#Led Security Flood Lights

[buildmyplaceweb]

Illuminate Your Outdoors with High-Performance LED Flood Lights

Discover the ultimate solution for bright, energy-efficient outdoor lighting with our premium LED flood lights. Designed to deliver powerful illumination, these lights enhance security and visibility in any outdoor space. Whether for home exteriors, gardens, driveways, or commercial properties, our LED flood lights offer superior brightness, durability, and energy savings. Upgrade to LED flood lights today and experience unmatched performance and reliability.

[joonsytip]

Beyond the Transcripts || Wonwoo - Part 1

Pairings: Ceo!Wonwoo x Legal Head!Fem!Reader

Genre: Angst, Smut, Fluff, exes to co-parents to lovers au, second chances au.

Synopsis: Jeon Wonwoo, the calmest and untainted CEO to ever exist, gets his world shaken up when he finds you as the legal department head at his own company and your only registered family is a little guy who resembles him a bit too much.

Alternatively, you are smooth in onboarding Wonwoo into your son's life but problems arise when he tries to slide back into yours.

Warnings: Themes of co parenting, mentions of past difficult pregnancy, misogynistic slurs being used at workplace, wonwoo suffers from hyperventilation once, reader suffers from gastroenteritis, reader questions herself a lot, secret identity, workplace jargons.

Word Count: 11k

This fic is a part of THAT'S SHOWBIZ, BABY! Collab which also marks my first time participating in an event. Please support all the fics in the Collab!

Thanks again to @lovetaroandtaemin , Ally for coming up with this beautiful banner!

[ SVT Masterlist ] [ SVT Flick - Fic Masterlist]

“What are you doing here alone, little guy?”

Wonwoo wasn't supposed to visit the headquarters today but a sudden rescheduling of an important meeting had him rushing in.

With the meeting ending sooner than expected, he decides to spend some time in the gaming zone, in hopes of not to be seen by any of the employees.

And to his surprise, it isn't an employee he bumps into, it is a little boy wearing specs bigger than the size of his face.

And he reminds Wonwoo so much of himself.

Wonwoo crouches down to his level and asks, “Are you lost? Who did you come here with?”

The boy looks at him wide eyed.

“I'll contact the security team.”, his secretary, Mr. Jung informs promptly.

Wonwoo smiles as he ruffles the boy’s hair. It's astonishing, the way he feels extremely inclined towards the tiny human.

“What's your name?”

Seeing the reluctance, he decides to approach the boy with something that might pique his interest.

“Do you like playing games?”

And that works, the boy nods politely as his eyes light up and Wonwoo fights off all his urges to squish his cheeks.

“Let's play until that uncle”, he points towards Mr. Jung, “finds your family or relatives to get you.”

It was supposed to be a normal busy day at the company. The edifice echoes constant clicking of shoes, hushed murmurs and flipping of pages.

It is all good so far until a phrase starts spreading floor by floor, gets passed up in the canteen, being told in the cubicles.

‘Did you see a kid roaming in the building? He looks like a little carbon copy of our CEO, Mr. Jeon.’

Your heart thumps as you overhear your colleagues from behind the closed bathroom door. It can't be, you say to yourself. You pull up your phone to read the clauses stated in the company portal under the tab ‘Policies’. You are not allowed to bring your family to the premises unless there's an occasion or you're explicitly required and instructed to do so, states the rules.

Relief floods your senses, there's no way your son would be brought and led inside the building on a regular workday, that too without your knowledge or consent.

The day goes on as you submerge yourself in preparing a lawsuit against an accuser for trying to damage the reputation of the company and sabotaging the career of an artist under it by staging false allegations.

It's lunchtime and you're still reviewing the drafts when there's a knock on the cabin door. Your gaze doesn't even lift from the screen when Mr. Joo enters. You suppress your urge to roll your eyes, preparing yourself to be bombed with another set of misogynistic slurs being inserted after each line the old man says.

You've been recruited as the head of the legal department for unarguably the best in the entertainment and music industry, The Carat Company, eight months ago. And Mr. Joo who was so sure about getting promoted as the head, the position he eyed for (more than worked for) couldn't quite accept an outsider that too a woman who's much younger than him to snatch something from him which was never his to begin with.

You wonder how long until your tolerance runs dry and the man in front gets slammed by a lawsuit which wouldn't only end up with him losing his job.

After a draining ten minutes conversation with Mr. Joo, you head towards the canteen. You find your group at the table, as always saving you a seat.

“My son has a fancy dress competition at his school today. He went dressed up as Harry Potter.”, Sunjae from the IT department recites, taking out his phone and showing the pictures his wife has sent him. Everyone at the table coos at the cuteness.

The chattering continues with you all catching up on work, workplace gossip and family tales.

“My daughter hasn't been feeling well, I'll be clocking out early today.”, Sooji from the marketing department says, concern evident in her voice. You all nod in unison, even urging her to leave post lunch.

A sad smile splits onto your lips. You too want to show how cute Wonjae looked when you dressed him up for the picnic you both went to last week. Everyone knows that you're a single mother and that you've a son. That he's an intelligent kid, that he's the bundle of joy that shines in your life. But that's all they get to know because you want to keep it lowkey.

How could you show him to them when he looks exactly like his father? That he's more like Wonwoo than Wonwoo himself. Same Wonwoo, who's also the CEO of the company you are working at. Records would give away that you both attended the same university, practically batchmates, shared lectures. You're afraid of any digital footprints either of you could have left behind. You can't afford to shake up any rumours.

Prior to applying for this job, you had taken time, there were months of mental preparation before you sent across the application. You had no choice but to succumb to this economy and walk into the lion’s den.

Now everyday before leaving the house, you pray not to cross paths with Wonwoo. You wonder if he'd even recognise you, you don't want him to but there's an ache in your heart at the thought of it.

“I saw a kid roaming in our block. You won't believe at a glance I thought he's the son of Mr. Jeon.”, Sunjae recollects.

“Mr. Jeon isn't even married.”, Yoongi, from finance deadpans, “Though you don't need to be married to make a–”

Collective shushes make him shut up.

It piques your interest, you wonder who it could be until your phone buzzes with a call from Jihoon, the HR Manager.

And you're panting, down on your knees as you see your son, Wonjae standing in front of you.

“How did you get here?”, you ask the little boy, who stares at you with glossy eyes and jutted lips.

“Are you angry at me, mama?”, he asks with a quiver in his voice and your heart sinks.

You give him soft kisses on his forehead, patting his arms gently, “Jae, I'm not angry, I just want to know what happened.”

“I brought him here, Y/N.”, Jeonghan steps up and says with his head hung low, “I'm sorry.”

You sigh and get up rubbing your temples.

“Jae said he wanted to see the place where you work. I thought I could give him a quick tour, as getting permission won't be a problem.”, Jeonghan continues, “I brought him here only after confirming that Wonwoo won't come to office today.”

“And you didn't think of informing me?”, you ask using your strict voice, causing Jeonghan to cower a bit, “How did he end up roaming alone around the entire office?”

“I got a call when I was walking him through the gaming zone and it went on for a while. When I hung up, he was gone. After searching for a bit, I had to run by the security division and found him through the CCTVs.”, Jeonghan grimaces, “I'm really sorry, Y/N.”

Jeonghan and you, go way back. He's a prominent and popular artist under the company but you were friends, well to be precise he was Wonwoo's friend and you knew Jeonghan through him during the university days. Then circumstances caused you to cut ties with him. It was two weeks ago when Jeonghan (another person you wanted to avoid) found you while taking the same elevator.

And he didn't let you slip away. You hated how persuasive he was because he made you spill your life out which you don't do with others. It enraged you that he didn't even have to be perceptive to know who Wonjae’s father was.

“The entire office is talking about him, Jeonghan.”, you whine out in defeat.

“And that's not the worst part, Y/N.”, Jihoon who was watching the scene, the one who called you, the only one in the office who without any prior connection to you knows about your situation, articulates, “I found Wonjae inside the CEO’s office. He was playing Jenga with Mr. Jeon. I took him by saying he's the son of one of the new crew members.”

The ground beneath you slips. Everyone watches you holding their breaths. Your mind runs miles, producing hundreds and thousands of thoughts. And this moment of truth makes you question everything.

Were you too numbed by the pain of your miseries that you neglected your son's wants? What if he wants his father in his life? What if he hates you for not letting him be with his father? What if–

A little pair of hands grabbing yours, breaks your reverie.

“Mama, I'm sorry.”, Wonjae cries, waddling a bit towards you, hugging your legs.

You collapse on the floor, embracing your son tighter, letting your own tears fall. You rarely cry, tears are a luxury, you think. But today, maybe the tears are falling because you can't bottle up anymore.

You pull away, wiping his tears, “Shhh. Don't cry, I'm not upset.”

The trembles subsides and Wonjae hugs you again, face planted against your chest. It's a habit, he hides his face and complains, “Papa bumped into me, I almost fell.”

You listen quietly, caressing his back.

“Then he took me to his office.”, you see him swaying his right hand in the air, “I told him my name and age but I didn't tell him about you, mama.”

Wonjae takes a lot after his father, in his appearance, stances and habits. He is calm, patient and has better intelligence and emotional quotient compared to the kids of this age. He knows about his father, he understands that there must be a reason behind his parents not living together unlike his friends’.

And most importantly, he trusts you. He knows whatever you do, it will be for his good, so he's compliant and obedient.

“Mama, can we go home?”, he says yawning, “I want to sleep.”

You understand, you get it. Wonjae has seen his father countless times on the screens and the covers but today was the first time he met him. Knowing your little guy, you know that he has used all of his brain capacities today in spending time with his father. So you'd let him rest today.

The conversation you want to have with him, has to be shelved tonight. It's something you'd have to thread carefully with Wonjae.

And after dinner when your son falls asleep, you stay wide awake.

Maybe, you can't avoid Wonwoo all your life. And maybe, you shouldn't avoid Wonwoo anymore.

You wonder if certain strings of incidents are bound to happen. It was last week only when your son met his father and today, it seems you'd be meeting your past lover.

A sudden allegation about copyrights being charged against the company, an emergency board meeting and now a briefing about the legal action items to dissolve the matter.

And being the legal head, you'd be leading the meeting. You look at your reflection in the mirror, chanting the same words in your mind. You understand the gravity of the situation, the urgency it holds because within the months of your joining, this is the first time you'll be directly reporting to the CEO.

You think Wonwoo wouldn't recognise you. A mere fling, that's what you were to him after all. And even if he does, it would be best in his interest to ignore.

Wonwoo enters the meeting room and you find your gaze fixated upon him and it brings back all the memories.

You don't meet his eyes when his secretary introduces you both but you do feel the touch of his hand lingering longer on yours.

The meeting goes on and you're proud of yourself for not becoming a mess under his gaze. There are no questions from him, he just listens to what you offer and you take it as a good sign.

“I'll prepare the draft version of the clauses and send across to you, Mr. Jung.”, you say standing up from your seat while sizing the papers laying on the table, “It shouldn't be a major threat because I have found some discrepancies in their lawsuit, they most probably want to stir up some buzz about themselves and make some money out of it.”

Mr. Jung nods, “I'll be expecting the final draft today, we can discuss it further.”

You take it as a sign to take a leave. You walk out of the meeting room only to slide into the next empty one you found because your legs almost give up. You take deep breaths, drink water and assure yourself that it's not a big deal. You're sure that Wonwoo would want no business with–

The door opens and you freeze.

It's Wonwoo who's standing on the threshold.

“Y/N”, he calls out your name with so much vulnerability that it makes your heart twist with an ache.

“I never thought I'd find you again.”, he says almost breathlessly.

“Sorry, I know seeing me again caused a lot of disappointment.”, you blurt out even before thinking and sigh, “I did apply here knowing that it's your company but be assured I didn't come here because of you.”

You could see his face drop and he's about to open his mouth to speak again but you beat him, saying, “Mr. Jeon, if you'd excuse me, I have a meeting in five minutes.”

Wonwoo says nothing but just as you cross him to walk out of the room, he grabs your arm.

And he looks at you holding an unspoken plea in his eyes, while yours glare back at him. Your eyes hold the same intensity, Wonwoo thinks.

“I don't think what you're doing is appropriate, Mr. Jeon.”, you articulate, trying to free your arm from his firm grip, “Let me go.”

While you successfully yank out your arm, his next words leave your head spinning.

“I'll let you go now but we'll be seeing each other often from now on, Y/N.”

And he is true to his words.

The employees are confused, the legal department is in uproar. Why is the CEO visiting their department every other day?

“Y/N, is there something serious going on within your department?”, Yoongi asks oneday, during lunch, “I thought the copyright allegation lawsuit was resolved.”

You feel like banging your head on the very first surface you lay your eyes on. Wonwoo has been trying to talk to you and honestly if he wanted he could summon you anytime and you would have no other choice but to oblige. But you don't get what he's trying to establish by making trips throughout the office, especially the legal department.

“There are some ongoing issues which might escalate if not taken care of right now, so we're having rounds of discussion.”, you lie through your teeth, hoping for Yoongi to believe it.

Yoongi nods but he in fact does not believe it. Because you may not be aware, but he is, aware of the fact that you have a son, about whom when asked you always dodge the topic. He has seen Wonjae one night walking down the streets of the market with you. It wasn't something very peculiar until he found out that you have studied at the same university as Wonwoo, the graduation year matching as well. He didn't make his presence known, he just watched. He has a hunch that there's a past that you've been trying to bury so earnestly. That's why he doesn't pry.

Work is done for the day and you drive to your favourite spot, in hopes of getting a breather, a break from all the chaos.

“Sorry to interrupt your alone time.”, you hear a very familiar voice and smile instantly.

“You're not interrupting anything if we had decided to meet here, Chanie.”

Chan walks upto beside and leans against the railing, watching the city lights blaze underneath.

“How's everything going?”

“I don't know, but one thing for sure, this is something I don't want to do at all.”, he answers with a tinge of agony in his voice.

Lee Chan is the CEO of Sebong Corp., the company known to be a rival of The carat company. He is definitely someone who shouldn't have anything to do with you but you both go way long back. When he was still a student and you were just a law major who was working multiple part times while searching for a job.

You took pity on a student who always looked lost and saved him the food packets hiding from your boss only to give it to him when he made a routine tour to the store.

And that student almost cried out of gratitude whenever the pregnant worker sneaked him food late at night.

It goes on for a few months, until Chan reveals that he's actually a chaebol and in line to inherit the family business.

You were rendered speechless. But Chan was annoyingly sticky, he appeared whenever you worked begging for forgiveness until you gave in.

You wonder if you attract these kinda people.

Apart from Mina, he's the one who stayed by your side, always offering help if you ever needed and spoiling Wonjae whenever you would let him.

You are proud of how Chan is handling everything and still staying rooted to the ground.

“Next time, let me take you and Jae to a nice restaurant to eat.”, he suggests but frowns the next moment, “I doubt he'd even remember his one and only favourite uncle, it's been so long since we met.”

“True, why don't you come home over this weekend? I'll make you your favourite dishes.”

“Deal done.”, he beams and you turn to him and open your arms.

He instantly hugs you and you pat his back, “I'm so proud of you, Chanie. You're doing so well.”

He sighs, all the tension leaving his body, “Needed to hear this today, thanks.”

Not every bond has to be blood related, some go beyond everything.

“What's going on, Mr. Jeon?”, Mr. Jung asks as he notices Wonwoo spacing out again.

“You can drop the honorifics, Uncle.”, Wonwoo says in a lite tone. He slumps against the chair, his eyes fixating against the white wall of the ceiling, “It's her, Uncle. I had no idea she was working here.”

Mr. Jung’s expression solemns, “It explains your erratic behaviour. Did you get a chance to talk to her? Instead of going around the office, you could just summon her.”

“I have a lot to tell her, but where do I start?”, Wonwoo grimaces, “Wouldn't it be an abuse of authority to summon her for any personal agenda.”

Mr. Jung just nods.

“I have so much to say but at the same time I don't have any words that I could give out.”, He rubs his eyes, they're glistening, “Maybe, I just want to know how she has been because I am a selfish prick who needs to hear that the girl he dumped back then is unscathed so that he can be guilt ridden.”

He lets out a chuckle, “Honestly, I am just parading around the legal department because I get to see her, hear her voice and sometimes we even have a conversation because of work.”

“You say that you don't regret the choices you made. It certainly doesn't seem so.”

Wonwoo doesn't reply, he doesn't have an answer. He was doing just fine, living his life, doing his work diligently non stop for years. So what changes now?

It's late in the evening as the office empties out. There's a cramping pain in your stomach and you curse out when you discover that you've forgotten the medicines at home. You feel nauseous, there's a throbbing ache in your head and it intensifies everytime you look at the long chains of emails that sit inside the folders, all labelled with high importance and needing to be made some progress today.

You walk out of your cabin and enter the cafeteria to get some cookies as you call your son to inform him that you'll be going home late tonight. You tell him to do his homework and heat the food before eating. You also tell him to not wait for you and go to bed.

“Check the monitor first. Don't open the door to strangers.”, you remind him, “I love you, Bye.”

You hang up and get the fright of your life when you see Wonwoo standing beside you.

“Who was it?”, Wonwoo asks, his brows raised and arms crossed over his chest.

“W-What are you doing here?”, you ask panicked as you try to peep behind him, hoping no one sees the two of you.

“Let’s go to your cabin, I need to talk to you.”, he says and waits for your rejection because he knows there's no way you're willing to talk to him.

But you agree and now you're both inside your cabin, standing facing each other.

“What do you want?”, your voice comes out strained as you clutch your stomach, supporting yourself against the table.

“Are you okay?”, Wonwoo asks, concerned, “You're sweating and–”

“What did you want to talk about?”, you cut him off, “It’s surprising because I thought we're done for this lifetime. You made it pretty clear that time.”

Wonwoo winces at your verbal jab.

“And if it's something trivial, if you're trying to apologize or bring up our past then don't. I have moved past everything and I'm quite content in my life now, Mr. Jeon.”, you try to speak, emphasizing each word but they come out in ragged breaths.

The more Wonwoo observes you, the more he gets worried, he picks up the water bottle from the table and uncaps it to hand it to you, urging you to sit down.

There's a sharp sting in your stomach and you crouch down. When your vision fades you manage to utter, “M-Mr. Jeon, Amaris Hospital...”

And that's what Wonwoo hears before he watches your body go limp as you collapse on the floor.

Wonwoo watches your unconscious figure laying on the hospital bed as he stands outside the VVIP ward. His mind races miles after the conversation he had with the doctor.

He gets to know that you've been suffering from severe gastroenteritis which you've acquired post pregnancy. He is baffled, his mind can't comprehend and in the heat of the moment he makes an unethical request to have your medical records, the request which he takes back immediately, apologizing.

Mr. Jung rushes to the hospital with the information Wonwoo has asked him to get. 

“Y/N, has only one person registered as her family in the records.”, he informs, “It's her son. She has her friend as an emergency contact and I've called her. She should be here anytime.”

What comes as a greater shock to Wonwoo after sometime is seeing Jeonghan rushing towards the ward, holding hands with a little boy whom even though he has seen only ones but remembers vividly.

“How is Y/N, Wonu?”, Jeonghan asks as he pants.

Wonwoo is frozen, he's not present at the moment. There are gears running in his head, there's vigorous thumping in his heart.

“She's fine now. The doctor said she'd be discharged tomorrow. She'll wake up once the effects of sedation wears off.”, Mr. Jung answers.

“Thanks for admitting her. I'm Mina.”, your friend says.

Jeonghan picks up Wonjae in his arms, they both look at your sleeping form from outside the ward.

“Mama will be okay right uncle Jeonghan?”, Wonjae asks and Jeonghan and Mina assure him immediately.

“Wonjae… Jeon Wonjae….”

All heads turn as Wonwoo keeps on mumbling the name. Every dot connects. Wonjae carries his surname, he looks like him and he's seven years old. The last time he saw you, before he left you, was eight years ago.

He walks towards Wonjae as Jeonghan lets him down.

“He is mine, isn't he?”, Wonwoo asks Jeonghan before crouching down in front of him.

Jeonghan stays quiet, so does Mina when Wonwoo looks at her.

And when he finally locks his gaze on his son, he breaks down in tears. He sobs hugging him. 

Wonjae, seeing his father, cries as well.

“Don't cry, Papa.”, he says as his tiny hands try to wipe the tears from his father's face. And the more Wonwoo sees him, hears him call him as father, the more his sobs turn into wails.

Your body feels heavy, your head feels weighed. There are some whispers that reach your ears but you can't quite make sense out of it. Slowly opening your eyes, you see the white ceilings, the monitor beeping and then Wonwoo.

And by the demeanor, you guess that he has figured out something.

“Mr. Jeon...”

Wonwoo perks up at your voice and when your gazes meet, you see a fresh bout of tear pooling in his eyes.

And all he says is, “We have a son, Y/N. Wonjae is mine, he's ours…”

You inhale shakily. Out of all the possible ways you imagined that he'd react when he finds out about Wonjae, this isn't the one you thought of. Why does the CEO of the most successful entertainment company seem in distraught? Definitely, he's unpredictable and you're scared of what's to come next.

You crane your neck to look at Wonwoo, “Mr. Jeon, I'd like to discuss some things with you, could you please make some time out of your schedule for me?”

Wonwoo feels the distance between you two. It twinges, it gnaws at him. 

