you tried to stay outside in the company of others, so did the feeling of being watched return, the dread worsening the smaller the crowd gets. The feeling always disappeared when you were alone in your room, or by yourself… hold on, did you just hear your bedroom door lock?

This man was not your father. It made sense now why your sister treated him with disrespect. If he was not your father, could he possibly be one of your siblings? Though he looks like him, a carbon copy you think, he was sure far worse than your father in personality. Dull, apathetic, and very sadistic. He had no regard for life either as he shamelessly killed the maid assigned to you in front of your eyes. Even when the blood splattered on his face, he showed no emotion, maintaining eye contact with you. Could he be the one that was watching you all this time? Why did he wait to approach you when you were alone? Have you upset him in some way? Was he going to slaughter you next? All these questions ran through your head, unknowingly letting the tears gathered in your eyes run down your cheeks. This caught his attention, the smirk you remembered him having on your first encounter spreading on his lips. Kneeling in front of your bed, uncaring of how you trembled in his company, he reached out a hand, rubbing his finger tenderly against your cheek. It was sick how he found satisfaction that he evoked such a reaction from you. A teardrop fell onto his finger and he brought it to his lips, tasting it. What was meant to be salty, the flavor burst with sweetness in his mouth.

“I wonder what other reactions I can get from you.”

Weak… Fragile… Gentle… Pure… Innocent… How are you surviving in this god-forsaken household? It’s even more amusing to witness the same man, her father, protect what he firmly strived to kill. And that’s how GRISELDA formed a great interest in you, the youngest of The Black Agriche. She remembers clearly, a conversation she held with one of her younger half-sisters years ago, the person responsible for knocking her out of her top three rankings. Smiling happily with her fingers interlaced underneath her chin, she promised to show her something that will greatly humor her.

You may not have been the ‘thing’ her sister was referring to, nevertheless, it was not an unwelcomed one. Ah, she wonders, how long has it been since she has had that spark of interest? The day her sibling died in front of her eyes, feelings such as love became foreign to her. But, you? You restored these lost feelings of hers from first sight. She was stupefied when it happened, her body overflowing with spontaneous bursts of energy.

Truth be told, she had an eye on you for the longest while now, aching to meet you in person at least once. But, curse her hectic schedule to hell, leaving her no choice but to satisfy her curiosity about you from the little stories told by her other half-siblings. For the first time, she had felt a sense of ugly envy… Will they know of it though? No.

Fate was cruel to her, she thinks. First, to take away her sibling she loved, and second, to present, oh, such an ethereal gift, just to keep it away from her arm's length having to watch down on you from the villa’s balcony, scurrying about with her other siblings. For now, she’ll keep it that way, looking at you with a sober expression from afar, but still offering you exquisite gifts to make you aware of her existence.

It was another gift that seemed to spawn alive onto your dressing table, probably from your anonymous gift-giver. You had asked your siblings, including your stepmother who would occasionally step inside if they were the ones responsible, to which they all responded with a ‘no.’ You wondered if it were a servant that did it, but after what transpired with the previous one, you doubted anyone outside your family will be willing to take such a risk. This time, the gift was sitting in a glass vase, filled with water. In the vase were the flowers you adored with the lovely aroma. Happily, you whiffed the scent. Picking up the note that came with the gift, it read, ‘These flowers reminded me of you. I hope you enjoy them as much as I do… Sincerely, Griselda.’

“Don’t die on me, Little Sister. I won’t allow it~”

You were very confused to see a red-headed girl on her hands and knees, panting heavily for air. She was shaken too, a sickly color to her pale skin and the cold sweat that ran down the exposed parts of her body. But as you caught the dim red glow in the corner of your eye, as well as the faint sound of wings flapping, you were able to put two-and-two together; the girl was most likely tormented by Roxana’s infamous killer butterflies.

You pitied her, knowing what those butterflies were capable of, one almost biting your finger clean off your hand in one instance. But, that was just a sole butterfly you dealt with, she must have encountered several. And from one victim to another, you approached her shaking form in the hopes of comforting her.

Though… it seems she didn’t appreciate the sentiment… the fiery stare she gave you in response shut you up quickly and almost made you lose your bowels right there. Screaming insults and curses, she sprang to her feet and shoved past you, storming off to where she wanted to go. You just stood there in your spot, wide-eyed with your hands on your chest. Well, that’s what you get for roping yourself into situations that didn’t concern you…

From her outburst, you didn’t anticipate seeing her again, nor do you think she would want to see you. So her interrupting the tea party with yourself in the garden the next day startled you. Overcoming your shock, you smiled at her and invited her to join you and enjoy a couple of biscuits. She stuck her nose into the air and gawked at you as though you’d grown two heads… but still agreed. You did most of the talking, shortly learning her name, CHARLOTTE, and her exchanging haughty remarks here and then. It was a decent event…

If only you knew what exactly your brief display of kindness unconsciously resigned yourself to. Charlotte… was awfully demanding. After the tea party, Charlotte appeared by you very frequently, ordering that you drop whatever it was you were doing, and spend time with her. It could be one of the most important things you had to handle and she would not care. You could be with one of your siblings and she would not care. You could be sick and worn out, she will NOT care. If she wants to be with you, it will be now, no time for discussion. Just TRY to say no, it won’t do you any good. You said yes a lot, mostly because of your fear of what she will do if you deprive her of what she desired. She already made you petrified with a glare, how much worse will it be once she reaches her limit and lashes out? You have no ability to defend yourself when the time comes, so why should you cause trouble? Give in and avoid the unnecessary problem.

She was shaking with fury, hands angrily pulling at her puffy pigtails. How dare they…? HOW DARE THEY!? Are they stupid!? What do you mean you can’t spend time with her!? YOU BOTH ALWAYS SPEND TIME TOGETHER AT THIS TIME! WHY was she and him getting in her way of being with YOU!? They have to be stupid! While she went through an internal crisis, you clutched at your clothes, tears pricking at your eyes. Her green eyes were practically glowing with wrath from the hatred she harbored for your older sister and brother! She was also on the verge of snapping, that you can tell. She was losing all of her morality the longer they denied her what she wanted. You would have excused yourself long ago, but when she’s like this, that’s not the ideal option, for she may do something regrettable to you. Stepping behind your sister, your ears twitched at the sound of a whip cracking, inclusive of a butterflies’ wings, indicating the start of a full-on brawl.

“GO AWAY! Can’t you see we’re in the middle of something!?”

And finally… YOU! How do you feel about your family's attention to you? You never saw how other families interact with their kin… but you knew that what your family was doing was wrong. It was dangerous and obsessive. Would you tell them that? No. Unless you wish to suffer a fate worse than death by confronting them, you will keep your silence until all the odds are in your favor.

They were the butterflies, your mannerisms and kindness as the sweet nectar and color that attracted them, and you, their delicate flower.

©chaedomi. please do not modify, edit, copy or reproduce any of the works published.

[btsugarush]

GANGSTA | myg - 004

summary: rough sex, blood money, drugs, and gang related activity; four things you never predicted to experience in your simple life. not until you opened your mouth and caught his attention.

pairings: gang leader!yoongi x f!reader

warnings: smut, gunplay, drugs, drug addiction, dark!yoongi, drug lord!yoongi, strong language, gang violence, blood and gore, murder, manipulation, possessive/obsessive behavior, abuse, cheating, angst, fluff, dubcon, implied noncon (not from yoongi but within his gang with his knowledge), 18+, minors dni.

word count: 3.5K

authors note: yes, it is here. it only took me 76 years lmao. y’all best give me all the love since y’all wanted to be on my ass about this mf. anyway, enjoy the drama. also this was prewritren with the tags a long time ago so if you no longer wanted to be tagged or if you’re new and wanted to be tagged i’m sorry. the taglist got full but i try to switch out who i tag every chapter.

“Now, are you sure you’re okay? I can personally file a report for you.” Mr. Kim asked for the 6th time. You roll your eyes, fed up with the badgering. You didn’t understand why he cared so much anyway. He was the one that refused to listen to you when you tried to explain why it wouldn’t be a great idea for you to deliver in Gongdan.

You didn’t go into detail about the assault, or even bother to mention Yoongi being the reason it didn’t escalate. You simply just stated to him that you were attacked and managed to slip free.

Luckily for you though, the old man’s guilt for the attack led him to giving you the rest of the day off and you snatched that offer up immediately. Not like he needed your assistance, seeing as the restaurant was practically dead with only about 4 customers. “I’m fine, Mr. Kim. I promise.” You assure him one last time. “Alright then. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow.” You exit the shop, the door dinging as you do. You spot Mina’s car sitting in front of the restaurant, and she smiles cheerfully as you climb inside. “Hey. Thanks for picking me up so early.” You sigh, buckling your seatbelt. “No problem… But why am I picking you up so early? And…” she leans forward, peaking at your ripped shirt. “Why is your shirt ripped?”

You scratch your head, the thought of explaining the situation to Mina made your brain itch. “I had to deliver at the Devil’s playground again, and got attacked.” You kept it short and sweet. Mina’s eyes widened in shock. “What?! Was it that Yoongi guy again?!”

You shake your head. “It wasn’t him, it was this group of guys. Yoongi was actually the one that saved me…” you twiddle with your fingers as your mind wanders about the raven. Mina arches a brow at the gentleness in your voice. “He saved you?” You nod slowly in response. “My god, what does he expect from you now? Sexual favors?”

Of course Mina has to be the most dramatic and think the worst possible thought of everything. “No, he didn’t ask me for any favors. Which I guess is surprising for someone with his track record.” You admit, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. Mina starts up the car, finally moving from the restaurant premises. “Please don’t tell me you’re buddy buddy with that thug now?”

You scoff, letting your eyes roll back. “Of course not! The guy is a criminal, and stalker. I’d never befriend him,” You argue, crossing your arms. Yoongi may have saved you, but you weren’t swayed by his heroic charm. “Anyway, enough about me and my shitty day, it’s too traumatic to talk about. Did you have a talk with Jin like I suggested?” You change the subject. Mina’s face drops at the mention of her boyfriend’s name. “Yeah, we talked for about 2 minutes before it all blew up. Now we’re not on speaking terms,” She sighs. “I think maybe I should break up with him…”

You frown. ‘There she goes being the most dramatic again…’

“Mina, don’t be so damn hasty all the time.” You try to reason with the blonde. “I’m not!” She defended herself. “I’m just tired, y/n. I’m tired of trying to figure him out. I’d rather break up with him before he breaks up with me.”

Mina had never been the girl to get her heart broken. In high school she was the one always doing the heart breaking, so you could tell that it genuinely killed her to love someone as much as she loved Jin, and not know where his head was at regarding their relationship. “I don’t know, Mina… I just know if I was in your shoes with Kookie, I’d try to work things out before I think of the worst possible outcome.”

Mina pouts, but she doesn’t continue to speak. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, you were right. She shouldn’t just jump the gun and break up with Jin. Although he was acting strangely and it was confusing the hell out of her. “You know… I’m jealous of your relationship with Kookie.” She suddenly blurts, causing you to turn to her with a raised brow. “Huh?”

“I’m jealous,” she repeats. “Of you and Jungkook.”

You tilt your head to the side, your eyebrows now scrunched in curiosity. “Why?”

Mina simply shrugs, sitting quietly for a couple of minutes before answering. “You two match, and have an unbeatable connection. You started off as best friends, which played in your favor. I met Jin in the hospital because he had a broken arm. We don’t have the history you and Jungkook have.”

You smile at the compliment towards your relationship, but quickly shake your head. “History isn’t everything. Some people marry their high school sweethearts and breakup. You and Seokjin just need to be mature– or you at least.” Mina whips her head in your direction, her brows furrowed. “What do you mean by ‘or you at least’?”

“I mean that sometimes you’re immature. You tend to freak out when things don’t go your way and storm off like a child.” Mina snarls. “I’m not immature.” She muttered to herself, practically proving your point. The car finally slows down in front of your apartment before coming to a complete stop. “Thanks for the ride again, Mina. I appreciate you.”

“Of course. I’m mature enough to pick up my best friend when she needs me.” She glares, your previous comment still not sitting well with her. You shake your head, paying no mind to her attitude. “Bye, Mina. I hope everything works out with Jin.” You pushed open the car door, climbing out.

“Yeah, you and me both.” She mutters her last words before she waits for you to close the car door, speeding off into the distance with you standing there to watch. You let out a sigh, shrugging. What was the point of her asking for your advice if she was always going to dislike what you had to say?

You turn on your heels, walking up the steps that lead to your building entrance. As you venture down the hall to your apartment, you spot a shaggy haired man placing a bouquet of flowers right in front of your front door. A smile forms your face as you see the one person you longed to see after such a horrendous experience. “Kookie?”

The brunette jumps slightly, your sudden appearance catching him off guard. Once he registers that it’s you, he smiles as well. “Well shit, I wanted to surprise you with something sweet when you got off. Guess that’s a fail.” He scratches the back of his neck, chuckling. You shake your head, instantly embracing him with a hug. “It’s not a fail. I’m so happy to see you.” Even though you pretty much talked on the phone with Jungkook everyday, it felt like you hadn’t seen him in weeks.

Jungkook’s tattooed arms wrap around your waist, returning your gentle embrace. “I’m happy to see you too, angel. What’re you doing home so early though? I thought you weren’t off till 8:00?”

You bit down on your bottom lip. You wanted to start crying right there just thinking about what almost happened to you today. You hadn’t told him about your trip to Gongdan yesterday because you didn’t want him to worry, but now you felt as though he deserved to know this time. “I got attacked today.” You take a step back, showing him your torn shirt. Jungkook looks down, dumbfounded at how he hadn’t clocked your ripped shirt when you first walked in.

“By who?!” He shouts. “If it was Yoongi and his gang I swear to god–”

You shush Jungkook, looking around to make sure none of your neighbors were in the hallway eavesdropping. “Let’s talk about this inside, okay?” The brunette is pissed, but he nods, awaiting for you to open your apartment door. He grabs the flowers from the floor as you dig through your purse for your key. ‘I really need to get a keychain for this thing," you thought, finally finding the piece of metal in your bag.

You open the door, and Jungkook wastes no time storming in. He places the flowers on your kitchen table, pulling out a chair for you to sit and explain yourself. Even though he was angry he still focused on your wellbeing. You close the door, unsure if you really wanted to recite the situation. Too late to change your mind now though.

You shuffle to the seat that Jungkook pulled out for you, plopping down. “So? Was it Yoongi’s doing?”

How do you even begin to explain all of this? Yes, but not really? While Yoongi was the reason you ended up in Gongdan, he isn’t the one that attacked you. But he has taken a weird interest in you ever since the Makoto showdown between you and his trusty stooge. If you told Jungkook that though, he'd just spend every moment trying to protect you and probably do something unnecessary to get himself hurt. You didn’t want that.

So, maybe it was best to embellish the truth a bit and leave Yoongi out of it.

“I had a delivery in Gongdan today. Jimin was out sick, and I was the only one that could deliver it. A group of guys attacked me on my way back to the restaurant.” Jungkook furrowed his eyebrows. “You had a delivery at the devil’s playground and you took it? What the hell were you thinking?”

“I was thinking that I had to do my job. I had no choice, Kookie. Mr. Kim wasn’t letting me out of it. Believe me, I tried.” The brunette scoffed, redirecting his anger to Mr. Kim. “I should go down there and kick that old man’s ass,” He muttered. Jungkook was never too fond of Mr. Kim. He thought the old man could be a bit misogynistic.

“Did they hurt you?” His voice is now more tender. You shook your head. “No. I’m fine,” You assure him. “The only thing that got hurt is my precious shirt.” You laugh a bit, trying to lighten the mood. “Did they just let you go? How’d you get free?” He pressed on.

“Umm…” you trail off, your thoughts once again wandering to the raven haired man.

“So Wonder Woman, you ready to accept that ride today?”

“They got scared off by someone that happened to be walking by. Lucky me, huh?”

Jungkook sighs smoothly, crouching down in front of your chair. He takes your hands in his, interlocking your fingers. “I’m glad you’re okay, y/n. I hate to know you experienced that and I wasn’t there.” He frowns, leering down at your hands. “Jungkook, you’re not gonna be able to be there for everything, and that’s okay. You’re here now, when I need you the most.”

Jungkook looks up at you. “And I’ll stay here.”

“Please remind me to stop letting you pick out movies. You always pick the cheesiest ones.” Jungkook grimaced as you two reached the end of your movie. You wiped stray tears from your eyes, glaring over at your soon-to-be boyfriend. “The Princess Diaries is a classic. I love it.” Jungkook snorts, shaking his head. “Yeah, well next time I’m picking the movie. Your selection sucks.”

You gasp, taking a pillow from the other end of the couch. “Take that back.” You cock the pillow, ready to deliver a blow. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry… that you’re ass at picking movies.” You swing the pillow down on him, and his hands go up in self defense as he laughs, his back landing on the couch cushions to better protect his face. You take this advantage to straddle the brunette’s waist, continuing your attack until he ultimately surrenders. “Okay, I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” You finally toss the pillow back down to the end of the couch, a victory smirk plastered on your face. “I knew you’d see it my way.”

“Hard not to when I’m being attacked by a pillow.” He looks up at you, still straddling his waist. Jungkook’s hands slowly roam up your legs, stopping to grip your hips. “You’re so beautiful, you know that?” Your cheeks heated up with the compliment, and you felt a sudden wave of warmth between your legs that made you anxious. This was it. There was no better time than this to lose your virginity to Jungkook.

You lean forward, pressing your lips to his pierced ones, the metal was cold against you; Jungkook didn’t hold back, or hesitate the moment your lips were against his. Your mouths moved in sync, but sloppily at the same time as though you both wanted it real bad– and you did. Jungkook’s hands moved from your hips, reaching back to cup your ass in his hands, giving your cheeks a squeeze.

You moaned softly into his mouth, rolling your hips over the rough fabric of his jeans until you felt his cock harden underneath you. Jungkook made sure to assist you, his hands pressing you down harder against his confined length. Your panties were soaked, and your mind was in a daze. You were sure that you had dampened his jeans by now. “Fuck, Y/n…” he muttered in between kisses. “We have to stop before I can’t stop.”

“Then don’t stop, I want this.” You whine, rolling your hips faster. Jungkook moans, eyes squeezing shut. “Fuck, I can’t.” He grabs your hips, forcing you to stop. You take the hint, but you can’t help the pang in your chest. Was there something wrong with you? You didn’t get it. What was he waiting for? You climb off of him, taking your place back on the couch.

It’s silent as Jungkook sits up on the couch, running his fingers through his hair. “Y/n…”

“Save it,” You cut him short. “You don’t want to have sex with me, I get it.” Jungkook shakes his head. “That’s not true. I do.” He argued. You scoff, rolling your eyes. “So then what’s the problem? I’m always practically giving signals that I’m ready and you’re holding back. You have never done that with any girl you’ve dated before me.”

“You’re not any girl I’ve dated before you.”

“Right, I’m y/n, the girl that’s been your best friend for years and the truth is that’s probably all you see me as.” Jungkook says nothing, he doesn’t even bother to argue because that’s just something he hates doing with you. “I uh… I should go.”

“Then go.” You snapped. Jungkook nods, standing up from the couch. As he walks to the front door, he looks back at you. You don’t look his way, you just continue to stare forward. “You’re not any girl I’ve dated before you.” He repeats; those are his final words before he opens the door and leaves.

Your eyes brim with tears as you finally turn, looking towards the table where Jungkook’s bouquet of flowers sat.

“Well well well, look who made a full recovery today.” You eye Jimin taking orders as you walk into Makoto. Jimin smiles at you, happy to see you in what felt like forever since you two worked together. “Y/n, it’s good to see you too.” He greets. You cross your arms, not in a greeting mood. “I have a bone to pick with you once you’re done here.” You say, walking back to the kitchen to clock in.

“Y/n, good afternoon. How are you feeling today?” Mr. Kim asks you as you grab an apron from the hook, tying the black fabric around your waist. “It’s a Monday, how am I supposed to be feeling?” You speak dreadfully. You barely got any sleep after what happened last night with Jungkook, and now you were at work. Jungkook hadn’t even called or texted you. Not that you wanted him to right now.

“Well, I meant everything that happened yesterday, how are you feeling today?” He reiterates. You grab a time card, swiping it through the clock. “I’m fine, Mr. Kim.” You walk past him, taking a notepad and pen from the cup holder. Jimin walks back into the kitchen, his face suddenly pale like he was ready to puke. Maybe he was sick.

“Hey, um, there’s someone out there at table three that’s requesting for you to take their order.” He says, scratching the back of his neck. You raise a skeptical brow. ‘Requesting me? Could it be Jungkook?’ You thought. Maybe he wanted to talk in person instead of over the phone. You didn’t see why he couldn’t have waited until your shift was over and come to your apartment, but you didn’t argue with the gesture.

“Okay…?” You walk out of the kitchen towards the dining area. As you scope out table three, you don’t see Jungkook, but in fact, Yoongi, Joon, and two other guys you don’t know. That’s why Jimin looked so sickly. You shake your head, sauntering over to their table. “What’re you doing here? Was yesterday not enough?” You snap at Yoongi.

“Nice to see you too,” the raven laughs, leaning back in his chair. “Yesterday is the reason I’m here in person, sweetheart. Wouldn’t want you getting your pretty self into any more trouble in my hood.” He smirked. “You remember my boy Joon, don’t you?”

“Wonder Woman, it’s good to see you again.” You glare at Joon, rolling your eyes. You didn’t have time for this. Yoongi was the last person you cared to see right now, and you definitely never wanted to see Nam-joon again. “So are you here to order something or are you here to be the bane of my existence?”

“Depends… are you on the menu?” He bites his bottom lip, looking you up and down. Joon, and Yoongi’s other two minions snicker and you’ve decided you’ve had enough of this pig fest. “Okay, goodbye.” You turn to head back to the kitchen, but Yoongi stops you by grabbing your wrist. “I’m just joking around, sweetheart. I’m here to ask you something.” You pull your wrist from his grip, turning back to face him. “Ask me what?”

“Well, I’m having this kickback at my place tonight. I want you to slide through.” You scrunch your eyebrows together in confusion. “What on earth would make you think I’d dare to step foot into Gongdan again? And what makes you think I’d go to your shifty ass warehouse?”

“Well, I just thought after my heroism the other day you would want to thank me more properly.” You scoffed. Mina was right. He was expecting some kind of sexual favor from you. “I knew it. You only helped because you thought you could use me later on. I should’ve expected that from someone like you.” You leave their table, making your way back towards the kitchen, but this time Yoongi stands up from his seat to follow you.

“Princess,” He stops you again, his hand grazing your waist, but he doesn’t fully touch you in a manner that came across as though he was trying to respect your boundaries–for once. He steps in front of you, blocking your way to the kitchen. “It’s not like that. I helped you because I wanted to.”

“Is that so? Because it truly didn’t seem like it just a second ago.” You snarled, crossing your arms. The raven makes a “tsk” sound before continuing on. “Sweetheart, if that’s all I wanted from you then I would’ve made you give it to me right there in the alleyway. Regardless of what happened,” His face was stone cold serious. He meant that. You stood silent, not knowing what to say next.

“Listen… sometimes I have these kickbacks, and they’re a vibe, but it would be better if I saw your pretty face there.” His voice is soft, so soft that you didn’t think someone like Yoongi could produce such a tone. “I don’t think it would be a good idea for me to take a bus through Gongdan at night.”

“So don’t. I’ll pick you up.”

You sigh, slowly feeling yourself ready to cave in and you didn’t know why. You literally could not stand this man. He was a stalker for fuck sakes. A criminal. And yet… here you were ready to accept his invitation because of one good gesture, and a sudden softness to his voice. Yoongi’s eyes search for yours until they lock, a smile forming his face. For a moment as you're looking into the raven’s eyes you begin to question is he really the monster he makes people believe? Or is that all for looks?

“Hey, can we get the check please?” A customer calls out. Your eyes snap away from Yoongi’s. You had almost forgotten you were at work. “Look, I have to get back to work. I’ll… I’ll let you know.” You take your notepad, writing down your phone number. As you rip the paper from the pad, you actually begin to question your sanity. You hand the paper to Yoongi, his lips tilting in a sly smirk as he takes it.

“I look forward to hearing from you, princess.”

Taglist

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[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

Halloween prompts year 2 day 2

Tim, as a child, went to a party/gala with his parents and ended up getting dragged into an Oiji board session when he was shoved off to go join the other kids.

It somehow escalated to a "bride of Satan" ritual but instead of Satan they chose the "king of ghosts" just to see if anything replied. Tim didn't believe in ghosts at this point and was goaded into being the bride. They thought the ritual failed after the flames of the candles turned green then purple then green again before blowing out entirely.

After Jason dies Tim makes a wish/prayer to anyone who could hear him. He desperately wanted his hero, his Robin, to live.

Phantom died at four and became the king of the Infinite Realms at 7. He was often lonely and hid his halfa status from everyone outside of the Far Frozen where he was raised. Both he and the Yetis guarded this secret zealously. Still, he craved contact from other humans and knowledge of thier world that was so different from his own. So naturally when he felt someone willingly sacrificing themselves to be his spouse? He only hesitated a moment before agreeing. Then he just needed his fiance to wish for something and thier engagement would be set.

Cue Jason Todd waking up in his casket.

Nothing really comes of it until Tim gets his first major injury from a bad guy as the new Robin and Tim wakes up to a giant nightmare fuel skeleton monster just chilling on his ceiling watching him. It had mandibles like a beatle made from fingerbones woven into one another and its face seamed the same save for the artistic inclusion of opals, pearls and other small bones that Tim couldn't identify. Its body looked like a mass of bones both human and animal while its many, many arms kept it stuck to the ceiling where dark empty eye sockets stared down at him. Two human skulls protruded from the creatures back, one watching the window and the other watching the doorway.

Tim screamed.

Danny just hoped his fiance liked his new bodyguard. He made it himself special order, he called it a BoneKeeper.

----

Much later

Batman, Zatanna, and Robin: *tries to summon ghost king*

Phantom: omg my fiance wants to meet me!

Phantom: I cant go like this! I want to meet him while looking my best!

Phantom: *sends note through in his stead stating to call back at a specific date and time*

Heroes: wtf? Is this a trap?

Day comes

Heroes: *summoning*

Phantom: *appears looking nice and very much a child* Are you my fiance?

Batman: ...oh god thats a child

Zatanna: ...oh god thats a child

Robin: *same age as Danny and unbothered* Whats with the bone monster?

Phantom: I made it to protect you! I heard that you guys used fear as a weapon. Is it scary enough?

[ebonyslasher]

Can you do more yandere slashers part 2 please.

Hopefully, I'm getting better at writing yandere characters! There are some possible triggering themes ahead so read with caution.

Roses are red, violets are blue

Here's

Yandere!Slashers Pt. 2!

A strained sob bounced against the dingy walls that you were held captive in. Your existence, normally happy and calm, turned desperate and miserable. You looked around with teary eyes, taking in your unfortunate new home. The air was littered with specks of dust, paint torn from the walls, and all the windows crudely covered and broken. It was a scene taken from a horror movie that you desperately did not want to be in. The tears silently flow down your face before the raggedy door flings open.

A shadowy, foreboding figure stood tall at the door frame. You recognized that figure, it was the one who kidnapped you to this horrid place.

“Please ... .please let me go…,” you whimpered out, your sobbing revitalizing before this monster. He stepped forward and you shrunk back. He stops. The next movement he made your heart stop. Michael flings a body beside you. The patch of light coming from the mostly covered window showed the gouged out eyes of your crush. They lay lifeless and their once beautiful face was now covered with blood. 

The image of a dead body, especially of someone you knew, caused you to hyperventilate. Feeling an extreme urge to flee, you stand up and attempt to run towards the door. Michael grabs your arm painfully and throws you down.

“Let me go, let me go! You monster!” you screamed. You attempt to stand again when Michael kicks at your legs. He quickly places his dirty boot on your right leg, right on the tibia. Stomping down, Michael relishes in your painful cry after the sickening snap of your bone. You could not run from him and he could not be happier.

—--

Michael knew everyone who lived in Haddonfield. Most by their identifiable features and home addresses.

Michael stalked all his victims, but only for a short time as their existence would not last long.

However, if he becomes obsessed, not only will he stalk them every single day. He will keep them alive for an undecided amount of time.

As you place your existence in Haddonfield, Michael becomes hooked. 

He paid attention to your needs, placing toiletries that you ran out of/low on in various places in your house. It escalates into leisure items that you spoke about with your friends. Things that he knew that you knew you did not purchase

Making himself known, he begins to appear and reappear in different places, from a distance. Toying with you.

Anyone who will get in the way will be removed, permanently. Especially any love interest.

He is not above harming you to make you submit, stay, and be quiet. He knew what was best for you.

Injuries looked especially good on you anyway

“Kitten ... .how disappointing,” Asa remarks, seeing the piss-poor excuse of a Valentine's Day present on his bed. It was made haphazardly, the paper mache butterfly looked tattered with paint, some sort of adhesive, and drenched paper.

Asa had shown you how to do the technique weeks ago, disguising the activity as a fun bonding moment. He made an off-handed comment that a paper mache insect would be a great gift for Valentine’s Day. Of course, his smart little kitty caught the hint. But, it was obvious that you did not practice enough. 

You sat upon the bed, head down in embarrassment at the state of your gift. “Asa, I tried! I really did! You know I’m not that good at-” You started to explain. Asa put his hand up and you stopped talking immediately.

“You had ample time to practice, y/n. But, you did not. Therefore, you will be punished. Get on all fours on top of your disaster,” Asa instructed coldly. You did so, feeling humiliated at the action. You desperately wanted to make this up to him while also feeling apprehension at the punishment. 

Asa starts to hit your back and ass with his hands. You endure, but the force of his hits ends up making you fall on top of your gift. The burn of his hits combined with the uncomfortable feeling of wet paper and glue slathering your stomach. It made you cry out, strengthening the boner Asa had. 

---

Anyone who’s moving, living, or even traveling through the town gets observed by Asa. When you arrive, you capture his interest in ways he never thought possible. 

He searched your name, address (and floor plan if available), and knew all your family members. He breaks in to look at everything you have.

 He had notes dedicated to what you like to eat, what size of clothes you wear, etc. 

Once he captures you, he doesn’t make you a part of his collection. Instead, you'll be his personal pet. A little kitty he can enjoy. 

Life was starting to get a little boring. Your existence changed his life. He just needed to train you so you would not be useless to him.

His training includes the way you react (in the way that he likes), enduring physical punishment and sexual sensory overloads, how to care for him correctly, etc. 

Any spouse, family, or friends that were living with you are now part of his collection. They would be a distraction to your duties.

If you perform extremely poorly, he will drag you across the floor to see any loved ones in the collection. Digging his fingers into your eyelids to force you to look at their display.

“Dr. Lecter?,” You asked as you knocked lightly on his office door. You let yourself into his practice, as was normal for your appointments. 

“Y/N, please come in,” he said smoothly so as to not betray his excitement at your arrival.

You plop down on the sofa across from him and your weekly sessions begin. You’d had them for a month now. It was last week when you noticed that you were getting weirdly attached and attracted to Dr. Hannibal. It wasn’t right with the power dynamics in your current relationship. Also, all the blaring issues he knew about your life. This did not dissuade your budding feelings, with the unintentional help of Hannibal. He did not know that your conflicted romantic feelings were about him. It was like he always knew the right thing to say. He spurred your mind to think outside the box or his perspective. Everything he said, he seemed to always be right about. 

“.....I feel a romantic connection to this person, but I know I shouldn’t,” You say.

“And why not?” He questioned

“Our relationship right now…it would be inappropriate to say the least.”

Hannibal leaned forward, his face schooled in its perfect neutral expression. Internally, he was fighting a smirk to bless his sharp features. “And what is love without risk?”

“....I…”

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t know, y/n. I am merely throwing out a different perspective. You like this person right? What makes it inappropriate?”

“His…status and title do. The power dynamics would be unequal,” you say, trying to be as vague as possible.

“It will always be unequal. You possess powers that he would not have. And vice versa. Titles mean nothing. You see, I am your psychiatrist. I know who you are, I can see the power that you have. A relationship between you and me would be risky, in the eyes of others. But, only our eyes matter in the end.”

“A relationship between us two…?”

“Just as an example, Y/n. To help you see the big picture.”

--

You were his patient. He fell in love, becoming obsessed with you. You looked like the perfect partner, one to parade around at the envy of others. 

He would make sure to format your mind to see how perfect you two would be. That he would be the only one for you. 

Hannibal being Hannibal does this covertly, planting seeds into your head every session. He even stops taking payment for your appointments, to ensure you would still come.

The medication he would prescribe you was a level of biochemical control over your emotions. He knew the side effects and how the medication would affect your mood after you took them. 

He acts like the perfect gentleman. He has perused your home, making sure to have items that you need or want coincidentally at appointments. 

Anyone who is a threat to you or the budding relationship will be removed.

You will see them for the last time, served as a decadent meal. He will feed them to you, without your knowledge

“Taylor Layknn’s party is in two days, I’ve taken the liberty of picking out your look for you,” Patrick says dismissively. He thrust the outfit into your arms as he checked his phone. You stood flabbergasted at his gall.

“Patrick, I already had an outfit planned out,” you explain. You look over the outfit, trying to imagine how it would look on you.

“Yes I know, but I saw this while shopping and thought about you immediately. I knew it would be flattering on you. It goes with what I’m wearing. We’ll look great together.” Patrick looks straight into your eyes, watching your reaction.

You felt annoyed, a little offended, but flattered that he thought of you. “That’s sweet, but I don’t think that’s exactly my style.” You began to hand the outfit back to him. He thrusts the outfit back against your chest.

“It is your style and you don’t even know it. Here, look at how the color compliments your skin. How it’ll hug your figure in the right places. You know, most of these bitches don’t even know how to dress. You’ll be the talk of the night if you just listen to me.”

--

He tries to shelter your interactions from others, feeding you lies and pretending like he is giving you inside information to gain your trust

He purposefully talks bad and compassionate about others to uplift himself in your presence, disguising it as competition.

He is always extra with his appearance but was even more so when he knew you were going to be there.

He even wears the cologne that you love. He sends you flowers, your favorite ones, to show how much attention he paid to you

Once he has you wrapped around his finger, He tells you what to say and how to act. He needs you to be the perfect partner that even Paul Allen would be jealous of. 

The desperate yuppie that he is needs you to look and act a certain way to fit in with the 'in-group'.

He buys you clothing and expects you to wear it for him. He will send you makeup tutorial videos that he likes.

Patrick will also send photos and videos of people with what he thinks is the ultimate body type. He will do whatever to shape and mold you into his perfect partner.

Patrick has a doll that looks like you in his office drawer. He dresses up in what he would want you to wear. He has another at home where he acts out fantasies of your eventual marriage. 

He constantly questions where you are or slyly questions others. He gets mad if he isn’t invited anywhere, especially to his favorite place.

If he could, he dreams of hiring you as his personal assistant (if that was your profession). He has thought many times about firing his current assistant just to have you perched there, sitting pretty.  

[skzdarlings]

vexatious vixen ; felix x reader ; part 1/2

masterlist.

PART 1/2. READ PART 1 HERE. ( READ ON AO3. )

You always get what you want. When an unassuming security guard named Felix stops your latest venture, you escalate the stakes until he has no choice but to put you in your place.

pairing: lee felix/reader content info: romantic comedy. strangers to enemies to lovers. handcuffs. cat-and-mouse. eventual smut will be kinky dom/sub dynamics, dom!felix and sub!reader. (chapter word count: 7400 words.)

-

Seungmin is one of your best friends and also a conniving master of manipulation.  Being a malevolent source of wicked verbal wizardry, he convinced you and Minho that it would be totally super easy to sneak into the Hwang Hyunjin concert.  It’s only the final night of the pop-star’s sold-out world tour and the most anticipated concert of the year.  What could go wrong?  

It sounded like a good idea when Seungmin said it.  Now the three of you are standing in a pushy crowd of overeager fans with some very intimidating looking security guards at the end of the queue. 

“Reconvene,” you say.  You grab the boys by their scruff and drag them out of the line. 

“Ah, hey!” Minho snaps at you like piranha.

You release him to grab Seungmin by his collar.  “You better have an idea for getting us past security,” you say, “because I do not like the look of the Incredible Hulk up there.”

The three of you look at the shortstack beefcake who looks like he could bench all three of you at the same time. 

“Yeaaaah,” Seungmin says.  He flashes you a not-so-innocent smile as his strawberry-pink bangs flop into his eyes.  “I didn’t really think this far ahead.  I thought you’d have a plan.”

“Why would I have a plan?” you ask.  “This whole thing was your idea.  Seungmin.”  You drag him close so your noses touch, going cross-eyed at the proximity.  It does not lessen the severity of your frustration when you state, “I waxed for this.  And you know how I feel about waxing.” 

“You waxed?” Minho asks loudly.  It draws a few glances your way which might be because Minho is so loud, or might be because he’s so good looking, or a combination of the two.  His dark eyes narrow at you like you’re a completely alien creature.   “Why would you wax for a concert?” he asks. 

“Wax,” Seungmin parrots.  Your hands are on his collar like you intend to shake him up but it doesn’t deter him asking, “Like… like wax-wax?  Like your human body waxed?”

“Like your human pussy?” Minho asks.  “For a concert?  What did you think was gonna happen?”  He is on the very visible verge of hysterical laughter when a thought lights his eyes.  “Wait,” he says.  “I know how we can get in—”

“Oh my god,” you say.  You shove Seungmin and grab Minho by the collar instead.  “I’m not fucking our way in.  And I waxed,” you drop your voice, “just in case.”

“Just in case…?” Minho tips his head.  “Just in case you had to fuck your way in…?”

“Oh my god,” you say.  You push him away too.  “Never mind.”

“Did you think Hyunjin was going to summon you out of the crowd for a green room quickie?”  Seungmin asks with a shit-eating grin. 

Minho cackles.  “No way she’d even go,” he says.  “She doesn’t get summoned.  She likes to be chased.” 

“She is walking away now,” you say.    

“Bet she’ll walk away quickly,” Seungmin says.  “She waxed so she’ll be aerodynamic.”

You stomp away from the stadium but only make it a few steps before Seungmin runs in front of you. 

“We can’t just give up here,” Seungmin says.  “We made it this far already.”

“One bus stop?” you ask dryly.  “We literally live like five minutes away—”

“Exactly!” Seungmin says.  “That’s called destiny.”

“We might as well try,” Minho says.  He cups a hand over his eyes to look at the stadium in the fading light of the sun.  “We all got dressed up.  Seungmin skipped a class.  You waxed.” 

“There’s no way we’re getting through those doors,” you say. 

“We’ve done it before,” Seungmin says.  He turns you to face the stadium and massages your shoulders like a boxing coach, all the while regaling you with tales of your past victories.  “Remember all the other concerts we snuck into?  The sports games?  That celebrity wedding—”   

“Well,” Minho interrupts, “we did get arrested at that one.” 

“Yeah and we got arrested together,” Seungmin says, “because that’s what friends do.” 

“I don’t know why,” you say, “but for some reason this is working.”  Maybe it’s Seungmin’s words, or Minho’s cologne, or maybe it’s the soft glow of a perfect summer sunset as it pours over the stadium like a pink-orange waterfall.  Or maybe it’s because this really is the concert of the year, and you love a challenge, and you fucking waxed. 

You throw your head back and sigh, soulfully resigning yourself to your imminent fate.

“Fine,” you say.  “So how are we doing this?”   

“Don’t worry,” Seungmin says thoughtfully.  “I think I have a plan.”

Seungmin proceeds to explain the plan.  It is hardly the pinnacle of heist endeavours but is more feasible than rappelling down the stadium walls into the concert arena.

Basically, the plan is to find a group of people with a solitary ticket holder and leech onto their tail with the hopes security will miscount the party and let you sneak past.  It means you will have to split up because security will definitely notice three extra people.  You will then hopefully reunite inside the arena.

You scamper around the periphery of the stadium, perusing lines for oblivious groups of excited fans with an e-ticket-wielding ringleader.  You also double-check which security guards seem the most lax or checked out. 

“I get that one,” Minho says. 

He points to a trim, athletic guard with floppy brown hair and a giggly smile.  You and Seungmin protest because that guard is an easy mark so you all want him, but Minho takes off running for the queue. 

The thing about Lee Minho is that he never hauls ass.  He coasts through life with a casual slouch, but he is completely capable of annihilating everyone if he deigns to do so. 

He does.  So he did.

You and Seungmin look around.  Your grin widens when you spy the next easiest target.

“Aha!” you say.  “I call dibs on that one!  Good luck, Seungmin!”

“Hey!” Seungmin bellows.

He is far too late.  You are already booking it towards the line with a pretty, chipper, skinny security guard.  He is in jeans and a loose windbreaker that says SECURITY across the back, about the only indication he is a man of any authority.  His hair is a vibrant, neon blue and is delicately styled, long enough to pull back in a pretty half-ponytail.  His features are sharp, cheekbones sloping, but there is a natural tenderness to his whole countenance.  He doesn’t have a mean bone in his body. 

Also, he really is lean.  Worst case scenario, you can probably push your way past him and disappear into the crowd before he can do anything about it.  

You find a group of girls to sidle alongside anyway.  You are satisfied you will easily slip into the stadium. 

The group reaches the front of the line, a couple of them giggling at the security guard’s friendly attention.  His name tag reads Felix, a cute name for a cute guy.  Up close, you can see a smattering of dark freckles across his face, as well as a few playful glitter stars for the concert.  He is admittedly pretty but as a professional gate crasher, you refrain from distraction.  You successfully avoid his gaze and stick close to the girl in front of you. 

Felix gives them each a friendly nod, smiling brightly.  He laughs at one of their comments and it’s a charming, low sound. 

“Enjoy the show, ladies,” he says, his voice about a hundred decibels deeper than you expected.  

Maybe that’s what trips you up.  It has to be something, because you were doing everything right.  But just as you go to follow the girls into the arena, a skinny arm shoots out and you smack right into it.   

“Sorry,” Felix says.  He drops his arm and smiles.  “I just need to see your ticket.” 

“My…?”  You look ahead at the group of girls, but they are already gone.  Oops.  “Ha, ha,” you say, looking at Felix. 

He is staring back at you, still smiling a close-lipped smile.  He blinks a couple times then lifts an eyebrow.

“Uh, ticket?” he says.  He holds out his hand.  

“Right,” you say.  You smile at him with all the saccharine sweetness you can.  “I have funny story about that, Felix,” you say. 

“Hm.”  His smile turns into a line, eyes narrowing as he looks at you.  “And what’s that?” 

“Well, you see…”

It’s all you say before you bolt, fast on your feet.  You sprint for the entryway behind the guarded queue.  There’s a crowd inside and you’re an expert at disappearing into a crowd.  You just need to get in there and find your boys then you are home free.  Hwang Hyunjin, here you come. 

There’s just one problem.  

Felix is fast.  

Like, track star fast.  Like, road runner fast.  Like, you’re that dumb coyote getting an anvil dropped on your head, except this anvil is a skinny blue-haired Australian with a voice like a god and the apparent hidden strength of one too. 

You make it a few desperate steps before Felix literally sweeps you off your feet.  You shriek when he hauls you under his arm, dragging you away from the stadium door.  He deposits you a few feet from the queue then swiftly resumes his position. 

“Hello,” he says to the next person in line.  “Sorry about that.  Ticket?”   

Your mouth is agape.  

No one has ever got the jump on you like that.

“Hey!” you say, but Felix has moved on.  He is smiling at the next guest as he checks their ticket, not paying you any mind.  “Excuse me,” you say, despite the people between you and him.  “I think there’s been a misunderstanding.  I do have a ticket.”

“Uh-huh,” Felix says.  He doesn’t look at you, scanning someone’s e-ticket with a little device.  It lights up green and he smiles at them.  “Enjoy the show,” he says. 

You jump into the queue, cutting off the next person.  Felix’s smile vanishes and is replaced with an astoundingly sassy expression.

“Uh, this line is for ticket-holders,” he says. 

“I have a ticket,” you say.  You unzip your purse and spend a minute rifling around, ignoring him when he sighs.  He apologizes to the people behind you.  You turn and offer a tight-lipped apology of your own.  “I was in line,” you say, as if they didn’t just witness this ten-pound bully haul you around like a sack of potatoes.  “There was just a misunderstanding.”

Felix rolls his eyes. 

You pull out your cell phone and flip through a folder of fake screenshotted tickets, hoping at least one of them marginally resembles the tickets for tonight.  You pick one and flash it at Felix. 

“Happy?” you say with a lot of false indignation.  You turn off the screen when Felix goes to grab your phone.  You give him a snooty, squinty-eyed look, then saunter right past him. 

This time when he comes after you, you are better prepared for his speed.   You zig-zag and he stumbles, cussing very unprofessionally.  You make it all the way to the door before he grabs you.  You have no idea where he is getting all that muscle because he feels like a sturdy stick when you grab at him, but he puts you over his shoulder like it’s easy. 

“Um, excuse me!” you shout.  “Hello!  Someone film this!  I’m being assailed!”

Felix intentionally jostles you on his shoulder.  He is even less gentle when he drops you this time, though you do manage to keep your footing. 

“Try that again,” Felix says, “and it will be trouble.  Got it?” 

Felix is very good looking.  He’s an incredible combination of pretty and handsome, not to mention that voice, guh.  But what gets you going is how much you are clearly pissing him off.  It’s hot.  Out of nowhere, the freckled sunshine sweetheart is just oozing confidence, standing square and pointing at you with a very stern expression.  And if you get a little hiccup in your blood, a little skip in your heartbeat, a little stampede southward that makes your pussy hum like the interested kitten it is, well.  That’s not your fault.  It’s his.  Asshole.

You flip him off.  He ignores you, shaking his head as he returns to his position.

“Sorry,” he says to the queue.  “Some people are so inconsiderate, aren’t they?”

Ugh. What a sexy bitch. 

You text to check in with the boys.  Minho made it inside, no surprise, but apparently Seungmin is also struggling for an in. 

what is with these security guards, Seungmin writes, are they military trained? fuck 

maybe you’re both just losing your touch, Minho replies.

never, you say.  we still have lots of time.  we'll get in there.  seungmin, meet me by the benches.  we need another plan.  

Usually, the best way to crash an event is with minimal attention and no theatrics.  It’s all about pretending you are exactly where you are supposed to be.  If you act like you belong, then you will.  

A spectacle is a desperate measure, but you are desperate people.  After a few hushed whispers on a bench, you and Seungmin spring into action. 

“Help!”  Seungmin shouts.  “My wife needs help!  Please!” 

“Your wife?” you whisper through gritted teeth, opening one eye to look at him.  You are currently laying on the pavement in a dramatic swoon, Seungmin hunched over you. 

“My companion of ambiguous relationship is hurt!” he says.  “Ouch,” he adds, because you swat his arm.

Fortunately, he does draw attention.  A few people run over, the beefy security guard one of them.  His nametag reads Changbin and he is in a black t-shirt at least two sizes too small.  You do not begrudge him this, as you would do the same if you had biceps like that.  

“What happened?” he asks, crouching down beside Seungmin. 

“My friend just passed out,” Seungmin says.  He hoists you into his arms as your tongue lolls out of your mouth.  “Is there somewhere inside I can take her to sit down?  I think all the chaos out here overstimulated her.” 