“Get rest first. I have sent Wonjae with Jeonghan, he'll be staying at his house. Mina is still here and we'll talk once you get better.”, Wonwoo assures you, “You can find me anytime.”

You close your eyes, mind pondering about what's to come.

Your fingers hover against the door. You could feel the weight of the documents clouding over the entire span of you've spent to raise your son.

On the opposite side, behind the closed doors, waiting for you, is the man you once loved. The father of the child you birthed seven years ago. The chief executive officer of the company you're currently working at.

Also the man, who had broken your heart, had left you alone to pick up the pieces on your own.

You knew that this day would come. You have spent years preparing to face him one day. Over the years you've seen this face everywhere, be it on magazines or billboards or be it glorified on media but why is your chest caving in as you stand on the threshold, a moment away to see him again?

Taking a deep breath, you pitch your face into the most neutral expression you could bear. You won't deter, you won't step back.

Your knuckles give two swift knocks on the door and the secretary opens it for you, letting you in and stepping out once you enter.

At the sound of the door closing, your gaze lifts.

Wonwoo walks towards you, in large but steady strides, just as you have remembered. He stands in front of you, at a distance. Your gazes meet and the time stops.

Because this time unlike all the previous encounters, you are not avoiding him. This time you take time to observe him.

Wonwoo hasn't changed much, his eyes hold the same depth. He, you assume, still likes his hair side parted with locks clipped so they don't fall on his face. The scent of the same perfume lingers in the air, the one which he had always claimed as his signature. The frame of his glasses aren't geometric anymore, he goes with pilot nowadays.

And before your mind could trace back on the memory lane deeper, you decide to slip back into the momentum.

“Mr. Jeon”, you bow to him, giving a small smile. Your heart beats erratically, as you continue to speak, “You must be busy so I won't take much of your time.”

The title you call him by is foreign to Wonwoo's ear. It has been bothering him a lot. It always used to be strings of sickly sweet nicknames. 

He watches the changes time has brought upon you. You no longer seem like the carefree law major from back then. You no longer are the girl who'd cry over smallest things, speak the first thought that came to your mind.

While Wonwoo loses touch with the current predicament, you line up several documents on his desk in specific order.

It's exacting because you used to know him so well, maybe even know if he hasn't emerged entirely as a different person. You see the way his eyes are on you but the dilated pupils give away the fact that he's running miles in his head.

So you wait, wait for him to come back to the present, to this moment. 

And he does, a few minutes later. You can tell it by the way his gaze locks into yours right away, his lips curling down in slightest.

“How have you been, Y/N?”

His voice strikes a chord in your heart, before it reaches your ear. The voice that you used to love so much, the voice that sung you to sleep on restless nights, the same voice which when called your name, it summoned your soul.

Years of preparation goes down in the trench as you're about to break down at the first set of words you hear from him today.

But you can't, you're not the same vulnerable Y/N, who used to strip bare in front of her lover.

“I think we have more important matters to discuss, Mr. Jeon.”, you speak through your gritted teeth.

“But you promised you'd answer all my questions.”, Wonwoo reminds you calmly.

“And this is what you want to know?”

“Out of all things, first and foremost, yes this is what I want to know.”

You find it ironic, trapped in by his words, you answer truthfully, “I just can't sum up everything but I have been holding it in, thanks to Wonjae.”

Wonwoo perks at the mention of your son's name, well his as well.

“The first document is about me as Wonjae’s legal guardian, consenting to you conducting a DNA test.”, your gaze is gentle as you point at the bunched papers, “I don't want any questions, any fingers raised at my son in future.”

“But I don't–”

“I request you to conduct one.”

Your sharp tone shuts up Wonwoo completely, though not willing, he nods.

His gaze sweeps across the rest of the document which promotes him to ask, “What are the rest of these documents for?"

Your eyes turn somber. You've studied law, practised it. You know all the nooks and crannies and you're a mother who is raising her son against all odds.

“The second document is a contract that states that if you don't want to be associated with Wonjae then the fact that he’s your son will be concealed and never brought up by me. If I ever do so”, you turn the pages and show him the space left blank, “You can fill up the breach statement and penalties in this section, I have left it blank.”

Wonwoo gapes at you in disbelief, “What do you think you're trying to pull here?”, he speaks in a low tone but you can hear the agitation ringing in it, “What do you think of me, Y/N?”

You don't deem it necessary to answer his questions and proceed further to explain the contents of the last document.

“If you have any concerns about me working in your company and see me as a threat or identify me as someone who has the potential of stirring up trouble then you can ask me to resign but under the conditions that I work here until I find another job.”, you attitude has shimmered down from being hyper to nonchalant, now that you have done your part.

Wonwoo observes you, in disbelief and at himself in distaste because he's the reason behind the version you are currently showcasing.

“Also, I have prepared the clauses for custody just in case you're willing to share responsibilities in future. I'll bring it to you if you decide to be a part of Wonjae's life.”

You say terms, speak things all in legal language and Wonwoo just listens.

“I would have suggested you to run these documents by your legal team to cite any negotiations or catch any flaws but unfortunately, it would mean that I'd be the person you'll need to work with.”, you smile sardonically, “So it would be better if you contact someone who's not affiliated to this company.”

He wonders if things would have been different if he stayed and in the midst of the storm that whirlwinds in his head, he asks, “Why didn't you tell me that you were pregnant?”

What a simple question to ask. Are all questions meant to have an answer? 

“Would you have stayed?”

Silence falls upon. 

You give him a knowing smile, “Just when you were leaving, I asked you something, do you remember?”

Yes, he remembers, all of it. The way you had chased him to the station, your face wet, eyes bloodshot from crying. The way you just stood in front of him, mumbling the last question you had as the train entered the platform.

“What if I have something important to tell you? Would it make you stay?”

“There’s nothing left to salvage. Nothing's gonna stop me from leaving. This is the end for us.”

It answers his previous question. It makes sense now, he didn't only leave you, he had abandoned his unborn child as well. 

Some fences can't be mended, some bridges can't be cemented, just like this relationship, which once bloomed beautifully, is now wilted.

“Do you have anything else to ask, Mr. Jeon? If not I'll be taking my leave.”, you say arranging all the documents, “I'll leave the documents here with you. We can meet once you have gone through these and made a decision.”

Wonwoo observes you, he can't even fathom the hurt you've gone through. He knows he's the reason for your suffering, he's grateful that you've been raising his son with so much love.

“I'll get back to you, Y/N.”

That's all he says and expects you to leave but what you do next tears him apart.

You are kneeling down, in front of him. Your head hangs low as you plead, your voice quivering, “Mr. Jeon, you can have everything you want at your feet but Wonjae is the only one I have. You have the power, money and capability to do anything. So I beg you, please don't take my son away from me, he's the sole reason I'm living this life.”

Wonwoo fists his hands, he feels insulted. How low do you think of him? But again, is it your fault that you don't trust him, because if it was in the past you used to trust him more than yourself.

He bends and holds your shoulder firmly as he helps you get on your feet.

“I'd rather perish than to do something like that to you or our son.”, Wonwoo grabs your chin to make you look at him, “We made him with love, Y/N.”

A tear falls down your eye, “Did you ever love me?”

His hands leave you, he looks at you with dejection.

“Love is built on trust but you never trusted me. Not enough to let me know your actual identity. You hid the fact that you are an heir to the Jeon estate. I get it, you didn't slip initially but we dated for 4 years. You even knew about my cousin’s best friend but I didn't even know about your closest family.”

You let out a bitter chuckle, “It's all in the past now. Let's focus on Wonjae, if you want to be a part of his life.”

“I want to be a good father to him.”, Wonwoo says sincerely, “Help me, Y/N, please.”

You nod while wiping your tears, “Jae is just like you. It's like my genes didn't even try.”, you breathe out a smile, “He likes you, I can see the way he lights up when he sees you on the Tv or covers. Please don't disappoint him, please be there for him. If you're going to do it, please do it right.”

And Wonwoo is determined.

“I already got your number from Jeonghan, I'll call you later.”, you tell him, “And if you want to meet Jae, come over this weekend, I'll text you my address.”

“Thanks, Y/N.”

“You're welcome.”

It's going well, though Wonjae was hesitant initially, he is delighted to have his father in his life which makes you wonder if all these years you have been doing things right. You'd admit that you're jealous seeing the father-son duo because they blend in so well, it's like they've never been apart. But you're happy for Wonjae.

“Don't spoil him too much.”, comes your warning one day when you spot Wonwoo setting up the new gaming devices in your son’s room, which you recollect your son has been wanting for long.

“I'll keep it in check.”, Wonwoo answers, “But let me make up at least a little for the lost time.���

Your heart swells when you enter the room an hour later only to see your son perched on his father's lap, both of them equally invested in the game, same face, same expression and same mind.

“He goes to karate classes every friday.”, you say rummaging through the drawers one evening and Wonwoo adds it as a reminder in his calendar.

“He goes to painting class on Tuesdays and his music classes are on Wednesday and Saturday. He learns to swim on Mondays and he rests on Thursdays. Sundays are reserved for his weekly shenanigans, he suggests random activity and we do it throughout the day.”

Wonwoo is half amused, half concerned and you see it on his face vividly.

“And no he doesn't get tired, it's not too much for him. It's his idea to explore all the fields and go ahead with the ones he finds interesting. The list of curricular activities was way long, we have trimmed it down to these and it may shorten further.”, you explain in a breath and hand him the timetable you finally found after almost turning the room upside down.

“He may look like me but he's just like you, Y/N.”, Wonwoo smiles looking at the paper in his hand, “You used to be like this.”

Used to be, not anymore, you think. The past you were totally a different person, she wouldn't even recognise the present you, you're so different now. 

Wonwoo lays the paper flat on the table as he meticulously inputs each activity in his calendar. You watch him in silence, watch the man you had once wanted to spend your entire life with.

“Are you planning to let everyone know about Wonjae?”, you ask Wonwoo, later that night anxiously after he puts your son to sleep.

It had been gnawing at you relentlessly. Wonwoo notices the nervousness, he walks into the kitchen and makes you a cup of coffee.

“You’re the favourite celebrity of the nation, a long line of influential people are waiting to get their daughter married to you and if you suddenly declare that you have a child…”, you look at him with glassy eyes, “I'm afraid that people will target Jae. I don't care if I am subjected to any kind of ridicule or threat–”

“Y/N, calm down.”, he says calmly, “For now I have decided it to be not known. I have tightened the security and been careful but”, he assures you, “if it gets known I'll protect you both.”

“You don't have to protect me, Mr. Jeon.”, your voice drops an octave, a sign of your defensiveness, “Just take care of Jae.”

“I'm sorry, Y/N.”, he just says it, for the present, for the past, “I had a reason to leave though it wouldn't justify what I did. I'm really sorry.”

“Jae has fallen asleep, I think you should leave now.”, you get up from where you're sitting, “You're my employer and let's try to stick to the dynamics.”

Wonwoo watches quietly as you retreat back to your room. You have changed, a lot, thanks to him.

“Won! You won't believe what happened.”, you jump onto his lap as soon as you spot him sitting on the sofa.

Wonwoo smiles, ruffling your hair as he secures his arms around your waist, “What happened, love?”

You press a quick kiss to his lips, smiling, “While returning back from the University I saw an old man selling some stuff at a very cheap price. And I was shocked when I saw the limited edition cassettes, you know the ones I've been collecting recently. I bought all of them! My collection is complete!”

“Woah, I'm so proud of you.”, Wonwoo kisses the side of your head.

“I got you a metal pick, because you keep losing them. Also, I got us matching rings!”

Wonwoo looks at you in awe as you put the ring on his pinky.

He puts his hand over the suit pocket and feels the ring as he presses over it through the layers of fabrics. A look at the closed door and he's out the next moment.

“I am guessing the matters are resolved now.”, Yoongi says one day during lunchtime, “Mr. Ceo is not seen as much around the office nowadays.”

“Yes, it is resolved.”, you say monotonously.

Yoongi hums, “Good then. Let me know if you need my help for anything.”

You squint your eyes, smiling, “You don't know shit about law, Yoongi.”

“Oh but I do know about a thing or two outside law, Y/N.”

“You have a misconception about yourself, I see.”, you chuckle when Yoongi glares at you.

And that glare turns into a fond smile while you eat off his ears about a character of the show you don't like.

Wonwoo, who happens to pass by the area, doesn't quite like the way whoever the guy sitting beside you is looking at you. That afternoon, he didn't have lunch, apparently due to loss of appetite.

He has been trying to make space for himself in your life but you're rigid. He shudders at the thought of your angry face whenever he subtly tries to bounce off the wall you've built around yourself. You only pay him mind when you discuss about Wonjae with him, otherwise he's just sidelined.

He has zero interest in work today, his mind keeps playing the incidents from the previous night.

He was supposed to drop by your apartment as usual to spend some time with Jae and you.

He punches the passcode and is met by a startled you.

“Jae would be staying at Mina’s tonight, I had already sent you a text regarding this.”, you say and wait. Wait for him to leave.

“Oh sorry, I didn't get a chance to check my phone.”

Lies. Wonwoo is at your place today with just one motive, to talk to you.

There's a moment of silence and you're just about to show him the way out, he asks, “Can we talk?”

“We don't have anything to talk about, Mr. Jeon–”

“Stop calling me that!”, he hisses and closes the distance between the two of you, “Call me Wonu, Won, Woni anything, please.”

You look at him incredulously, “But that's not what I should be calling my employer, isn't it?”

“I'm not just your employer.”, his voice drops an octave, “I was your lover, I am the father of your child.”

“What are you doing?”, you ask wearily when he grabs your arm and pulls you closer, wrapping his arms around you.

He rests his forehead against you, closing his eyes, “Please, let me hold you for a moment.”

You are confused, you don't want yourself anywhere near him but your body betrays you, it seeks comfort into the embrace of your past lover, it's just like returning to an old habit.

“I never stopped loving you, Y/N.”, he confesses, opening his eyes to see your wide ones, “I did leave you at my own will but it wasn't because I fell out of love.”

“It doesn't matter anymore.”, you say trying to push him away but his grip is too strong, “All I wanted was a closure when you left but you didn't even consider me worthy of that. I didn't know who you actually were, didn't get the reason behind your abrupt decision of breaking up and now you decide you wanna do the truth drop just because we have a son.”, you shake your head, “That's not how it works. I know I'm just a baggage that comes with Jae, I know my place, you had made it clear then, so you don't have to do all of this.”

He frees you, his eyes holding depths of oceans before retreating to stand by the window, facing away from you.

“I am the youngest within the Jeon household. I was loved, always getting what I wanted and never put on the pedestal because I have an older brother. I was always used to getting away with whatever, while he was dumped with all the expectations, afterall he was supposed to take over the Jeon empire.”

There's a pause before he continues, “He looked like he belonged to the limelight while I was the opposite, always preferred to be in the shadows. It was a blessing, to have a big brother like him, to have such loving parents who never tried to load their expectations on me. I expressed my desire to get enrolled into the University under the plain disguise and pursue a degree I wanted.”

He turns to look at you, “That's when I met you and we fell in love. I was so happy, happiest I'd say because you saw me for me, I was grateful that you made me a part of your life but it kept bugging me that I was hiding my identity.”, his voice cracks, “I was afraid, what if after learning everything, you make a decision to leave me? But that's when the incident happened.”

“My brother finally snapped. He couldn't take the pressure, couldn't bear the heaviness of the expectations anymore so he tried to step down. But my parents wouldn't let him, for them their pride mattered the most. They couldn't just let people think that they raised a failure in the Jeon household.”

You listen silently.

“My brother left. He disappeared without any trace, no goodbyes, nothing. I was heartbroken, my parents were inconsolable. Until a few months passed and they recovered. And that's the first time I got to witness the true nature of my parents. They only saw me as a replacement to my brother. It was so evident, I was thrusted into grooming sessions to be the acting director. It was so sudden, it felt nauseous because I have always seen myself out of those scenes, to me they were for my brother. No one cared, the expectations were projected onto me and that's when I started missing the classes and I got to see you less. My mind started to shift, it was messed up and after pondering for weeks, I chose to be an obedient child to my parents and leave behind everything I was associated with, including you.”, he looks at you apologetically, “I'm sorry.”

“I can't forgive you.”, comes your immediate and stern reply, “I hope you realise that out of all the things you could have done, you decided to abandon me.”

Wonwoo freezes at your words, the truth hits him in the gut.

“You didn't even seek for me for all these years.”, your voice cracks with the hurt, “You know about Jae because I decided it to be known. So don't you dare come here pretending like a good person as the world believes you to be. I know who you are, what you are.”

“You're right.”, Wonwoo says, more to himself, “I am really an awful person.”

And then he leaves and doesn't come back for days until your son calls him just because he misses his father.

The weekend follows and the doorbell rings. Before you could reach, you see your son jumping towards the door, his smile widening when he sees his father on the monitor.

It's a mundane Saturday, except you're building a fort in the living room with your son and Wonwoo. It's simple actually, you've built it for Wonjae many times but today something is hindering it and you figure out that the reason is Wonwoo.

He's absolutely clueless, he's not helping, he rather needs help.

“Papa, you are so bad at it.”, Wonjae calls him out and you bite your lips to suppress the laugh bubbling in your throat.

Wonwoo with a very childish frown on his face, refutes the claim, “I am just giving you both a chance to showcase your skills.”

You roll your eyes, focusing on assembling the fort while the two guys bicker on the backdrop.

“Mama, save me!”

You turn back to see Wonjae tackled on the ground as Wonwoo tickles him. A laugh bubbles out of your throat, you feel good in the moment. After all, this was something you've always wanted, to get married and start a family with the man you once loved so much.

“Woni, let's get married.”, you declare, out of nowhere, “I want to marry you immediately.”

Wonwoo laughs, “You speak out the very first thought that comes to your mind.”, he caresses your cheeks fondly, “Let’s get married once we settle in our careers.”

“You don't have to work, I'll take care of you.”, you say sincerely, “Just be mine, please.”

“That's not what you said last time, as far as I can recollect.”, Wonwoo squints his eyes at you, “You said that you don't want to work, you just want to be my wife, the mother to my kids.”

“And I meant it!”, you cross your heart.

“Which one did you mean? Because both are pretty contradictory to me.”

“I’ll be whatever you want me to be.”, you admit, a soft smile spreading on your lips.

And in the moment, Wonwoo falls in love with you all over again. He leans in, eyes never leaving yours as he closes the gap between you two.

The phone rings and you both groan.

“It's my dad, let me take this one.”, you say, pulling back as you check the caller Id.

He nods but does exactly the opposite by pulling you by your neck and planting his lips on yours for a kiss that takes your breath away.

The ringing of the phone eventually stops but Wonwoo doesn't.

A soft sigh escapes from within you and your mood shifts. There's no point in dwelling in the past now.

Yoongi paces nervously as he awaits you. A sudden click and he sees you entering through the door and from behind you, emerges Jihoon.

Yoongi pulls you aside and whispers, “What's the HR guy doing here, Y/N?”

“He's trustable.”, you assure him and introduce them to each other.

Yoongi exhales sharply, he sweeps a glance at the two of you and speaks, “I think there may be some fund embezzlement going on and for long.”, he takes out his phone and shows some the snaps he has taken, “While I was accessing some documents for the recent staffing activities, I came across this.”

“How did you get access to this? Shouldn't this be requiring credentials of Senior Managers?”, Jihoon asks, eyeing Yoongi suspiciously.

Yoongi scoffs and looks at you, “Look at your trustable guy, he's doubting me.”

You glare at Jihoon and then look back at Yoongi, “Don't mind him, Yoongi, tell us the entire thing.”

He nods, “So the exchange receipts you're seeing, on the surface they're all going to different accounts but when I traced back the companies turned out to be paper companies. Someone has to be in the directorial position to pull this without getting noticed. I had even dropped an anonymous tip to the auditor's office but surprisingly or not, no action was taken.”

“This is concerning.”, Jihoon ponders over, “Does anyone else know about this?”

“I'm not aware.”, Yoongi answers truthfully, “This shouldn't be of my concern but I can't get it out of my head and I think if I try to poke again they'll be on my tail.”

“We definitely need someone from the Audit team on our side, someone who's trustworthy and holds power.”, you say, “But it doesn't seem plausible.”

“I'll see what I can do.”, you assure both of them, “Yoongi, please send those evidences and Jihoon, could you check if you could link any of these account owners to anyone from the company?”

While you walk out of the room with a lot on your mind, you get a call from your son and he has some requests.

Wonwoo punches the code hurriedly as his heart races after getting a sketchy text from his son. He manages to enter your apartment only to find it pitch black and eerily silent.

“Y/N? Jae?”, he calls out through the passage and he keeps calling as he makes his way to the hallway.

Suddenly the light goes on, the whistles blow and confetti flies.

Wonwoo stands wide eyed, as he sees the banner reading a ‘Happy Father's Day!’ and looks at Jae holding a cake smiling while you, Jeonghan and Mina stand behind him each wearing a party hat and funny accessories.

You observe quietly, the way your son is beaming in happiness when his father appreciates and voices out all the praises on receiving the gifts.

You're proud of your son, he's empathetic, he's kind and he's all you could ever want. When he called you at work, which was rare, with a hesitant voice and a wish to celebrate the day because he recently learnt that his father's birthday had already passed, you agreed immediately, because he loves to celebrate special days.