“One second,” Changbin says.  He pulls a walkie-talkie out of a holster.  It buzzes with static as he turns it on.  “Hey, we have a collapsed woman in front of Entry Door B.  Can I have back-up clear a path, and someone with First Aid training?”  The walkie-talkie buzzes again and Changbin puts it away.  He stands up, waving away the small crowd that has gathered.   “Yah, everyone back up!  This is an emergency!” 

“It’s really not,” Seungmin says.  He scoops you into a bridal hold then struggles to lift you off the ground. “I just need – whew – somewhere I can – agh – put her down.  I can just – AH! – carry her myself.”

Naturally, it is at that moment a familiar voice descends from above. 

A familiar, deep, Australian-accented voice.

“Move aside, please.”  

“Oh no,” you say, eyes closed.   You open them just in time for a glitter-faced, freckled, blue-haired pretty boy in a SECURITY windbreaker to cut through the crowd.   

Unfortunately, Felix is just as good looking at this angle.  He waves away the gathered onlookers as he approaches, but looks at Changbin first. 

“I have First Aid,” he says.  “What happened?”

“I just found her collapsed,” Changbin says.  “Her friend thinks it’s the crowd.  Should we bring her inside?” 

Felix looks at you.  The concerned furrow in his brow immediately gives way. 

You smile innocently. 

“No,” Felix says, frowning.  “We shouldn’t.” 

“Oh come on,” you say.  You smack the ground.  “I collapsed!  I need help!”

“No, you need a ticket,” Felix says.  He crosses his arms and stomps a foot.  “Seriously, what is wrong with you?  Some of us have a job to do, you know?”

“Naaaur ya need a ticket, mate,” you say in a mockingly deep chest voice. “Some of us have jobs ya knaaaaur!”

“Do you guys know each other?” Changbin asks, looking between you and Felix – who is growing increasingly red in the face and breathing much harder. 

“I have no idea who this guy is,” Seungmin says. 

“Ah!”  Felix yells, spinning to Changbin.  “She doesn’t have a ticket!  She’s just trying to sneak in!”

“She doesn’t have a ticket?”  Seungmin asks, gasping.  He drops you onto the concrete, ignoring your yelp of pain.   “But I thought she – she told me we – I – I –“

You watch in betrayed horror as Seungmin pretends to faint, flopping down beside you on the concrete.  You sit up, very tempted to slap him across the face but not wanting to give Felix more reasons to accost you. 

“Seungmin,” you say.  You grab him by the shirt and rattle him around like a ragdoll.  “Seungmin, you bastard, don’t even think about it!”

“You.”  Felix stomps up behind you.  “Get off the ground and come with me.” 

“No,” you say.  “I don’t want to and you can’t make me.” 

You shriek – again – when Felix grabs you under the arms and hoists you to your feet.  He manhandles you with only a modicum of effort, dragging you away from your stupid traitorous best friend. 

You step on Felix’s foot deliberately and he swears.  For such a pretty thing, he sure has a filthy mouth.  You grab a fistful of his hair and tug, to which he cusses up a storm and pries your hand off his head.   

You hear the distinct buzz of Changbin’s walkie-talkie.    

“We have a collapsed man in front of Entry Door B.  Can someone who isn’t going to start fighting the patrons come help me move him?”

“He’s faking it!” you cry in protest, watching Changbin scoop Seungmin off the ground. 

Changbin disregards your outburst.  Seungmin gives you a thumbs up behind his back.  Felix, of course, doesn’t see it because he’s too busy dragging you away.  You are left to sputter in bewildered protest at the injustice of it all. 

Felix marches you to the sidewalk, far away from the stadium queues.  You are both out of breath by the time you get there.  Even so, you attempt to manoeuvre under his arm to run away.   In a few quick moves, he knocks you onto your ass. 

 “Holy fuck!”  You are panting now.  A line of sweat dots your hairline.  You wipe at it and stare morosely at this stupidly competent minimum wage security guard.  “What are you, like some kind of karate master or something?”

“Taekwondo, actually,” he says, brushing off his jacket.  Then he tips his head and stares down at you.

You would be lying if you said the intensity of his stare didn’t have your heart racing for an entirely new reason.  Danger and desire have always danced a close dance for your tastes.  Felix is not helping matters, tucking back loose strands of vibrant hair as he looms over you, wetting his bottom lip and staring. 

You cross your arms and feign nonchalance, but you can’t look away from him.  When he crouches down slowly to meet you at eye level, everything below the belt goes pitter-patter. 

“No ticket,” Felix says slowly.  “No concert.  Do you understand me?” 

You stick out your tongue.

“Wow, mature,” he says.  His departing farewell is another snarky eyeroll.  He shakes his head as he stands, muttering to himself in obvious frustration. 

So much for not a mean bone in his body.  That bully is all business.   

So hot. 

You huff and puff for a bit.  Your phone is going berserk in your purse, probably the boys trying to reach you.  Eventually you succumb to the necessary confession of your twice thwarted efforts.  Minho teases that you are losing your touch for real.  It makes angry little fireworks pop out of your ears.  

Plenty of occasions you have assessed a situation and deemed it unreasonably complicated, but quitting while you’re ahead is not the same thing as admitting defeat.  You do not lose.  This isn’t even about the concert anymore.  Fuck Hwang Hyunjin, he was never worth the pain of a wax in the first place.  No.  This is about your pride.   This is about your dignity.  This is about your honour. 

You are getting into that concert, one way or another.   

First, you gather intel.  This comes in the form of snooping, running between queues to figure out the easiest mark.  You don’t judge the guards by their appearances this time, because apparently this security team has secret taekwondo masters hidden in their midst. 

You watch their every move, calculating and determining your odds therein.  Based on visual research and Minho’s confirmation, it seems your best bet is the smiling guard who let Minho through.  His nametag reads Jisung and he is a veritable flirt. 

Flash him your tits, Minho texts.

Uh, no, I’m not that desperate yet.       

Second, with your intel now acquired, you get into the dwindling line.  The sun is almost set and a breezy summer chill dances across your cheeks.  The concert will be starting soon.  You shuffle behind the other stragglers, adjusting your outfit.  The jean shorts hug your hips and flash a nice chunk of thigh, and your shirt is already low cut but you figure another tug won’t hurt.  You also pull your flannel down your arms to look as flirtatious as possible. 

Jisung is barely looking at the tickets as he scans them, chatting merrily to the guests as he lets them through.  You pull up a random ticket on your phone, something to hold out while you distract him. 

“Hi,” you say. 

His eyes flick down to your chest, then back up.  He smiles brightly.

“Hi!” he says.  “You look nice.  Excited for the concert?”

“Oh, absolutely,” you say.  “You have no idea how much I’ve been waiting for this.  It wasn’t easy to get in.”

“I know what you mean,” he says.  “Tickets are hard to come by, and so expensive!”

“Ugh, tell me about it,” you say, leaning in while he scans your phone.   This was a bad idea because he looks down at your chest again, just in time for his little device to flash red.

“Oh, oops!” he says.  He smiles at you as he shakes his device.  “Sorry!” he says.  “I think you showed me the wrong ticket.  Could you pull up the right one?”

“Ohhh!” you say, looking down at your phone with fake surprise.  Life is so unfair.  “I’m so sorry… Jisung.  Hehe, that’s such a nice name.”

“Haha, thanks,” Jisung says.  “My parents picked it, but, yeah, it’s cool.  Anyway.”  He wiggles his device.  “Ticket please!” 

You keep smiling and giggling, even as you turn around under the guise of searching through your phone.  You glare down at the stupid device, keeping your back to Jisung while you do so.  How the fuck are you getting out of this?  You flip through screenshots then open your text messenger.  Minho’s last words of wisdom blink up at you. 

Apparently, you are that desperate. 

With a sigh, you put your phone in your purse and zip it shut.  You shrug your shoulders and plaster that fake smile on your face again.  With a swift of flick of your thumbs, you lift your shirt and bra up over your tits and spin around to look at Jisung. 

“How’s this for a ticket—”

Jisung looks surprised and delighted.  Jisung, however, is standing a few feet back.  Probably because he was told to step back.  Probably by Felix who is standing in front of you with his arms crossed and an unimpressed look on his face.  

“Wow,” Felix says.  “Just committing crimes now, are we?”  

You shove your tits back into your bra indignity, not even embarrassed, just annoyed. 

“Tits aren’t a crime,” you say. 

“Public indecency is,” he replies.  

“You’re… publicly indecent…”  Not your best comeback.  You glare at him while fixing your shirt.  “There’s no way they pay you enough to be riding my ass this hard.” 

“They don’t,” Felix says, grabbing your arm.  “Believe me when I say riding your ass has been my pleasure.”

“Twisted fuck,” you reply. 

You wave at Jisung as Felix tugs you away.  He waves back but does nothing to rescue you, because all men are traitors. 

You groan loudly as Felix leads you away from the stadium yet again.  “Just let me innnnn,” you whine.  “Why do you hate meee.”

“I don’t even know you!” Felix says.  He deposits you on a bench and takes out his phone.

“What are you doing?” you ask, eying the device.

“What do you think I’m doing?” he asks.  “You tried to break into a ticketed event three times.  You faked an injury.  You flashed yourself in a public place—”

“I wouldn’t have done any of that if you just let me through in the first place!”

“You cannot be serious.”  Felix looks ready to rip his hair out.  “You don’t have a ticket!  Why would I let you in, why would I – AH!  Why am I arguing with you!  Be quiet, I’m phoning the police.”

“The po— the police?!  How dare you!” You try to stand but he pushes you onto the bench one-handed.  He holds you there, palm on your shoulder, still way stronger than someone this scrawny should be. 

“Fine!” you exclaim.  “Fine!  You win!  I’m sorry, Felix, I was wrong.  I was wrong and you were right.”

Felix pauses.  “Really,” he says, sounding unconvinced. 

“Yes!”  You look up at him with the saddest, most watery eyes you can muster.  “I just wanted to see the concert but it was stupid to think I could break in.” 

He turns off his screen.  Success.   You watch him slip his phone in his pocket. 

“It’s not about being smart or stupid,” he says, the ire gone from his voice.  It takes a lot of willpower not to bite his fingers when he pats your shoulder.  “It’s about the fact we can’t always get what we want,” he says kindly as he crouches in front of you.  His hand goes from your shoulder to your knee, still patting it in a friendly manner. 

You bite your tongue because you want to tell him you liked him better when he was being a mean bitch, but that would be counterproductive to your escape attempt. 

It turns out, you don’t need to say anything, because he decides to be a bitch again anyway.  Felix looks at you with a too-sweet smile and says, “It’s about time someone taught you that lesson.”

“Um, excuse me?” you say, aghast.  You clasp your hand over your heart.  “Just who do you think you are?  First of all, you taught me nothing, I’m still a horrible bitch and I lied when I said you were right.  Second, you absolutely can get everything you want, you just have to want it enough to get it.  But you wouldn’t know anything about that.  You know why, Felix?” 

He rolls his eyes and shakes his head like he expected this, which he probably did, but you’re too far gone to retreat. 

You reach out and cup his face in both hands, turning it to you.  Those sharp eyes are unflinching, even with your fingers on his face.  You try really hard not to gulp. 

“It’s because you are a good boy,” you say.  “You always do what you’re told.  You always follow the rules.  I bet everyone thinks you’re the nicest guy on the team, don’t they?  I bet they call you cute little nicknames and all the nice little girls think you’re a sweet, innocent baby.  And you are, aren’t you, Felix?  You’re just such a good, good boy.  But me?  I’m not good.  I’m not bad.  I just like to win.  When I want something, I get it, because I chase it, and I don’t stop until I get it.  Until it’s all mine.”  You lean in close.  “Get it?” 

His gaze darkens, brows pinching.  You take his fleeting moment of vulnerability to shove him onto his back.  He sprawls on the ground with a surprised yelp.  You sprint away at top speed and flip him off over your shoulder. 

It’s a haphazard ploy at best but you are fresh out of plans.  What you need is distance between you and Security Guard of the Year, a breather long enough to come up with a final plan.  Maybe you can physically break in somewhere: an office window, a janitorial stairwell, something.  

You keep an eye out for potential openings as you run. 

And run.

And run. 

Hmm.  You’ve been running a long time.   Even with the head-start, Felix should have caught you by now.  You doubt he would have truly given up.  Felix had a deranged look in his eye, similar to the one you get when someone is trying to beat you at your own game.  He doesn’t want you to win anymore than you want to lose.  You suspect it isn’t about the concert for him either; this is a personal battle. 

You come to a gradual stop, hands on your hips as you catch your breath.  It’s quiet on this side of the stadium as the queues were on the opposite end. 

Quiet, yes.  Too quiet.   

There’s a stairwell that leads to second level just above your head.  Felix is good.  You have to give credit where credit is due.  If you weren’t a scheming nightmare with a penchant for con-artistry, he probably would have caught you.  But without turning around, you know he booked it up the stairs and is two seconds from springing an attack. 

You take off running, just in time for him to thump into the grass beside you.  You laugh at his strangled cry of frustration as he scrambles to his feet. 

Around the next corner is the parking lot.  You stop a split second to look over your shoulder and see him hot on your heels.   He discarded his jacket and is in a loose sleeveless shirt, revealing he does have some light toning to his lean body.  But you don’t stop to measure how proportionate it is to his strength, because he is focussed on you like a laser. 

Then he smiles.  A slow, slinky smile like a cocky predator about to swipe at its prey.  That cat has claws, nasty ones, and you almost want to get tangled in them.  Almost.  You want to win even more.   

And he just set you up for success.  There’s a SECURITY jacket on the ground somewhere nearby.  That’s your ticket in.  You just have to lose Felix in the parking lot and loop back around to find where he tossed it. 

You spare no time setting that plan into action, giving Felix a smile of your own before you run.  He thunders after you.

The pair of you weave in and out of parked cars.  He disappears for a second behind a row of trucks.  You whip your head around to figure out where he went, only for him to summersault around the corner and cut you off.  You yell instinctively but narrowly dodge his reaching hand.   He curses, running after you with his arm outstretched.   You duck behind a trailer and lose him, scurrying between some SUVs.  You peek at him through the windows, watching him turn in a circle to find where you went.  Smiling to yourself, you quietly but quickly back away.  

You leave the lot and run back the way you first came.  You find Felix’s jacket draped on a random bush. 

Your heart is practically singing with adrenaline.  Victory is in sight.  You push yourself to run faster and reach out with both hands –

— only to find yourself rolling in the grass, Felix’s arms tight around your middle as he tackles you to the ground. 

You push and pull at each other, cursing and scrambling very ungracefully.  You get out of his arms but he climbs on top of you, then you knee him in the gut so he rolls over, but when you start crawling he grabs your ankles and drags you back. 

Ultimately, he Taekwondo Masters you onto your front, hands clasped behind your back.  You kick your feet and wail despondently into the grass as he kneels over you, breathing raggedly and swearing again. 

“You’re a monster!” you shout.  “You’re a tyrant and a bully and you have no right to – HEY!”

He handcuffs you.

“Ha.”  He leans in close, speaking right into your ear.  “I win.” 

“That’s not fair,” you say.  “You can’t just—ahh!”  You wail in petulance as he lifts you onto your feet.  His grip on your bicep is unyielding so you are forced to stomp alongside him as he escorts you…

…back to the sidewalk.

“You’re not busting me?” you ask in confusion.  You thought for sure he was going to drag you into some shady office and plop you in a chair until the police arrived.   He would probably be super boring and professional about it, staring at you with his dumb horny eyes but not doing anything about it.  Nothing sucks more than being all trussed up by a pretty boy with manners. 

“I just want you to go and never come back,” Felix says. 

“Fine.”  You turn around and hold your arms straight behind you.  “But I’m like a wolf, Felix.  I have your scent for life.”

“Yeah, sure,” he says.  “Not how wolves work by the way.  But fine.”

“Oh wow, sorry.  Didn’t realize you majored in Wolfology.  You got any other fun facts?”  

“You are so—”

You smirk at his grumbling.  You are just biding your time until he uncuffs one wrist, then you whip around faster than he can compute the action.  With one cuff still attached, you grab the second and clamp it down on his wrist.  He sputters in bewilderment, at which point you snatch the keys.

“What are you doing—”  He tries to grab them but your joined hands make the angle too awkward.  You spin around together in a few circles, bonk heads twice, until finally you reel back and chuck the keys as far into the distance as possible. 

He stands there, mouth agape.  You tap your foot impatiently. 

When he realizes what has happened – that you have handcuffed yourself to him and thrown away the keys – he looks at you with fiery eyes, fierce enough you stumble.  He yanks your joined hands, the chain ungiving.  You watch as he goes through several stages of grief in a matter of moments.  Then he closes his eyes and breathes in and out.    

“Why,” he says slowly, “did you just do that?” 

“I dunno, Felix,” you say.  You plop down on the ground and sit cross-legged.  It forces him to bend over, your cuffed wrist dragging him down.  “Guess we’ll have to go inside and get some back-up keys.  And when I’m in the stadium and you uncuff yourself from me, I promise not to run away.”   

“That’s your plan?” he snaps.  “That’s your plan?” 

“What, is there an echo out here?”

“That’s your plan?” he asks again, his deep voice pitching up an octave.  He crouches down and shoves his free hand into his hair, shaking his head.  “This can’t be happening,” Felix says, more out loud to himself than you.  “Why is this happening.  Oh my god.” 

You squeak when he tugs on the chain, yanking you close, nose to nose.

“What if I just called for back-up?” he asks. “Or skipped that and went right to the police?  How would you get out of that?”

“Wait,” you say.  “Why aren’t you doing that?” 

“Because.”

He leans back as far as he can, sitting on his heels.  You duck your head, trying to meet his eye to no avail.  He clenches his jaw.

“Felix,” you say.  “Why aren’t you just calling for back-up?”

“Because,” he says through gritted teeth.  “The handcuffs.  Are.  Not.  Regulation.” 

You look at each other.  There is a long moment of silence. 

Then, “What!”  You cackle with complete and utter abandon. 

A very unamused Felix glares at you while you throw your head back and laugh. 

“You?” you cry, poking your finger against his chest.  “You?  You?  You are just walking around with a pair of handcuffs that you aren’t supposed to have?  What the fuuuuuck—”  You think you might die laughing. 

“Jisung gave them to me before our shift!” he exclaims.  “It was a joke because— Never mind! I don’t have to explain myself to you!  Hello.  Hello.”  He grabs your chin with his free hand and turns your face roughly to his.   He jingles your joined hands.  “Not regulation,” he says.  “There are no other keys in this building.” 

Silence falls again. 

Then, “Oh.”  You stare at him.  “Shit.” 

A minute later, you and Felix are scuttling around trying to find the key.  You must have a very good arm because it landed near the stadium and disappeared in some bushes.   

You and Felix keep forgetting your wrists are connected, reaching in opposite directions only to snap back together.  You are certain you are going to end the night with a few bumps and bruises. 

The entire time you are searching for the key, Felix is grumbling irritably.  He tears his way through a bush, his deep voice pitching up with a miserable whine when he can’t find it. 

“This is so stupid,” he says.  He throws a stick at the wall.  “I am a good worker.  I never break the rules.  I am not getting in trouble for this. You did this.  You did this to me.” 

On he goes, grumble, grumble, grumble, bitch, bitch, bitch. 

“It’s not like the key disappeared,” you say, pushing some pebbles around.  “It has to be here somewhere.” 

It is starting to get dark, the sky a deep purple.  The stadium lights blare down on you.  Felix uses his phone flashlight to beam extra light at the ground.  The only time he stops grumbling is when the noise in the stadium changes, the concert clearly beginning.  He takes time out of his busy searching schedule to give you a mean smile. 

“When we find those keys,” you say, “I’m handcuffing you to that railing over there and leaving you to freeze to death in your stupid tank top.”

“It’s not a tank top,” he says.  “It’s a t-shirt.  I cut the sleeves off.  And when we find those keys, I’m handcuffing you to that railing over there and phoning the police.”

“Well then,” you say, “may the best key finder in a slutty tank top win.” 

“It’s not a tank top.”   

You continue to search.  It is utterly illogical that the keys would just vanish but the longer it takes, the more concerned you get.   It just doesn’t make sense!  Things don’t just disappear!  The keys landed somewhere over here, so they have to be…

You see it first.  You sit there in a stunned stupor.  You swat at Felix with your cuffed hand.

“What?” he says without looking at you.  You continue to slap him until he forces your hand down, tangling your fingers with his.  “What!” 

You point.  He crowds in behind you to look over your shoulder.  You feel him exhale. 

“Please don’t tell me…”   

You both lean to look down the sewer drain.  He flashes his phone light over it.  Something silver glints back in the darkness. 

“Fuck!” Felix says.  He doesn’t stop there.  What follows is a string of cusses so unbelievably foul and complex that you honestly believe it should quality him for Pulitzer in poetry.  When he has exhausted every expletive in several different languages, he plops down on his ass and stares up at the sky with mute despondency.   

“So what happens now?” you ask.  “Do we fuck?”

“What?”  He looks at you with utter bewilderment.  “What the fuck?  Why would you suggest that?  What would that solve?”

“Nothing,” you say.  “But it would kill the time and couldn’t make things worse.” 

“You are insane,” he says.  “I am handcuffed to an insane person.” 

“Hey, ‘mate’, you were the one with the non-regulation handcuffs in the first place.  I could solve this problem real quick by phoning the authorities myself and saying some crazy guy put me in cuffs.” 

“I dare you,” he says.  “Try.”

“No,” you say.  And not just because you have a record with the police and they would never take your side.  But Felix doesn’t need to know that.  Well, you suspect Felix is smart enough to guess it, but he doesn’t need the confirmation.  “I’d rather make you suffer,” you say instead.  You sit back in an insouciant slouch like the whole circumstance is beneath your attention.  “Figure it out, pretty boy.” 

“Well,” he says, “apparently if you break your wrists then you can force them through the cuffs.”

“Ew!” You push him in the middle of his chest.  He doesn’t fall, but he does glare at you.  “We’re not doing that!  What a stupid plan!  You’ve been guzzling the hair dye fumes, buddy.  Think of a plan that doesn’t involve injury, thank you.” 

“I didn’t want to do this,” Felix says with another put-upon sigh, “but fine.  I have another pair at home so the keys—”

“Wait,” you interrupt.  “I thought someone gave you the cuffs today?  Why do you have another key at home?”

“I have another pair,” he repeats, “of the same handcuffs.”

“You—”

“Already own a pair, yes, move on.”  He aggressively pushes hair out of his eyes.  “He clearly bought it from the same place so my key should work for this one too.”

“So despite your uppity school boy routine, you do own non-regulation handcuffs and not just as a joke.  Wow, Felix.”  You giggle helplessly.  “Be careful or I might start to like you.” 

He is glaring at you, no surprise, but the tips of his ears blush pink. 

“Let’s just go,” Felix says.  “The sooner I get you off, the sooner I can forget about your existence.”

“You can get me off as fast or slow as you like—ahh!” 

Once more, the secret superman is manhandling you onto your feet.  Without pausing for breath, he turns and marches away.  You are forced to stumble behind his swift strides, your hands swinging close enough that your fingertips brush every so often.   

“How do I know you’re not gonna murder me?” you ask.

“You don’t,” he replies.

“How do you know I’m not gonna murder you?” 

“I don’t.”  He sounds more annoyed than afraid.  “But it sounds better than being cuffed to you forever.  I’ll take my chances.  Come on.” 

“Not like I have a choice,” you grumble. 

He comes to an abrupt halt and you crash into him with a sharp exhale.  He grabs your hand and tugs you close. You blink at him with surprise while he tips his head in that studious way.

“You’re right,” he says. “You don’t.  In fact, it’s almost nice, you forced to finally do what I’m asking.  If you’re not careful, it might even make me like you.” 