You're setting the table, faint sounds of laughter reaching your ears.

“Thanks, Y/N.”

You look up to see Wonwoo looming over your frame.

“It was all Jae’s idea, you should be thanking your son.”, you say light heartedly, “I didn't even remember.”

Wonwoo looks at you surprised, “You forgot? Didn't uncle always nag when you don't wish him? You should give him a call–”

He halts when he sees you go stiff.

“Is everything alright, Y/N?”, Wonwoo asks, now alarmed, “Are your parents fine?”

“They should be.”, you answer vaguely, before busying yourself back on plating the food, “You should go back, Jae must be looking for you.”

The dinner is going well with Wonwoo mostly talking with Jae and Jeonghan while Mina chimes in only when she feels like it.

Your mood has dampened ever since Wonwoo has brought up your father so you're just present, not involved in whatever is being discussed.

When Jae hops off to take a washroom break, Jeonghan takes the chance to ask you, “Are you seeing someone, Y/N.”

You shake your head, “There's a lot on my plate already and I'm content with Jae in my life.”

Though it is an open secret, Wonwoo feels relief flood in his chest.

“Didn't even seek?”, Jeonghan probes further.

You sigh, “Actively no. But I did go on a couple of dates, even the blind dates Mina set me up for, but”, your gaze drops, “All of them backed out as soon as they learnt about Jae. Guess, no one wants a woman like me. So I have given up on it.”

There are words on the tip of Wonwoo's tongue, he wants to say that you're everything one could ever want, then why did he leave you in the first place?

Your mind lingers back to that phase where your self esteem had hit rock bottom because of some failed dates with men you didn't even know. Might sound funny but the canon balls life had thrown at you combined with ‘nothing has ever gone right’ made you falter.

Jae comes back and the topic is dropped off the table, it's all laugh and chatters until Jeonghan decides to tease you for fun, with the help of his beloved nephew. He loves teasing the heck out of people whom he dear and has engulfed the little boy into this as well. He murmurs something into Jae’s ear without you noticing.

Jeonghan gives a sly grin as he sweeps a gaze round the table and asks Jae, “Jae, tell us who you love more, Mama or Papa?”

A classic trick question to which people tend to avoid answering.

But Jae is giggling as he answers almost immediately, “Papa!”

It is supposed to be a stick to tease you but your heart drops. There's a sudden shift in your demeanor and it's noticeable.

There's a screeching sound as you stand up abruptly and walk into your room, closing the door behind.

“Everything is not made to be a joke about.”, Mina hisses, glaring at Jeonghan.

“Did I hurt, Mama?”, Jae asks, tears already pooling in his eyes.

“Yes, you did. This is not something I expected from you.”, Mina answers him, trying to tone down her anger, “Go to your room, we'll talk tomorrow about it.”

Wonjae follows obediently.

“I'm sorry, I was just trying to–”

“You should leave if you're done.”

It hits a nerve and Jeonghan tries to defend himself which leads to a heated exchange between both.

“Aren't you being too much here, Mina?”, Jeonghan raises his voice with accusations.

“Oh maybe I am because you and him”, she sweeps a glance at Wonwoo, “weren't there during her pregnancy phase. Neither of you are aware of what she had to go through, that her parents disowned her, that she almost lost her life while giving birth to Jae due to excessive bleeding and all other complications.”

Both the men freeze and Mina heaves out a breath.

“You might think, Y/N is getting sensitive over a joke but you guys need to understand that she has her entire life built around Jae, she has always tried to be the best parent to him so if he suddenly says he loves his found father more over her even as a joke, she would begin questioning whatever she has ever done for Jae and whether she went wrong somewhere.”

“Can I go and talk to her?”, Wonwoo asks, his voice shaky holding the pleading tone.

“Do whatever you want, just don't hurt her anymore.”, she says, grabbing her belongings and exiting the apartment.

“Go talk to her.”, Jeonghan adds, “I'm leaving, call me if you need me.”

You sit quietly at the corner of your bed, your mind empty. Your fingers fidget among themselves and all you are trying to remember is why you left the table. Why did it sting so much? Wonjae has always longed for his father ever since he knew about him so it was given and there's nothing to be upset about it.

But maybe you're easy to be left behind, maybe not choosing you is easier than staying. You feel tears streaming down your face, you feel your heart constricting in pain.

Wonwoo enters the room crouches in front of you.

“I'm sorry”, you say, as soon as you feel his presence, avoiding his gaze, “I overreacted over a small matter–”

And you halt when you hear a choked sob.

“No I'm so so sorry.”, he hiccups through every word he tries to speak, “I– You had to suffer so much and I wasn't even by your side. I can't even turn back time, I can't take away your pain.”

You wipe his tears and he leans against your palm.

“I left when you needed me the most. You had to make a lot of sacrifices, while I was just– I'm sorry, Y/N.”

Wonwoo's crying and you watch in shock as he goes into hyperventilation. He grasps at your arm as he tries to breathe but it doesn't work. You hurriedly take off his glasses, loosen his tie and unbutton the first few buttons of his shirt.

“Wonwoo, calm down”, you say, grabbing his face, “Look at me and try breathing. Inhale through your nose and exhale slowly through pursed lips as if blowing out a candle.”

“I-I can't–”, he manages to speak between the ragged breaths.

Then you do what your mind prompts you to, you press your hands near to his mouth which makes his lips pucker and you plant yours on them.

You kiss him tenderly, caress his arms gently with the motive of calming the neurotransmitters in his brain and it works, you feel Wonwoo taking slow breaths as his mind distracts and body eases in the moment.

You pull away, searching for his eyes, “Better now?”

He nods, breathing heavily. You don't let him leave in the middle of the night, offering him to sleep in your bedroom. Once you both kiss your son’s sleeping form goodnight, the two of you settle in an awkward stance.

“Jae doesn't like sharing his bed, so you take my bed and I'll take the couch.”

But somehow you end up in your bed with Wonwoo as he invades your personal space and holds you in his arms like he always used to do.

There's intimacy in the moment which makes you spill your heart out, you tell him how your orthodox parents cut ties with you when you told them about your pregnancy. They never reached out to you after that. You tell him how haunting it was for you to go through it alone. How tiring it was to support yourself by working multiple part time jobs while preparing for interviews and managing the pregnancy and that you believe that Mina is godsend because she's the nurse at the hospital you were brought to when you had fainted at work once and since then she stayed and looked over you like a godmother.

“Aren't you uncomfortable in those clothes?”, you ask, eyes droopy.

“With you in my arms, these clothes are the least of my concern.”, he smiles stroking your hair, “I could do this all my life.”

“I missed you, Won.”, the nickname slips out of you naturally, “When it was unbearable, when I had something to share but no one was there to listen, when while giving birth I thought I wouldn't be able to live through.”, you hide your face in his chest, trying to blink away the tears, “I wished you were there when I held Jae in my arms for the first time, when he grew up to be so much like you.”

Your words turn into sleepy mumbles until they stop.

And once you fall asleep, his floodgates open again, Wonwoo cries the more he looks at you, apologizing a thousand times. He promises to keep you and Jae safe and now all he wants is to take the weight off your shoulders.

Morning comes with the rays of sun peeking through the curtains. You turn within the sheets, having the best sleep in a while as you hug the side pillow, throwing a leg over it. Ten more minutes you promise to yourself as you snuggle closer, a familiar Cologne hitting your nose. You frown, running your hands over the pillow only to find it moving as well.

Your eyes fly open and reality comes crashing down, the pillow you're grabbing is a certain Jeon Wonwoo, who is currently staring down at you with fond eyes and a soft smile.

“Good morning.”, he greets and all you try to do is get away from the proximity. But your baby daddy has other plans.

With a swift swig, he pulls you closer by your middle and pecks your forehead. You go stiff as he eyes your lips and leans in but you don't stop him.

“I think Jae is calling me.”, you say, getting your senses back and wriggling out of his grip, running out of the room.

Wonwoo sits disappointed but his heart is eased.

“Are you sure, you don't wanna inform Mr. Jeon yet?”, Jihoon asks as his eyes almost pierces through the documents, “I got hold of Jimin from the Auditor’s team and he's digging up the history it seems.”

“We can't go up to him just with these documents. We need concrete proof because seemingly we are up against a bunch of influential people. Let Jimin come back with something.”

As you fish out your phone to call Yoongi, the said man appears looking very distraught.

“Guys, it's not only embezzlement, they're planning to upsurge the ownership of this company.”, he informs, leaving the rest of you shocked, “They are on move to convince the shareholders about transferring the shares but given our CEO’s clean image, it won't be easy, what could they be upto?”

“How do you know so much?”, Jihoon asks Yoongi and the latter rolls his eyes.

“Put your mind to come up with something useful.”, comes Yoongi’s snarky remark.

And while the two snide at each other, you ponder on whether to inform Wonwoo about the matter or wait a bit more.

But time doesn't wait and so doesn't the conspirators because a few days later all you see is yours and Jae’s face on every article, all the news bulletins linking the two of you with Wonwoo.

And your heart drops when you realize they're going to use you to tarnish Wonwoo's image.

→ Do not copy, re-post, translate, or share any of my works on other platforms! All stories are copyrighted, joonsytip. ©️

[enigmaris]

Lex Luthor's cover of 'I've grown accustomed to her face':

There were certain rules that you as a villain have to follow if you want to be successful. Lex Luthor knew these rules well. The first, one which he’d kept for a very very long time, was to avoid attachment. More specifically to avoid becoming attached to anyone. You should encourage others to like you, if they liked you, if they owed you, then they would do what you wanted and what you needed. But caring for others only led to weaknesses.

Lex had no one that he cared for or trusted. No living family, no lover to warm his bed. Not that that had ever been a priority for him. The closest Lex had to a ‘friend’ was his android Mercy, an android he created. Lex supposed that the closest relationship he had was with Superman. Their antagonistic relationship where he tried to kill Superman and Superman tried to have him arrested was the most socializing outside of work Lex did per month.

A lonely life perhaps but one that Lex reveled in. He had what he wanted and what he didn’t have he could get with his power. Lex was able to follow that first rule of villainy up until one raining evening just outside Metropolis. His car was going towards his home when something crashed through the glass roof window. Something being a glowing teenager. He had white hair and bright green eyes and he was wearing what appeared to be some sort of jumpsuit.

He landed right in Lex’s lap, covered in wounds and emaciated. Three moments after he landed a bright halo of light appeared around his torso before spreading out. Suddenly, laying there on his lap was a human teenager, bleeding red blood and reaching unconsciousness.

“Sorry.” He said right before passing out.

Mercy had stopped the car, as she’d been programmed to do. Lex looked down at the meta teenager with a thoughtful look on his face.

“Mercy, continue home and contact Dr. Matthews. He has a new patient in serious condition.”

“Yes sir.”

It took a full day of rest for the unnamed meta to wake up. When he did Lex was there, introducing himself and offering comfort and safety. The boy introduced himself as ‘Adam’, a fake name obviously but Lex didn’t call him out on it. Lex made no reference to the boy’s meta-abilities. Instead, he offered a place to rest and recuperate and all of the food the boy could consume (which was a lot). Through his security cameras he saw the boy’s uncontrollable powers, new he guessed.

It took only a week for the boy to break down and use his powers in front of Lex. Once that happened the flood gates opened. Danny was his real name, and his parents had tried to kill him once they found out about his powers. Lex learnt about the source of the powers and Danny’s lack of control. His plan was going along perfectly.

Lex didn’t know much about powers, but from those he talked to with them, the key to control was practice. So, Lex built a training room for the half-ghost to practice. Then, when he destroyed that, Lex built a stronger one. (He used plans from an old ‘trap Superman’ room. Lex always appreciated being able to recycle things.) Soon, really once Danny recovered completely, a schedule arose. In the mornings, Danny and Lex would have breakfast together. Lex would quiz the boy on different things. Anything from strategy to science to history to literature. Then Lex would go to work. Danny would stay in the home and spend the morning studying. Lex wasn’t going to have a stupid tool, so the boy had an online coursework to learn what he needed to know.

Then Lex would usually receive a message from Danny around lunch time. The boy would let him know how his lessons were going and ask how his work was. Lex didn’t tell Danny to message him, he also didn’t tell him to stop. Something inside of him enjoyed the unsolicited attention. Danny was asking not because he had to but because he wanted to. He was curious, he cared about Lex.

After lunch the boy would use Lex’s computer simulations to train with his powers. He worked his muscles and his reflexes against training simulators and pushed his abilities to their limit. When Lex got home around dinner Danny would be waiting for him eagerly to talk about how his training was going. They would have dinner together. At first those dinners were solely focused on the boy’s abilities and health. But they expanded.

Danny would ask about Lex and Lex would indulge him, telling him stories from his life. Danny would reciprocate. Lex found that, beyond having very useful powers, Danny also possessed intelligence, curiosity, and eagerness in spades. Without realizing it Lex started to feel rather fond of the boy. He reminded him of Lex’s younger years before the trials that had shaped him into the man he was. Young and full of passion.

The months passed and they grew closer. Lex learnt about Danny’s two best friends that knew about his accident and with whom he had kept in contact. Danny met Mercy and even visited Lex’s office a few times to see him at work. Since the boy could turn invisible Lex had no way of knowing how often that actually was. He started to try and teach the boy strategy. How to defeat his enemies and how to control and manipulate. He didn’t teach Danny too much, he wouldn’t want to make a tool more powerful than Lex himself.

Daniel was an apt pupil up until the point that Lex suggested using his powers for personal gain. The teen’s vehement denial of using his powers that way was peculiar. Didn’t Danny see what his powers could do? What that sort of power and control could mean for him, for them both? With Lex’s tutelage and guidance, they would be unstoppable. Lex tried everything he could think of.

Every evening for dinner it became a test to see if he could shake Danny of his morals, of his will. But Danny remained resolute. Every time he argued for the right thing. He wanted to be kind. He wanted to help. Not to abuse and harm. Lex realized a little too late that he had accidentally taken in a hero and nothing about that would change. There were some heroes who could be convinced of the error of their ways but then there were those like Superman, like Danny.

Abruptly he saw his future. Danny would soon put on a suit and try and fight evil. Lex wouldn't be able to stop him from doing it. Unless Lex started to torture him and break him down piece by piece. Lex recoiled from the idea of harming Danny. The idea of anyone harming him was wrong. It was then that he realized what had happened.

Lex had been sitting in his office, planning out his next ‘kill Superman plan’ when it hit him right in the face.

“I’ve become accustomed to him.”

He’d grown used to Danny. Grown to like his presence in his life. Meals were no longer necessities for him but rather something to enjoy and savor. Conversations and laughter filled his life where there had been silence. He had loved the silence, reveled in being untouched and untouchable. But now? Now he’d adapted to Danny, and he did not wish to return to how things were previously.

“Damn. Damn. Damn."

[m0nswoon]

OMG what if we kissed under the SANSI LED Security Motion Sensor Outdoor Lights, 36W (250W Incandescent Equivalent) 3600lm, 5000K Daylight, Dusk to Dawn Waterproof Flood Light, ETL Listed, White It would be so romantic to be under the glow of the SANSI LED Security Motion Sensor Outdoor Lights, 36W (250W Incandescent Equivalent) 3600lm, 5000K Daylight, Dusk to Dawn Waterproof Flood Light, ETL Listed, White

[hopelesslygaysstuff]

October 28 - Forced Intox

pairing: Mob boss!WandaNat x sub!Reader

summary: You drink, and keep drinking. All courtesy of your girlfriends, of course. They have some fun with you, and you just bask in the feeling of being utterly drunk while they command your body however they please.

content warnings: reader has a penis, alcohol, very dubious consent, cunnilingus

word count: 1.4k+

masterlist

comments and reblogs are always appreciated! happy reading ♡

A/N: Any scene or kink with dubious consent should be discussed before actually participating in the kink or scene.

People. All you could see, feel, or touch were people. They were packed in around you as soon as you entered the door, the low lighting of the club causing you to squint your eyes as you tried to focus. 

Fuck, you shouldn’t have used the main entrance.

You can barely see, the scent of alcohol and weed hitting you as music thrums strongly in the air. The floor is slightly sticky, and you grimace as you make your way towards the second floor, where you were meeting your girlfriends.

They took good care of you, truly. But the only thing you hated about their job was the ridiculously lavish and crowded parties they threw. You understood why they threw them, of course, but you still didn’t like them. 

“Right this way,” a man says, and you turn to see one of the security team next to you. You feel your body relax as relief floods you, your girlfriends only employed the best and most trusted individuals they knew. The training process alone only let the most qualified candidates through, so you allowed the man to gently grab your elbow as a team of security surrounded you. 

Slowly, you made your way towards the staircase, avoiding the stumbling drunk people around you. God, you needed a shot, it was stifling to be in this environment sober. 

As you ascend the stairs, you search for the signature hair color of your girlfriends. Wanda liked her hair more auburn, while Natasha preferred a darker red, and you smiled when you saw them next to each other, engaged in a conversation. 

“Thank you,” you murmured, the team of security dispersing as the man gently led you over to where your girlfriends were waiting. 

Two pairs of green eyes meet yours, and you smile as they turn their full attention to you. God, you’d been looking forward to seeing them all day. The only thing you wanted was their hands around you and a beer to sip on. 

“Darling,” Wanda greets you, pulling you in by the belt and kissing you firmly. You feel yourself harden slightly at the action, and you know that she can feel it as she presses her body against you.

“Nice of you to finally join us,” Natasha says, and you feel Wanda break the kiss to chuckle against your neck, her hands hot around your waist. You smile at her, your hand reaching past Wanda to bring her in for a slight hug. 

“Missed you.” The words are whispered, but your girlfriends hear them. 

Natasha smirks, pulling away slightly to wave her hand at someone you can’t see. Wanda remains wrapped around you, her hands grabbing your waist tightly as she kisses your neck. You hold her, your body relaxing as you watch a bartender hand Natasha a tray. 

Smiling, you take in the three shots and your favorite beer on the tray. 

“Vodka,” Natasha says, gently touching Wanda’s shoulder and pulling her away from you.

“Are we taking these together?” 

Wanda laughs at your question, holding one of the shots as Natasha holds the other two. You smile as you take the offered shot, confusion growing when Wanda simply looks at you, tilting her head as she glances at the shot in your hand.

“No,” Natasha says, moving closer to wrap her hand around the back of your neck. It’s possessive, and you feel yourself grow even harder, your hands moving to cover your bulge slightly. “These are all for you, pet.”

Your eyes widen at the name, and you feel Wanda’s hand on yours. She moves the shot towards your lips, leaning in to whisper in your ear. 

“Be good for us, darling. Take the shot, we want you fuzzy tonight.”

At her command, you take the shot. Before you can set the glass down, Natasha is pressing the next one in your hand, her eyes dark as she watches you gulp it down. 

“Oh, fuck,” you mutter, wiping your lips. Vodka burns, your throat feeling warm as Wanda presses the final shot into your hand. 

“Come on, pet,” Natasha says, smirking at you as she opens your beer for you. “One more shot, you know you want it.”

Well, you can’t argue with that logic. You feel yourself twitching in your pants at her commanding tone, and down the shot while ignoring the way Wanda glances down at your crotch. 

“Good job,” Wanda murmurs, her lips returning to your neck. 

You accept the beer that Natasha gives you, wrapping your fingers around the cold bottle as you feel your face heat up from the alcohol. The room is already growing hazier, and you feel yourself relax as a grin spreads on your face. 

Without protest, you allow yourself to be pulled into the VIP section of the club, the atmosphere quieter but no less intense than the general club area. 

At some point, you find yourself on a couch. Natasha and Wanda are next to you, her hands wandering as you groan and feel yourself grow harder. They don’t seem to mind, Wanda’s leg thrown over yours as her thigh presses lightly against your bulge. 

It’s pleasant, the room blurry as your eyes begin to glaze over. Your head is fuzzy, and your ears ring slightly as another bottle is placed in your hands. How many drinks have you had now?

You can’t remember, but Wanda’s fingers are tipping the bottle against your lips and you swallow, blushing at the praises that drop from Natasha’s lips as you do. There are hands all over you, and you can feel yourself straining in your boxers, your need obvious to everyone in the room. 

“Don’t be embarrassed, pet,” Natasha says, her voice playful as you turn to look at her with bleary eyes. Your face is flushed, your lips parted slightly as she presses another shot into your hands. “This is what you wanted, remember?”

Of course you wanted this. That’s right, Natasha would never lie to you. 

“Keep drinking,” Wanda mumbles, her hand guiding yours as you down the shot, grimacing at the taste and sipping your beer to mask the burn. You can feel yourself slipping further, the edges of your vision fading as you bask in the attention and closeness of your two favorite people. 

At some point, you confess your love to them both. You barely remember it, your words quiet and your eyes shining as Wanda giggles while Natasha smiles at you and places another beer in your hand. Your tongue doesn’t even process the taste anymore, but you somehow manage to keep drinking. 

By the end of the night, you’ve been pulled into a dark room. You think it’s an office of some sort, most likely Wanda’s. It’s hard to tell though, as you’re focused on how fuzzy and pliant you feel, your body pressed against the couch cushions while Natasha and Wanda shower you with affection. Wanda is on top of you, kissing you softly as you moan into her mouth, her lips tasting like cherries and vodka. Natasha is near your waist, her mouth eagerly sucking on your hard length, pleasure thrumming through your veins. 