It is so cold and sarcastic. 

It gets you so hot. 

Seriously, what is with your stupid brain?  How does it cross the wires of fear and desire like that?  Felix is speaking at you with that deep, dark, nasty voice of his and your heart should be skipping beats in concern, not because you think he’s sexy when he’s being a bitch.  

You hide it from him well enough, glaring at him like he glared at you.  He just snorts and shakes his head. 

“What?” you ask. 

“Interesting,” he replies.  “Very interesting.”   

“What?”

“Nothing.”  He smiles politely, for a moment looking like the unassuming pretty boy you thought he was.  He bats his long eyelashes at you, smiles a coy smile, and squeezes your hand.   “Come on,” he says.  “We tried this your way and it got us in trouble.  Time to be a good girl and do it my way.  No, stop, don’t say anything.  Be quiet.  Just walk.  Let’s go.” 

You stumble when he tugs you after him.  Your mouth is hanging open yet again.   

You are proud to say that in your many years of bad girl shenanigans, you have never truly met your match.  You’ve played pretend a few times, let a couple losers think they won, if only because you liked the game of it.  But no one has ever really taken control.  No one has ever really beat you.  No one has ever come close. 

No one.  Until today. 

You glare at the back of Felix’s head, brain stampeding as fast as your heart.   Because finally, you’ve found him, your perfect match.  Lashed to you through the metal manifestation of fate’s red string. 

You didn’t know what game you were playing before, but now you do.

And you’re going to win.  

[devildomwriter]

Lucifer Birthday Fun Fact Special 100 Facts

1. In the Celestial realm, Lucifer was a seraph

2. When Lilith went to earth to meet her boyfriend, Lucifer would secretly follow and spy on them

3. Lucifer is the reason Leviathan is obsessed with anime

4. When asked if he prefers cats or dogs, Lucifer simply stated Cerberus

5. Lucifer is the one who originally tamed Cerberus and was forced by Diavolo to adopt him

6. Lucifer sometimes compares himself to Barbatos

7. Lucifer cannot make Diavolo’s favorite food, last time he tried, Diavolo texted MC pleading with them not to allow Lucifer to make it again

8. In the celestial realm, Lucifer had a friendly rivalry with Michael, his co-leader

9. Simply out of spite, Lucifer visited the celestial realm’s first planetarium before Michael had a chance because he knew Michael would want to do so first

10. Lucifer and Simeon sometimes took naps together in the celestial realm

11. Lucifer considered Simeon his brother before the great celestial war

12. Lucifer didn’t realize he’d become a demon after being cast out of heaven until Barbatos pointed it out

13. The first time Lucifer visited the Devildom he critiqued the low quality soil

14. Lucifer loves flowers, specifically roses, he sometimes cross breeds them and takes such good care of them that Mammon feared for his life when he accidentally sat on one

15. Mammon is Lucifer’s favorite

16. Out of his brothers, Lucifer trusts Mammon the most

17. Lucifer sees techno pop as “cacophonous bleep-bloop music”

18. Lucifer has a big collection of cursed records

19. Lucifer had six wings until he ripped off two of them in anger, these wings combined with his overwhelming hatred became Satan

20. In Nightbringer it is revealed Lucifer actually had twelve wings from his father but never displayed all of them because they got in the way

21. Lucifer originally only intended to leave the celestial realm but after Lilith was sentenced to be erased from existence he escalated to a war

22. Lucifer went to meet Diavolo for the first time because Michael tricked him into it

23. Even in the Celestial realm, Lucifer’s punishments were physical and extremely harsh

24. Lucifer is skilled with multiple musical instruments. He’s most mentioned playing the piano but he’s also seen playing the violin, the drums, and a guitar

25. Lucifer loves classical music

26. Lucifer regularly goes to music shops to buy cursed records

27. Lucifer loves the theatre and after seeing a good play will ramble on about them and quote his favorite parts

28. Lucifer prefers his tea to be on the stronger side

29. Lucifer let his brothers believe Lilith died in the war so they wouldn’t have to suffer knowing they couldn’t ever see her again

30. Lucifer lied to Diavolo and trapped Belphegor in the attack to protect him from Diavolo’s wrath as Belphegor was considered treasonous

31. Lucifer once got so mad at Diavolo that he strung him up from the ceiling along with Solomon who plotted his murder

32. Lucifer is the only one who has attempted to attack MC more than once

33. Lucifer is the reason Luke is called a chihuahua

34. The first thing Lucifer does every morning is check for messages from MC

35. Lucifer supports Levi going to karaoke but only because he is constantly woken up in the middle of the night by his singing

36. Lucifer is ambidextrous

37. The painting in Lucifer’s is room is an artistic interpretation of his fall from grace

38. Lucifer works to the point of passing out. Diavolo bribes him to sleep by threatening to make a picture of him sleeping his lock screen

39. At the end of season one after forming a pact with MC, one of the player’s options leads to a sequence strongly suggesting the two have sex

40. Lucifer kept Asmodeus around him in the celestial realm because he wanted to be surrounded by the most beautiful angels

41. Lucifer recommended Beelzebub to become a seraph

42. Lucifer is not a morning demon

43. Lucifer think Beelzebub binging food is cute so he indulges him sometimes by buying lots of food

44. Lucifer watches horror movies with Mammon when Mammon is too scared to watch it by himself

45. Lucifer is the second tallest of his brothers, just slightly shorter than Beelzebub

46. When Lucifer accidentally forgot to save Diavolo in a virtual reality game the only reason Diavolo forgave him so quickly is because MC convinced Lucifer to meow cutely

47. Lucifer has frequent headaches caused by the intense stress his brothers give him

48. During Christmas, Lucifer stays up all night to deliver his brothers’ gifts

49. Lucifer had a Devil tube channel where he hid his identity as he told stories. He stopped after a week when Belphegor and Satan found out.

50. Lucifer holds onto items for sentimental value but hides this. Simeon sees through the lies.

51. Lucifer has secretly kept the portraits his brothers made of him in art class

52. There are many large portraits of Lucifer across the Devildom including one in the RAD Library

53. When Lucifer fell he landed where the RAD colosseum would eventually be built

54. Lucifer asked Diavolo to pull some strings to get Mammon the car he worked hard to afford

55. In the celestial realm Lucifer was more blunt and rude because he was already seen as perfect, in the Devildom he is calm and composed so others will see him as perfect since this is no longer the obvious assumption

56. Lucifer can read other people’s memories

57. Lucifer once took Simeon’s phone to text Luke asking his opinion on the brothers. Luke was angry when he found out and insisted Simeon get a lock which confused Simeon

58. When Mammon was put under an angelic spell he gave away everything he loved. He was depressed after being freed from the spell. Lucifer let Mammon use his credit card to buy everything he wanted to cheer him up again.

59. The only existing picture of Lucifer shirtless is owned by Diavolo who does everything in his power to keep it away from Lucifer

60. Lucifer puts spells on his brothers and himself to prevent photos being taken of him when he doesn’t want any

61. Lucifer once threw Levi into the ocean when Levi disguised himself as an octopus to try and take photos of Lucifer

62. Lucifer was the only one to believe in Mammon in the celestial realm and the only one who could control him so he kept Mammon by his side as his personal assistant

63. When Levi’s game affected the real world causing every doorway to lead somewhere different, Lucifer kept running into Mephistopheles who wouldn’t stop complaining to him

64. Lucifer helps the brothers kidnap MC in season 2 to prevent them from returning to the human world

65. Lucifer often has tea parties with Barbatos where they discuss and try new teas

66. Lucifer, Michael, and Raphael used to drink heavily together in the celestial realm.

67. One of the first things Raphael and Lucifer did after reuniting was get drunk together

68. When one of Solomon’s dishes backfired as usual, Satan actually managed to cast all his pain to Lucifer who had to then endure the side effects two times as much as everyone else

69. When his brothers acted up, Lucifer actually turned them in Test Name Sheets

70. Lucifer and MC once pretended to be a couple to scare off Lucifer’s fan club

71. Lucifer is uncomfortable around Solomon because he feels like he actually needs to use a lot of his strength to defeat Solomon

72. Lucifer is constantly avoiding Solomon trying to make a pact with him by casting spells on food and gifts that will persuade Lucifer to want to make a pact

73. Whenever Lucifer leaves the house overnight he puts a ward on his room to prevent his brother from getting in

74. Lucifer ring of light is inscribed with “Blessed be the bringer of light”

75. Lucifer’s nickname in the celestial realm was the morning star. He now uses this as his last name.

76. One of Lucifer’s favorite shows is The Tarot Games. He and Diavolo are working together to convince Barbatos to watch it too

77. Lucifer used to play the piano to help Belphegor fall asleep

78. Lucifer and Simeon were once so close that they sometimes can still tell what the other is thinking

79. Lucifer is shown to really enjoy camping to the point he isn’t bothered when a serial killer shows up

80. Satan is considered by Lucifer to be the safest option for MC to date in season one

81. Once as an angel Lucifer accidentally ate all the chocolates he and his brothers’ had and blamed it on Beelzebub

82. Not even Lucifer can resist the affect of Asmodeus’s eyes for long

83. Lucifer got upset when Diavolo released an interview in which he sung Lucifer’s praises most of the interview and what was released was still considered the abridged version

84. Lucifers greatest fear is dying and ascending back to the Celestial Realm

85. Lucifer was once shrunk to the size of MC’s hand by Solomon

86. Lucifer refuses to say anything under duress

87. When Lucifer lost a matching bracelet he had with MC he got extremely annoyed very easily to the point he even blew up the bathroom and sent Cerberus after Mammon

88. When Lucifer was shrunk, Satan and his brothers began dressing him up like a doll with magic

89. Lucifer liked demonus so much it’s what changed his mind about the Devildom and he began to like it

90. Lucifer will not hesitate to eliminate anything he sees as a threat to his brothers

91. To stop Satan from cursing anyone, Lucifer cast a spell to make it impossible for Satan to leave his side. He changed his mind when Satan kept growling at him from the corner of the room and he wasn’t able to get any sleep

92. Lucifer has said that whenever he tried to picture life without Mammon it felt as if something was missing

93. Lucifer finds his hectic schedule (thanks to his brothers) to be enjoyable

94. When a curse binding Lucifer and MC together was placed, Lucifer pretended to not be able to break it until he got called out by Diavolo

95. When Lucifer lost his memories, he immediately became close to his brothers again, choosing them as his family for a second time

96. Lucifer continues to try to get Diavolo to delete all his photos of him but always fails

97. Lucifer’s brothers joke that his “type” is Diavolo

98. Lucifer does not understand the point of night pool parties

99. Lucifer took two days to make a complete schedule for a trip for Diavolo and Barbatos, most of the time was spent writing notes making sure they wouldn’t get in trouble

100. Lucifer in Nightbringer (which takes place an unknown amount of time in the past) is already over ten million years in age

[dirtyvulture]

Darkest Knight - Part 2

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Mutant!Reader

18+ only, read at your own risk

Summary: You meet a pretty woman in a bar...

Word count: 4954

AN: Click here for Part 1!

Thanks to everyone who read and interacted with Part 1. Things get a little wild in this one...

“I should have never come here,” Natasha cries. “You don’t deserve this, after everything you’ve done for me–”

“I can help you,” you insist. “Please, Nat. Just tell me who they are–”

She looks up at you, and even in the darkness the fear in her eyes is unmissable.

“The Red Room.”

The words send physical shivers down your spine. They weren’t ones you had expected to ever hear again, and you were shocked that this woman knew of its existence, let alone escaped. Now, you can fully sympathize with and understand her fear.

“Put your shoes on. We’ll go out the back door. Hurry.” You speak in short but commanding sentences, directing Natasha into the kitchen. The pounding on the door escalates to heavy, inconsistent thuds, and you know the “officers” are using their battering ram now. Luckily, you had assembled this cabin yourself, board by board, with the door built of solid oak, so that would buy you some precious time.

You stop at the freezer to grab a plastic bag that Natasha doesn’t even look at. She’s staring at the back door, practically shaking with fear, and anger fills you so suddenly you can’t see. But you can’t slip into one of your rages now, not with Natasha being in such close proximity and having no idea what you’re actually capable of. If she knew who you really were, what you were, she’d run happily into the Red Room goons’ arms and beg them to take her away from you. 

On the other side of the back door, you hear the crunch of boots on fresh snow, the anxious heartbeats, and the pump of a shotgun.

You don’t have any time to warn Natasha before you jump in front of her, shielding her body with yours just in time as a round of buckshot blasts through the door into your chest. The pain is like an explosion that takes your breath away, but luckily darkness engulfs you before it becomes overbearing.

Natasha screams when your weight falls back into her. You are ridiculously, unexpectedly heavy, almost pinning her down, but she manages to scramble back in time, leaving you to thud onto the floor. She stares at your body in shock, where lead pellets are buried in your chest, blood seeping out to soak your layers of shirts. Natasha instinctively gravitates for you, trying to find an area to apply pressure so she can slow the bleeding. 

“Y/N, Y/N,” she whimpers, ignoring the fist punching through the weakened door and opening the lock from the outside. 

“Hey, I found her!”

“And you took out the other one!”

“Natalia…” someone says in a mocking voice. “Natalia, come home to us…”

Natasha’s head snaps up and adrenaline fills her veins as she blindly launches herself at the soldier who killed you. She tears the shotgun out of his hands and clubs him on the head with it, knocking him down and smashing the butt into his helmet’s face shield until it cracks. She hasn’t felt fury like this in a while, putting her in an almost euphoric state, but her focus is a concentrated pinpoint, and she doesn’t see the second soldier behind her pointing a gun at her head.

“RAHHHHH!” 

Natasha ducks, wondering if someone let a large animal into your home. She catches a flash of silver as the muzzle of the soldier’s gun falls harmlessly to the floor as if sliced right off. You’re back on your feet all of a sudden, teeth bared in a ferocious snarl, three silver, knife-like claws protruding from your knuckles. You slash at the soldier, tearing through his body armor effortlessly and puncturing his heart. He crumples next to his partner, who’s shaking in complete terror while crawling away from you.

“Don’t look, Nat,” you growl and she turns away, flinching when she hears the man’s cut off scream. She jumps when you grab her shoulder, afraid that she’ll find herself on the other end of your knives, but you shake her gently. When she looks at you, your knives are gone and so are the buckshot holes in your chest. 

“How are you–What did you–” Natasha stammers.

“It’s okay,” you say, taking a step back from her when you sense her overwhelming levels of stress. “I’ll take care of you. I promise.”

Natasha slips her hand into her pocket, where your stolen pocket knife is. It would be like trying to fight you off with a toothpick, but Natasha Romanoff wasn’t one to go down without a fight.

“Nat, please. We can get away on my motorcycle. Come on.”

You’ve made no move to hurt her, keeping your hands where she can see them. Even though you had turned the Red Room soldiers into shish kabobs, you hadn’t let them suffer, taking them down with deadly accuracy and efficiency. Deep down, Natasha knows she can trust you, but her body is having a very resistant physical reaction to going with you. After all, anyone’s natural instinct would be to run very fast and far from away from a person who literally came back from the dead and mowed down two grown men with knives built into their arms. 

“Nat?” you prompt a final time, not sure what you’re going to do if she refuses to go with you. 

“Okay,” she says, wringing her hands together frantically. “I trust you.” 

It means more than you can explain that she’s put her faith in you and you lead her out of the bloodied kitchen. You race to the shed, where you tear off the padlock with your bare hands. There’s only one helmet, which you clasp around Natasha’s head. You throw one leg over the seat of your motorcycle and it sinks considerably under your weight. Natasha slides on behind you, wrapping her arms around your muscular torso, unable to resist the waves of body heat coming off of you.

She hardly notices the blistering wind as you take off into the forest, somehow finding your way around trees and rocks despite keeping the headlights off. Her fingers are clenched, almost frozen, to the plastic bag you had made such an effort to retrieve from the freezer. She has no interest in its contents now, clinging to you desperately and closing her eyes, hoping that when she opens them she’ll wake up from this nightmare.

You eventually turn the motorcycle onto a road and careen on. 

*********************************************************************** It’s probably not the wisest idea to stop at a motel, but you’re certain Natasha is still exhausted from the long night that’s not over, and you need some time to collect yourself. You park your motorcycle in the dirt lot and shake Natasha awake.

“We’ll stay here for a few hours, then keep moving,” you say, gently prying the plastic bag from her. Her hands are freezing and you feel awful for not taking care of her better. 

“But the men…they could catch up–”

“You need to get proper rest,” you interrupt. You’re not sure how many hours she had been awake before she met you at the bar, and while she’d already been looking better after dinner, you didn’t want to push her.

“This is too dangerous–” Natasha protests.

“They know you’re with me,” you say, and this quiets her. “So they’ll need to come up with a new plan if they want you.” You untwist the plastic bag, pulling out a soggy wad of cash. Her eyes grow wide. “This should keep us covered for a few days.” Then, you notice the rusty red splotches of dried blood splattered across your shirt. If you walk up to the front desk like this, the manager would call the cops. “Uh…shit.”

“Here.” Natasha takes her jacket off, despite your protests for her to keep it on, and she wraps the sleeves around your shoulders, carefully draping them in a way that hides the blood splatter. She fights back a visible shiver. “Much better.”

“Thanks. Let’s go quick,” you say, herding her into the tiny front office that barely fits the two of you side-by-side. “Two rooms,” you tell the pimply boy behind the dusty desk who smells like energy drinks and weed. 

“Huh?” he responds, blinking slowly at you.

“Two rooms. Please,” you say through your teeth, pulling out a few bills to show your commitment.

A long pause as you stare each other down.

“Uh, yeah we don’t have two rooms,” the boy says. “Just one–”

“That’s fine, then,” Natasha intervenes, as you can consider hefting the kid over your shoulder and dragging him out to the dumpster around the corner. “We’ll take whatever you have left.”

“Sure.”

You reluctantly hand over the deposit and he disappears into the back room to find the keys. Mumbling under your breath about the lack of hiring standards, you rub absently at your chest and Natasha looks at you in concern.

“You okay?” she whispers.

“Yeah.” You drop your hand back to your side. “Probably gonna cough up some buckshot later, to be honest.”

Natasha doesn’t know if she should laugh or leave. “How did you…” she trails off, searching for the right words.

“Heal so fast?” you supply. “Always have. I was literally just…born that way.”

“And the…” Natasha gestures to her own hands and forearms. 

“Claws?” you finish. “Been with me since the beginning, too.” Your answers are vague, almost useless in the new number of questions they spark, but Natasha knows now is not the time. The boy finally returns with a key hooked to rabbit’s foot, which you accept with a very judgemental scowl, but are very glad to finally be on your way to some privacy for the night.

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

Natasha startles awake, trying to piece together the traumatic memories of the past eight hours into a coherent storyline. She’s alone in the motel room, her anxiety skyrocketing at the thought that you might have ditched her, when the door creaks open and you step back in. You’re wearing new clothes and holding a crumpled white bag stained with grease. 

“Did you sleep okay?” you grunt, tossing the bag onto the bed by her feet. “I got you some breakfast. It’s probably shit, but everything else nearby is closed.”

“Thanks.” Natasha reaches for the bag, despite having almost no appetite. She takes out one of the sandwiches, but can’t bring herself to take a bite. “Y/N, I think we need to get moving again. We’ve hung around for too long–”

“Eat your damn sandwich, then we’ll leave,” you gruff, and it’s almost endearing to Natasha how grumpy and thoughtful you can be at the same time. “But you know, we can’t keep running forever.”

“We can run far enough,” she insists. You don’t respond and Natasha realizes you’re waiting for her to take a bite of her egg and sausage sandwich. Fighting back a smile of amusement, she nibbles off the edge of the dry muffin and you nod in satisfaction. 

“Look Nat, I want to help you. You know that, right? But I’m…familiar…with these Red Room goons and–” Her eyebrows shoot up as she keeps chewing. “That’s another story for another day.”

“Did you escape from them, too?” Natasha asks, her eyes wide. 

“Well, not exactly. But I know who they are. What they are. And what they do to women like you.”

Natasha tenses suddenly, sensing judgment from you. She’s ready to defend herself, that she didn’t let them break her or keep her hostage, when you add, “They should be burned to the ground. Just a bunch of psychopathic perverts.” She laughs out loud, startling you because you weren’t even trying to make a joke, but you let out a snort. 

“But they’re a damn smart bunch of perverts,” you continue. “And you know we can’t take them alone. I have some old friends that can help us. I’ll take you to them.”

“More old friends? Like the one who’s clothes I’m wearing?” Natasha says, wanting to join in on the lighter mood, but she immediately regrets so when she sees the sadness cloud your face.

“Not like that,” you murmur. “She would’ve helped us, though. But she’s gone now, so…”

Natasha doesn’t know what to say, guilt gnawing at her stomach for making such an unnecessary joke.

“They’re in New York. It’s been a while since I last saw them, but I’m sure they wouldn’t mind us stopping by,” you say to break the silence. “They’d help us without question.”

“Even against…the Red Room?”

“They’d have those Red Room schmucks for breakfast,” you chortle, the mood lightening once more. The knot in Natasha’s stomach loosens, and she takes another bite of the sandwich. “But it’s gonna take us a while to get there. And we’ll probably need a car…”

“I’ll handle it,” Natasha volunteers.

You look at her with a raised eyebrow, challenging but curious. “Okay. We’ll go when you’re done eating.”

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

While you clear out the motel room of all your tracks, Natasha triumphantly returns with the keys to a large blue Ram truck. You’re sad to leave your motorcycle behind, but it’s served you well, so you take it for one final ride to a strip mall, Natasha following in her menacing blue truck. You park in a shaded corner, saying good-bye with a caress to the faded leather seat, then join Natasha in the truck. 

With good weather and little traffic, the drive would take about 40 hours. And even though you’d be able to make the entire drive yourself with minimal stops, Natasha won’t let you. It’s a long first day, stopping for more junk food and bathroom breaks. You buy a phone from a gas station to text your contact in Westchester, and in the few responses you share, they seem eager for your arrival despite your circumstances. 

Another night is spent at a shoddy motel, and this time you don’t automatically ask for separate rooms. Natasha seems comfortable in your presence–tolerant, at the very least–and you’re starting to enjoy her company too. She keeps to herself for the most part and even though you can feel her studying you sometimes, she doesn’t ask anything inappropriate. She also tries to take care of you, though you think of yourself as the last person who needs it, but it’s cute how she picks up on your favorite gas station snacks (the jerky and Snickers bars) and buys you extra packets behind your back, and she offers to drive almost every time the two of you get back into the truck.

So on the third and final day of your trip, when Natasha begs to make a stop at a mall in Ohio, you agree, mostly because you know how happy it will make her. While the mall itself is disappointingly unimpressive, Natasha has the biggest smile as she drags you around under the pretense that she wants to find some clothing that wasn’t bought from a gas station, but she tries to browse every store, commenting which retailers have taken the old spots of familiar locations from her childhood. 

“Try this one on,” Natasha says, thrusting yet another checkered flannel shirt at you.

“They all look the same,” you grumble, feeling that you may be colorblind because you can’t tell what’s different about the prior three she’s made you try. 

“No, this one goes better with your eyes,” she says, her cheeks suddenly turning red when she realizes what she’s said.

You grin at her. “Then I’ll buy this one.”

You proudly wear the shirt out of the store, sneaking a glance to see Natasha’s expression and she does seem even more excited than when you first arrived at the mall. For lunch, you stop in the food court, and while you’re wolfing down a triple-patty burger with frightening intensity, Natasha suddenly reaches across the table and grabs your hand.

“What?” You stop mid-bite.

“Behind you,” she hisses.

Wiping grease off your chin, you drop your shoulder and turn your head subtly. But you know immediately who Natasha’s referring to. A woman with long black hair tied into an immaculate ponytail, not a single stray hair flying about, wearing a black overcoat and gloves, strides towards the food court with purposeful, powerful steps. You recognize her posture, her outfit, and the cold, emotionless expression on her face. 

“Holy shit,” you mumble. “They sent a Widow after us.” 

“We have to go!” Natasha tries yanking up but she isn’t strong enough. “How do you think she found us?”

“They’ve probably been tracking us the whole time,” you say, sad to leave the remainder of your meal. “They were just waiting for the right time to strike.” It’s hard to walk fast without making it obvious that you’re running from someone. You offer Natasha your hand and she takes it without hesitation. You drag her along a little, urging her without words. “It’ll be fine, Nat. We’ll take care of her and keep moving.”

“We shouldn’t have stopped here. This was all my stupid idea,” she says. 

“It wasn’t a stupid idea. I liked it.”

If the two of you weren’t running from a Widow, Natasha would have stopped and hugged you. Although she hasn’t known you for more than four days, she feels completely safe with you and has a deep admiration for you. You’ve never prodded about her past, you’ve never judged from where she came from. While you’re not such an open book yourself, Natasha can see how much you’ve relaxed around her from your first meeting. She likes your calmness, your willingness to drop literally everything in your life for her, with no expectation of anything in return. She’s never met someone like you before but hopes that you’ll let her stay around even after this mess is cleaned up. 

“Go this way,” you say, nudging Natasha into a maintenance corridor, having seen a sign for roof access on one of the walls. At least you could take care of the Widow without worrying about innocent casualties–assuming there weren’t more hiding up there. “Take the stairs,” you instruct Natasha, pushing her into the stairwell.

“I hope you don’t expect me to jump from the roof,” she replies.

“Well, if we have to, I’ll jump first and catch you,” you quip, but there is no time for her to linger on your comment. She dashes up the three flights of stairs with lightning speed, while you lumber up behind her.

“The door’s locked,” she says, stopping in her tracks.

“Move.” Your middle claw rips out of your hand and you slide it between the jamb and wall to cut the lock. Throwing your weight against the door, it pops open easily and you stumble out into the unusually bright outside. “Let’s go.”

“Where?”

“Just hide somewhere and wait.”

Natasha is skeptical of your plans, not wanting to be caught in a dead end with another Widow, but she hurries towards an air conditioning unit. When she turns around, she sees you’re not following her and are facing the roof access door, your claws sliding out as the Widow makes her appearance, now wearing a gas mask.

“Y/N!” Natasha screams with no other way to stop you.

The Widow tosses a metal canister that immediately releases a thick, white fog. It hides the Widow and worse, burns your eyes until they water and destroys your sense of smell with a piercing, peppery odor.

“Shit.” You drop onto your belly, searching for a breathable pocket of air. You hear another canister clang to the ground, spreading the white fog farther and farther. As you crawl to where you think Natasha is taking cover, the unmistakable pops of gunfire ring through your skull. 

Your sense of sight, smell, and now sound are completely unreliable and fear ices your veins as you think about Natasha’s safety. But she’s also a Widow herself, so you’ll have to trust that she can handle herself while you figure out the way to her. You force yourself up, wiping snot on the sleeves of your new flannel and hunkering down, focusing hard to feel the vibrations of movement on the roof. You pivot left, inching forward cautiously. The faint click of a rifle trigger alerts you and you lash out with your claws, slicing uselessly through the fog. But it was nothing but a ruse, as the Widow comes up behind you and stabs you in the neck with a pronged instrument that sends hundreds of volts of electricity through your body. Your muscles seize and you collapse to the ground, seizing uncontrollably.

You’re pretty sure you’ve bitten your tongue off as blood fills your mouth and you start choking, unable to roll to your side to cough it out. The Widow points the muzzle of her at your face, pressing the cold metal tip to your forehead. You bare your teeth in a vicious snarl, wishing you could will control back into your body to slash her throat out.

“Good night, mutt,” the Widow says. 

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

Natasha tucks her mouth and nose into her elbow, charging into the fog while wielding the tiny pocket knife she stole from your apartment. She tackles the Widow with her full bodyweight, puncturing the blade through her vest deep enough that the Widow screams, dropping her gun.  Knocking off the Widow’s mask and pulling her into a tight headlock, Natasha squeezes her arms as tight as she can, counting the number of seconds it takes before the assassin finally stops struggling and slumps to the ground. With watering eyes from the gas, Natasha strips the Widow of her equipment, despite knowing that at her peak, her bare hands would be deadly enough weapons. The gas starts to spread further and further and Natasha can finally see your convulsing body. 

She runs over to you, tentatively yanking the taser out of your neck. You take a huge breath of air, rolling to your side and coughing hard. 

“Thanks,” you mutter as your tongue grows back. Shakily you get to your feet, touching the side of your neck and feeling the jagged openings left by the taser slowly closing. “Where is she? I’m gonna–”

“No. Let’s go,” Natasha intervenes, grabbing onto a handful of your shirt to stop you, like you’re a dog on a leash. You push her away, stomping over to where the Widow is lying motionless. Your claws pop out. She won’t feel anything. 

“Y/N, STOP!” Natasha yells and you freeze, turning to glare at her. 

“They sent her to kill us,” you seethe.

“But she’s not herself,” Natasha begs. “She’s being controlled. You know that. Please don’t kill her. She was just…She was just following orders.”

You clench your fist, the muscles in your forearm rippling as you retract your claws. Natasha gulps and takes a visible step back from you. She’s never seen such rage in your features before, not that it would be unwarranted, but it almost seems like you’re on the verge of completely losing control. Your expression twitches when you smell the fear rolling off Natasha in waves. She’s not afraid of the Widow anymore. She’s afraid of you. 

“Fine. Sorry,” you grunt, backing up. You want to put your claws down your throat for scaring her like this. Your whole life you had fought to convince everyone that you were more than the animal you were born to be. It always felt like a losing battle. 

“No, I’m sorry,” Natasha says. “I said something that upset you.”

“Is that mine?” You’re suddenly distracted by the sight of a small knife poking out of the Widow’s side.

“Uh…” Natasha glances at you sheepishly. “I thought it would come in handy eventually.”

“Hmm.” You don’t dwell on it though, having other things to worry about. “Let’s just get the hell out of here.”

The parking lot is a jumbled mess as people hurry to leave as emergency vehicles enter the premises. You keep your head down, hoping you’re moving fast enough for no one to notice the few stains of blood on your collar. Natasha races to keep pace with you. She’s barely able to jump into the truck in time before you have it in drive, speeding out of the parking lot. 

“Thank you,” Natasha finally whispers as you merge onto the highway.

“For what?” you grunt, your knuckles clenched tightly around the steering wheel.

“For not killing her.”

You make another grunting noise.

“You know she doesn’t deserve that.”

“It’s not about what she deserves,” you snarl. “She was there to kill me and take you back to the Red Room. Which she failed to do. So if anything, the Red Room will probably kill her–”

“They wouldn’t do that,” Natasha interjects. “The Widows are huge investments. That’s why they want me alive.”

“Well, they don’t really seem to care if you get in their crosshairs of trying to kill me.” You don’t like how your words come out, but it’s too late to take them back now. You know none of this is Natasha’s fault–you were the one who willingly came to her aid, who insisted on driving her across the country, who offered your own friends to help. 

“You don’t deserve this either.” Natasha’s voice drops. She sounds small, and when you side-eye her, she’s curled up in her seat in a way that makes her look small too. You frown. “You were just trying to be a decent person, and now you’ve had your life threatened several times, you had to leave your home, you’re being chased across the country–”

“Stop it,” you interrupt. “If this is the consequences of my actions, then so be it. I’d do it again a thousand times for you. Because you’re worth it.”

“I am?” Natasha looks at you in disbelief, partially because this is the most emotional she’s ever heard you and partially because she wonders if this is you admitting you have feelings for her.

“Yes,” you confirm, giving her a slight smirk before focusing on the road. 

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

The final stretch of the drive is rough, but you make it. It’s nighttime now and exhaustion weighs on your shoulders from the entire day’s events. You shake Natasha awake as you park on the driveway.

“We’re here,” you say, cutting the lights and turning off the engine. Natasha gets out of the car, gaping at the enormous mansion you’ve stopped in front of. As you walk with her up to the front door, she stops to read the plaque.

“‘Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters,’” she says. “Hang on, this place is a school? Why would you bring us here? You’re putting children in danger, Y/N–”

“Hold on,” you cut her off. “The kids and staff here? They’re just like me.”

“Just like you? Meaning–” Before Natasha can finish her sentence, the front doors swing open and a woman with spiky gray hair appears, throwing herself at you.

“Y/N!” she cries.

“Hey, Ororo,” you mumble, returning her hug with a little less passion. “Sorry to arrive so late. Ran into a little trouble earlier…”

“You made it safely and that’s all that matters.” She pats your shoulders affectionately. “Hi there. I’m Ororo,” the woman introduces herself to Natasha, awkwardly standing off to your side. “But the kids around here call me Storm.”

“I’m Natasha.”

“Please, come in. It’s freezing and I know you’ve both been on the road for days,” Ororo invites. “Your room is all prepped, Y/N.”

You hadn’t even thought to ask her for another guest room, but you have a feeling Natasha won’t mind sharing again. You gesture for her to enter the mansion first. She seems in awe, and a little overwhelmed, that this building had been converted into a boarding school. Maybe later you’ll take her to the basements to show her the other half of the school. 

A man wearing ruby sunglasses despite the midnight hour stands at the bottom of the staircase, a beautiful red-headed woman by his side.

“Jean,” you breathe, almost frozen in her presence.

“Hi, Y/N,” Jean says in a sultry voice that makes your heart beat embarrassingly faster. Natasha feels a prick of jealousy when she sees the way you’re looking at this new woman. 

“Y/N!” the man barks.

“Good to see you too, Scott,” you add, not noticing the way Natasha moves closer to you, almost brushing against your arm. “This is Nat. She’s been traveling with me for the past few days, and–”

“You’re the one who escaped the Red Room,” Scott says, and Natasha cringes.

“Yeah, she is,” you answer, annoyed by his tone of voice.

“And how do we know that we can trust her?” Scott asks.

“Because I trust her.”

There’s a pause while Scott accepts this answer. 

“I just finished heating dinner up for you two. It’s in the kitchen,” Ororo interrupts. She’s the only one thrilled to host guests, you think. 

“Thanks, Ro,” you say.

“Well now that you’re back, Y/N, we actually need a substitute P.E. teacher tomorrow morning,” Scott teases, his arm going around Jean’s waist. “How about filling in, for old time’s sake?”

You raise your arm, extending the middle claw only. Everyone howls in laughter.

“Put that away,” Ororo chastises. “Come and eat now, before the food goes cold.”

You and Natasha start walking after her, but you stop when you hear the whir of wheels, an older bald man zipping up to you in a wheelchair. 

“Professor,” you greet, for the first time taking the initiative to hug, leaning down to embrace him. “Thanks for helping us out. We really appreciate it.”

The man smiles, a twinkle in his eye. “Of course. Welcome back, Y/N.”

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

AN: Click here for Part 3!

Hopefully, going to the X-Men was a wise decision on R's part...

Let me know what you think. :) Please leave likes, comments, and reblogs.

[thedensworld]

Hold on Tight | Y. Jh

Pairing: Jeonghan x reader

Genre: revenge Au, marriage Au, humor, fluff

Summary: What's started for a revenge and status has developed into something Jeonghan couldn't comprehend. He unconsciously were willing to do anything and it was only for you.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Baby you and me are a twisted Fantasy,

Buckle up and take a seat,

Hold on tight.

As the night deepened, their connection intensified beyond mere touch, brimming with an ardent expression of love and desire. Jeonghan pressed you against the wall, a silent invitation for an embrace that intertwined their figures. Lips locked in a fervent union, reluctant to part even for a moment, as if fearing they might miss each other in mere seconds. A symphony of groans escaped their mouths, echoing the passion that surged between them, while wandering hands sought to intensify the fervor of the moment.

Amidst their escalating passion, a sudden ding from the elevator interrupted their reverie, drawing a smile from your lips even as your groans grew louder, mingling with the occasional moans that slipped past your lips. Undeterred by their location in the corridor, their ardor persisted, oblivious to the world around them.

With your eyes fluttering open, you were startled by the sight of a familiar figure standing before the elevator. It was Choi Seungcheol, his jaw clenched and knuckles taut with tension, his unexpected presence injecting a new layer of complexity into the already charged atmosphere.

"Oh my god..." Your voice, tinged with panic, halted Jeonghan's advances, the realization dawning that the two of you were still in the corridor, under Seungcheol's watchful gaze.

"I'm sorry, Seungcheol. We're a bit impatient here," Jeonghan quipped with a nervous chuckle, his playful tone attempting to mask the awkwardness of the situation as he gently tugged your hand, urging you to move quickly.

As Jeonghan guided you into the room, he made sure to exchange a meaningful look with Seungcheol, silently acknowledging the unspoken tension between them before shutting the door with deliberate force, hoping to convey a message without uttering a word.

Inside the sanctuary of the room, you both let out a collective sigh, the tension dissipating into nervous laughter as your eyes met, sharing a moment of relief and amusement amidst the chaos of the interrupted encounter. With a playful slap to Jeonghan's chest, you couldn't contain your laughter, hastily covering your mouth to stifle the sound, realizing the need to maintain the facade of innocence after the earlier escapade.

"That was fun," Jeonghan stated as he stepped into the room, loosening his tie with a satisfied sigh. You mirrored his relief, already heading for the toilet, eager to rid yourself of the constricting gown and hair accessories. As you emerged, your eyes met Jeonghan's through the mirror, a shared sense of amusement dancing between you.

"Did you see his face?" you said with a wide smile, your voice tinged with excitement. Jeonghan nodded, his own grin widening as he recalled the scene they had just orchestrated in the corridor, a playful surprise for his cousin.

Jeonghan joined you in the hotel room's bathroom, his expression a mix of curiosity and mild trepidation as he observed his face, still adorned with remnants of the powder and makeup from earlier in the day. Sensing his discomfort, you offered him a makeup wipe, showing him how to use it by gently swiping it across his skin, revealing the amount of makeup it effortlessly erased.

"Women use this every day?" he asked, his interest piqued by the simplicity and effectiveness of the wipes.

You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips. "More than twice a day," you added, amused by his newfound fascination with the world of makeup.

"Should I start entering the makeup industry? You could help me," Jeonghan suggested seriously, his tone betraying a hint of genuine interest. You rolled your eyes affectionately, realizing that even after months of knowing him, you were still discovering new facets of Jeonghan's personality. His workaholic ass.

"You should rest your mind and have a nice break. Your mom's concerned a lot about you being a workaholic and all," you sighed, your gaze piercing through the mirror, reflecting your genuine worry for him.

Jeonghan scoffed, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "Don't be bothered by her," he said dismissively, "she still loves it every time I'm home with branded stuff for her."

You couldn't help but chuckle at his nonchalant attitude towards his mother's concerns, knowing deep down that his family's love and support were constants in his life, even amidst his hectic schedule.

"And also," he paused, his expression turning serious, "I have to support you now. I must work harder."

Your brows furrowed in protest as you insisted, "You don't have to support me," your arms crossed defensively over your chest, a hint of stubbornness in your stance.

Jeonghan, however, refused to let your words slide. Gripping your elbow gently, he pulled you to stand in front of him, his fingers deftly finding the zipper of your dress. Remembering how you had mentioned earlier that it made you feel suffocated, he began to unzip it, silently offering you relief from the discomfort.

You thanked him softly, but your eyes remained fixed on his through the mirror, silently demanding an answer to your earlier statement. Caught in your gaze, Jeonghan sighed, his own eyes reflecting a mix of frustration, knowing that despite your insistence, he couldn't help but feel responsible for looking out for you.

"It's written in our contract. I'm a businessman, Y/n. I do everything written on the paper," Jeonghan stated matter-of-factly, his tone carrying a hint of resignation as he adhered to the terms laid out in their agreement.

You smirked, feeling a sense of satisfaction as you released yourself from the confines of the gown, opting instead for the comfort of a tight tank top and knee-length leggings. "Sounds like slavery," you mumbled under your breath, a touch of humor lacing your words as you sauntered out of the bathroom, leaving Jeonghan behind.

Rolling his eyes in exasperation, Jeonghan called out to you, "Please take a shower before you sleep! I couldn't sleep with the smell of sweat disturbing me."

You chuckled at his request, knowing all too well his aversion to unpleasant odors. "I'll take the left side!" you shouted back, a playful reminder of the arrangement they had settled on for sharing the bed.

*

You and Mingyu were having breakfast, enjoying a delicious meal prepared by Jeonghan's personal cook. You doubted whether Jeonghan had ever tasted his own food, as you had never seen him join you at the dinner table. One detail both you and Jeonghan seemed to overlook was the fact that Mingyu lived with him, completely unaware of the contract you and Jeonghan had orchestrated. Mingyu believed his uncle and his teacher had fallen in love quickly and decided to tie the knot, a story resembling a fairy tale. He remained oblivious to the true nature of your relationship—a contract marriage veiled behind the facade of romance.

According to the contract, circumstances dictated that both of you share the same room. Surprisingly, neither of you harbored any aversion to this arrangement, having never physically encountered each other in the bedroom. It seemed a matter of timing—either you would already be asleep when Jeonghan retired to bed, or you would awaken to find him still slumbering.

As if summoned by your thoughts, Jeonghan burst into the dining room in a flurry, hastily adjusting his tie as he requested coffee from his cook. Your gaze locked with his, and he shot you a questioning look, silently probing for any indication or sign. His demeanor shifted abruptly as he addressed you, his tone cold and indifferent.

"What?" he demanded, his words laced with a hint of hostility, before his gaze flickered to Mingyu, a gentle reminder of their young companion's presence. Softening his tone, he repeated the question, this time with a touch of kindness, though the abrupt change only served to elicit a scoff from you, revealing the underlying hypocrisy of his demeanor.

"Ms. Ji is concerned that you never have breakfast and just drink coffee," Mingyu interjected during his meal, drawing Jeonghan's attention back to you, who was now gracefully eating your salad.

"I'm fine without breakfast," Jeonghan murmured, taking a sip of his coffee as it was served.

"How's your preparation for the province selection?" you inquired, prompting Mingyu's brows to raise in surprise while Jeonghan's curiosity piqued. What province selection? He wondered.

Mingyu nodded eagerly, swallowing a mouthful of food before replying, "It's scheduled for next month. I've been practicing diligently."

Jeonghan, completely unaware of the prior conversation between you and Mingyu, furrowed his brows in confusion. "What selection?" he asked, his curiosity now fully piqued.

"National league's player selection for the province level. I'll be representing Seoul," Mingyu announced proudly, his excitement palpable as he shared his upcoming endeavor with Jeonghan.

Jeonghan's expression softened with pride as he nodded in acknowledgment. "Do you need any assistance while preparing?" he offered, genuine warmth evident in his voice.

Mingyu's face lit up with gratitude at the offer. "Could I have some of the popular energy drink from your company to distribute during practice? I want to show my appreciation to my teammates for helping me train," he asked eagerly, his eyes gleaming with enthusiasm.

Jeonghan readily agreed, his pride in Mingyu evident as he made a mental note to discuss the matter with his marketing team. "Just promise me you'll become a national player. I need something to brag about," he quipped with a playful shrug, before taking another sip of his coffee.

As the conversation wound down, you gently reminded Mingyu of the impending school day. "It's time to go to school," you interjected, prompting Mingyu to nod in acknowledgment.

"Alright, Ms. Ji," Mingyu replied obediently, his eagerness to excel both on the field and in his studies shining through in his demeanor.

Jeonghan furrowed his brows in perplexity upon hearing Mingyu refer to you as "Ms. Ji" at home, a subtle but noticeable change in the dynamics that seemed to unsettle him. Sensing his unease, you glanced at him, silently questioning the source of his discomfort.

"Because she's Ms. Ji, my teacher," Mingyu reasoned innocently, unaware of the implications of his words.

Jeonghan shook his head, his tone firm as he interjected, "But she's my wife now." His declaration hung in the air, a definitive statement of the new roles and relationships within the household.

Confusion clouded Mingyu's features as he sought clarification. "So... what should I call her?" he asked, his gaze shifting to you for guidance.

You shrugged helplessly, indicating that you were equally uncertain about the appropriate address in this unfamiliar situation.

Exhaling a sigh, Jeonghan attempted to resolve the matter by posing a question of his own. "What do you call the wife of your uncle?"

"Aunt?" Mingyu ventured tentatively, uncertainty coloring his tone.

Jeonghan nodded, a sense of resolution settling over him. "That's it. She's your aunt at home and Ms. Ji at school," he concluded, seeking to establish a clear distinction between the roles you played in Mingyu's life.

Jeonghan had just wrapped up a morning meeting and was on his way to his office when his phone buzzed repeatedly, signaling the arrival of multiple texts. With a quick glance at the screen, he read the messages from you, his lips quirking up into a smile at the familiar name that popped up.

Ji Y/n: Isn't it great catching up with your nephew? Join us for breakfast starting tomorrow.

Ji Y/n: Regarding Mingyu's request earlier, don't forget to follow up with your marketing team. He was really excited about it on our way to school.

Ji Y/n: I'll share some ideas with you later about the makeup industry we discussed weeks ago.

A sense of warmth washed over Jeonghan as he absorbed your messages, each one a gentle reminder of the connections and responsibilities woven into his life. Despite his efforts to maintain a composed demeanor, a smile threatened to break through, betraying the genuine joy sparked by your words.

He quickly suppressed the burgeoning smile as his secretary approached, maintaining a professional facade as he delivered his schedule for the day. Nodding in acknowledgment, he replied, "I'll be occupied in an hour, so if there's anything urgent, please let me know beforehand."

"And..." Jeonghan paused, turning just before entering his office, his mind still buzzing with thoughts of your messages. "Could you speak to the marketing department about supporting the province and national basketball player selection? I believe it would be a worthwhile endeavor. I'll provide you with the details shortly."

His secretary blinked in confusion, not quite grasping the sudden interest in basketball. "Of course, sir," he replied, making a mental note to follow up on the request.

"And," Jeonghan paused once more, a mischievous glint dancing in his eyes, "please arrange for a few boxes of our energy drink to be delivered to my house every week."

His secretary's confusion deepened, his brows furrowing slightly as he struggled to comprehend the reason behind the request. "What are those for, sir?" he inquired tentatively, aware of her boss's recent marriage but uncertain of the significance of the energy drink deliveries.

Jeonghan smirked, a playful twinkle in his eyes. "You'll find out," he teased cryptically before disappearing into his office, leaving his secretary perplexed and intrigued by the request.

*

Days later, you mustered the courage to walk yourself to the nursery room where your father often spent his afternoons. As you pushed the door open, your heart sank at the scene before you. Seungcheol, seated across from your father, engaged in a game of chess. Both men turned their heads toward you, but it was Seungcheol who held your gaze, your eyes burning with disdain. Hate simmered beneath the surface, threatening to consume you as you struggled to maintain composure.

"My princess! Come join us, Seungcheol came to say hi," your father exclaimed cheerfully, oblivious to the tension in the room.

You entered hesitantly, closing the door behind you with a heavy sigh. The weight of your emotions pressed down on you as you dropped your bag onto the couch, arms crossing defensively over your chest. With narrowed eyes, you fixed your stare on Seungcheol, daring him to answer your unspoken question.

"Why are you here?" your voice cut through the silence, sharp and accusatory, each word dripping with disdain.

Your father rose from his seat, his expression a mixture of concern and disappointment as he watched you treat Seungcheol with such coldness. "How could you say that to your husband? I'm so sorry, my son-in-law," he apologized, his voice tinged with regret.