You barely register your orgasm, the pleasure blurring and mixing with the weightless feeling in your limbs, your mind fuzzy as you buck your hips and bask in the feeling of Wanda’s mouth moving against yours. You remember moaning, your eyes closing slightly as the room begins to sway and spin. 

Fuck. Wanda is on top of you, fucking herself on your hard length. You can smell her arousal as she does, Natasha’s fingers resting in your mouth as you suck on them. You moan at the feeling of Natasha’s lips against your neck, your hips pinned to the couch by Wanda’s thighs as she grabs your waist for support and grinds with your cock inside her. 

It’s perfect, and you let the pleasure consume you. 

The next thing you remember is Natasha pouring another shot into your mouth, your eyes blurry as you try and focus on something. Somebody is saying something, but you can’t quite hear it, the ringing in your ears too loud. 

Pleasure. 

Your throat burns, your cock hard and tired at the same time. Someone’s arousal is smeared on your lips, and you smile stupidly. A shower? You’re nude, being held up by strong arms as a heavily accented voice speaks to you. Not that you can understand it, but you nod along anyway. 

It’s perfect, and exactly what you need. It’s everything you asked for.

—

You wake up the next morning, your head pounding as you snuggle more into the two warm bodies wrapped around you. Your voice is weak as you thank them, a wave of tiredness washing over you as Wanda’s fingers card through your hair. Natasha praises you, her voice low and her hands strong as they rub your back. 

You wouldn’t trade this for anything.

[yourladyofmercy]

Back to Me || J.B.

☆ — Thunderbolts ! James "Bucky" Barnes x afab ! reader ☆ — He knew that you couldn't resist helping him, and he couldn't resist crawling back to you the moment he knew he had a chance to. Your wish for him to come back to you was granted, and yet he happened to be too late. ▹ —Content & Warnings : no use of Y/N, foul language, angst, past relationship mentioned, did i mention angst?, happy ending, MINOR THUNDERBOLTS SPOILERS! ▹ — WC : 3.9 k ▹— A/N : oh my god hi this is my first post ever im peeing myself .. it took me so long to figure out how to do angst clean-up so they could have a happy ending so here you go !! I hope you like it xoxo

The sound of the buzzing from your fence. The notification from your doorbell app. you never planned to have someone here, especially this evening. Alpine’s fur rubbed against your leg as she walked by, giving you a curious look as you averted your gaze down to your phone.

The one person who hadn’t shown up when you had begged him to stay—to salvage whatever you two had left,  is standing at your door. A hand rested on his ribs and a batch of misfits that fit a description of an off-brand Avengers were in worse shape than he was.  You could see the group conversing between each other over your security feed. 

Your heart seemed to be pulsing in your ears as you looked at his eyes, locking with yours as he stared into the camera in front of him. He had the same look in his face that you had seen on the nights that were plagued by the constant nightmares. The days where he couldn’t escape the pain that he had caused. He needed help—and God knows you couldn’t rest helping him. 

———————

“If you all don’t shut up for once she won’t let us in” Bucky said, giving the slightest glare at the group behind him. His breath hitched as he said it, knowing that there was already a slim enough chance you would let him in, let alone a whole group of… well, whatever they were. 

The house towered over the fence, lights coming from almost all of the windows on the first floor. Bucky remembered this house. His face deadpanned only leaving his eyes as a tell tale sign of his remembrance of this place—the love he left here. He remembers the rooms, the way you would wait for him on the stairs when he came home, the smell of the bathroom when the bath was running. All of it. Every moment flooded back to him, the life that he left. The life that he could have had. The big house, the family, the wife. Everything was on a platter in front of him, and yet it seemed as if the film had kept rolling without him in frame.

“By any chance are you going to tell us where you have us going?” Ava blurted out, resulting in Alexei sharply giving an elbow to her shoulder.“He said it’s a she. It’s probably a she-she.” Alexei said, giving a glance between Ava and Bucky.

A silence ran through the air as they all had the same thought running through their minds. They all seemed to have a lightbulb moment, immediately turning their heads to Bucky again. “Are we visiting your girlfriend, Bucky? Because I don’t think any of us are dressed to be making first impressions” Walker said, letting out a small chuckle when he finished. “And if this is your so called girlfriend why the fuck is she not letting us in?”

“She’s not my girlfriend, Walker.” He said, pivoting towards him and giving him a pointed stare. His shoulders were stiff and he stood more upright than he did before they had reached the gate. “Any more questions? Or are you all going to keep being irritable for the rest of the night when I’m the only one who has some sort of a plan here?” Bucky huffed in response, his hands exaggerating every single word that came out of his mouth.

The team took two steps back, John putting his hands up in surrender and shaking his head. “For fuck’s sake I’m sorry I’m the only one-“ Before Bucky could finish his sentence, the iron gate started to open with a creak. From their position, the driveway led up to only one of the large double doors open to the house. Distantly, a figure could be seen—leaning in the doorway with her hair swept to one side.

“What’s up with him.." Ava muttered to Yelena, earning her a shrug in response. The five walked up slowly, Bucky leading through the group ahead.

It was obvious life kept moving after Bucky left. Why wouldn’t it? The shrubs in front of the house were bigger. The flowers had bloomed, and he assumed you had  planted more since hydrangeas were popping up now. Every flower was your favorite color and the scents were the ones you always pointed out when you two walked together around the neighborhood. He was surrounded by you again—and he hadn’t even said hello yet. 

___________________

Once the group got closer, the image became even clearer for them. 

“Hey, doll” 

You leaned on the doorway with your arms crossed, no expression crossing your face. You couldn’t let him get to you again. Never again. Sure, you had thought about this moment. This fantasy moment of him coming back to you on a white horse and making amends—but it never came. Weeks passed, months, of waiting for anything. A call would have sufficed, and yet he’s standing at your door, half broken and bleeding. 

Bucky felt himself falling apart as he inched closer to seeing you again. He could remember your face, wondering if you had changed your hair, or painted your nails another color than what he last saw you with. 

“I’m guessing you got your ass kicked and my place was the closest?” It had taken you a second to respond, allowing the words that came out of his mouth to ripple in the air before you spoke. No one had called you that in upwards of a year and a half. The words felt foreign, like a knife entering a wound that had already healed once. 

“That’s the long story short I guess–” John wanted to finish, but the death stare that he had received from Bucky was enough to result in his silence. “Doll you know it’s not like that– I swear” “What? Like you we’re going to call?” The rest of the “thunderbolts” felt like they needed a bucket of popcorn and lawn chairs to get through this argument. 

Bucky shuffled closer to you, pushing his hair back with his left hand. “You know I wouldn’t have bothered you if it wasn’t serious. You’re the only person I thought of at the moment that would have dealt with… us.” Your eyes scanned the group in front of you, at least you knew who the off brand Captain America was. The rest… completely unfamiliar. 

You moved to the side, gesturing them into the house with one arm. “Come on, before someone sees you all” your voice was little above a whisper, immediately locking the door once everyone was in. 

___________________

“So… who are you guys?” All five of them sat on your couch, piled on top of eachother. The sofa jerked downwards as they all sat, slightly curving under their weight. “We are the Thunderbolts” Alexei said, waving his arms around for what he assumed added emphasis. 

“The… Thunderbolts?” You furrowed your brow for a moment, looking at the whole group, then Bucky who was seated in an armchair alone. “Not officially, we did not agree on a name yet” Walker chimed in, placing his folded shield on the hardwood flooring. “It was the name of her childhood soccer team actually,” Ava said, smirking as Yelena covered her eyes and slid down in her seat. “Alexei’s idea originally.” 

The house was cold inside, the type to make you wrap your arms around yourself when you walk in. The mantel was covered with framed photos, memories locked in a time of joy and laughter. Multiple spots on the mantel remained empty with a layer of dust covering the white paint, as if they were waiting for someone to fill them again. Empty Home Depot boxes were spread around, open but not filled. Books were still on their shelves with vinyl records mixed in between—except the house wasn’t a home. It felt empty and alone with only a young woman and her cat roaming inside. No shoes were left at the door, or coats being hung at the doorway. The firewood in the fireplace looks as if it was never lit, and everything was as if it was in a painting. Still and perfect.  

Bucky almost didn’t recognize the house when he walked in. There was no jazz music playing in the background, cups littered around with tea and whiskey. The sound of laughter as the two of you danced barefoot across the floors. The house had turned grey, lost its color. No candles were lit and no sweet scents lingering around the house from them, or plants growing in each windowsill. Everything was shiny and unused, dust only covering up the small areas where his marks once were. The photo frames being taken down of the two of you, or the vases filled with flowers he would bring home whenever the old ones wilted. The house was perfect, but it was the complete opposite of the home he had with you. 

Alpine had already made her way next to Bucky, and he cradled her like she was his first born. He was always the only one that was able to hold her like that. She purred as he pet her, nuzzling into his shirt. You gave a slight glance as he spoke to the cat in a low enough register that no one could hear. Even the cat missed him. 

“Well, Thunderbolts.. make yourself at home” You were already making your way to the kitchen, peeking your head out of the doorway. “I’ll bring water and something a little stronger for those in need” You flashed a smile, rubbing your right arm as you walked in. 

“I like her already,” Alexei shouted out “I do not understand why you do not stay here” Alexei made himself comfortable while pointing at Bucky. The whole team watched as he babied a white fuzzy cat—why would the winter soldier have a pet cat? Everyone seemed to feel like they were in an episode of the Twilight Zone, trying to figure out why Bucky would have given up a shot at domesticity. 

“She is so out of your league man,” John said looking around the house, pressing his palms to his knees as he got up to look at the frames on the mantel. “Are any of these photos of you actually enjoying life by any chance?” He said while picking one of the frames up. 

Bucky stayed silent, immediately putting Alpine down and walking towards the kitchen. He turned back for a moment, only muttering “Don’t break anything” before he disappeared to talk to you.

Yelena and Ava shared a look, Alexei suddenly having Alpine walking between his legs as he sat and John being entertained by looking at your shelves and photos. “We are having the same idea, right?” Yelena cocked her head slightly at Ava, quickly glancing at the doorway to the kitchen. “ohhh… yes. The same idea.” She gave a nod in agreement and the pair immediately sprung up and raced to the doorway, hoping to hear some strays of the conversation. 

___________________

“Need any help?” 

You could hear his boots on the wooden floors from a mile away. You knew his stride, his breath in silence, the way that he would tap on the kitchen counters as he waited for a response from you. You were scared of what you might let out if you opened your mouth, lashing out at him had no point, did it? It had been long enough for you to let this go—let him go. “There’s leftover lasagna in the fridge, too much for me to finish.” You pointed in the direction of the fridge as you put on the stove for some tea. It’s not like Bucky needed directions of where everything was, everything had still been in place from when he left. After all, what if he did come back home? You kept your head down, your eyes fixated on the stove burners. Bucky made his way closer to you, inching to the fridge while still looking for your face as your hair covered your side profile. Your arms were crossed, leaning on the kitchen island behind you. “Doll–” his breath hitched as he got closer, reaching out for the back of your arm. “Don’t.” You said sharply, flinching and then tucking your hair back into place as it fell out. He watched as you moved to the otherside of the island, acting like you were looking for something in the cabinets below. “We really don’t have to do this Buck.” You stood back up with a bottle of whiskey and three glasses in your hand, setting them down on the counter. “We can’t do this–I can’t keep doing this with you.” Your eyes looked like you were pleading. Pleading for this cat and mouse game to be over. “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” His body hovered over the counter, leaning towards you as his hands gripped onto the marble. “I never want to hurt you– you know that.” He pushed his hair back with his right hand, closing his eyes as he awaited your response. Bucky knew that ending this was for the better. The lingering looks at parties, the nights sat drinking at the hotel bar and laughing over your childhood stories. A spark doesn’t always light a fire, he kept telling himself.  He could mess around, find someone who eased the loneliness that constantly ate away at him. To fill his nights with something other than waking up in a cold sweat. He never wanted to get this attached to you. 

New nightmares were added to his nightly rotation once he left and you were the main character. How he had left you haunted him, adding to his list of lives that he had lost one way or another. He knew you could find anyone, probably someone who is more in your league to actually agree with Walker for once. 

You stayed silent, unable to look up at his eyes. “You know I saw dancing in our living room for the rest of our lives and children with your last name,” You pushed your hair back out of your eyes, twiddling with a ring that laid on your left hand. He didn’t know how he didn’t notice it before. He glazed back and forth at the ring, you could feel his eyes practically burning a hole into it. 

“I had to move on Buck.” You finally looked up at him, as he met your gaze the silence was palpable. His mouth opened, then shut again, just analyzing this new person he stood in front of. You weren’t his anymore. “You didn’t have to go get fucking married.” 

“What the hell was I supposed to do? Keep waiting for you?” You cocked your head to the side, tears starting to brim at your eyelashes. “And don’t play the ‘it was for your own god’ and ‘i wasn’t meant for this kind of life’ card.” The tea kettle started to whistle in the background, low enough for it to go unnoticed between the two of you even between the silence. The world felt as if it was just you two standing in it, no one in your living room and no threat to the world sitting right outside your door. “You know damn well I would’ve patched up every wound on your body. I would have dealt with every sleepless night that came with you because I would rather be knee deep in your blood and everything else that comes with you than go on without you” 

He stayed silent. He never knew how to respond in these situations. He was made to observe, to stay silent and simply react. He watched you stare into his eyes, desperately looking for something in him that he knew wasn’t there.

James Barnes was the man that you wanted to marry, but he wasn’t the man that was going to marry you. He knew he couldn’t be the picture perfect husband. The one that could take care of children or simply take care of the house. He tried to be domesticated, for you, for your future together. But the world seemed to fight him in every way. Bucky felt as if he would do anything just to tell you that he was sorry, yet you probably didn’t want to hear any of it. He didn’t know if you had yearned for the day you two would touch again. Until the day that the two of you would meet again. He missed the way that you laughed in surprise when he remembered something small, or the way you would stay up talking to him until the sun came up. “You’ll get over this, doll.” His jaw clenched after he said it, a piece of his heart leaving with the words when they escaped from his mouth.

You shook your head silently, looking back down at the counter. “You haven’t.” The world seemed to stop spinning. A year of waiting, dreaming of when he would come back to you. You could see your face at the altar, marrying the man who you knew would stay. The one that had no risk, he was safe. 

None of your friends had to worry that he may hurt you. That the love of your life would suddenly go rabid, killing anyone and everyone. Maybe even you. The man who didn’t have a foggy reputation, one who instead had a bright future. A stable life and a happy wife. A big white wedding with a dress that seemed to drown you and a life– 

“Do you love him?” “What?” “Are you as in love with him as you were with me?” 

“He’s a nice guy, Buck.” 

The tea kettle continued to whistle, growing louder and louder as the two of you finally snapped out of each other. Your breath hitched, as you muttered a curse word under your breath, your hands slightly shaking as your hand brushed his body as you walked past. “You don’t have to marry him.” He turned towards you, the two of you now standing directly in front of each other. “I’ll always be waiting for you,” as you attempted to walk away again, you felt his hand lightly grab your forearm. “I will never get over this, but I did this for you.”  Your head knew better than to give into this. To run out of this house while you still had the chance. “I did it so you could fall in love with someone who could have given you everything,” His hand cupped your face for a moment, you couldn’t help but lean into it, savoring it. Imprinting this moment into your memory so you would never forget this… or forget him. ___________________

The group all started saying their thank you and goodbyes as night completely covered your neighborhood, allowing for a safe exit for the whole group. It’s as if they only needed some water and food to actually be able to make a suitable plan to save New York. 

The group started to walk away from your door, all looking like they had a renewed purpose in a good two hours of rest. John, Ava, and Yelena continued to bicker their way down your driveway. The only one left inside was Bucky, saying his final goodbyes to Alpine yet again. As he finally made his way out the door, Alpine threaded through your legs as you both watched him leave. “I don’t know how to make this up to you” Bucky turned towards you, a hand resting on his hip. “No need, Bucky.” Your breathing was heavy, as you looked at him again. Trying to take in those details that you’ll ‘get over’ anyways. The way that his eyes closed as he smiled, or the way that his eyes looked in the middle of the night. Closure was what this was. The light finally fading on a chapter of your life that you continuously tried to close by yourself. Maybe this is what you needed. Bucky pivoted on his left foot, giving a mock salute one last time. Your breath started to quicken and you found yourself blinking back the tears that threatened to escape again. You watched the man you thought was the love of your life walk away for a second time tonight. You waved, one hand slightly covering your mouth as you made an attempt to silent the small sobs that were about to fall once you locked your door behind you. ___________________ Bucky’s apartment buzzer continued to go off, his hands fiddling with a light blue tie that matched with his eyes—or at least that's what John had told him when he was picking out a suit for this evening. Tonight was just another one of Val’s PR stunts. She and Mel are in the midst of trying to make the New Avengers look like the shiny new heroes that come to the rescue for everything. They weren’t anything like Steve or Tony. Sam definitely didn’t think so either. 

“Jesus christ…” He finally made his way over to the buzzer, automatically allowing them up assuming it was Yelena or John coming to pick him up. He slid on his grey suit jacket, giving a glance at his gloves before deciding to leave them on his foyer’s table. As the knock on the door finally came, he slid his boots on and walked over, “You know I told you to be here thirty minutes ago, we’re supposed to be at least slightly punctual–”  His breath stopped at the sight in front of his door. It was you waiting for him outside of his apartment. You were in a white sundress that he recognized, with your hair pinned up and flowers in your hand. “Hi.” you looked like a deer in headlights when he opened the door. Everything you had practiced went out the door. “I had practiced this for days–and I brought flowers because I thought it was something you would do..” You swallowed all the spit forming in your mouth as you watched him look you up and down.  Bucky looked down at your ring finger, seeing it completely bare from the last time he saw you nervously fidgeting with it. You caught him, watching his eyes go back to your face from your hand. “I couldn’t do it, Buck,” you said “I know that you probably don’t want me to be here and–”

Your whole speech was cut off by him matching his mouth with yours, pulling you in by your right arm. Your arms wrapped around him, your left arm reaching out and dropping the flowers on his foyer table. After all, flowers will not be wasted in this economy. You stood on your tiptoes, his hands moving to cup your face as your lips parted for a moment.

“You don’t know how much I thought about this moment” He said, slightly pushing your hair back behind your ear. “I do, actually” a slight giggle came out of your mouth, making a smile appear on his face again. “I’m sorry, for everything” he said, you watched him as he took in this moment, every detail seemed to be recognized by him. “Stop apologizing, I forgave you as soon as I saw you at my doorstep those months ago. I love you so much that I couldn’t help not forgiving you.” you grabbed his tie and reeled him back in, your arms wrapping around his neck as he leaned down to kiss you again.

Because what is love if not longing to have one come back to you?

[mirkopilled]

‪‪❤︎‬ Eating out ?! ‪‪❤︎‬ pt 1. | Aizawa shouta x fem!reader

word count: 1.6k

Tags/warnings: Aizawa x fem!reader (she/her pronouns used), SLIGHT nsfw in this part (it’s not too much but there’s going to be a lot more in the next part 😉), use of pet names (I.e. sweetheart, princess, darling etc.), pre established relationship, Aizawa is kinda a simp (love that)

This my first time writing a fic so I apologise if it’s kinda bad 😭😭 Also I didn’t proofread this as I’m going to bed now and I’m simply too tired.

pt 1:

You hummed joyfully to yourself as you got ready in the mirror, meticulously curling your hair, paying extra attention to your makeup and dousing yourself in coconut scented body oil until you were almost as reflective as the mirror you stood in front of.

Earlier today, Aizawa had texted you ‘Be ready by 6 PM’, followed by a link to a lavish restaurant that made your jaw drop just from the images available on google maps. It was unusual for Aizawa to select such a place, but ever since you mentioned it in passing (and how notoriously overbooked it is), he didn’t waste time trying for weeks on end to secure a reservation. If you wanted it, he made sure you were going to get. A small smile creeps up on your face at the thought of your boyfriend going to such lengths to make you happy. So much so you couldn’t help but squeal to yourself.

‘I take it you’re excited,’ He had a soft smile on his face as he leaned against the doorway. Aizawa’s gravel voice sent a slight shiver down your spine, making you jump slightly.

‘Shouta! I didn’t even know you there,’ You yelped, your face becoming slightly hot. Your eyes sheepishly scan your partner, who had nothing on but a towel that loosely hung to his hips. You eyes gazed over the soft look in his eyes that he only had with you to the stubble that adorned his face (that you found so so hot) to his broad, muscular shoulders often obscured by his hero costume. Strong, solid abs that led to happy trail that enveloped his lower stomach. Your sight show was cut short by the towel that obscured the grand finale. Although, a rough print was visible against the white towel which made your core throb.

‘What’s the matter, sweetheart?’ He slyly smirked, catching onto your staring long before even you realised you were staring.

‘Nothing!’ You chirped, your face slightly flushed and head guilty written all over it. Shouta came closer, the scent from the bath soap flooding your senses as placed his arm on your shoulder and leaned to kiss you softly on the cheek.

‘You look gorgeous,’ He spoke softly, admiring you in the mirror ‘Always so so beautiful, my pretty girl.’ He pecked your cheek once more, his stubble grazing your face. You lifted your hand to caress his face, pulling him closer. ‘Fuck, you smell incredible too.’ He buried his nose in neck as he took all of you in. God knows if you too are going to be able to make it to the restaurant! You giggle at your man, running your hands through his dark hair.

‘Thank you, hun,’ you glance at the clock: 5:42 PM ,’But we’re going to be late if we keep this up.’ His gaze meets yours, despite his eyes needy and indicating that he just might loose all self control, he gets up and heads to go get changed.

‘Yeah, I’ll be ready soon.’

He would be lying if Aizawa said that he wasn’t shocked that he had enough self restraint to make it to the restaurant without having his way with you. Alas, the two of you sat opposite each other under the warm lights and luxurious interior of the restaurant. The marble floors glissened beneath your gold heels and perpetuated a ‘clack’ ‘clack’ from the bustling waiters, zipping between tables holding various mouth watering dishes and beverages. The two of you were sat right next to the window which boasted a view of the busy street below and the summer night sky if you looked up.

The golden light kissed your features, your skin more glowy than ever, your eyes sparkled more than ever and your lips, god your lips, more kissable than ever. This didn’t go unnoticed by Aizawa, no far from that. Much like you were doing to him earlier, he was taking in every feature of you, basking in not only the light you radiated now but the light you had brought into his life. Ever since becoming close with you, he had thought countless times where has she been all my life?

‘Shouta,’ you signalled to the waiter that stood by your table. He was so lost in the sauce that he didn’t realise that he forgot he needed to order.

Fried shrimp, chicken katsu, dumplings and a plethora of other dishes had you leaning back against your chair and letting out a satisfying sigh.

‘You really outdid yourself, babe,’ you praise your boyfriend, he hums in response ‘It was so good, really lives up to the hype,’. At this point, any dishes had been swiftly sweeper up by the waiters and since you two entered, the place had died down a bit, the boisterous laughter and choir of conversations now melted into quiet murmurs of late night conversations.

‘It was really good, you made a good suggestion,’ Aizawa admitted, his eyes meeting yours once again, face flushed from the whine you two had and , well, your face (aw!). He cleared his throat looking outside. The sun had set quite a while ago, the early night blanketing the city.

‘It’s getting late,’ You say, stretching your arms out and yawning. The food you ate began to lull you to sleep and your half lidded eyelids dared to shut. The only thing keeping you awake was the alcohol that flowed through your system, making you feel warm all over. Your eyes languidly gazed at Aizawa, who was now also looking at you.

‘What?’ You giggle when you see your boyfriend so utterly focused on you.

‘Nothing,’ he hummed, eyes still scanning you. In reality, he was not fine at all. Not with you sat in front of him looking so perfect and pretty. Your body glistening and having him think about how glowy you look under your burgundy dress that he so desperately wanted to rip off of you. But he remained composed (for now). He readjusted his pants, he already had a semi just from looking at you. ‘Let’s at least get back home first’ he thought to himself, avoiding eye contact with you to avoid the situation in his pants getting worst, ‘We should get going now, dear.’ He said, trying desperately not to look you in the eye. Just on cue, a waiter came over to give you the bill and Aizawa swiftly paid, not wanting to waste any more time having to wait to be deep inside of you.

The elevator stops at the underground car park. The echoing from your heels is loud, but it’s as if you and Aizawa can hear the heels of your foot wailing in pain.

‘Babe,’ you look up at him with big doe eyes. Oh, you were going to kill him with that look.

‘What’s wrong princess?’ His hand coming to rest on your waist, ‘want me to carry you to the car?’ You eargely nodded and before you knew it, his strong arms scooped you up princess style. He didn’t even struggle carrying you to the car, which was quite the distance away. He kissed you forhead before placing you down, and opening the passenger door. You got in, followed by your boyfriend that placed his hand on your thigh almost immediately, as if there was a magnetic force.

‘I enjoyed today,’ Aizawa said before starting the car. Aizawa was not a man of many words, slightly more when he was with you but still far from the type to regularly talk your ear off (unless he was a scolding you). This statement made your heart flutter and you leaned in to kiss his cheek, painting a pink hue over them.

‘I love you, [name],’ there was a slight shake in his voice and a sharp breath, ‘And I’m sure now, I want to spend the rest of my days like this, with you.’ He turned to look you in the eyes. He was shaking slightly and his mouth began to dry up. Thoughts began to flood his mind, ‘why would I say that now? In the car?’. He was ready for the rejection that would follow suit. That you didn’t like him in that way and you weren’t looking for anything serious. The same liquor that had given him the slight confidence boost to say something like that you was now drowning his mind in negative thoughts.

There was silence for a while. It felt like a million years to Aizawa, who was going through 100 million ways this could go south. Time for damage control. ‘Forget that I even said anything, I know you don’t-‘

‘I love you too, Shouta,’ smiled softly, your heart beat quickened and cheeks flustered, ‘And I feel the same way, I want to be with you.’ Shouta’s eyes widened at the statement. No rejection? You feel the same way? Does this means you want to marry him too? He breathed a sigh of relief and pulled you in for a deep kiss, rough hands from hero work caressing your soft face.

‘I’m so glad you’re in my life.’ He sighed as he held you. Your coconut scent filling his nose again, making his cock twitch. He quietly groaned and let go of you, but not before you noticed the problem that was rising in his pants. You sit back in the car seat, smile still lingering on your face. ‘Ready you go now?’ He asked, shifting in his seat trying to make his erection not so prominent.

‘Mhm,’ you hum, excited for allll the positions Aizawa’s going to have you in tonight.

end

[poorlywrittenbutentertaining]

Consultant

Gibbs x Fem!oc

Warnings: light swearing, canon typical warnings

Summary: sometimes you just need a fresh set of eyes.

Gibbs leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head as he looked over the screens in front of him. He had examined and re-examined the evidence several times and yet he felt stuck. A dead Navy officer whose circumstances and crime scene pointed to murder but death implied natural causes. All roads led to a dead end. Gibbs let out a frustrated sigh and sat up, deciding a coffee would be a good way to clear his mind. He grabbed his coat and threw it over his shoulder as he exited the building. The sun felt refreshing as he walked out of the navy yard, flashing security his badge and ID as he passed.

The streets were surprisingly quiet for noon, but he couldn’t argue. After years living alone he’d come to appreciate quiet. A brief walk later and he stepped into his favorite coffee shop, the one he frequented often enough that the entire staff had memorized his order. Not that it was difficult, large black coffee, Jamaican blend. The barista behind the counter simply nodded and him and rang up the coffee as Gibbs provided his card to pay.

The bell over the door chimed behind him as a voice flooded through the small shop, “-Well I know that, but he’s not stable enough. His wound is volatile enough as is, if he leaves the hospital the risk of infection is too high… don’t tell me that, tell him that!… ugh, push 100 Ml.s until I get back and can handle this myself. Don’t let him out of your sight.” Gibbs peeked over his shoulder to see a somewhat familiar face, however she looked disgruntled and minutely irritated. He stepped out of the way as he listened to her order. Her drink order was complex and (he assumed) would be very very sweet by the end.

“Lotta sugar for a doctor to be drinking,” Gibbs said casually. The girl looked over at him and he managed a half smile, “Dr. Wright.”

Elaine’s face broke out into a wide grin as she turned to him, still dressed in her work scrubs, her badge clipped to her lapel. On her lunch break, he assumed.

“Agent Gibbs,” her voice was surprised, but pleasant, “I don’t think you should come after my sugar consumption. I’ve heard just how high your caffeine intake is.”

Gibbs chuckled, “fair enough. Tough patient?”

“Yeah, you could say that,” Elaine stood next to him, “tough case?”

Gibbs nodded and mimicked her words, “yeah… you could say that.” He looked down at her. Her flaming red curls were stuffed into a tight bun on the back of her head. A few stray curls bounced around her head, free from the elastics holding everything else in place.

“Tell me about it,” Elaine glanced up at him, “Consider me a… consultant. Y’know like those psychics on TV.”

“Are you a psychic, Elaine?” Gibbs asked.

“No, but I’m a doctor,” Elaine said, “and a little birdie told me that cause of death looks natural, but you’re investigating murder. Maybe a fresh pair of eyes is what you need?”

Gibbs stopped a moment and considered. Maybe a fresh pair of eyes was what he needed. Ducky had gone over the body several times and all of the evidence had been scoured for forensics. A different perspective could be enlightening.

“Gibbs!” The barista called. Gibbs grabbed his coffee and took a sip.

“You free today?” Gibbs asked.

“For the case? Or… something else?” Elaine cheekily smiled. Gibbs rolled his eyes. Elaine laughed, “What time do you want me there?

“1700 hours,” Gibbs said.