Frustration boiled within you as your father continued to misunderstand the situation. With a weary sigh, you attempted to interject, but Seungcheol spoke first. "The hospital called me. They said your father was looking for me," he explained, his tone soft yet determined.

You opened your eyes, gazing at Seungcheol with a mix of doubt and resignation. Releasing a heavy breath, you knew there were matters that needed addressing, away from prying eyes. "Let's talk outside," you requested, your voice tinged with weariness.

Turning to your father, you gently guided him towards his bed, the weight of the situation settling heavily upon your shoulders. "Father, Seungcheol and I need a few minutes to talk. Rest for a bit, okay?" you reassured him, though a hint of sadness lingered in your tone.

A small pout formed on your father's face as he reluctantly acquiesced. "Don't take him too long. I was having fun playing chess," he mumbled, a note of disappointment evident in his voice as he settled onto the bed.

As you stepped out of the room, Seungcheol trailing behind you, you halted and turned to face him, your expression guarded. "You should go," you stated firmly, your voice tinged with a mixture of frustration and apprehension.

Seungcheol shook his head, his gaze searching yours intently. "What is it, Y/n? I deserve an explanation," he insisted, his tone gentle yet resolute.

Frustration etched across your features as you crossed your arms tightly over your chest. "You don't hear anything and you don't see anything. You should go," you repeated, your voice tinged with a hint of desperation.

Seungcheol's brows furrowed in confusion. "The hospital called me, saying that your father was looking for me. I didn't even know he had been here until an hour ago," he revealed, his voice laced with concern.

The weight of unexpected revelations crashed over you, leaving you feeling overwhelmed and unprepared. You bit your lip, grappling with the tumultuous emotions swirling inside you. Seungcheol tilted his head, sensing your unease. "What's wrong?" he inquired softly, his eyes searching yours for answers.

Unable to articulate the turmoil in your heart, you shook your head, urging him to leave once more, the weight of the situation pressing down on you like a heavy burden.

"I'll tell you later once the situation is settled, now you should—" Before you could finish your sentence, the shrill sound of the emergency alarm pierced the air, sending a wave of panic through the hospital corridors. Nurses and doctors hurried past, their urgent footsteps echoing off the walls as they raced to the room next to where your father lay.

Caught in the midst of the chaos, you found yourself standing frozen in the middle of the hallway, uncertainty gripping your heart. Without hesitation, Seungcheol reached out and pulled you close, his strong arm wrapping protectively around your back, shielding you from the rush of bodies surging past.

His proximity was unnerving, yet strangely comforting, his familiar scent mingling with the sterile hospital air. You instinctively tried to pull away, but Seungcheol held you firmly, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that left you breathless.

"Is something happening to your father... that I don't know about?" he asked softly, his voice laced with genuine concern. In that moment, his vulnerability mirrored your own, and you found yourself grappling with the weight of unspoken fears and unanswered questions.

"Ms. Ji?" A voice called out, breaking the tension between you and Seungcheol. Both of you turned as one of the nurses approached, her tone urgent yet professional. "Glad that you came today. I need you to sign some papers before we do an x-ray before the surgery this Monday. Please follow me to the station," she instructed briskly, her eyes scanning the bustling corridor.

You nodded in acknowledgment, torn between the pressing matters at hand and the lingering presence of Seungcheol. With a fleeting glance in his direction, you made a silent decision. "You should go," you murmured softly, your voice barely audible above the din of the hospital.

As you walked away, leaving Seungcheol standing there, a whirlwind of emotions threatened to engulf you. The weight of the revelation about your father, coupled with the strain of keeping up appearances, weighed heavily on your mind. And in that moment of solitude, you found yourself grappling with the tangled web of secrets and uncertainties that had suddenly come crashing down around you.

*

Jeonghan stepped into his house, a faint smile gracing his lips. The weight of the day seemed to lift from his shoulders as he remembered the promising news his secretary had relayed about the impending board meeting. The possibility of finally being positioned above Seungcheol after the recent wedding buoyed his spirits, each step echoing with newfound hope.

However, his optimism faltered as he caught sight of your figure perched on a barstool at the kitchen island. His brow furrowed at the sight of the whiskey bottle on the counter, his heart sinking as he noticed the glass in your hand. This wasn't the first time he had found you in such a state, but seeing you intoxicated stirred a mixture of concern and frustration within him.

He approached you cautiously, his footsteps slowing as he took in your flushed cheeks and the vacant expression on your face. It was clear you had been drinking heavily, and the realization only deepened his worry. Jeonghan's mind raced with questions, wondering what had led you to seek solace in alcohol once more. The weight of the situation settled heavily on his shoulders, overshadowing the glimmer of hope he had carried moments before.

Jeonghan loosened his tie and approached you, concern evident in his eyes. "Bad day?" he murmured softly as he settled onto the adjacent barstool.

Turning your head toward him, you managed a bitter smile before placing your glass down on the counter, your movements sluggish from the effects of the alcohol. Stretching your arms, you let out a weary sigh. "Where's Mingyu? He's not home?"

You nodded, your words tinged with fatigue. "He has early practice every weekend, so he usually sleeps at the center," you informed him, the weariness evident in your voice not escaping Jeonghan's notice.

Jeonghan motioned toward your glass with a playful glint in his eyes. "Don't want to invite me?" he teased lightly, knowing full well he wouldn't indulge, especially with an important meeting looming the next morning. His playful remark was a subtle attempt to lighten the mood, to distract you momentarily from the weight on your shoulders.

Shaking your head, you mustered a small smile. "I'm done anyway," you replied softly before pushing yourself up from the stool. As you made your way toward the bedroom, your steps were unsteady, and you ended up bumping into the dining table. In an instant, Jeonghan was by your side, his arms wrapping around your waist to steady you.

With an amused yet gentle smile, he guided your drunken figure toward the stairs, offering support as you ascended together toward your shared bedroom.

He gently laid you down on the bed, listening to your unintelligible murmurs with a furrowed brow. "Sleep, Y/n," he urged softly, hoping to coax you into rest despite your resistance.

"No!" you protested weakly, your voice slurred with exhaustion.

As he began to tuck the comforter around your body, Jeonghan paused at your sudden revelation. "Seungcheol met my father..." you trailed off, your words laden with a mix of confusion and amusement.

"Did he?" Jeonghan inquired, his interest piqued as he waited for you to continue.

You nodded slowly, your eyelids drooping with fatigue. "My father asked nurses to call him, thinking that Seungcheol is my husband," you explained, a soft chuckle escaping your lips.

Jeonghan observed you closely, noting the effort you were making to stay awake despite the overwhelming urge to sleep. A fond smile tugged at his lips as he watched you pout and sigh, shifting your body to face him.

"He doesn't know anything about my father's condition," you continued, your words coming out in a sleepy haze. Jeonghan nodded in understanding, recalling the conversation from their wedding day.

"However, his mother came to me two years ago though, offering money for my father's surgery. With the condition that I have to leave Seungcheol. Very funny!" you chuckled again, but this time Jeonghan's expression darkened with concern at the revelation.

The weight of your words settled heavily on his shoulders, a mixture of empathy and anger coursing through him as he processed the gravity of the situation.

Seungcheol's mother was trying to bribe you?

"Is that why you left him?" Jeonghan questioned gently, his gaze meeting yours as you suddenly opened your eyes. Before he could register your response, your hand flew to punch his thigh as he sat on the edge of the bed.

"He left me, you asshole!" The words stung, a reminder of the pain you had endured.

Jeonghan sighed, reaching out to pull the comforter tighter around your body as you shifted into a more comfortable position. "Is that why you had so much debt? You paid for his surgery with all of it?" he asked, his tone laced with concern.

Another punch landed on his thigh, and he winced slightly. "Leave me and my financial issues alone!" you snapped, your frustration evident.

Jeonghan couldn't help but smile at your feistiness, even in your tired state. Playfully, he tugged at the comforter before speaking softly, "Sleep, Y/n. Let's talk later."

"Same goes for you. Sleep," you retorted, your eyes drifting closed once more as exhaustion claimed you.

With a tender smile, Jeonghan watched over you for a moment longer before quietly slipping out of the room, leaving you to rest peacefully.

Jeonghan sat in his home office, the weight of the revelation swirling in his mind like a tempest. Two years ago, tragedy had struck your family, leaving your parents and uncle in an accident that claimed the lives of your mother and uncle. Your father had endured numerous surgeries in order to reclaim a semblance of normalcy in his life.

As he mulled over the details, Jeonghan couldn't help but consider the implications of Seungcheol's departure. The offer of financial assistance from Seungcheol's mother, coupled with the request for you to leave Seungcheol, painted a troubling picture. Yet, the fact remained that it was Seungcheol who had ultimately chosen to end the relationship, leaving behind a whirlwind of unanswered questions.

Jeonghan sighed heavily, shaking his head to clear his thoughts. Despite his efforts to refocus on the task at hand, his mind kept drifting back to you and the weight of your words echoing in his head. Your gentle reminders to prioritize rest and balance in life resonated with him, especially as he grappled with the toll that his demanding schedule was taking on his health.

Glancing at the report laid out before him, Jeonghan felt a pang of guilt for neglecting your advice. It was his habit to meticulously review documents ahead of time, yet tonight, his thoughts were consumed by thoughts of you and the need for a reprieve from his relentless workload.

With a resigned sigh, Jeonghan made a silent decision to heed your wisdom. Pushing the report aside, he rose from his chair, intent on joining you in bed. It was time to prioritize his well-being and find a better balance between work and life, before the weight of his responsibilities crushed him under their burden.

*

The board meeting concluded with a sense of accomplishment for Jeonghan, as his aspirations had been acknowledged and discussed. As the potential leader, he felt a surge of validation, especially since his concerns about Seungcheol were taken seriously, prompting the board to reconsider their choices. However, amidst the professional triumph, a familial encounter awaited.

Standing alongside Seungcheol, Jeonghan respectfully bowed as his grandfather passed by, a gesture that held both reverence and a hint of tension. His grandfather's inquiry about Ji Kyungyi, your father-in-law, shifted the atmosphere, injecting a dose of personal concern into the formal setting.

Reflecting on the family dinner preceding the wedding, where you were introduced to his grandfather under strained circumstances, Jeonghan couldn't shake the memory. Despite the facade of formality, he knew the truth: you and his grandfather were already acquainted, your past engagement to Seungcheol adding layers of complexity to the situation.

The unease simmered beneath the surface as his grandfather's inquiry hinted at deeper familial rifts and unresolved tensions. Jeonghan's instincts had warned him of this possibility, recognizing the potential for misunderstandings fueled by Seungcheol's parents' influence post-separation.

"Actually, grandfather," Jeonghan began, his tone carrying a weight of revelation, "Y/n's father has a history with you." With a deep breath, he prepared to play a card he had been holding close.

"Y/n's grandfather, Hwang Daekhwi, was your best friend," Jeonghan continued, his words poised to unravel the tightly woven threads of the past, "and her father, Ji Kyungyi, was one of the investors in your first-ever resort project. Do you remember?"

The truth hung heavy in the air, casting a new light on the dynamics at play. Your familial ties to his grandfather's past endeavors unveiled a deeper connection, one that had remained obscured until now. The accident two years ago, a seismic event that reshaped your family's fortunes, added another layer of complexity to the narrative. The loss of your rightful inheritance, coupled with the struggle to navigate the unforgiving terrain of the business world, painted a picture of resilience in the face of adversity.

Jeonghan watched as his grandfather's expression shifted, the realization dawning upon him like a sudden revelation. The lines of recognition etched themselves onto his features, mingling with a newfound sense of empathy.

"I'm so sorry for what had happened to you, dear," his grandfather murmured, the words carrying the weight of regret for past oversights.

As the truth settled, Jeonghan seized the moment, recognizing the opportunity for reconciliation and restitution. "That lawyer in your law firm, Hong Joshua, isn't it? You should help her get her rightful place back," he urged, his voice tinged with a mix of determination and compassion. "Please, make yourself at home."

In that moment, amidst the echoes of the past and the promise of a hopeful future, bridges were built, and alliances forged, as the intricacies of familial ties intertwined with the bonds of compassion and understanding.

Since that pivotal moment, Jeonghan felt a newfound confidence coursing through him. He was certain he could navigate this intricate game and emerge victorious.

"He's recovering very well after his surgery, grandfather," Jeonghan relayed the reassuring news about your father's condition to his grandfather. A nod of acknowledgment and a comforting pat on their shoulders followed from the elder gentleman before he departed, leaving Jeonghan and Seungcheol momentarily alone.

Seungcheol's gaze bore into Jeonghan's, a silent invitation to converse away from prying ears. "Let's talk," he proposed, a hint of urgency underlying his words.

Jeonghan glanced at his watch, his excuse at the ready. "I'm afraid I can't," he regretfully replied, though a knowing smirk betrayed his true intentions. It was a subtle game of manipulation, one that Seungcheol was all too familiar with.

"I just want to know about father's condition," Seungcheol clarified his intentions, yet Jeonghan's attention snagged on the word 'father', a subtle jab that didn't escape his notice.

"Bold of you to call MY father-in-law 'father'," Jeonghan teased lightly, his lips quirking into a smirk that danced with mischief.

Undeterred, Seungcheol pressed on, revealing a piece of information that tugged at Jeonghan's curiosity. "I was called by the hospital a week ago. He's been in a nursing home for almost two years," he disclosed, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air.

Jeonghan absorbed the revelation with a nod of acknowledgment, his expression solemn as he processed the implications. "What happened to him?" Seungcheol's inquiry pierced through the air, laden with a sense of urgency and genuine concern.

With a heavy sigh, Jeonghan met Seungcheol's gaze head-on, his resolve firm. "I'm sorry, but it's not my place to tell you," he asserted, his words tinged with a hint of regret.

Seungcheol's own sigh mirrored Jeonghan's, a shared frustration at the barriers erected between them. "Y/n didn't want to tell me either," he admitted, his voice tinged with a hint of resignation.

Jeonghan arched an eyebrow, his gaze probing. "Then there must be a reason, mustn't there?" he remarked cryptically before bidding Seungcheol farewell with a wave, leaving the weight of unspoken truths lingering in the air between them.

Jeonghan had made a mental note to visit your father after his meeting, realizing he hadn't spent much time playing chess with him lately. The obligation to care for their respective families was written in the contract, a duty he took seriously. Ensuring your father received the best treatment for his health was a priority for Jeonghan, a testament to his commitment to family.

While Jeonghan attended to familial responsibilities, you lent your support by focusing on Mingyu and his adolescent struggles. Your efforts in guiding Mingyu through his high school years had yielded noticeable progress, with his behavior towards Jeonghan showing marked improvement. The absence of a mother figure in Mingyu's life had left him craving attention, a void you filled admirably.

Jeonghan couldn't help but feel grateful for your competence in handling Mingyu's upbringing. Your dedication to nurturing his growth was evident, and Jeonghan found solace in knowing that Mingyu was in capable hands.

Amidst familial duties, Jeonghan also juggled professional endeavors alongside Joshua, his lawyer friend. Their collaboration aimed to secure your rightful shares in your grandfather's company, now overseen by the board. It was a challenging task, fraught with obstacles, yet Joshua's expertise offered a glimmer of hope. With their efforts, there was a possibility of securing up to 30% of your rightful shares—a significant victory in the making.

Despite his admiration for your teaching profession, Jeonghan couldn't shake the nagging question of why you hadn't pursued a career in business, following in your parents' footsteps. He saw your potential, creativity, and innovation, yet sensed a hesitation to take risks. Nevertheless, Jeonghan made it clear that he was willing to support any decision you made, even if it meant switching paths to become a businessman.

Reviewing your proposal for the skincare industry—a project he had requested—Jeonghan couldn't help but be impressed by your thoroughness and ingenuity. He teasingly suggested that you join his company instead of continuing as Mingyu's Korean teacher, only to be met with a playful rebuke from you.

"We're all speaking Korean already. Do we really need to bother learning it?" Jeonghan quipped, before being promptly silenced by your playful retort.

You had vented to Jeonghan about the challenges of being a teacher, expressing the exhaustion of shouldering immense responsibility without proportional compensation. Dramatically, you described how the fees didn't match the blood, sweat, and tears you poured into your dedication. Jeonghan listened attentively, though admittedly, he struggled to fully grasp the intricacies of the education system. After all, wasn't Seungcheol the chairman of your school? Why hadn't he raised the teachers' fees?

The thought crossed Jeonghan's mind: perhaps he should start an education foundation and put you in charge. Given your track record and performance, you'd undoubtedly excel in such a role. Yet, as he stood outside your father's nursery room, he shook his head, berating himself for overthinking your future when your marriage was purely contractual. "I must be crazy," he mused inwardly.

"Good afternoon, father. I'm Yoon Jeonghan, Y/n's husband," he greeted warmly as he entered the room, finding your father seated in front of his chessboard.

Your father looked up with a smile, welcoming Jeonghan with open arms. "Oh, Yoon son-in-law. Come join me!" he beckoned, a twinkle of amusement in his eyes.

A smile automatically spread across Jeonghan's face at the genuine warmth of your father's reception. Despite the complexities of their familial arrangement, moments like these reminded Jeonghan of the genuine connections that transcended mere contracts. As he settled in beside your father for a game of chess, he found solace in the simple pleasures of camaraderie and companionship.

*

"Is it your first time?" Jeonghan's voice whispered near your ear as you both stepped into the opulent ballroom where the charity event, hosted by the Jeon Family, was taking place. He looked dashing in his navy suit with a baby blue shirt, a combination that perfectly complemented your own attire—a stunning off-shoulder dress with elbow-length sleeves, elegantly matching his ensemble. Jeonghan mentally made a note to thank Jihoon, his secretary, later for selecting such a perfect dress that accentuated your beauty and drew attention to you as the two of you entered the room.

His arm naturally found its place around your waist as you navigated through the crowd to greet the host.

"No, I've been to several events like this with my father," you replied to Jeonghan's question, your voice tinged with a hint of familiarity with such affairs.

"Is he a friend or a foe?" you inquired, your curiosity piqued as you were introduced to Jeon Wonwoo, the host of the evening. Jeonghan couldn't help but chuckle at your straightforwardness. "Where did you learn that question?" he teased gently, a glint of amusement dancing in his eyes.

"Just answer me," you demanded, your tone firm and unwavering.

Jeonghan smiled, amused by your determination. "Friend of a foe," he replied cryptically, knowing that the complexities of relationships in high society were often difficult to decipher.

You sighed in frustration, recalling Wonwoo's connection to Seungcheol as his college friend. "Right? I knew he's Seungcheol's college friend. I think I've met him," you muttered, feeling a twinge of annoyance at the implications.

Jeonghan nodded in understanding, his gaze lingering on your face with a mixture of empathy and reassurance. "I could tell. He seemed taken aback when I introduced you," he remarked, subtly acknowledging the tension in the air.

Reaching for a glass of wine offered by a passing server, Jeonghan silently offered you some, but you declined with a shake of your head.

"However, who cares, right?" Jeonghan's tone was light, his words carrying an air of nonchalance as he took a sip of his wine, his eyes meeting yours with an assurance that eased your worries.

As if summoned by the mention of his name, Seungcheol strode into the scene, exuding charisma in his dark grey suit. His entrance commanded attention, and your eyes involuntarily darted towards Jeonghan, meeting his gaze. A blush crept onto your cheeks as you realized he might have caught you staring at Seungcheol. Sensing your discomfort, Jeonghan's brows raised in silent inquiry before his arm enveloped your left side, pulling you closer to him. His touch was reassuring, a silent declaration of his presence by your side as Seungcheol approached.

Seungcheol effortlessly navigated the crowd, exchanging pleasantries and accepting handshakes with ease. His eyes found yours briefly, accompanied by a charming smile, before he addressed Jeonghan. "I heard Mingyu will represent Seoul for the basketball national player selection in Busan this week," he remarked, a genuine note of pride evident in his voice.

Seungcheol loves basketball.

Jeonghan nodded proudly, acknowledging his nephew's achievements. "Yeah, really proud of him. Y/n has played a huge role there," he replied, turning his gaze towards you with a soft smile, a silent acknowledgment of your contributions.

Seungcheol's gaze shifted back to yours, his tone casual yet tinged with subtle observation. "I can see," he remarked, a hint of nostalgia coloring his words. "You used to have no idea how amazing Mingyu could play."

Before the conversation could delve deeper, Seungcheol changed the topic, steering towards the subject of marriage. You sensed a subtle shift in Jeonghan's demeanor, an underlying tension that threatened to surface. His gaze, once warm, now held a hint of irritation directed towards Seungcheol, a testament to the unresolved feelings lingering between them.

Smiling reassuringly, you reached out to touch Jeonghan's chest, your gesture a silent reassurance of your unity. "It's wonderful," you affirmed confidently, your eyes locking with Jeonghan's, seeking solace in his unwavering support.

"Jeonghan is an amazing husband," you continued, your voice filled with conviction. "I'm so happy that I married him."

Seungcheol blinked, momentarily taken aback by your assertiveness, before nodding silently. "Great to hear that," he replied, a hint of resignation coloring his tone. "I should greet the host," he added, raising his wine glass in a small gesture of acknowledgment before excusing himself.

As Seungcheol walked away, Jeonghan's frustration boiled over, his eyes narrowing with suppressed anger. "I was near to punch him," he muttered, his voice laced with irritation as he closed his eyes, attempting to regain his composure.

You chuckled softly, sensing the tension dissipating. "I can see you flying over to him and punching him in the face earlier," you teased lightly, a hint of amusement in your tone as you offered a moment of levity amidst the lingering animosity.

The night stretched on, with Jeonghan engulfed in conversations with businessmen, leaving you to navigate the socialite crowd alone, feeling like a fish out of water. Eventually, you found yourself standing outside the ballroom, seeking solace in the quietude of the night and the serene view through the window. Lost in your thoughts, you were startled by the approach of a familiar figure, hands casually tucked into his pockets, his presence both unexpected and unwelcome.

Closing your eyes briefly, you hoped it was merely a figment of your imagination, but the sound of your name being called confirmed his presence.

"Can we talk?" Seungcheol's voice broke through the silence, his words hanging in the air, heavy with unspoken emotions.

You sighed, turning to face him, the weight of his gaze meeting yours. Despite yourself, a flutter of butterflies stirred within you, though you couldn't discern if it was from excitement or apprehension.

"We're talking," you replied curtly, a hint of defiance lacing your tone.

Seungcheol nodded, his expression reflecting a mixture of regret and uncertainty. "I'm sorry," he began, his words tumbling out in a rush. "I'm sorry that I don't know what happened to your father. I've only heard about the losses you've endured—your mother, your uncle, and the survival of your father."

His confession hung in the air, laden with the weight of unspoken regrets. "I was surprised when your father mistook me for your husband at your wedding, and it's been weighing on me ever since," he continued, his voice laced with genuine remorse.

"When I received the call from the nursery house, I was so confused," Seungcheol admitted, his tone tinged with vulnerability. "But I was grateful for the opportunity to finally speak to your father again."

"I'm sorry because I wasn't there when all of this happened. I'm very—" Seungcheol's words faltered as he struggled to find the right expression of remorse.

Interrupting him, you cut to the chase, your voice tinged with frustration. "What are you trying to say, Seungcheol?"

A pregnant pause hung between you, the weight of the unspoken conversation pressing down on both of you. Seungcheol bit his lip, his gaze dropping as he struggled to articulate his thoughts. With a heavy sigh, he shook his head in defeat.

"I don't know," he finally admitted, his voice barely above a whisper, uncertainty clouding his features.

Taking a step forward, you narrowed your brow, your gaze piercing as you studied him intently. "Seungcheol, you're never this confused," you observed, a note of concern creeping into your tone as you searched for clarity in his eyes.

"I know," he replied softly, his admission underscoring the depth of his inner turmoil.