“Copy that, gunny.”

~~~

The elevator dinged and Elaine ran her hands down the front of her shirt, smoothing it out after taking a deep breath. The last time she was here, she had held a bomb for four hours, and then developed a slight crush on the leading investigator, who also happened to be her godfather’s best friend. She had woken up in his home, after receiving a serious concussion where he had monitored her for the full day.

Elaine had changed out of her scrubs into more office-appropriate attire. As the elevator doors slowly opened in front of her she was greeted by the familiar sight of the orange squad room. She stepped out and quickly made her way to the bullpen.

“Dr. Wright,” DiNozzo stood and moved to her side, “how can I help you?”

“I’m looking for agent Gibbs, he asked me to be here.”

“For what?”

“Elaine,” Gibbs rounded the dividers. Elaine smiled and walked to him, “with me.”

“Yes, sir,” Elaine fell into step with him as he guided her to the second elevator, “so read me in.”

“Navy officer, 35, house was trashed and raided, there was a significant amount of deer blood on the body but when the body was examined, all roads lead to a heart attack,” Gibbs said, “but the officer was perfectly healthy when we pulled his medical records.”

“Huh,” Elaine rolled her lips, “I might have an idea.”

When the elevator opened Elaine was greeted by the sight of a serile autopsy room, and her godfather.

“Hello dear,” Ducky smiled and walked over to her, embracing her tight.

“Hi dad,” Elaine smiled and returned the hug, “i’m here as a fresh pair of eyes.”

“Yes Jethro told me,” Ducky pulled away and retrieved her a fresh set of protective equipment, “our dear officer is right here.” Elaine pulled the PPE over her clothing and approached the body. He looked healthy, for a dead guy who had been autopsied. Nothing immediately struck her as strange. Elaine rolled the body’s arm out and inspected its veins.

“Did this man go to the hospital before he died?” elaine asked, grabbing a magnifying glass to zoom the area.

“No,” Ducky said. Elaine pulled away from the glass, and showed Ducky. He hummed, “Looks like an IV. But there were no drugs in his blood.”

“No, there wasnt,” Elaine said, “They didnt inject medication. They injected air. Of course you wouldn’t see it on a tox screen. An injection of air can cause what looks like a heart attack. The air bubbles block the flow of blood, it’s the reason we watch so close for air bubbles in shots, and IV drips.”

It was that moment that Gibbs realized just how smart this woman was, “The injection was professional. Straight into the vein. You’re looking for someone who works in a hospital or medical testing lab. A phlebotomist maybe, or a nurse.”

A nurse, that was it. Gibbs nodded and began walking off.

“Say thank you, Jethro!” Ducky called. Gibbs halted and turned, approaching Elaine as she took her gloves off with her back turned to him. When she turned she froze to see he was mere inches from her. She looked up at him with a small blush dusting her cheeks.

“Good work, doctor,” Gibbs’ voice was low. Elaine swallowed and smiled at him.

“Told you, you needed fresh eyes,” She smiled slightly. Gibbs turned and walked away and Elaine took a deep breath, leaning against the sinks.

“You’re swooning, Elaine,” Ducky said. Elaine laughed slightly.

“That man is worth swooning for,” She answered.

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

Mon Cher Chapter 2

*Idea found on TikTok by @yaberdat aka Finnley.*

“A modern day writer exploring a vampire’s estate during the day.  Wondering why a random room was locked.  Until…they find a Victorian painting of themself.”

*garer:  shelter, where the word garage originates

Previous chapter Next chapter

Y/N took the next few weekends at the end of the summer to check out the Barnes mansion.  The first time she went it was to stake out the area and see if the house was gated off or if there were security cameras or alarms in place.  She drove her car to the outskirts of the bayou and followed the old road that led to the Barnes Mansion until it tapered off into grassland.  She parked the car once the house was in view and made the rest of the trek on foot, hefting her backpack on her shoulder and trudging through the high grass and puddles in her waterproof boots, tucking her pouch necklace under her dress. She stalked around the edge of the property for a while that day, enjoying the willow trees that surrounded the four corners of the main house and then the long expanse of land that was behind it that must have held once well-manicured gardens and what looked like a water feature, but had been flooded out.  

The second time she went she moved forward beyond the main border of the property, walking around the house and inspecting the outside.  It didn’t look damaged like she expected from a major hurricane flood, so she plucked up the courage and carefully walked up the steps of the wraparound porch, testing the floorboards with each step so as not to fall through any previously flooded and rotted wood.  Surprisingly, it all seemed intact.  Y/N walked around the porch, peaking into the windows and trying to see if she could see anything.  Unfortunately it was too dark to see anything other than shapes and glimpses of the things inside.  But if the outside was in good shape, then maybe the inside was?  Once she reached the front door again she looked out at the front of the property from the porch and felt her heart lurch.  Was this…deja vu?  Why did this scene look so familiar?  Why did she suddenly feel so emotional?  She blinked away the heat behind her eyes, shaking her head at herself before walking down the porch and back to her car before the sun could set any lower.

The next Saturday in the late afternoon Y/N walked straight to the front door and tested the door knob.  It was of course locked, so she pulled out her tool kit and started fiddling with the lock.  Eventually the lock clicked and she opened the door, a proud smile spreading across her face.  The floor inside seemed to all be intact as well.  In fact, the entire house was pristine.  She had expected water damage, sagging floors, peeling paint and wallpaper and broken chandeliers, but it all looked freshly clean and preserved.  Maybe there was a new private owner who fixed it all up?

Y/N took out her phone and started walking through the house, taking pictures of each room and admiring the design of the house and all the pieces left inside.  By the time she walked up the stairs the sun was starting to set, but she wasn’t ready to leave just yet.  She took pictures of the rooms upstairs, the golden hour light creating the most amazing shadows that she couldn’t get enough of.  The further she went into the house the more a feeling of uneasiness settled in her bones.  Something about all of this was strangely intimate, like she had been here before, recognizing some of the pieces as she walked from room to room.  Then she reached the last door that led to the turret part of the house.  She pulled, but it wouldn’t budge. The knob wouldn’t even jiggle, like it was wedged or glued shut.  She frowned as she stepped away and stared at the door so oddly separated from the rest of the house.  After a moment she shrugged and took a picture of the door before turning around as she reviewed some of the photos on her phone.  When she looked back up at the wall facing the door she froze and gasped.  

The last bit of the setting sun illuminated another portrait of Lady Barnes, but this one was a close up of her from the chest up.  The intense detail made Y/N’s eyes widen.  The same eyes, the same nose, same mouth, same tilt of the eyebrows, same birthmarks, but she had a knowing look in her eye that was almost unnerving to look at.  Y/N’s heart plummeted into her stomach.  Something suddenly felt off…it was all too familiar and her mind just couldn’t wrap itself around whatever it was nudging at her subconscious.  She inched toward the staircase, an ominous feeling in her gut making her nervous and jittery.  Just as the last rays of sun dipped below the horizon, casting the house in shadow as she reached the first step, the lock on the turret door clicked.  

Her gaze snapped to the door for half a second before she gasped and turned to run down the stairs.  Her heavy footsteps thumped down the stairs as she focused on not falling, leaping down the last few to the landing and then down the last set.  She could hear a strange hissing sound coming from above and kept moving, not daring to look back.  Her heart was thundering in her chest, the blood rushing through her veins and making her panic as she almost tripped on an old ornate rug and ran as fast as she could toward the front door.  She was so close, reaching her hand out to grab the old door knob and twist it, pulling it open just an inch before a hand smacked the door above her head and shut it hard.  

Y/N yelped and turned to see her attacker then froze again.  Towering over her was the most beautiful man she had ever seen.  His body was hovering over her as his hand kept the door shut, placing his face within inches of hers.  He was pale, dark circles under his eyes and dark lashes that made his bright blue eyes look icy and piercing.  A straight nose that led down to perfectly pink lips surrounded by a full beard.  His mouth was slightly agape as he stared at her, a crease between his stern eyebrows and long dark brown hair that reached his shoulders.  He looked at her like he was in awe, and if she wasn’t mistaken, with a sadness and longing that made her heart cringe.

Her wide eyes took him in, her own mouth agape as she shakily took shallow, panicked breaths.  What did he want?  Why was he here?  Was he the owner?  Why did she…know those eyes?  Before she could try to speak and explain herself he raised his right hand and hesitantly reached toward her face.  Her eyes darted to his hand and back to his face, trying to gauge whether or not she could fight him off if he tried anything.  His fingers barely made contact with her cheek then he exhaled sharply at a sting that jolted between the skin of her cheek and his fingertips.  He frowned deeper at his hand, then his eyes moved to the strings of the necklace that he could see around her neck, the rest of it hidden beneath her dress.  

He let out a disappointed sigh but met her gaze again, the frown transforming into a look of deep despair.  “Y/N?” he breathed, like he couldn’t quite believe it.

Y/N blinked in confusion, her own frown forming on her face as she stared back at him.  She closed her mouth and took a deep breath, swallowing harshly before nodding.  “Yes,” she said quietly.  “How do you know my name?”

A soft, sad but knowing smirk lit up his face.  “I would know you in any lifetime, doll,” he said lowly.  He said it with such conviction that she felt a strange thrill shoot down her spine, confusing her as she felt both fear and arousal.  Her eyelids fluttered as he slightly leaned in and sniffed near her throat, humming deeply before he pulled away.  “Human,” he scoffed.  “And protected by magic.  Smart.  Good strategy.”

Y/N’s annoyance overrode her self-preservation and she shook her head as she tried to angle herself away from him.  “Who are you?” she asked, her voice raising slightly.

His smirk deepened.  “Lord James Barnes, but you called me Bucky,” he said.  

Her eyebrows shot up.  “I’m sorry, Lord Barnes as in…the vampire of the bayou?  No,” she shook her head more vehemently.  “No, no no no no no, that’s…this is not happening–”

Bucky’s mouth widened into a full, toothy smile, and she watched in shock as his canines seemingly grew out of his gums, lengthening into two sharp fangs that glistened in the dark foyer.  “The one and only,” he said with a teasing tone.  

Her eyes were comically wide as she stared at him, her eyes flickering across his face.  This couldn’t be real…this couldn’t be happening.  It was just ghost stories, legends of history that were blown out of proportion.  “So you think I’m…” she breathed.

“You are,” Bucky said earnestly, staying close to her but not touching her.  “Y/N Barnes, the lady of the house.  My darling, the Belle of the ball, my doll.”  The pet names rolled off his lips so easily, making her confusing arousal spike.  “I’ve been waiting for you for so long,” he said sadly.  “But it seems my suffering isn’t over.”  He finally stood straight and took a few steps back to give her space, though it looked like it physically hurt him to do so.  

Y/N should have taken the moment to try and open the door and run again, but her curiosity won over.  “What do you mean?” she asked.

“You don’t remember,” he said forlornly.  “You are human again.  You are protected,” he pointed at the hidden necklace.  “You don’t remember,” he whispered, looking down at his feet.

Another confusing need to hold him, to comfort him arose in her chest and she had to stop herself from trying to step toward him, keeping her hands at her sides tightly as she fought the feeling to reach out to him.  He was familiar.  This house was familiar.  The pet names he called her made her heart sing.  What was going on?  She shut her eyes tight and let out a long puff of air.  “This is crazy,” she muttered.

Bucky chuckled bitterly.  “It is.”

She opened her eyes to find him staring at her again.  They sat in silence for a moment before she took a step toward him.  There was an invisible pull she felt in her gut that wanted her to stay, to be close to him, to touch him.  “What happens if I take off the necklace?” she asked suspiciously.

Bucky’s eyes slightly widened.  “Then I could touch you,” he said.  “I could change you, but I would only do that if you wanted me to.”

“You wouldn’t hurt me?” she asked quietly, taking another step forward.

He fully faced her and shook his head.  “Never,” he promised.

The rational part of her brain was screaming at her to run, to stop with this weirdness and get herself somewhere safe away from the strange man.  But her heart was winning out.  Something about all of this was too recognizable, but it was like there was a wall in her mind, making things fuzzy or not quite connecting the dots.  Her hand twitched at her side, itching to reach up and take off her necklace.  “I feel like I’m going crazy,” she said, taking another step forward.

Bucky’s eyes looked hopeful.  “What are you feeling?”

She frowned as she came closer until she was looking up at him again.  “It’s all so familiar,” she breathed.  “I felt it the moment I first came to New Orleans years ago.  I’ve felt it ever since I moved here.  Something prickling at the edge of my consciousness,” she started rambling, then looked around the foyer they stood in.  “This house, the portrait at the bar and upstairs…” Her hand slowly moved up toward his face, stopping short of his face when she remembered the sting when he tried to touch her earlier.  “I know this,” she whispered.  

He nodded, looking at her desperately.  “You know me,” he urged.  “Take off the necklace, doll.  Let me show you.”

She paused for a moment, weighing her options as Toussaint’s words echoed in her head.  But something about this felt important and right.  She didn’t feel in danger, and she needed to know and understand what was going on.  And even if it was all just some kind of weird coincidence, then at least she would have a classic New Orleans encounter and story to tell, and maybe a fun night with a handsome stranger.  She reached both hands up and started lifting the necklace off of herself.  Bucky let out another sharp breath as he watched her remove it, and when she dropped it off to the side he smiled softly at her.  He raised both of his hands until he cupped her face, his expression crumpling into a mix of desire and satisfaction the second he touched her.  She welcomed it, her eyelids fluttering as his thumbs swept across her cheekbones.  Tears built in his eyes as he stared at her for another moment, then he angled his head and leaned down, nuzzling his nose along hers for a moment.  Y/N tilted her head upwards more for him, feeling as desperate as he looked.

He ghosted his lips across hers, hovering for a moment, then kissed her.  Y/N wasn’t sure what happened, but it felt like her entire world turned upside down.  An icy tingling sensation seeped through her veins the moment he kissed her, sending a shiver over her whole body, and then she gasped through her nose as a vision filled her head.  It was her, dressed in a 1910s flowy evening dress and being helped down from an old Delaunay-Belleville car.  She was looking up at a theatre with a wide smile, but her canines were sharper.  She caressed Bucky’s cheek affectionately then took his arm as he led her inside.  Another memory came through, and it was her again at what looked like a ball, dressed in a black, elaborate dress and mingling and dancing with people as music played.  Then another of her and Bucky, laying naked in a bed with the afterglow from love-making surrounding them, her fingers running through his hair softly before she kissed the tip of his nose.

It all disappeared and her eyes opened as Bucky pulled away.  His chest was rising with heavy breaths that matched hers as he looked at her pleadingly, silently begging her to see and believe.  She didn’t realize that her hands were gripping his wrists until she raised her hand again and did as she had seen in the vision, softly running her fingers through the front part of his hair, her nails lightly scratching his scalp.  His eyes fluttered shut for a moment and he leaned his forehead against her forehead like it was the only thing keeping him upright.  She nuzzled his nose back and remembered…

“Mon cher?” she asked quietly.  

His eyes snapped open and he pulled back to be able to see her fully.  His eyes were wide as he stared at her in disbelief.  His fingers tightened on her cheeks minutely.  “You remember?” he asked.

“It’s…it’s all in flashes,” she whispered, slightly shaking her head as she tried to piece together the memories.  “But I know you…Bucky.”  Her voice gave out and she was overcome with emotion, tears brimming her eyes as she stared at him.  “My Bucky.”

“Yes,” he nodded, tears spilling down his cheeks.  “Your Bucky.  I’ve missed you so much, my love.”

He kissed her again, more passionately this time.  Y/N reciprocated it easily, her hands moving to his back and holding him close.  As they kissed more images and visions flashed through her head, playing like an old movie.  The more she saw the more emotional she became.  She was remembering New Orleans, their home, the parties they attended and hosted, how long they had been together before that horrible night when the priest hunters came and ambushed them.  She could see and hear Bucky’s anguished cries as he held her body with a silver dagger through her heart, then felt his despair, hate and rage as he charged the church and ripped the hunters apart before setting it ablaze.

By the time she came back to herself he had moved them to the front door, lifting her and pressing her against it so his hands could roam more freely.  Her legs had automatically wrapped around his hips, and on instinct her hands moved into his hair, her fingers threading through the strands and then tugging at the hair at the base of his skull.  Bucky groaned into her mouth, which brought on another wave of memories, each more sexual and dirty than the last.  She shuddered as his tongue licked the seam of her lips, and she opened her mouth to him.  Their tongues fought for dominance in constant open-mouthed kisses until her tongue was nicked by one of his fangs.

Y/N gasped sharply, trying to pull her mouth away from the twinge of pain, but Bucky’s lips sucked her tongue, keeping it in his mouth.  He tasted her blood and a loud, needy whimper came from his throat.  “Fuck, doll,” he breathed when he released her.  “You taste divine.”

She moaned against his mouth as she kissed him deeply again, then broke the kiss suddenly, sucking in a deep breath as her head thumped against the door.  “I’m dizzy,” she giggled.

Bucky chuckled, keeping himself close to her as he pulled her away from the door and carried her up the stairs to the bedroom that had been locked earlier.  He kicked the door closed behind him before bringing her over to the bed and laying her on it gently.  He positioned her to lay normally on the bed then laid next to her, keeping her tucked against his side.  “I’m sure you’re feeling overwhelmed by it all,” he said empathetically.  “The memories and the feelings are all rushing back.  I’m sorry I was overly excited–”

“It’s okay,” Y/N sighed, her body and mind being reminded of just how tired she truly was after everything that happened.  She snuggled against him and kept her face tucked against the crook of his neck, inhaling a scent that was so inherently him that brought on more memories.  “I understand, mon cher.”

Bucky hummed as he squeezed her.  “Sleep, my darling.  Just let me hold you.  Let me feel you as you dream.”  He kissed the side of her head near her ear.  “I can’t believe you’re back.  It’s been so long–”

Y/N squeezed him back with the little strength she had left as her consciousness slipped into oblivion and exhaustion, with visions of her and Bucky having a night out on the town.

[lovemouche]

lovesick all over my bed ౨ৎ

satoru x fem reader

18+ / mdni

It was never meant to end up like this.

Satoru had stated the boundary of no strings attached prior to entangling himself with you — metaphorically and, quite literally too. The relationship was meant to start and end with physicality only. That was the one rule he made sure to implement for himself. That was where he drew the line. 

"Y-yes. right there. Please."

And yet, these days, he's been finding himself caught in the cavern of a predicament, worn down to the point where he can't think of much, besides tangled limbs and open mouthed kisses, hot and wet as he'd breathe heavily against your form. Worn down to the point where he can't think of anything else besides you. 

Even now, as you lay underneath him, needy and bare, shaped like a deity, challenging the outline of divinity, he's still thinking of you. Always.

And it's driving him crazy, consuming every waking thought of his. Because he just doesn't know how it all led up to this. Satoru can't fathom how an inkling of affection he dismissed as nothing more than a momentary impulse burgeoned into something more profound. Into something so alarming. Into—

No. 

No. No. No.

No. He doesn't want to name the emotion just yet. He can't. Labelling it just solidifies his fear into truth, and the prospect that the feeling blossoming inside his chest aligns with what he’d dreaded feeling the most crosses every boundary he had set for himself. 

Love, the most twisted curse of all. 

"Ah, Satoru—"

The call of his name drags him out of his reverie. It's whispered softly against his skin, flushed as he clings to you desperately, secure enough to hold you in place, but never too much to hurt you. 

"Yeah?" he asks tentatively, his movements being put to a pause. After loosening his grip around your body, he shifts the bend of legs on the mattress to keep his weight from overwhelming you. "You okay, princess?" 

His hand travels from the curve of your waist to trace the outline of your jaw, carefully and, much too lovingly for someone who's only meant to use you for emotional release. "Does anything hurt?" he asks, thumbing the apple of your cheek with gentle strokes, noticing how you shiver under the touch. 

You shake your head, but it's not enough to convince him otherwise; the lack of a verbal response only has his mind flooding with concern even more, especially because you've never stopped him mid-sex. Not once in the entire seven months of your arrangement. 

"Talk to me," he encourages. 

Instinctively, you lay your hand on top of the one toying with your cheek, your fingertips lightly rubbing at his knuckles in an attempt to calm him down. Satoru feels his chest constrict. It's not a big gesture, he knows. But it feels so intimate—so sweet. 

Anyone would assume he would've gotten used to it by now, but even with familiarity and time, everything you do only seems to make his heart race even more. 

He's grateful the dim lights don't manage to catch the flush beginning to spread throughout his features, but he's certain you can feel the way his cock hardens inside you, even if you don't comment on it—which he's also grateful for.

God, he's hopeless. 

The control you have over him is dangerous, he realizes. Part of him wants to pull away before any damage can be done. But the other, bigger part welcomes the peril with open arms. 

"It's just..." you trail off, letting out a sigh of frustration as you try to find the right words. 

"Should I pull out?" 

"No," you huff, tone authoritative. Out of reflex, your legs tighten around him, thighs caging his waist to keep him in place—because you definitely don't want him to pull out. Not with how good he's filling you up right now. "Just... shut up for now." 

Satoru acquiesces to your request. Despite his reservations, he nods, albeit a bit reluctantly, and makes a testament to his obedience by pretending to zip his mouth up with pinched fingers. 

"You just... seem a little out of it nowadays, like you're distracted. So I wanted to know if you were okay."

You take a brief pause. Satoru waits with bated breath. 

"We're friends too, you know? You can talk to me about these things. It doesn't always have to be sex," you add softly, probing gently to gauge the situation while making sure to leave enough room for him to make the decision to open up. Because really, he doesn't owe you any explanation. 

He doesn't owe you anything at all.

Satoru feels his heart swell, pressing up against his sternum, too big for his chest—everything he feels for you is too much for him to carry. 

I know, he thinks bitterly to himself. That's the problem. I don't want to be your friend anymore. 

But he doesn't want to lose you either, and he knows that if he let the dam break, if he let loose every emotion he's been struggling to keep at bay, he'd only ruin everything. 

He'd lose you. And he'd lose himself in the process.

So Satoru parries your question with ease, because honesty isn't his forte—both towards you and himself. 

"Nothing's wrong," he insists, raising an arm to pin your hand up against the bedsheet, intertwining your fingers with his. "Don't worry." 

Resting his forehead on top of your sweat kissed one, he resumes his movements languidly. "Just...just focus on how good I'm making you feel, o—oh—okay?" 

He trips on his words at the sensation of being sucked in and out of your sweet cunt, and he prays—god, he prays—that the feeling of being inside you is enough to compensate for not having you entirely, even if just for a moment. 

But it's not enough, and Satoru can't help but feel that it never will be. 

He slides in and out of you, his desire heavy. And you moan in response, chest rising from the laboured breaths that follow each sinful thrust, hips gyrating automatically to match his pace. 

And it feels good. It feels so fucking good. But the pleasure isn't enough to cloud his senses and dispel his anxiety. Because he's looking at you and his heart is already tugging at its seams. And Satoru feels helpless. 

And he's not sure what it is—if it's the high that ensues being wrapped around your tight walls, or the way you fit so perfectly against him, as if you were made to be held by him, as if he was made just to hold you—but something about tonight has him desperate for more than just late night messages that lead to loveless fucking. 

Something about tonight has him desperate for all of you. Mind and body, heart and soul. 

The notion is heady, and the revelation steals his breath. It roots itself inside his chest and demands his attention, aching to be acknowledged. 

He's so caught up in his head, so lost in thought that he doesn't even register the fact that his movements have been put to a halt and his cock has stilled inside you. Not until you press a shaky palm to his chest in worry.

"Hey," you breathe out. "What's wrong?"

Satoru has to bite his tongue to refrain from telling you that: everything is. There are so many things he wants to tell you, but he's scared it'll poison every next moment. He's scared he'll lose you in the only way he knows he can have you. 

Everything is wrong, he wants to say.

Instead, he stays quiet. 

There an ugly feeling gathering in the pit of his stomach. He wants, so badly, to say something—anything. But he can't. The only reaction he can offer you is the widening of eyes, and his mouth parting in shock before his lips purse into a disappointed frown.

Being in... fuck he'll name it. Being in love shouldn't indemnify him from acting like an idiot, but love has a way of blurring all reason, all rationality. 

He waits for you to speak again, unwilling to break the silence himself—too afraid of what might follow, too afraid that you've already seen right through him.

And he feels pathetic, of course, for being reduced to such a scattered mess, because he's supposed to be the strongest. And for the most part, he is. He really is. But when it comes to you, he can't seem to live up to that title. When it comes to you, he can't seem to be anything else but yours. 

The yearning—to mean something more to you, to be everything to you—settles in his bones. It's draining his soul. He's standing on the edge of a cliff, left to teeter somewhere in between unbridled emotion and self restraint. It's a precarious position to be placed in, and he's hanging by a mere thread. 

Seconds stretch into what feels like an eternity. The air feels like it's heavy with impending demise, and the silence engulfs him like black tar. It's suffocating, to say the least. Satoru isn't sure if he wants to prolong the moment or get it over with. He feels his heart pound against his chest—that treacherous thing.

So when you finally say something, he breaks.

"Satoru, what's wrong?" 

He falls apart. 

"I'm sorry," he chokes out, voice timid and exceptionally apologetic, head hanging low in refusal to meet your eyes. The sight of him is pitiful; you can't, for the life of you, understand why.

It's strange seeing Satoru in such a vulnerable state. Not because you don't assume he doesn't have his own baggage to carry, but because you never thought he'd be willing to expose this side of himself to you.

It's everything out of the ordinary, like witnessing god crumble at your feet, or having an executioner beg to be pardoned for all his killings.

"I'm sorry," he repeats. Only this time, it feels more resigned, like he's admitting defeat. It almost feels like he's apologising to you. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

But how could that be? and why would it ever be?

"What? Sat—ah."

Satoru falls slack on top of you, pressing the weight of his body against yours. He buries his head into the crook of your neck, chin moving to rest on your shoulder as he evades your gaze. You feel his hands travel south as he continues whispering a mantra of apologies into your skin.

It's a vain endeavour, trying to lift yourself up to get him to talk to you properly. The grip on your hip keeps you anchored, leaving you no room for anything other than compliance; it's as if he's scared you'll leave if he lets go even for a second.

And honestly, he is. 

"Satoru. Don't be like this please."

"I'm sorry," is all he says. 

"Satoru, look at—"

"No."

"Look at me." 

"I'm an idiot."

"No," you interject. "You are not."

"But I am." It's muffled, his voice. A Little shaky too. "I know I'm an idiot, so don't," he pleads. "Don't look at me. I don't want you to see me right now. I can't." 

"You need to tell me what's wrong."

"You're going to hate me. I'm going to ruin everything."

"How?" 

"I'm sorry."

"Satoru."

"I'm sorry," he repeats, his grip on you tightening, fingernails digging soft crescents into your skin. "I'm sorry; I got too greedy." 

Your eyebrows pinch. 

Satoru can practically feel your confusion, and he wants to die, because you don't get it. You just don't get it. Not at all. Not one bit. Not until he whispers five words that knock all the air out of your lungs:

I love you. I'm sorry.

There's a pregnant pause, hesitant, unsure. And then:

"Wha—what? No. You—you're lying." 

Satoru shakes his head in disagreement, vehemently refusing your claim. 

Lying? How could he ever lie about such a thing? He could feign indifference at most, try to brush past it and let the feeling linger until it subsides. But he can't, and it hasn't, and he's tired of pretending that he doesn't love you anymore. Because he does. He loves you too much to push those feelings away. 

"It's true," he admits. "I—I tried not to... you know? I tried not to—fuck, I'm sorry." 

The confession should have lifted the burden, or at the very least, eased it. But his lips struggle to form words, and his heart ricochets against his ribcage. 

"Look at me," you implore.

"No."

He's certain you must hate him now. That by tomorrow, or tonight even, he'll leave the place—the person—he's associated with home as nothing more than a stranger. 

Even worse, a mistake. 

"Please?" 

But your arms crawl to wrap around his torso, and your legs squeeze around his own in silent reassurance, like you're trying to convey to him that you're not going anywhere. And if that isn't enough to convince him to listen, Satoru doesn't know what is. 

When he finally raises his head, your eyes linger on the contours of his face, studying his crestfallen expression. He's anguished, that's for sure. You just can't wrap your head around the fact that it's probably you who's causing his misery. 

Because Satoru is... well, Satoru—he's the strongest.

So who are you to be able to wreck him this much?

"Do you..." you swallow, still unconvinced, words quieting down to a whisper. "Do you really love me?" 

Without looking at you, Satoru nods. it's not enough of an answer, though. 

"Tell me, please." 

He lets out a slow, shuddering exhale, chest stuttering on his next breath. He's silent for a few seconds, thinking. Until finally, with a slight crack to his voice, he says. "I do." very tremulously. "I love you." 

Which is painful to admit, because he doesn't even know what to do now that it's been said. Satoru's not sure how he can give you something he's never been shown. He's not even sure if he deserves it, or if you'll even want his affection. 

But there's so much of it, so much love growing in his chest that he fears it'll crack his ribs. So he's willing to try, even if it might ruin him in the process, 

He's willing to do anything, so long as it's for you. 

It's as simple as that, really. 

"You're lying. I—you can't be serious."

Well, maybe not really.

"I am." Satoru nods pathetically, like a wounded puppy, like his heart is in tatters because you can't believe him even after he's laid himself so embarrassingly bare like this. "I love you." 

"But you said—"

"I know," Satoru interrupts, and his lips are bowed. "I know. I'm a hypocrite. I got too selfish. But I can't help it anymore, I'm sorry. I love you too much to push these feelings away." 

Satoru feels every muscle in your body go stiff at the admission. You're rendered speechless, once again; hesitant in your words, even more so in your actions. And he feels like he's made a grave mistake, that right then and there, he's ruined everything—he's lost you.

But then the right corner of your mouth quirks, hinting at the faintest of smiles, and an obtrusive feeling of hope sparks within him, fizzling out his nerves like cheap soda. 

"Why would you be sorry?" you scold, flicking his forehead. "The only thing you should be sorry about is worrying me. Do you know how scared I was seeing you go MIA while you were still inside me?"

"I'm still inside," he reminds you. 

You groan. "this is not the time." 

"I know." He frowns, but the tension from earlier is nowhere to be found, and Satoru feels even more at ease now that you've begun playing with his hair, twirling the strands between your fingers. "I'm sorry. I don't really know what else to say." 

"You don't need to say anything else."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"You aren't upset or anything?"

"Why would I be?"

"I don't know." He lowers his head to rest on top of your chest, all watery and emotional, pressing his cheek just above where your heart lies to find solace in the rhythmic pitter patter of beats. "I just expected you'd be mad or... disappointed, you know?" 

"Well I'm not, so don't worry about anything, okay?"

"Okay," he hums.

You don't say anything after that. Neither does he. It's quiet for a while, and you take the time to think while basking in the afterglow of such a raw moment. 

It's all still so surreal. 

You feel like the universe is playing a prank on you, like Satoru's orchestrating a sick, cruel joke to mess with your system. But you're cradling his head in your hand, lovingly tracing arbitrary shapes on his scalp, and you swear you can hear how fast his heart is racing. 

It's in tandem with yours.

And perhaps, that's all that matters. 

Maybe you were an idiot not to have realised it sooner. Maybe you were just in denial too. But it's as clear as day now, and you really can't deny the fact that it has always felt like you and Satoru were made for each other. Because when you take his hand into yours, and it feels like the spaces between your fingers were shaped just to hold him like this, you're certain that it's always been more than just sex. 

"Satoru?"

"Yeah?"

"Me too."

He gives you a quizzical look. You smile.

"I love you too."

[buildmyplaceweb]

What are outdoor LED flood light fixtures?

Outdoor lighting plays a crucial role in enhancing the safety, security, and aesthetics of our surroundings. Among the various lighting options available, outdoor LED flood light fixtures stand out due to their efficiency, durability, and versatility. In this article, we’ll dive deep into what outdoor LED flood light fixtures are, their types, key features, benefits, applications, and tips for…

[antheyaaa]

"A Night to Remember – Sabrina Carpenter Concert"

Tom Taylor x reader

The buzz of excitement filled the air as you and the cast of House of the Dragon piled into the black SUV, ready for a night of music, fun, and a little bit of chaos. The city lights flickered past as you scrolled through your phone, laughing at the sheer number of messages flooding your group chat.

Emma: "So we all agree, whoever gets 'arrested' by Sabrina Carpenter tonight is legally the main character?"

Harry: "I vote for Tom. He needs to experience ✨ character development ✨."

Bethany: "Nah, it’s definitely gonna be [Y/N]. She’s Sabrina’s type."

You rolled your eyes, feeling Tom shift beside you. His hand found yours easily, fingers intertwining as he gave a small, dramatic sigh. "As long as you don't leave me for her, I suppose I can handle it," he teased, though there was a glint of something else behind his blue eyes.

You smirked. "Oh, Tommy, if she arrests me, you better fight for me."

Olivia and Fabien howled with laughter while Harry leaned forward. "Oh, he’d storm the stage. No doubt."

Tom huffed, leaning into your ear. "You are way too excited about this."

You turned your head to look at him, eyes dancing with amusement. "Jealous, are we?"

His jaw tensed, but the small twitch at the corner of his lips gave him away. "Me? Jealous of a pop star? Never."

The others burst into laughter, but you just squeezed his hand, shooting him a wink. "Guess we’ll see, huh?"

ARRIVING AT THE VENUE

The moment you stepped into the arena, the energy was electric. Fans were already screaming, the bass from the speakers vibrating through your chest as Sabrina's pre-show playlist echoed through the venue. Your group had VIP seats—close enough to see everything, but with just enough space to dance like maniacs.

Tom kept you close, his arm wrapped securely around your waist as you made your way to your seats. You could feel the possessiveness in his grip, his thumb rubbing small circles against your hip.

"You look stunning, by the way," he murmured, just loud enough for you to hear over the music.

You grinned, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. "Trying to distract me so I don’t get arrested?"

"Is it working?"

"Not even a little."

THE CONCERT BEGINS

The second Sabrina stepped on stage, the crowd erupted. You were singing, dancing, and completely losing yourself in the music. Tom, despite all his teasing earlier, was just as into it—his head bobbing, a rare, carefree smile spread across his face as he watched you twirl beside him.

Then, it happened.

The opening beats of "Nonsense" started playing, and you felt your stomach flip. Sabrina strutted across the stage, scanning the crowd with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"Oh no," Emma whispered. "She’s looking for someone."

"Oh yes," Harry countered, already reaching for his phone.

You barely had a second to react before Sabrina locked eyes with you.

"You," she grinned, pointing directly at you.

The entire group lost it, Tom going completely still beside you.

"No. No, no, no," he muttered, but it was too late. The security guard led you to the mini-stage where Sabrina held out a pair of fuzzy pink handcuffs. "You've been a bad girl," she teased.

You couldn't stop laughing as she playfully 'arrested' you, guiding you to the center of the stage. You risked a glance at Tom. His arms were crossed, his lips pursed, and oh, was he pouting?

The audience roared as Sabrina spun you once before leaning into the mic. "Tell me, should I keep her?"

The arena shook with cheers, but you couldn’t resist throwing a look over your shoulder at Tom. He was sitting rigidly, his jaw clenched, but you could see the way his ears had gone completely red.

Sabrina followed your gaze, then grinned. "Ohhh, I see. Someone’s jealous."

The crowd erupted again as the cameras zoomed in on Tom’s face. His eyes widened. "Oh, come on," he groaned, but it was no use. The internet had already captured his reaction in full HD.

Sabrina laughed before turning back to you. "Better get back to your man before he actually does storm the stage."

With a wink, she uncuffed you, and you practically ran back to your seat—where Tom was still pouting.

THE AFTERMATH

"You had way too much fun up there," Tom muttered as you settled beside him.

You bit your lip, still breathless from laughter. "Oh, don't be grumpy. It was harmless."

Tom gave you a look. "She called you a bad girl."

You grinned. "Well, maybe I am."

His eyes darkened for a split second before he groaned, throwing his head back as Harry cackled beside him. "Mate, you're so done for," he laughed.

Before you could respond, Emma shoved her phone in your face. "It’s already viral."

The video was everywhere. Twitter, Instagram, TikTok. Edits of Tom’s reaction flooded your feed, captions ranging from "Tom Taylor experiencing his villain origin story" to "Y/N living the dream and Tom suffering for it."

Tom sighed dramatically. "Fantastic. My humiliation is now immortalized."

You kissed his cheek, grinning. "Aw, don’t be mad, love. At least the world knows how much you adore me."

Tom huffed but melted slightly at your words. "Yeah, yeah. Just… remind me never to take you to another concert again."

Harry slung an arm around him, grinning. "Oh no, mate. We have to. You’re comedy gold."

Tom groaned, and the night carried on—filled with laughter, music, and the undeniable fact that, jealous or not, Tom Taylor was completely, utterly, and hopelessly in love with you.

I'm trying to make up for the time I was away and I have a few works in drafts that I'll be posting from time to time. Remember, you can always send requests and messages.

With love-Antheya

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Nightshifter | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader (Eventual ;) )

Warnings: canon violence, canon gore, hostage situation

Word Count: 5149

Mobile Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Playlist

You eyed Dean angrily as he flirted with the attractive woman in front of him dressed as an FBI agent. You knew he was teasing you, and it was pissing you off. You had long since finished your interrogation of the store’s manager. Helena had apparently been a patron of the store for years. Then, one day, she went crazy; the police caught her clearing out the jewelry store’s cases and the safe before shooting someone in the face and killing herself in her bathtub after the crime. You had a sneaking suspicion you were dealing with a shapeshifter; a monster that you were quite over dealing with.

Dean approached you, triumphantly waving the piece of paper with the phone number he’d gotten from the woman he was interviewing.

You snatched it out of his hands. 

“Aw, you jealous?” he teased, leaning into you.

You deadpanned, “Keep it professional, Agent Hetfield, wouldn’t want the bureau to hear about this, right?” You ripped the paper up and shoved its tatters into your blazer pocket.

He deflated slightly, but still smirked at you. “I’m gonna make you crack, sweetheart, just wait.”

“Mm-hmm,” you hummed, turning away from him and heading out to the Impala. Admittedly, you were strutting a little bit to tease him.

Sam met you at the car, and the three of you drove to the home of the man whose police statement had been a mix of sci-fi nerd gibberish and the only eye-witness account of the incident.

As you approached the small house, Sam began talking about another piece of the case. “Uh, Milwaukee National Trust. It was hit about a month ago.”

Dean raised a brow. “Same M.O. as the jewelry store?”

“Yep, inside job, longtime employee, the never-in-a-million-years type. Dude robs the bank, then goes home and supposedly commits suicide.”

“The guy, Resnick, he was the security guard on duty?” Dean questioned.

Sam nodded. “Yeah. He was actually beaten unconscious by the teller who heisted the place.”

“Jesus,” you grimaced.

“Yeah,” Sam nodded. He knocked on the screen door. “Mr. Resnick?” A bright flood light turned on, momentarily blinding you.

You raised a hand in front of your eyes. “Holy—”

Sam was apparently unfazed. “FBI, Mr. Resnick.”

Through the screen door, a chubby, nerdy-looking man in his late twenties approached. “Let me see the badge.”

You slapped your badge against the screen next to Sam’s and Dean’s. 

Mr. Resnick, whose first name was Ronald, squinted at them carefully. “I already gave my statement to the police.”

Dean chuckled. “Yeah, listen, Ronald, um… just some things about your statement we wanted to get some clarification on.”

“You read it?” He seemed surprised. “You come to listen to what I've got to say?”

“Well, that’s why we’re here,” Dean said.

“Well, come on in.” He opened the door and led you through a narrow hallway to a room cluttered with conspiracy theory paraphernalia.

“None of the cops ever called me back. Not after I told them what was really going on. Uh, they all thought I was crazy,” he rushed out. You were beginning to think the same. “First off, Juan Morales never robbed the Milwaukee National Trust, okay? That, I guarantee. See, me and Juan were friends. He used to come back to the bank on my night shifts, and we'd play cards.”

“So you let him into the bank that night, after hours,” Sam noted.

“The thing I let into the bank…” Ronald trailed off, “wasn't Juan. I mean, it had his face, but it wasn't his face. Uh, every detail was perfect, but too perfect, you know, like if a dollmaker made it, like I was talking to a big Juan-doll.”

You nearly choked on a laugh. “A Juan-doll?”

“Look, this wasn't the only time this happened, okay?” He scrambled through papers on his messy desk and handed you a folder. “There was this jewelry store, too. And the cops, a-and you guys, you just won't see it!” You flipped through the folder; it almost looked like a hunter’s profile of the case. You were half impressed. “Both crimes were pulled by the same thing,” Ronald finished. 

Sam pressed, saying, “What's that, Mr. Resnick?”

He picked up a copy of a magazine labeled “Fortean Times” and held it out to you. The headline read, “Birth of the Cybermen.”

‘Jesus Christ,’ you thought, suppressing a grimace.

“Chinese 've been working on 'em for years,” the man explained. “And the Russians before that. Part men, part machine. Like the Terminator. But the kind that can change itself, make itself look like other people.”

Dean smirked. “Like the one from T2.”

“Exactly! See, so not just a robot, more of a- a- a- a— Mandroid," he said finally, a bizarre twinkle in his eye.

“A Mandroid,” you deadpanned. “And what makes you so sure about this, Ronald?”

He held up a finger at you, smiling a little wildly. Your eyes flicked to Dean’s in concern, and he just wiggled his eyebrows at you. 

The man returned a moment later holding a VHS tape labeled “M.N.T. Camera 4— Juan.” He inserted it into a player, saying, “See, I made copies of all the security tapes. I knew once the cops got them they'd be buried. Here.” He fast-forwarded a bit in the tape. “Now watch. Watch. Watch him, watch, watch! See, look! Th- th- there it is!” He paused it on a clip of the man with a silver in his eyes. “You see? He's got the laser eyes.”

You gave Sam a knowing look that he returned.

“Cops said it was some kind of reflected light. Some kind of ‘camera flare’. Okay? Ain't no damn camera flare. They say I'm a post-trauma case. So what? Bank goes and fires me, it don't matter!” You eyed Ronald uncomfortably as he continued to pace around and rant. “The Mandroid is— is still out there. The law won't hunt this thing down— I'll do it myself.

"You see, this thing, it- it- it kills the real person, makes it look like a suicide, then it sorta, like, morphs into that person. Cases the job for a while until it knows the take is fat, and then it finds its opening. Now, these robberies, they're, they're grouped together.” He pointed at the map on the wall. “So I figure the Mandroid is holed up somewhere in the middle, underground, maybe. I dunno, maybe that's where it recharges its, uh, Mandroid batteries.”

Dean nodded, seeming impressed. You just looked between Ronald and Dean in confusion. 

“Okay. I want you to listen very carefully. Because I'm about to tell you the god's honest truth about all of this,” Sam began.

Your head whipped to him, confused as to where he was going with this.

“There's no such thing as Mandroids. There's nothing evil or inhuman going on out there. Just people. Nothing else, you understand?”

You kept a straight face, but were startled. 

“The laser eyes,” Ronald tried desperately.

“Just a camera flare, Mr. Resnick. See, I know you don't want to believe this. But your friend Juan robbed the bank, and that's it,” Sam mollified.

Ronald immediately became angry. “Get out of my house! Now!”

***

You and the brothers found another tacky, cheap motel to stay in for the time being. You lounged on Dean’s bed in a pair of comfortable sweatpants and an oversized band t-shirt. 

Dean paced around the room, chuckling. “Man, that has got to be the kicker, straight up. I mean, you tell that poor son of a bitch that— what did you say, remand the tapes that he copied? Classified evidence of an ongoing investigation?” He laughed harder. “That's messed up.”

Sam sat on the foot of the bed and inserted the tape into the television’s player. “What are you, pissed at me or something?”

Dean shook his head. “Nah, I just think it's a little creepy how good of a Fed you are. I mean, come on, we could have at least thrown the guy a bone. He did some pretty good legwork here.”

“Mandroid?” you deadpanned.

“Except for the Mandroid part,” Dean added. “I liked him. He's not that different from you or me. People think we're crazy.”

“He’s not a hunter, though, Dean,” you challenged. “He ran into something real and let his conspiracy-theory-brain-rot get the best of him.”

“Better to stay in the dark, and stay alive,” Sam finished.

Dean shrugged, “Yeah, I guess.” He put a paper down on the map on the table and began marking it with a red pen. 

You shuffled forward to Sam and hit the pause button on the remote just as the man’s eyes flashed at the camera.

“Shapeshifter. Just like back in St. Louis. Same retinal reaction to video,” Sam informed.

“Eyes flare at the camera. I hate those fuckin’ things,” Dean grunted.

“You think we don’t?” you scoffed.

“Yeah, well, one didn't turn into you and frame you for murder.”

You shrugged. “Well, look, if this shifter's anything like the one we killed in Missouri—”

“Then Ronald was right. Alright, they like to layer up underground, preferably the sewer. And all the robberies have been connected so far, right?”

Sam nodded.

“With the, uh, sewer main layout. There's one more bank lined up on that same sewer main,” Dean continued.

“Awesome,” you grumbled.

***

Later that evening, you and the brothers headed to the bank Dean referenced, the City Bank of Milwaukee, to see if the shapeshifter would be hitting that one next. You posed as Sam and Dean’s boss, and the two boys wore security camera technician outfits. 

The guard of the bank informed you as you walked along, “Well, we haven't had any flags go up on our system yet.”

You shook your head. “No, sir, this is a glitch in the overall grid. I just need to cover all my bases and make sure the branch monitors are okay.”

“Well, better to be safe than sorry, I guess,” the guard shrugged.

“That’s the plan,” you nodded.

He opened the door to an observation room flooded with monitors for you, saying, “Alrighty. You guys need anything else?”

“Nope,” you replied. “We’ll be in and out before you know it. Just a routine check.”

“Okie-dokie,” he said, leaving the room.

Dean chuckled. “I like him. He says ‘Okie-dokie.’ “

“What if he's the shifter?” worried Sam.

“Well, then we follow him home, put a silver bullet through his chestplate,” the older brother replied simply.

You sat down in one of the desk chairs to watch the screens. You kicked your high-heeled feet up on the desk in front of you, leaning back in your seat. “Anybody got popcorn?” you yawned, preparing for the hours of work ahead of you.

***

You and the Winchester boys were beginning to go cross-eyed after searching for the monster for so long.

“Well, it looks like Mr. Okie-Dokie is… okie-dokie,” Dean commented upon seeing his eyes appear normal in the camera screens.

“Maybe we jumped the gun on this, guys,” sighed Sam. “I mean, we don't even know it's here.”

Something caught your eye. “Wait a minute.” A middle-aged man turned toward the camera, and his eyes flared. “Got him.”

“Hello, freak,” Dean growled.

Sam immediately jumped up, as did you, but Dean lingered behind. “Guys, wait!”

“What?” you and Sam spun around.

You then saw Ronald scurrying up to the door of the bank with a chain and a padlock, chaining it shut.

Dean scoffed. “Hello, Ronald.”

You immediately began running down the hall, ignoring the protesting of the soles of your feet as your heels clacked against the floor. As you approached the main lobby of the bank, you heard Ronald screaming for everyone to get on the ground. And then, gunshots.

“Fuck!” you cursed.

“And you said we shouldn't bring guns,” Dean scolded Sam, nearly bumping into someone fleeing past him.

“I didn't know this was gonna happen, Dean,” Sam replied.

“Just let me do the talking,” the older brother commanded. “I don't think he likes you very much, Agent Johnson.”

You saw Ronald standing in front of a group of people huddled together on the floor. “Now, there's only one way in or out of here, and I chained it up. So nobody's leaving, do you understand?”

Your eyes flicked to Dean concernedly as he stepped forward. “Hey, buddy. Calm down. Just calm down—”

Ronald wheeled around. “What the— You! Get on the floor, now.”

Dean began to crouch to the floor, as did you and Sam. “Okay, we're doing that. Just don't shoot anybody, especially us.”

“I knew it. As soon as you two left. You ain't FBI. Who are you? Who are you working for, huh? The men in black? You working for the Mandroid?”

“We’re not working for the Mandroid!” Sam exclaimed.

Ronald shakily aimed his gun at Sam. “You, shut up! I ain't talking to you. I don't like you.”

“Fair enough,” the brunet mumbled.

“Get on 'em. Frisk them down, make sure they got no weapons on them. Go!” Ronald commanded one of the hostages.

“Oh, hell, no, you’re not fucking touching me,” you struggled against the man as he tried to feel you up. 

“(Y/N), (Y/N), stop, stop,” Sam pleaded.

You shoved the man off yourself. Your struggle was strategic, though, as it kept him from finding the knives you had planted on yourself; one in your sleeve and one alongside your thigh.

The man moved over to Dean and found a knife stashed in his boot.

“Now what have we here?” Ronald’s question was meant to sound intimidating, but his wavering voice gave him away.

Sam shot Dean a look.

“I'm not just gonna walk in here naked!” Dean hissed back.

“Get back there,” Ronald ordered. You did so, following his pointing of the gun to the group of people behind him. He dropped Dean’s knife in the deposit box, and Dean winced.

“We know you don't want to hurt anybody,” he said. “That's exactly what's gonna happen if you keep waving that cannon around, and why don't you let these people go?”

“No!” Ronald shrieked. “I already told you. If nobody's gonna stop this thing, then I've got to do it myself.”

“Hey, we believe you! That's why we're here,” Dean replied.

“You don't believe me. Nobody believes me! How could they?” he cried.

“Come here,” Dean said.

Ronald scoffed. “What? No.”

“You're holding the gun, boss; you're calling the shots. I just want to tell you something. Come here.”

Ronald approached cautiously and leaned into Dean. You assumed he was telling him who the shifter was.

“Why do you think we've got these getups, huh? We've been monitoring the cameras in the back. We saw the bank manager. We saw his eyes,” Dean whispered.

The shorter man’s eyes widened. “His laser eyes?”

“Yes.” Dean seemed to realize what he’d said. “No. No! No, look, we're running out of time, okay? We've got to find him before he changes into someone else.”

“Like I'm gonna listen to you. You're a damn liar,” Ronald grumbled.

Dean stood cautiously, hands out.

“Dean, no!” you said.

“I'll shoot you! Get down!” Ronald ordered, pointing his rifle at Dean.

“Take me. Okay? Take me with you; take me as a hostage. But we've gotta act fast , because the longer we just sit here, the more time he has to change.” Dean paused. “Look at me, man. I believe you. You're not crazy. There really is something inside this bank.”