"Why are you so... confused?" You questioned, your voice tinged with a mix of frustration and hurt. "You've always been eager. You weren't this confused when you broke our engagement two years ago. You were very determined to choose your career over me. Why confused now, Choi Seungcheol?"

Seungcheol's response was heavy with emotion, his voice strained as he struggled to contain his feelings. "Because I still care about you, a lot," he admitted, his words hanging in the air like a heavy weight.

"Actually, the feeling is still the same. It never fades," he added softly, his admission piercing through the defenses you had carefully constructed.

You scoffed, a defense mechanism kicking in, but deep down, your heart clenched painfully at his words. Determined to put an end to the conversation, you took a step away, wanting to distance yourself from his emotional turmoil. However, a firm grip around your hand halted your retreat as Seungcheol spoke once more.

"I know you feel it too," he asserted, his gaze searching yours for confirmation.

His words echoed in the silence, reverberating through your thoughts as memories of the past flooded back. Seungcheol's admission of regret pierced through the walls you had erected around your heart, stirring emotions you had long buried.

Closing your eyes tightly, you fought against the tears threatening to spill over, the weight of Seungcheol's words bearing down on you. But just as despair threatened to consume you, a familiar warmth enveloped you, pulling you into a comforting embrace.

Jeonghan's presence washed over you like a lifeline, his familiar scent grounding you in the present moment. His protective stance against Seungcheol's lingering presence provided a shield from the emotional turmoil swirling around you.

"Stop your bullshit or I'll punch you in the face," Jeonghan's voice cut through the tension, his words laced with a fierce protectiveness that made your heart swell with gratitude.

Turning to face you, Jeonghan gently cupped your face in his hands, his touch tender and reassuring. "Let's go home," he whispered softly, his words a beacon of solace in the midst of turmoil, offering you the comfort and security you desperately needed in that moment.

As you arrived home, the weight of the evening's emotional turmoil lingered in the air, casting a shadow over the silence between you and Jeonghan. He watched quietly as you collapsed onto the couch, the exhaustion and frustration evident in the heaviness of your sighs as you kicked off your heels.

Taking a seat across from you, Jeonghan observed your struggles with a furrowed brow, his heart aching at the sight of your frustration boiling over into tears. He despised seeing you in such distress, yet felt powerless to ease your pain.

Your sobs tugged at Jeonghan's heartstrings, drawing his attention with a mixture of concern and determination. Squatting in front of you, he gently lifted your hands away from your tear-streaked face, his touch gentle and reassuring.

"Hey, it's okay. You're with me," Jeonghan whispered softly, his words a soothing balm to your troubled soul.

Uncertain of how to comfort you further, Jeonghan instinctively pulled you into his embrace, enveloping you in a cocoon of warmth and security. He felt your sobs intensify against his chest, each one a painful reminder of the depth of your distress.

Jeonghan's hand found its way to your hair, his fingers tenderly tracing soothing patterns as he offered a comforting pat on the head. Gradually, the weight of your emotions seemed to overwhelm you, lulling you into a fitful sleep within the safety of his arms.

When Jeonghan awoke the next morning, you were nowhere to be found. Rushing to get ready for work, his mind buzzed with a whirlwind of thoughts, each one centered around you. The events of the previous night replayed in his mind like a broken record, leaving him grappling with conflicting emotions.

Watching you confront Seungcheol had filled him with pride, admiring your strength and courage in the face of adversity. Yet, a sense of protectiveness stirred within him as he remembered Seungcheol's unwanted touch, his instinct to shield you from further harm overwhelming his rational thoughts.

There was a part of Jeonghan that longed to keep your vulnerability to himself, a desire to protect you from the pain of exposing your innermost struggles to others. It was a sentiment he couldn't quite comprehend, yet one that tugged at his heartstrings with undeniable force, leaving him grappling with the complexities of his own emotions in the wake of your shared turmoil.

Later that night, Jeonghan stumbled upon you sitting on the kitchen barstool, a familiar bottle of liquor resting on the counter before you. The sight of the alcohol stirred memories of your first encounter with Jeonghan, a bittersweet reminder of the journey you had traveled together.

Exhausted yet unable to ignore your distress, Jeonghan veered away from the bedroom and approached you instead. Without hesitation, he snatched your glass, draining its contents before disposing of it and the bottle in the sink. You protested weakly, but the effects of the alcohol had already begun to blur your senses, leaving you in a state of intoxication.

"Let's sleep," Jeonghan suggested gently, his voice laced with concern as he sought to ease your troubled mind.

"No!" you objected stubbornly, your defiance evident even in your inebriated state.

"Why? Tomorrow is a long day," Jeonghan reasoned, his exhaustion palpable as he attempted to coax you into rest.

You nodded slowly, acknowledging the truth in his words. "I know," you conceded quietly.

As Jeonghan studied your flushed face, he couldn't help but marvel at your beauty, even in the simplicity of your pajamas. With a tender touch, he scooped you up into his arms, recognizing your inability to navigate the stairs in your current state, and carried you to bed.

Gently laying you down, Jeonghan's fingers traced the tear stains on your cheeks, his heart clenching at the sight of your silent sorrow. "What's bothering you, Y/n?" he inquired softly, his concern evident in his voice.

"Nothing," you replied with a sigh, a sense of resignation coloring your words.

"Then why were you crying?" Jeonghan pressed further, his gaze searching yours for answers.

You hesitated before finally speaking, your words tinged with bitterness. "You won't care," you murmured, your voice heavy with the weight of past wounds.

"I care for you," Jeonghan insisted earnestly, his sincerity evident in the warmth of his gaze.

You scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. "That's what that bastard Seungcheol said. But he still left me. Left me alone and cold," you confessed, the pain of abandonment still raw in your heart.

Meeting your gaze, Jeonghan's eyes softened with empathy. "I'm not Seungcheol," he reminded you gently, his touch reassuring as he caught your trembling finger.

"I don't say you're Seungcheol," you countered, your voice tinged with frustration.

"Stop comparing me to him."

"Then what should I do?" you asked, your voice laced with uncertainty.

Jeonghan's gaze drifted down to your lips, a fleeting moment of hesitation passing between you before he met your eyes once more. "Just take this and forget him," he whispered, his breath mingling with yours in the intimate space between you.

As Jeonghan's intrusive thoughts overpowered his rationality, he yielded to the overwhelming desire pulsating within him. With a surge of longing, he crashed his lips against yours, surrendering to the intoxicating taste of alcohol lingering on your lips. In that fleeting moment, the world around them dissolved into nothingness, leaving only the fiery passion igniting between them.

Your hands instinctively found their way into his hair, fingers weaving through the soft strands as Jeonghan deepened the kiss with fervent determination. What had begun as a mere release of frustration swiftly evolved into a fervent display of raw passion, each brush of your lips against his sending sparks of electricity coursing through his veins.

Jeonghan's rationality dissolved in the heat of the moment, his mind consumed by the overwhelming desire to alleviate your worries and drown out the echoes of your past pain. In this embrace, he found solace in the warmth of your touch, a silent vow to stand by your side and shield you from the storms that threatened to engulf your heart.

For now, there was only the fiery passion that bound you together, a testament to the depth of your connection and the unspoken longing that pulsed beneath the surface. In this stolen moment, Jeonghan cast aside all semblance of reason, allowing his heart to guide him as he sought to erase your troubles with the fervent intensity of his love.

*

Jeonghan woke up with a hollow ache in his chest, the absence of your warmth beside him amplifying the emptiness he felt. The memory of last night's intimate moments with you lingered, but now he found himself alone in the morning light, as if what you shared had meant nothing to you. His mind wandered back to the first time you met, remembering how he had left you then, and now he understood the pang of abandonment you must have felt when he slipped away after your passionate encounter.

Walking into the kitchen, Jeonghan's heart sank as he realized he was the only one there. The usual morning routine of breakfast with you and Mingyu was disrupted, leaving him feeling even more isolated. "Mrs. Ji and Mr. Kim were heading to Busan early this morning," the emptiness of the kitchen echoed with the reminder of your absence.

Nodding absentmindedly, Jeonghan's hand instinctively reached for his phone, a desperate urge to reach out to you tugging at his heartstrings. But then, a wave of uncertainty washed over him, and he hesitated. Instead of sending a text, he opted to call you, craving the sound of your voice more than anything. Each ring felt like an eternity, his heart pounding in anticipation until finally, he heard the soft click of you picking up the phone, and the warmth of your greeting flooded his senses, momentarily soothing the ache in his soul.

"You two arrived already?" Jeonghan's voice trembled slightly with anticipation as he awaited your response.

"Just arrived, we stopped at the rest area for breakfast. Your nephew is a big eater, he couldn't skip a meal," your voice came through the phone, sounding unchanged, which brought a sense of relief to Jeonghan's troubled heart.

"Okay, update me, alright?" Jeonghan requested, trying to keep his tone casual despite the turmoil swirling inside him.

"Sure... Wanna talk to Mingyu?" you offered, your usual thoughtfulness shining through even in the midst of their conversation.

Before Jeonghan could respond, Mingyu's voice burst through the line, filled with excitement and nerves. "Uncle, wish me luck!"

"You'll do great, buddy," Jeonghan reassured him, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. There was a brief pause, during which Jeonghan could almost feel the weight of Mingyu's uncertainty hanging in the air.

"He sounds genuine... He's never like that with me," Mingyu's voice carried a hint of surprise as he confided in you, prompting a chuckle from Jeonghan.

"You promised me you'd bring that national player home," Jeonghan reminded Mingyu playfully, a warmth spreading through him at the sound of Mingyu's excitement as he promised to fulfill his uncle's request once he returned.

Later that day, you sent him a few photos of Mingyu during the selection, and Jeonghan kindly forwarded them to his parents, wanting to keep them in the loop about their grandson's achievements. However, as the night wore on, you informed him of the heavy rain in Busan, preventing your return to Seoul. Instead, you decided to stay the night in Busan and head back in the morning.

"That's better. Let me know when you're heading back," Jeonghan replied, a sense of relief washing over him knowing you would be safe for the night.

You hummed in acknowledgment, but before you could end the call, Jeonghan heard Mingyu sighing in the background, his voice carrying a hint of teasing annoyance. "I know you two were away, but can you stop being lovey-dovey when I'm around?"

Jeonghan chuckled softly at his nephew's playful protest, the warmth of family bonds soothing his troubled thoughts. However, his curiosity piqued as he overheard Mingyu and you discussing your health check-up results from the hospital.

"You checked too? Why didn't you tell me?" Jeonghan interjected, surprised by the revelation.

"It was Mingyu's idea because he didn't want to be alone. It was supposed to be sent this afternoon. Can you send me the picture of Mingyu's one? I should send it to the committee," you explained, your voice filled with concern and consideration for Mingyu's well-being.

"Hmm... I'll send it. Have a rest, okay?" Jeonghan reassured you, a sense of gratitude flooding his heart for your care towards Mingyu, even in his absence.

Jeonghan hurriedly checked the mailbox and retrieved Mingyu's and your health check-up results. With a quick glance, he opened Mingyu's envelope and snapped a picture of the document before sending it to you. Then, his curiosity got the better of him, and he couldn't resist opening your envelope as well.

As he scanned through your results, a swell of pride filled Jeonghan's heart. The report was a testament to your dedication to maintaining a healthy lifestyle through daily workouts and balanced nutrition. He remembered the strength and vitality he had witnessed in your body, making it evident that you were in excellent health.

However, as Jeonghan continued to read, his eyes widened in surprise. Amidst the obstetric history section, he felt a rush of relief upon seeing that you were not pregnant. Yet, his relief was short-lived as he stumbled upon something he couldn't comprehend, something that made his heart skip a beat as he carefully read through the results.

Jeonghan's mind raced as he read and reread the results, trying to make sense of the unfamiliar term that appeared on the paper. A sense of unease settled in the pit of his stomach as he realized there was something he didn't know about you, something hidden beneath the surface of your seemingly perfect health.

*

Jeonghan stood outside Seungcheol's office, his hand hesitating on the doorknob. It had been years since he last stepped foot in this place, memories flooding back with each passing moment. With a deep breath, he pushed the door open, revealing Seungcheol's surprised expression.

Seungcheol blinked, momentarily taken aback by his cousin's unexpected visit. "Jeonghan? What brings you here after all this time? Do you have news for me?"

Jeonghan remained silent, his gaze piercing as he met Seungcheol's eyes. There was a simmering anger behind his stoic expression, a resentment that had been brewing for years.

"Have you finally discovered that I was the one who was engaged to your wife before you?" Seungcheol's voice was tinged with a hint of bitterness, his own emotions swirling beneath the surface.

Jeonghan's jaw clenched, struggling to contain the surge of fury threatening to spill over. With a controlled exhale, he hummed in response, his voice laced with restrained anger. "I also happen to know that you were the one who foolishly ended that engagement."

The air crackled with tension as the two cousins faced each other, years of unresolved emotions hanging heavily between them. Jeonghan's visit had reopened old wounds, stirring up a whirlwind of conflicting feelings that neither of them could ignore.

"Choosing career over a woman sounds like investing in a risky business when you were already offered a great and amazing business project," Jeonghan remarked, his words dripping with disdain. The resentment in his voice was palpable as he looked at Seungcheol.

Seungcheol felt his anger bubbling up within him, Jeonghan's accusation striking a nerve. His jaw tightened as he struggled to maintain his composure in the face of his cousin's cutting words.

"I'm glad the board is considering the future of the company again," Jeonghan continued, his tone carrying a note of satisfaction. It was clear he took pleasure in the implication that Seungcheol's decisions had jeopardized the company's success.

Seungcheol clenched his fists, his frustration mounting with each passing moment. Jeonghan's presence was like a thorn in his side, dredging up painful memories and reigniting old conflicts.

"What do you want, Yoon Jeonghan?" Seungcheol's voice was terse, his eyes narrowing as he met his cousin's gaze. He braced himself for whatever confrontation lay ahead, steeling himself for the storm that was about to come.

"I personally ask you to stop confronting my wife. What happened at the Jeon Charity Ball is the last time," Jeonghan asserted, his voice carrying a note of finality.

Seungcheol tilted his head, a sly smirk creeping onto his lips. "You seemed annoyed by what happened that night. You're not that confident?"

Jeonghan's facade remained unyielding as he responded with casual indifference, "I don't know what you're talking about."

A knowing glint flickered in Seungcheol's eyes as he pressed on, his tone laced with subtle provocation. "You saw that too, right? She was confused. She also feels the same thing that night."

Jeonghan's mask slipped for a moment, a fleeting glimpse of uncertainty crossing his features before he masked it with practiced ease. "You're afraid if she actually chooses me, right?" Seungcheol's words cut through the tension like a knife, his challenge hanging in the air between them, a silent dare to acknowledge the truth they both knew but refused to confront.

Jeonghan drew in a deep breath, his hand trembling slightly as it reached into his inner pocket. With deliberate care, he withdrew an envelope, the weight of its contents palpable in the air between them.

"No, she hates you. And this explains a lot," Jeonghan declared, his voice tinged with a mixture of accusation and resignation.

Seungcheol's brows furrowed in confusion as he accepted the envelope, his curiosity piqued. With cautious fingers, he tore it open, revealing its contents with growing bewilderment.

"What's this?" Seungcheol questioned, his gaze flicking between the papers and Jeonghan's inscrutable expression.

Jeonghan took a steadying breath before speaking, his voice laced with a hint of bitterness. "Her obstetric history says she's currently not pregnant. And she had one miscarriage."

The weight of Jeonghan's words hung heavy in the air, the truth they carried sinking in with a sickening realization.

"What do you mean?" Seungcheol's voice wavered slightly, his mind reeling with the implications of what he was hearing.

"She was pregnant with your child when you left her," Jeonghan stated matter-of-factly, his words cutting through the tension like a knife.

Seungcheol felt the blood drain from his face as the pieces of the puzzle fell into place, the enormity of his actions crashing down on him like a tidal wave.

"Her miscarriage date was after the car accident, which means she could have suffered the pregnancy loss due to the stress of having to face all of that alone," Jeonghan continued, his voice heavy with condemnation.

Jeonghan rose from the couch, his movements swift and purposeful as he buttoned his suit jacket. "I don't want to see you face her again," he declared, his tone final.

Seungcheol's heart sank as he realized the depth of his betrayal, the magnitude of the pain he had caused crashing over him like a wave of guilt and remorse.

"If you confront her again, I could destroy all of this," Jeonghan warned, gesturing to Seungcheol's office, a stark reminder of the consequences that loomed over them both.

As Jeonghan made his way to his office, his phone buzzed with a message from Mingyu. He glanced down to see a photo of Mingyu beaming widely, seated beside you who were driving, with a caption that read, "a photo of a national player and his aunt driving." A warm smile spread across Jeonghan's face, and he immediately tapped the call button.

A cheerful tone greeted him as Mingyu answered the call. Jeonghan wasted no time in asking about Mingyu's whereabouts, and Mingyu kindly explained that he had just left the rest area.

Jeonghan chuckled as he heard you mumbling about his nephew's big appetite agenda. "Are you going to live in the center then?" Jeonghan inquired, curiosity lacing his voice as Mingyu outlined his plans after securing a slot as a national player.

"Yup, starting in a week. I'm glad the center is in Seoul," Mingyu replied, relief evident in his voice.

"You're so full of energy, Mingyu. Tone down a bit for my wife," Jeonghan teased playfully.

Mingyu let out a deep sigh, but a grin quickly replaced it. "Aunt has said that to me a hundred times," he admitted, "but I take it as a compliment." There was a warmth in Mingyu's voice, a genuine affection for the bond he shared with Jeonghan and you.

"Did she rest well last night? She has been super busy with—" Jeonghan's words hung in the air, abruptly cut off by the sound of Mingyu's panicked shout and the jarring noise of cars colliding.

Jeonghan's heart leaped into his throat as he stared at his phone screen, the call still connected but met with eerie silence on the other end. "Kim Mingyu, answer me," he urged, desperation creeping into his voice.

Lee Jihoon, Jeonghan's secretary who sat beside the driver, glanced at him through the rearview mirror, concern etched on his face. "What happened, sir?"

Jeonghan's gaze flicked to Jihoon, his voice strained with worry. "Can you look for a car crash on the Busan-Seoul road? I think my wife and my nephew—" His words trailed off, fear gripping him as he imagined the worst.

"Uncle, uncle," Mingyu's voice crackled through the phone's speaker, cutting through the tension like a lifeline.

Jeonghan's breath caught in his chest as he frantically responded to Mingyu's voice. "We're fine," Mingyu reassured him, his breath coming in short gasps. "Cars in front of us crashed, but aunt managed to avoid it," he explained, relief flooding Jeonghan's veins like a soothing balm.

"Are you guys okay?" Jeonghan's voice quivered with concern, his heart pounding in his chest as he waited for Mingyu's response.

There was a brief pause before Mingyu's voice crackled through the phone, strained but steady. "I'm fine," he assured Jeonghan.

"But I think aunt needs help," Mingyu continued, his words weighted with worry. Jeonghan's frustration surged, his mind racing with thoughts of you in distress.

With a determined exhale, Jeonghan clenched his jaw, his resolve hardening. "Send me your location," he instructed firmly, his voice carrying a sense of urgency. "I'll go there." The gravity of the situation spurred him into action, his only thought now to reach your side as quickly as possible.

Jeonghan bolted when he caught sight of Mingyu seated beside you on one of the benches in the rest area. Mingyu sprang to his feet as soon as he saw his uncle, his relief palpable. Meanwhile, you remained seated calmly, unnoticed by Jeonghan, who was focused on his nephew's well-being.

"Are you okay?" Jeonghan's voice trembled slightly as he examined Mingyu's body for any signs of injury. Mingyu nodded reassuringly, but then turned his head towards you, subtly signaling to Jeonghan that the car crash had affected you more than him.

Jeonghan approached you cautiously, his heart pounding with a mixture of concern and guilt. Your eyes flickered with surprise as you realized his presence, and a wave of emotions washed over you – relief that he was safe, worry for your own condition, and a hint of apprehension about what the aftermath of the accident might entail.

Jeonghan squatted in front of you, his hands tenderly cupping your cheeks as he examined your body for any signs of harm. "Are you okay?" His voice was filled with genuine concern, his eyes searching yours for reassurance.

You nodded slowly, grateful for his comforting presence amidst the chaos. With a gentle sigh of relief, Jeonghan pulled you into a warm embrace, enveloping you in his protective arms. "You're okay, I'm here," he murmured softly, his words a soothing balm to your rattled nerves.

Jeonghan instructed his driver to take control of your car while Jihoon, Mingyu, you and he made their way back home. Mingyu observed both Jeonghan and you through the rearview mirror, noticing how you slept peacefully in Jeonghan's arms while he appeared to drift off as well, exhaustion evident on his features.

Curious, Mingyu leaned forward and whispered to Jihoon, "Have you ever seen my uncle like this before?"

Jihoon shook his head, his eyes focused on the road ahead. "Nope, never. This is the first time he's taken a day off, skipped a meeting, and... he looks happy."

Mingyu nodded thoughtfully, a small smile playing on his lips. "My uncle indeed seems happier these days," he mused, feeling a sense of contentment knowing that Jeonghan was finding joy amidst the chaos of everyday life.

*

Jeonghan had already notified the school about yesterday's accident, ensuring both you and Mingyu were excused from attending today. Meanwhile, he hurriedly sent a text to Jihoon, rearranging his schedule for the day. Taking a day off to care for you was his priority, especially after the harrowing events of the previous day.

As he woke up with you nestled in his arms, a rare occurrence since your marriage four months ago, Jeonghan couldn't help but feel a rush of tenderness. Your serene sleeping face, untouched by the usual stress of waking hours, was a sight he cherished. It was a stark contrast to the survival mode you often found yourselves in when awake.

When your eyes fluttered open and you muttered about your shoulder hurting, Jeonghan's concern immediately surged. He leaned closer to hear you better, his heart clenching at the thought of you being injured. After confirming which shoulder was hurting, he gently examined it, silently hoping it wasn't serious. Your mention of turning the steering wheel too much during the accident only heightened his worry, but he masked it with a reassuring smile.

"You did a great job," he murmured softly, his hand brushing against yours. "Let's have breakfast and then we'll head to the hospital to get it checked."

With a nod of agreement, you both prepared for the day ahead, though the weight of yesterday's events still lingered in the air. As you sat down for breakfast, a mix of relief and apprehension filled the room, knowing that a trip to the hospital awaited.

In the dining room, the morning light cast a warm glow as you and Jeonghan joined Mingyu for breakfast. Jeonghan couldn't help but notice the genuine smile that graced your lips as you patted Mingyu's head, a silent exchange of affection between aunt and nephew. Mingyu leaned into you, a gesture that tugged at Jeonghan's heartstrings. He couldn't shake the worry that Mingyu would be devastated if he ever discovered the truth about your marriage being contractual. But for now, he pushed those thoughts aside, determined to savor the present moment and the happiness it brought.

"We're going to the hospital after this," Jeonghan mentioned to Mingyu, his voice carrying a hint of concern. Mingyu's immediate worry for you only reinforced Jeonghan's resolve to protect both of you from any further harm.

As you explained about your injured shoulder, Mingyu's apology weighed heavily in the air, but you quickly brushed it aside with a reassuring smile, urging him to focus on his practice. Jeonghan couldn't help but admire your resilience, your ability to put others' worries at ease even when facing your own discomfort.

Throughout breakfast, Jeonghan's mind raced with thoughts of the accident and its aftermath. He couldn't shake the memories of past tragedies involving car accidents, each one leaving a lasting scar on his heart. But amidst the turmoil, he found solace in being able to care for you, to ensure your well-being above all else.

After breakfast, you and Jeonghan made your way to the hospital. Entering the waiting room, the atmosphere shifted as Jeonghan engaged in small talk while waiting for your turn. Suddenly, someone called his name, and Jeonghan's demeanor shifted as he rose to greet Mr. and Mrs. Yang. Introducing you as his wife.

"Are you guys here for pre-natal care?" Jeonghan's words hung in the air as Mrs. Yang's assumption about prenatal care caught both of you off guard.

Jeonghan's swift denial masked a deeper discomfort, and as Mr. Yang commented on modern attitudes towards starting a family, Jeonghan's whispered reassurance hinted at a sensitivity he rarely showed.

"Why?"

Your questioning gaze only added to his unease, and his attempt to deflect the topic left you wondering about his sudden change in demeanor.

"It's just sensitive topic. Pregnancy.. For women, at least."

As you sat in the waiting room, waiting for your turn to be seen, the tension between you and Jeonghan lingered, unspoken words hanging in the air. Despite the uncertainty, you couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for his unwavering support, even in moments of vulnerability. And as you searched for answers in his troubled gaze, you couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to his reaction than met the eye

*

"Where's my health results?" You approached Jeonghan, interrupting him as he busily signed some papers in the living room. His hand froze mid-signature at the mention of the envelope he had left at Seungcheol's office.

"I read it. You don't need it," Jeonghan replied casually, his attention divided between you and the papers.

You couldn't help but scoff at his dismissive tone. "That'll be for me to decide," you retorted firmly.

Jeonghan's expression softened as he realized the gravity of the situation. "I accidentally threw it in the bin, sorry," he admitted, a hint of regret in his voice.

"You're kidding me. I need it, Jeonghan," you demanded, frustration lacing your words.

Jeonghan let out a small scoff, not entirely convinced. "Don't lie to me, darling. You said you did the check-up for Mingyu."

You shook your head, feeling the weight of urgency pressing down on you. "No, I'm serious. I have to submit a health check-up result for my teaching certification."

A warm smile spread across Jeonghan's face as he realized the seriousness of your predicament. "Then you could redo the check-up," he suggested, his tone gentle and reassuring, offering a solution to ease your worries.

You rolled your eyes and plopped down beside him, refusing to let this go. "You're not stupid enough to accidentally throw it. Give it to me, or I'll just keep bothering you while you work!"

Your childish antics earned a soft chuckle from Jeonghan. Little did you know, your playful behavior stirred a flutter of butterflies inside his stomach. However, beneath the laughter, a pang of guilt gnawed at him. He couldn't bear the thought of revealing that he knew your secret, nor could he admit to confronting Seungcheol about it.

"Give it to me, quickly!" you urged, your impatience palpable.

Jeonghan sighed, feeling the weight of his deception pressing down on him. "It's not with me," he mumbled, avoiding your gaze.

Your brow furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean? If it's not with you, then where is it?"

Jeonghan pushed aside the pile of papers in front of him and turned to face you fully. "Don't you want to tell me something?" he asked, his tone serious, catching you off guard.

You were taken aback by the sudden change in Jeonghan's demeanor. "I don't get it," you admitted, unsure of his intentions with the question.

Jeonghan sighed heavily, steeling himself for the difficult conversation ahead. "I read your results and... I found out that... You... You had a miscarriage," he finally admitted, his voice laced with uncertainty, afraid that his words might inadvertently hurt you.

You blinked, processing his revelation. "It's written there?" you asked softly, your tone barely above a whisper.

Jeonghan nodded, his gaze fixed on your face, searching for any signs of how you were feeling. He noticed the glint in your eyes, the subtle shift in your expression as memories resurfaced.

His hands instinctively moved to your side, a silent gesture of support. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice filled with genuine concern.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your emotions, and nodded slowly, your eyes closed. Your hands moved to your face, wiping away the tears that had begun to flow. Despite your efforts, a chuckle escaped you, tinged with embarrassment at your own vulnerability.

"It's been two years already, but I'm still a coward when it comes to having a conversation about this like an adult," you confessed, offering a glimpse into the depth of your emotions and the difficulty of facing such a painful experience.

Jeonghan tilted his head, his expression softening with understanding. "No, it's okay. Everyone has something they don't want to talk about. I'm sorry for asking you," he reassured you, his voice gentle and comforting. But you shook your head, a need to share weighing heavily on your heart.

"When I met you at that bar for the first time, it was the date when I had my miscarriage," you revealed, your voice trembling with emotion.

"I was having a fancy dinner for myself, and I bumped into Seungcheol's parents. They looked so happy talking about their son's success when they were the reason I lost the baby."

Jeonghan's brows furrowed in confusion and concern. "What do you mean?" he asked softly, urging you to continue.

"When they came to me with money for my father's surgery, I told them that I was pregnant with Seungcheol's child. They were so mad, especially his mother. She... she pushed me so hard that I—" You choked on your words, overcome with emotion, the pain of that fateful day still raw and agonizing.

Jeonghan's heart filled with anger, but his touch remained gentle and soft as he pulled you into his embrace, allowing you to release your pent-up sobs.

He gently lifted your face to look at him, his own heart aching at the sight of your tears and swollen eyes. Tenderly, he cupped your cheeks and wiped away the tears, offering you solace in his comforting embrace.

"I'm so sorry that you've been through this," Jeonghan whispered, his voice filled with empathy and sorrow. He took a deep breath before continuing, his words chosen carefully. "I'm so proud of your progression, facing Seungcheol and being brave in front of him. That's great, Y/n... However, this pain," he said, gesturing to your distressed state, "you couldn't keep it to yourself."

His words resonated deeply with you, and tears welled up in your eyes once again as you felt the weight of his understanding and support.

"I'm here if you need me. Regardless of whether this marriage is contractual or not, we're still husband and wife," Jeonghan declared, his voice unwavering with determination.

"Jeonghan..." you began, feeling overwhelmed by his kindness and reassurance.

Without another word, Jeonghan closed the distance between you, his lips brushing against yours with a gentle tenderness that sent shivers down your spine. In that fleeting moment, his touch spoke volumes, conveying a depth of emotion that words could never capture. It was a gesture of love, comfort, and unwavering support, wrapping around you like a warm embrace.

As his lips met yours, you felt a rush of emotions flood over you, mingling with the taste of his presence. The kiss was a balm to your soul, soothing the ache of your heartache and offering a glimpse of solace in the midst of turmoil. In that instant, you realized that you weren't alone in your pain anymore. Jeonghan was there, standing steadfast beside you, ready to shoulder the weight of your burdens together.

The kiss lingered, drawing out the moment of intimacy as you melted into each other's embrace. His touch was both gentle and firm, a silent reassurance that you were safe in his arms. With each caress, it was as if a weight had been lifted from your shoulders, replaced by a sense of comfort and belonging that you had long yearned for.

In the quiet intimacy of that embrace, the walls around your heart began to crumble, allowing Jeonghan's love to seep in and mend the wounds that had long been festering. It was a healing touch, stitching together the broken pieces of your soul and offering a glimpse of hope amidst the darkness.

When the kiss finally broke, you found yourself lost in the depths of Jeonghan's gaze, seeing a reflection of your own emotions mirrored back at you.

"Why do you always make me worry?" Jeonghan whispered, his voice tinged with a mixture of frustration and affection. "Why can't I stop thinking about you, Y/n? I feel like I'm going crazy."

You gazed into his eyes, seeing the depth of his emotions reflected back at you. There was a vulnerability in his words, a raw honesty that stirred something deep within you.

"I'm so crazy!" he muttered, almost to himself, as if grappling with his own feelings.

Before you could respond, Jeonghan closed the distance between you once again, his lips seeking yours with a fervent intensity. His hand found the back of your neck, holding you close as he deepened the kiss, as if desperate for the connection to never break. Meanwhile, his other hand wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer until your bodies were pressed tightly against each other.

As he laid you down on the couch, you couldn't help but lose yourself in the whirlwind of sensations that engulfed you. His lips trailed down your neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake, while his hands gripped your waist possessively.

"If this is what love feels like, then I love you, Ji Y/n," he confessed between kisses, his voice husky with desire.

A moan escaped your lips as his touch sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body. You could feel the intensity of his emotions, the depth of his passion, and it only served to fuel your own desires.

"I'm so crazy because of you," he murmured against your skin, his words a whispered declaration of his love and devotion.

In that moment, as you surrendered yourself to the intoxicating whirlwind of emotion and desire, you knew that you were exactly where you were meant to be – wrapped in Jeonghan's arms, consumed by the flames of passion and love.

*

As the first light of dawn filtered through the curtains, Jeonghan stirred from his sleep, his mind still heavy with the weight of the previous night's emotions. Groggily, he reached out beside him, expecting to feel the warmth of your presence, but his hand met only empty sheets.

Panic seized him as he shot up in bed, his heart racing with anxiety. Frantically, he scanned the room, searching for any sign of you, but the bed was empty, and you were nowhere to be found.

With a sense of urgency, Jeonghan threw back the covers and rushed out of the bedroom, his footsteps echoing through the silent house. He called out your name, his voice tinged with desperation, but there was no response.

His anxiety mounting with each passing second, Jeonghan raced through the house, checking every room in a frantic search for you. And then, just as his panic threatened to consume him, he heard the faint sound of voices coming from the dining room.

With a sense of relief flooding through him, Jeonghan hurried towards the source of the noise, his heart pounding in his chest. And there, in the soft glow of morning light, he found you and Mingyu sitting at the dining table, sharing a quiet breakfast together.

A wave of relief washed over him as he took in the sight of you, safe and sound, your laughter filling the room like music to his ears. Without a word, he rushed forward, pulling you into his arms in a tight embrace, holding you close as if afraid to let you go.

"Stop it!" Mingyu whined. "I told you to stop doing that in front of me."

Jeonghan threw a glance to Mingyu before his focus shifted to you, "i'll drive you work. Mingyu, you're going with driver today." His words were final before he went back to get himself prepare for work.

As you and Jeonghan finished breakfast, he suggested driving you to work, wanting to spend a little more time together before parting ways for the day. You agreed, appreciating the chance to have a few extra moments with him.

As Jeonghan maneuvered the car through the morning traffic, a comfortable silence settled between you. However, he couldn't shake the nagging feeling in the back of his mind about what had transpired between you the night before. He had made love to you, and although he believed in the connection you shared, he wanted to hear it from you directly.

Taking a deep breath, Jeonghan finally mustered up the courage to broach the subject. "Y/n, about last night..." he began, his voice hesitant yet determined. "I know what happened between us, and I believe in the connection we share. But I want to hear it from you. How do you feel about me?"

His words hung in the air, filling the car with an undeniable tension as he waited for your response. He stole a quick glance at you, his heart pounding in his chest as he awaited your answer, hoping beyond hope that it would be what he longed to hear.

You felt a wave of confusion wash over you at Jeonghan's question. Your marriage to him was contractual, a mutually beneficial arrangement that had brought you together out of convenience rather than love. You couldn't deny the undeniable attraction you felt for him, but you also feared getting hurt by allowing yourself to fully invest in something that might not be real.

Taking a moment to collect your thoughts, you turned to face Jeonghan, meeting his gaze with a mixture of uncertainty and vulnerability. "Jeonghan, our marriage may be contractual, but I never regret anything that has happened between us," you admitted softly, your voice tinged with sincerity.

"You've shown me kindness, understanding, and love, and for that, I'm grateful. But I'm also afraid," you confessed, laying bare your insecurities and fears. "I don't want to get hurt, Jeonghan. I don't want to allow myself to believe in something that might not be real."

Jeonghan listened intently to your words, his heart aching at the vulnerability in your voice. He reached out to gently take your hand in his, his touch warm and reassuring. "I understand your fears, Y/n," he said softly, his voice filled with empathy. "But I want you to know that what we have is real. Our connection, our bond, it's not just a contract to me. It's something deeper, something meaningful."

He squeezed your hand gently, his eyes searching yours with unwavering sincerity. "I care about you, Y/n. More than I ever thought possible. And I'm willing to do whatever it takes to prove to you that our love is worth fighting for."

His words struck a chord deep within you, stirring emotions you had long kept buried. As you looked into his eyes, you saw the sincerity and love reflected back at you, and in that moment, you knew that despite your fears, you couldn't deny the depth of your feelings for him.

As you arrived at school and began your day of teaching, your thoughts were divided between your duties in the classroom and Jeonghan. Despite your best efforts to focus on your students and the lesson plans at hand, his presence lingered in the back of your mind, tugging at your thoughts whenever you had a spare moment.

Throughout the day, you found yourself reflecting on the journey of your marriage with Jeonghan. What had started as a union born out of revenge and individual advantages had evolved into something much deeper – a bond forged through affection and mercy for both of you.

You couldn't deny the growing feelings you harbored for him, feelings that had developed despite your initial reservations. You found yourself liking everything he did for you, from the small gestures of kindness to the moments of shared laughter and intimacy.

As you mulled over your emotions, a realization began to dawn on you. Could this be what love feels like? If it was, then you couldn't deny it any longer – you had fallen for Jeonghan as well.

The thought both excited and terrified you, but deep down, you knew that you were ready to embrace whatever the future held for you and Jeonghan. As the day drew to a close and you prepared to head home, a sense of anticipation filled you, eager to see where this newfound realization would lead you both.

As you made your way home, lost in your thoughts about Jeonghan and the newfound complexity of your relationship, a text message suddenly chimed on your phone. With a curious frown, you unlocked your device and opened the message from Jeonghan.

Your heart skipped a beat as you saw the photo he had sent you – a picture of torn papers scattered across his desk, accompanied by a caption that simply read, "I tear our contract. Hehe."

A rush of emotions flooded through you as you stared at the image, a mixture of surprise, excitement, and uncertainty swirling in your mind. Jeonghan's action spoke volumes, signaling a decisive step forward in your relationship and a willingness to break free from the confines of the contractual arrangement that had bound you together.

As you contemplated his message, a small smile tugged at the corners of your lips. Despite the lingering doubts and fears, you couldn't deny the flutter of excitement that blossomed in your chest at the prospect of what this meant for the two of you.

With a newfound sense of determination, you quickly typed out a response to Jeonghan, your fingers trembling slightly with anticipation. "I'm on my way home. Let's talk," you wrote, your heart racing with anticipation as you hit send.

As you continued your journey home, the weight of the torn contract and the possibilities it represented hung heavy in the air, filling you with a sense of hope and excitement for the future that lay ahead.

The end.

[lizardaggro]

on the flip side (twst bully!au) pt 3

here we are, the long-awaited (it was literally like 1 day) part 3!! i wanted to declare on one of the actual chapters since those get seen by the most people that I DID NOT MAKE THIS AU, credit i believe goes to @azulsluver. i swear i don't hate you guys, leaving everything on a cliffhanger, but the good news is i have a lot of time on my hands due to chronic illness so i can update super often. also i gave up on the purple theme on posts bc tumblr hates me and always leaves the end of the word count black.

part 1 part 2

genre: gn reader, angst trigger warnings: bullying, mild yandere (will be escalating throughout the series, but no non-con) word count: 1246

You couldn’t really afford to space out and think about it though, not when he was right in front of you. Riddle tapped his foot impatiently, clearly irate at your lack of response. “Well?” He asked. “Do you not even have anything to say in your defense?”

Oh dear. However were you supposed to get rid of him when he was so intent on getting some sort of answer out of you? You had no idea what he wanted! He was more difficult to threaten, too, since you’d made up your mind that you didn’t want to be like your tormentors and completely ruin others’ lives. No, your end goal was just to make them leave you alone. After everything you’d been through, you really didn’t want to see them again.

It might seem strange to some people, that you weren’t dead set on destroying any semblance of normalcy they once had. You had all the ammunition you needed, of course. The Overblot victims would be the easiest to topple, considering what they’d done in and leading up to that state. But you didn’t think you were a particularly vengeful person; at least, you didn’t want to be. Crowley had always said that you must’ve been sent here to get his precious students to work together, so clearly you weren’t like them.

“I never asked for this, Riddle. Any of this. So if you think somewhere in your fucked-up mentality that you’re doing me some sort of favor, you’re dead wrong,” you intoned. Indeed, even though you just wanted them gone, you missed the days when you were all friends. Back when you thought everyone had your back no matter what. Oh, if only you knew what they’d do for you. It wouldn’t be hard at all to push some of the more unstable students over the edge. Those who felt they didn’t have anyone else. Much like a certain dragon fae who never did seem to get invited to things.

Riddle looked like he was about to say something, but before he could, he was drenched by a great torrential rain. Where did that come from? Didn’t the forecast say it was supposed to be clear skies and sunny for the rest of the week? Your question was soon answered, as you had two more visitors.

“Silver? Sebek? What brings you here?” You inquired, not at all amused. When those two showed up at the same time, it could only mean one thing, and it wasn’t good. Riddle looked like he had caught on as well, since he stepped in front of you, as if that would do any good.

“LORD MALLEUS REQUESTS YOUR PRESENCE!!” Sebek boomed. You’d made progress on his volume in the past, so you were sure he did it just to annoy you. Silver just stared. He always stared, you felt like. Sometimes you swore you could feel his eyes on you even when he was nowhere to be found.

“Oh, gee, I wonder what that’s about,” you snarked. “Poor little princey-poo doesn’t want his embarrassing little secrets getting out? Well you can tell him to fuck off.” You must’ve been feeling especially brave, since normally you knew that defying Malleus Draconia was as good as a death sentence. He wasn’t even that bad, compared to some of the others. He just… locked you in his room and made you listen to him talk, with no room to get a word in edgewise. He’d go on and on about one thing or another for HOURS, with no regard for your schedule or your bodily needs. Clearly fae had a different sense of time than most.

It was the loss of control over your own life that you hated; that, and that if he really still considered you a friend, he never bothered to do anything about your bullies. You knew he was more than capable; you’d witnessed his strength firsthand on multiple occasions. You didn’t know what his endgame was, and frankly you were too scared to find out. He could trap you there forever and you wouldn’t be able to do a single thing about it.

Sebek was not amused. He raised an arm, likely to strike you, but Silver placed a hand on it, effectively stopping him. “Don’t. You wouldn’t want Lord Malleus to see a bruise on them,” he reasoned. You didn’t get it. Since when would he care? Sebek roughly shoved Riddle out of the way, despite all his objections, and nonchalantly slung you over his shoulder.

“What the hell?!” You screeched, pounding your fists on his back. “Put me down! I’m not going!” You weren’t sure why you were objecting so vehemently; this time wasn’t any different than the others. But something about the dark gray clouds pouring rain on what should’ve been a lovely day just told you that this was not going to be good.

But alas, your plight was ignored. The three of you made your way to Diasomnia in silence. No one bothered to stop and stare in the halls, as you being carried off by people was somewhat of a normal occurrence. You could swear Savannahclaw and Diasomnia even had some sort of twisted capture-the-flag game going, for whatever reason.

When you entered the gothic-style castle, you were greeted by none other than Lilia. Much like Malleus, he’d never bothered you too terribly, only engaging in less-than-welcome pranks. You knew he was far older than he let on, so you supposed he didn’t see the point in such childish endeavors. There was, however, one thing you feared about the man: his cooking, which he tried to shove down your throat at every opportunity. How Silver grew up healthy you’d never know.

And so, of course, you were greeted by a plate of… well, goop, to put it nicely. “Here, have a seat, dear, I made lasagna,” Lilia offered with what you assumed was supposed to be a warm smile. To you in that moment, with the fumes starting to reach your nose, it looked like a shit-eating grin.

“I’ll pass, thanks. That is to say, I’d rather die than eat that shit, because it looks and smells like it’ll send me straight to hell,” you deadpanned. Sebek let out an unholy screech and started ranting about how dare you refuse Lord Lilia, even though you knew he wouldn’t want to eat it either. You did your best to tune him out. Silver looked relieved, surprisingly enough. You supposed he was able to empathize since he grew up eating the stuff.

Luckily for you, Lilia just sighed and walked off, taking his culinary abomination with him. The three of you who remained shared a look. “How are you still alive after all these years?” You asked Silver. He shrugged. If even he didn’t know, you’d just call it a miracle.

“SILVER, QUIT FRATERNIZING WITH THE ENEMY! LORD MALLEUS IS WAITING!” Sebek practically screamed in your ear. You really wished he would stop doing that. But you had more important things to worry about, like your impending death by dragon fae. Once you arrived at Malleus’s room, Sebek set you down and pushed you inside. You heard the lock click behind you. You gulped, feeling the pressure of being alone in a room with a presumably angry and very powerful mage. You looked up to see a pair of emerald eyes staring you down. Oh boy, this was not going to be fun.

taglist: @twistedcece @slxt4h1m @teawhere @pleasehugmeaether @reivelmin @aoiyx

[orbital-inclination]

Moltendreams - Error Sans Alias - Static Pronouns: he/him, they/them Personality: Petty, holds a mean grudge, Big Tsundere, Complete Shut-in, Quick Tempered and Moody, fanatic with his interests, externally aggressive when in actuality he is quite shy. An absolute troll. His favorite passtime is messing with others. Paradoxically touch starved and suffers from haphephobia. Reckless with his own well being.

This variant of Error is capable of both love and compassion, he just hides it under a grumpy exterior and several layers of denial and self-destructive dogma. Other Notes:

Reluctant to harm Papyrus directly, though Static can't articulate why, and will generally avoid encounters Papyrus in any given AU.

Had a good relationship with his dad/W.D Gaster, actually.

Relates to "pest" pets; rats, mice, snakes, spiders, beetles, he loves them all.

Would have a pet rat of his own if he wasn't afraid of it shocking itself by chewing on his wires.

His favorite kind of chocolate is mixed with a hazelnut filling.

Views Frisk as a younger sibling.

Into Parkour.

-More Info undercut! -

Abilities: Static uses wire instead of string. Wire and summoned attacks can and do hold an electric charge. His presence alone messes with electronic devices. Residents of a particular AU may get a few minutes or seconds of warning as sweaters get staticy, computer screens glitch out, and anything with a battery spontaneously dies or gets super charged. By creating a circle of alternating RED and CYAN bones, Static creates a sort of reverse faraday cage. While Static can produce electricity, he can't directly control the voltage. He can only hope to direct it. The voltage of a charge is directly influenced by his emotional state. If you touch him, you will find his clothes zappy with static. Do NOT attempt to fight him in humid or watery environments for, hopefully, obvious reasons.

About: Static originates from a pre-Pacifist timeline that was followed by a looping Genocide Route. Through repetitive iterations, and an escalating instability in the timeline, the monsters of the underground began to recall events they didn't witness and memories they shouldn't recall.

Working together, Static, at that point still Sans, and Alphys were able to pin point the root cause of their timeline's instability. They made a plan to save the underground and separate Frisk from the Anomaly but when it came time to execute their plan something went catastrophically wrong. As a result Sans was torn from reality, and caught in the space in-between. Eventually, he escaped but not unscathed. Static has vague conflicting memories of his past, and to this day, questions if any of it was real. He can't find his original AU and secretly fears it may have been the first world he destroyed. He is still looking for it.

Outcode Politics: Static views all outcodes the same way he views every iteration of the original timeline that even slightly deviates: as glitches to be terminated. Bugs in the code he needs to hammer out before it all goes to hell. Static believes that by destroying deviating timelines and AUs, he is preserving the stability of the original. He is “saving’’ it from corruption by trimming the branches back. Despite his position as the self proclaimed Destroyer, Static is not above biases and making exceptions. 

Static includes himself on his long list of glitches in the code to be terminated. Static has a different view on the Spirits of Creation that Fable/Ink does. (Spirits of Creation are the in-universe term and stand-in for the creator of an AU). He calls them eldritch parasites. Abominations that should be avoided at all costs. And absolutely should not be encouraged or interacted with. Though he won't admit it out loud, Static is terrified of them. OG Error @.LoverofPiggies/CrayonQueen) Moltendreams @.me Edit: he has been named! Edit 2: revised his profile a bit