Ronald finally nodded. “Alright, you come with me. But everyone else gets in the vault!”

You stood on shaky legs as the people around you gasped and cried. You helped Sam herd everyone into the vault, and Dean tried to calm everyone down when Ronald ordered him to shut the door.

“It's okay, everyone. Just stay cool.” He threw a lingering glance to you before locking the vault completely.

A young redhead stared after Dean. “Who is that man?” she asked breathlessly.

“He's my brother,” Sam replied; you could hear the worry in his voice.

“He is so brave,” she practically moaned.

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms.

The redhead went silent for a few minutes, and you took some time to thoroughly think your situation over. ‘Cops are gonna be all over this place by now. Dean’s been accused of murder, and the three of us have already been arrested once. Dean’s on the FBI’s radar. Surely, after our escape on the danashulps case, the feds are on us again. Now, we’re smack dab in the middle of a full-on hostage situation. And who are they likely to blame? Us!’ Your anxiety was beginning to get away with you as your thoughts began to swirl in your head. You were then acutely aware of how hot the room was, and unbuttoned the top two buttons of your shirt to keep some circulation moving. 

The woman next to you who seemed infatuated with Dean introduced herself to you.

“ ‘Scuse me, sorry. Uh, hi, I’m Sherry,” she said. “You’re, uh, with those guys, too, right?”

You nodded. 

“You known them a while?”

You nodded again.

She grinned. “Oh, gosh. What’s it like being around him?”

You snorted. “ ‘Him’ who?”

“That guy! The one who saved our lives!” she beamed. “What’s he like?”

“To tell you the truth, he’s a pain in my ass most of the time,” you giggled, arms crossed over your chest. 

“Oh, really?” She deflated a bit before her floaty, trancelike inflection in her voice came back. “He just… He seems so wonderful to be around. I mean, staring down that gun. And, you know, the way— he played right into that psycho's crazy head, telling him what he wanted to hear, I mean—” She trailed off, turning her attention back to you. “He's like, a real hero or, or something.” She tucked a hair behind her ear as she continued to gush.

You nodded again, feeling weirded out. 

“Sorry, I just,” she sing-songed, “I’ve never met anyone like him.” She paused, seeming to consider her next question carefully. “You ever… done anything with him?”

You nearly choked at her statement, uncomfortable with the objectification of Dean. “What?”

“Y’know,” she drawled, “How good is he in the—”

You were grateful to hear the vault door unlocking, revealing Dean holding a handgun.

“Oh my god, you saved us! You saved us!” Sherry cheered.

“Actually, I just found a few more. Come on, everybody, let's go. Let's go.” Dean ushered the guard from earlier and a few other people inside the vault.

“What are you doing?” Sherry questioned.

“Sam, (Y/N), look, uh, Ronald and I need to talk to you,” Dean said.

You shot Sam a confused look, and Dean shut the vault door behind him, shrugging apologetically.

“It's shed its skin again,” Dean explained. “We don't know when— it could be in the halls, it could be in the vault.”

“Great,” you sighed. “Y’know, Dean, you are wanted by the police.”

He nodded.

Sam seemed to catch onto where you were headed with this. “So even if we do find this damn thing, how the hell are we gonna get out of here?”

“Well, one problem at a time,” the older brother replied. “Alright, I'm gonna do a sweep of the whole place; see if we can find any stragglers. Once we get everyone together we've got to play a little game of find-the-freak, so… here.” He handed Sam a silver letter opener. “Found another one of these for you. (Y/N), I know you have weapons on you. Best use ‘em.”

You grinned at how well he knew you. You slipped your silver-bladed knife out of your sleeve.

Dean turned to Sam. “Now, stay here, make sure Ronald doesn't hurt anybody, okay? Help him manage the situation.” He turned to you. “C’mon.”

Sam’s voice began rising in outrage. “Help him manage? Are you insane?”

You turned your head to Ronald who seemed shaken, attention caught by Sam’s voice.

“Look, I know this isn't going the way we wanted—”

Dean was cut off by his brother nearly shouting, “Understatement!”

“But if we invite the cops in right now, Ronald gets arrested, we get arrested, the shifter gets away, probably never find it again, okay?” Dean finished.

Ronald peered out of the window in plain view of whoever was down below. You snapped, “Ronald! Out of the light!”

Sam scoffed at his brother, “Seriously?!”

Dean sighed. “Yeah, Ron's game plan was a bad plan, I mean, it was a bit of a crazy plan, but right now, crazy's the only game in town, okay?”

Dean slapped Sam on the shoulder and grabbed your hand, bringing you along with him. ‘If only Sherry could see us now,’ you thought bitterly.

Dean looked over his shoulder at you. “What’s that face about?” he questioned.

“Nothin’,” you replied, still grinning in self-satisfaction, scanning the hallway ahead for anyone or anything.

He just hummed at you, turning his head forward again.

“I hate this case,” you whispered after a few minutes of tense walking.

“Yeah, me too,” he replied, still scanning the ceiling. He seemed to notice something, and you followed his gaze upward. A panel in the ceiling had been left askew. You eyed Dean curiously and took the gun from him, pointing it at the panel while Dean dislodged it with a coat rack from nearby. Suddenly, a naked body fell to the floor. Dean turned the body over with the end of the rack.

“Wait, Dean, wasn’t that?—”

“Yeah, I just let that guy in the vault.”

***

You and Dean hurried as inconspicuously as possible to inform Sam of what had just happened. Sam told you that man had been trying to get the front door unlocked and helping Mr. Okie-Dokie who may have been going into cardiac arrest when you and Dean found the body. 

You turned to Ronald and his cocked rifle. “You know what, Ronald? He's right, we've got to get this man outside. Come on. I've got you.”

The shifter tried to help, too. “Yeah, yeah, let me help you.”

“Oh, we got him, it's, it's cool. Thanks,” you replied. You helped the guard out of the way, and Sam took the man’s other side.

“Thank you. Thank you,” the guard told you between labored breaths.

“Sure,” you smiled politely.

You could hear Dean talking to the shifter and a sudden crash behind you. You turned with the guard still on your shoulders at Ronald yelling, “Stop! Come back here!” You noticed a red laser pointed on his back, and your breath caught.

“Get down! Now!” you screamed, but you were too late. 

The bullet from the sniper rifle hit Ronald squarely in the chest. You watched in horror as he fell to his knees before hitting the floor dead.

You took in a sharp breath at the sight, forcing yourself to keep your composure for the sake of everyone else in the room with you.

It was bedlam at that minute. All of the hostages began running out of the vault toward the door. You put Mr. Okie-Dokie on the ground next to you and just kept him talking until something could be done to help him. You weren’t quite sure what Sam or Dean were doing, but you made it your priority to keep this man from going into cardiac arrest.

Dean suddenly came over to you, holding a rifle.

“Dean, what are you doing?” you questioned.

“(Y/N), trust me on this—” he pleaded before helping the guard stand.

“Dean! I can help him, don’t bring him outside—”

“I’m not taking that chance, (Y/N). C’mon,” he told the guard. “I gotcha.” He held the man out in front of him and pushed him out the front door with the rifle at the guard’s back. You stayed out of the light, back pressed against the pillar next to the heavy door. 

“No, don't shoot! Don't shoot! Please!” you heard the guard yell.

Dean commanded, “Don't even think about it! I said get back! Now!” He paused a moment before you heard his voice again. “Okay, go, go!” The older Winchester slipped back inside, shutting the door and latching it.

“We are so fucked,” he mumbled to you, helping you up from the floor. 

“Fuck, why?”

He ran a hand through his hair. “There’s about, I don’t know, eight thousand cops out there. Helicopters and search lights and everything. We are fucked, (Y/N).”

You dropped your head back, groaning, “Great.”

Dean’s phone rang, and you assumed it was Sam. “Yeah?” he answered. “What?... God, it's like playing the shell game. It could be anybody. Again… Alright, you search every inch of this place, we’re gonna go round everybody up.” He hung up the phone.

“I think this is the most stressed I’ve been on a job,” you said as you and Dean began searching for the hostages. 

“Yeah? Even more so than the demons in New York?”

“Oh, definitely. That was just a sad one; not super stressful,” you replied. You noticed a herd of people toward the end of the hall. You gripped the handle of your knife, knowing the shifter would likely be in the mix of all the hostages. 

You and Dean rounded them up; Dean pointing the rifle he picked up from Ronald at the group. You guided them back to the vault.

“And I thought you were one of the good guys,” Sherry, who held up the back of the group, told Dean, who was trailing behind her.

“What's your name?” he asked.

“Why would you care?” she scoffed.

“My name's Dean,” he said. Your heart melted a bit at his gentleness with her.

She hesitated but still answered. “I'm Sherry.”

“Hi, Sherry. Everything's gonna be alright. This will all be over soon, okay?” He assured her, shutting the vault door and spinning the lock shut. The landline of the bank rang and you picked it up. You didn’t say anything when you answered the phone.

“This is Special Agent Victor Henriksen,” a commanding voice stated through the phone. “Is this Dean? Sam?”

You didn’t respond once more.

Dean mouthed to you, “Who is that?”

You shook your head, holding up a finger to gesture for him to wait.

“Oh, or is it that pretty girl? Our very own criminal Jane Doe. Some people have been calling her Ghost since no one can seem to find any record of her existence.”

Your breath hitched in your throat, but you still didn’t say anything.

“Well, whether you’ve got the Bonnie to your Clydes with you or not, it’s my job to bring you boys in. Alive's a bonus, but not necessary. I want you Winchesters out here, unarmed, or we come in.”

You still didn’t say anything.

“I know you’re still there,” he said, almost taunting. “I know everything about you two. I've been looking for you for weeks now. I know about the murder in St. Louis; I know about the Houdini act you pulled in Baltimore. I know about the desecrations and the thefts. I know about your dad.” 

Dean was trying to get close to the phone, but you kept pushing him away because you knew he’d explode at the mention of his father.

“Ex-marine, raised his kids on the road,” the agent continued, “cheap motels, backwood cabins. Real paramilitary survivalist type. I just can't get a handle on what type of whacko he was. White supremacist, Timmy McVeigh, to-may-to, to-mah-to. You have one hour to make a decision, or we come through those doors fully automatic.” With that, he hung up the phone.

You slammed the phone down, cursing in frustration.

“What? Who was that?” Dean asked.

“The fucking FBI agent who’s been tailing us since Missouri,” you replied, beginning to pace anxiously. “He knows everything about you guys, man. Even about your dad. That’s why I didn’t let you talk to him; I knew you would’ve ripped his head off.”

“Damn right,” the man growled. “They have a positive ID on you yet?” 

“No, actually,” you said. “Ironically, some of the feds labeled me ‘Ghost’ cause they can’t find anything on me. Which makes me even more nervous. Anyway, we’ve got an hour till they come in here and pump us full of lead,” you informed him.

“Fuck,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair.

Moments later, Sam appeared at the entrance of the vault room.

“Hey. We've got a bit of a problem outside,” Dean said.

Sam snorted. “We got a problem in here.”

“What?” you questioned.

Sam hushed his voice. “The girl that was gushing over Dean in the vault? It’s her,” he told you. 

“Who, Sherry?” you questioned.

He nodded. “Just found her body.”

Barely needing to flick a glance at the boys, you unlocked the vault.

“Sherry? We're gonna let you go,” Dean called as the door swung open.

“What? Why me?” she questioned.

“Uh, as a show of good faith to the feds, come on,” he replied.

The woman hesitated. “Uh... I think I'd— I'd rather stay here, with the others.”

Dean approached her intimidatingly. “I'm afraid I'm going to have to insist.”

You clutched your blade at your side. After a tense moment, she approached you. Sam and Dean pushed her back to the hallway.

“I thought you were letting me go,” the woman you thought was the shifter said.

Dean shoved her forward, holding her head and forcing her to look at the body of Sherry Sam had brought back with him. She began screaming hysterically.

“Is that community theater, or are you just naturally that good?” Dean gruffly questioned.

“This is the last time you become anybody. Ever,” Sam added.

“No! Oh god!” she cried. She fainted almost immediately.

You stared at the two Sherrys in disbelief. One of the bodies was dressed, the other, half-naked. ‘Poor lady,’ you thought. You took off your blazer and laid it over the woman’s body, trying to spare her dignity. 

“Wait, why did it do that?” you questioned. You leaned over the undressed body of Sherry covered only by your blazer and put your finger on her neck, trying to find a pulse. The body immediately jolted up, grabbing you by the throat. You struggled, stabbing at it frantically. You got a lick in at its upper arm with the knife before it kneed you in the chin and bolted.

You coughed when it released your throat, clutching at your neck and coughing.

“(Y/N)!” Dean cried.

“Dean, no, I’m fine! Follow it!”

He nodded, taking your knife from your outstretched hand and running after it. You kicked off your heels and took another moment before standing and going to follow Dean. Sam had taken off somewhere with the real Sherry. 

You didn’t know what else to do besides stay with the vault and Dean’s discarded handgun, prowling in front of it with the gun at the ready. 

***

You had no idea how long it had been. You just continued to pace in front of the vault, tension overtaking your body and anxiety keeping your eyes flickering across the room rapidly. You suddenly heard approaching footsteps and dove on the ground behind a desk— unsure if it was Dean, Sam, the shifter, a cop— and were panicked at the sight of S.W.A.T. sniper rifle lasers and flashlights on the wall in front of you. Your breath quickened as the footsteps continued approaching you. Then, a masked man ducked under the desk in front of you.

You shrieked.

“Here’s Johnny!” he yelped.

“Dean! Fuck you!” You shoved his shoulder harshly when you recognized his face. He and Sam were donned in S.W.A.T. outfits that they had definitely taken off some poor bastards hidden in a broom closet somewhere. 

“C’mon, we gotta get outta here, now,” Dean told you. You grabbed your heels and followed the boys out of the building and to the Impala. Dean and Sam had their stolen guns at the ready as you sprinted up to the third floor of the parking garage. 

The three of you sat in the Impala, completely breathless, as you grappled with the reality of your situation.

“We are so fucked,” Dean murmured.

You and Sam nodded minutely.

You looked out of the window at the rising morning sun. Exhausted, you let the rumble of the Impala soothe you into a restless sleep as Dean drove you away from the bank. 

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl @immagods @missmieux @yoongi-holland @littledebbieinabigworld

[mazikeenhyde]

Oh Baby, Pain is Pleasure FINALE - Part 1

I have had to split the Finale into two parts as it was just getting too long to post altogether, and I enjoy making you all wait…. 

POLY JUDGMENT DAY X READER (WRESTLER) 

Y/W/N – Your Wrestling Name 

Y/W/N/F – Your Wrestling Name Finisher

WARNING – THESE WARNINGS COVER ALL PARTS OF THIS FICTION/ IMAGINE STORY- THEY MAY NOT BE SPECIFIC TO THIS PARTICULAR PART! - 

SERIOUS SMUT,  GIRL X GIRL, MAN X MAN, POLY RELATIONSHIPS/SEXUAL, BDSM, BLOOD, PANIC ATTACKS, SPANKING, VIOLENT REFRENCES, INJURY, ABUSE (CONSENTUAL) CHEATING, STALKERS/ STALKING, SMOKING/ CIGARETTES 

Part 1 Word Count - 4.5k (Hence why its in 2 parts!)

Tag List - @babybatlover @p0is0nl0ve @babiidee28 @darlingnikkisixx @commandershepardofthedas gooses-pond  rhiamaymay  scaraskzzs  (SORRY IF I MISSED ANYONE, IF YOU WANT TO BE ADDED OR I MISSED YOU LET ME KNOW BELOW)

Oh Baby…Pain is Pleasure – Finale Part 1  

The stadium erupted into an overwhelming flood of cheering and chants from the many thousands of fans surrounding the ring. The barricades holding them back shook as they lept to their feet, signs which had been discarded in the air from excitement now lay on the floor amongst hundreds of sets of trainers, boots, high heels and the younger bare footed audience members. The once loved handmade card treasures, plastered with slogans and beloved wrestler’s names now trampled upon by wet footprints and washed out by the rain. 

The thunderstorm was now in full force, rain hammered down into the arena as thunder shook throughout, echoing inside that hellish cage. All hell had broken out inside the ring with every member from the opposing families in an absolute free for all brawl out with each other. 

Damian had Rowan up against the ring post as the two continued to trade blows with each other, their faces both semi blinded by the rain and fuelled with an anger which bestowed a look of utter discontent for any form of peace. These men were in it for pride, for love and for honour. Damian, who had now got one up and over a certain ramblin rabbit had climbed onto the second rope, pinning Erik against the post as he continued to hammer blow after blow to the head of the monstrous man. 

Finn and Dexter had somehow made their way out of the ring and into the gap between the steel framed cage as each of them were scrambling to pin the other one down long enough to secure any kind of balance. Dexter, who had made it back to his feet, grabbed Finn by the trouser cuff and launched him back into the ring whilst Dominik and Huskus were fighting tooth and nail across the mat, exchanging blows, kicks and punches. Again, neither one had quite managed to one up the other in such a well-balanced fight until I had run past in an effort to lock back up with Uncle Howdy, kneeing Huskus in the face and allowing Dominik to climb on top of him. 

Rhea and Abby meanwhile were tearing each other apart, feral and fearless as neither woman would let up or give in to their pain. 

With no referee inside and not one person willing to step back in line, it hadn’t taken long for management to act accordingly. Because if this war was ever going to settled, and they knew it needed to be, some form of control needed to be restored. 

The lighting colour scheme was quick to change, black and green lights flashed up across all the LED boards, glowing lettering plastered across each barricade…

‘ITS TIME TO PLAY THE GAME!!!’ 

Smoke bellowed through the doorways and down the entrance ramp as Triple H made his way into centre stage, shouting at the top of his lungs in an attempt to bring about some order of control. 

“ENOUGH!!!!” Paul’s voice was loud with a strong sense of authority, demanding his entitlement for respect. 

“CUT THE MUSIC! CUT THE LIGHTS! CUT THE GOD DAMN DRAMA FOR A MOMENT AND LISTENNN!!!!” 

The audience’s heads turned between the stage and then back to ring as not one person stopped fighting and not one person from either side of the battle was willing to listen or stand down. 

“STOP!!!!” He screamed out again before his voice shallowed out, trying to control the fury that was making his blood boil. His emphasis on specific words made his statements land in the dark parts of the soul that could recognise fear… and when someone meant every word they said. 

“The next PERSON to move from where they are standing! The next PERSON to throw a punch or lay their HANDS on another will be SUSPENDED!” 

We all froze, eyes deadlocked onto each other, with barley the ability or willingness to blink, body parts shaking in anger and fury as we all listened for the next ‘commandment’. Rhea’s hand was wrapped tightly around Abby the witch’s neck with her opposing fist raised in the air, while the witch’s knee was inches from being lodged into Ripley’s rib cage. 

Damian and Finn were being held against adjoining ropes by Dexter and Rowan as the two monsters had only just gotten the advantage before Triple H had come out to ruin our revenge. 

Dominik and Husk had managed to brawl and in turn fall out of the ring to the floor, they were now trapped in between the gap of the cage and the ring post like Finn had been before with Dex, exchanging blows to each other before the interruption. Dom’s hand now pushing Husk’s face further into the ground as he allowed his body weight to ease onto him, building pressure. That clever boy knew he had him pinned and that he wasn’t going to be able move anytime soon. He smirked down to the feeble weakling under his grasp, enjoying the dominance he rarely got to feel. 

Meanwhile I had already retrieved a beloved Kendo stick that had been secured above from the top of the cage and I had climbed my way back to the top of the ring post, gripping the top of the frame while howdy had been in pursuit. I was ready to use an aerial advantage and take this fucker out but after stopping my grip on the steel frame was starting to slip out from underneath me. My desire to drive the weapon straight across the back of Uncle Howdy felt like a dream come true. Shame I hadn’t been able to finish the job…yet. 

“Back. Away. From. Each. Other” Triple H’s words were blunt and begrudgingly we did as we were told, though admittedly I was relieved to finally let go of the cage that I had been slipping out from. Damian and Finn squared up to Rowan & Dexter as they were released from their grasp before making their way over to our side of the ring. 

Rhea had released Abby and tossed her to the side before reaching down to offer a hand to Dominik and help him back into the ring, though the boy wasn’t quite ready to allow Huskus back to his feet. But he did eventually do as he was told after Rhea gave him one of her stern looks and upon doing as he was told, a sultry wink after as a reward. She leaned into his ear, covering her lips and whispered…

“Enjoying being the dominant one I see Dom Dom, you make Mami very… very proud”  

Dominik grinned, licking his teeth and wiping the blood away from a busted lip before placing a hand over his crotch, jiggling around his package to try and calm down the ever-growing tension between his legs. 

I however, standing strong, stood face to face with the prick before me. Uncle Howdy looked down at me, his height towered mine to a degree and his demeanour was infuriating. It felt like he genuinely believed he was better than all those around him, as if he was far better than I could ever be.  He laughed as he stepped to the side and returned back to his family with open arms. Their celebrations glinted at the idea they had won the first battle, like they had gotten one over on us. It felt almost rude, it felt offensive to see him walk away from me, and it made my blood boil, my skin began to heat up, my heat raced, so I spun around on the spot to react the only way I knew how, with violence! But a strong set of arms wrapped around me before I could take another step forward and pulled me back, whispering in my ear. 

“Easy baby, easy” Rhea’s breath was warm, I could smell the sweat on her tattooed skin, the blood from scrapes and scratches from the pre-war fight. Her scent radiated throughout my senses, and it was addictive. Goosebumps took over my entire skin as she pulled me back in line with the others, still keeping her grip tight across my body as we now stood together. The Judgment Day vs The Wyatt Sicks. 

“I feel like there must be some… confusion in the air? There must be some misunderstanding between you all as to who is in charge around here? Some people clearly don’t understand their role in this company. Some people… seem to believe they have the… Authority? To do as they please…when in fact they don’t have any. You all have decided to start a war that, whether you like it or not, is NOT going to end the way YOU ALL want it to” Paul’s voice was clear and precise, but he sounded calm, and that was the most concerning part… Until he wasn’t. 

“Your roles within this company are clear, they are set out. You do as you are told; you go where I tell you to go. You behave like the good little puppets on a string you were designed for, and you DO NOT DISOBEY” 

Each of us turned for a moment to face Triple H, breaking the death glares we had locked on to our opponents. A sense of concern and confusion as to what Paul was going to do next hung in the air, all I wanted was to get my hands back on Howdy, claim my championship and go home to rather unwholesomely fuck my lovers into next week.

“This war will be fought, and this war will end here at WrestleMania…” Triple H turned to the crowd as they all began to cheer and chant. “But… Y/N, you will not be in this cage, you will not be a part of it” 

My Heart ran cold as I threw Rheas hands off me and raced toward the front of the cage in shock, gripping onto the steel frame. The rest of Judgment days reactions, very similar to my own followed behind me as the Wyatts laughed hysterically behind us. We all began shouting our frustrations towards Paul, questioning what possible reason he had to kick me out of this Championship match I had trained so long for, worked so hard to get to?! 

Triple H raised his hand up to silence us and the crowd as the entire arena chimed in with the deafening booing and shouts of discontent. 

“SILENCE!” Paul demanded, turning his attention back to my direction. 

“Because…y/n… “ Paul smirked before raising the Women’s World Championship up from behind him, having secured it from a security guard to his right. 

“As Dakota Kai has now retired injured… YOU, will instead be fighting for THIS, against Abby the Witch, in an adjoining cage. I am declaring RIGHT NOW, that this match, is a Ten Man-Grand Slam all in one, no disqualifications, no count out, no holds barred, all is fair in love and war double caged firefly street fight. Abby the Witch & Y/W/N will be locked inside one cage, whilst Rhea, Damian, Dominik and Finn will be locked in the other with Erik Rowan, Dexter Lumis, Joe Gacy and Uncle Howdy. This match will run for 1 hour and to secure victory Y/W/N, Abby, you must PIN your opponent. Your families in the opposing cage must also pin their opponents one by one to secure victory. Once pinned, you will be removed. Once the championship has been claimed, once one team comes out on top over the other, only then will this war end. Now, if the hour runs out and the championship has not been claimed, you forfeit your right to it. No arguments, no complaints, those are the rules. Suck it up and move on. I am the puppet master, I am the boss, I am THE AUTHORITY!” Triple H commanded to us all. 

“Now a referee will now come down and unlock the cage. You will all return backstage, the battle commences in 20 minutes… Good Luck.” With the rain now finally clearing, Triple H bowed his head and looked up to the heavens, in respect for the loss of Bray Wyatt before moving to exit the stage.

The lighting returned to normal, and the standard WrestleMania music played out as we began to exit the ring one by one, security keeping a lengthy distance between the Wyatts and the Judgment Day. Fans desperate to get their favourites attention were scrambling over the barricades, leaning their body weights over in an attempt for a high five, but we were all far too distracted. 

Suddenly, Uncle Howdy halted and turned on his heels grabbing a microphone and smirking down at us from the other end of the ramp. 

“Y/N, I do wish you the very best of luck, you know as well as I… I am just the ghost of the man who saved this world but, who are you? You cannot hide from it; you cannot hide from me? The truth will set you free y/n…did you tell them?” Howdy’s words were playful and taunting as he pointed to each of my lovers standing just behind me. 

“I told them! I told them everything!!!” I screamed back up at Howdy. 

He chuckled and turned his back on me, whispering into the microphone before disappearing backstage, “but did you tell, the world?” 

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

THE JUDGMENT DAY CLUBHOUSE 

Swinging the door open I rushed through and began pacing the centre of the room, nervous, anxious and fearful of what could happen if the world ever found out about my past. 

Social media had gone crazy, fans and viewers speculating and debating over whether this had become the greatest WrestleMania of all time, whether Abby the Witch or Y/W/N would become the new Women’s World Champion, how brilliant it was that Rhea would be fighting against a team of all men and that they knew she would beat their asses. But alongside all this there was also the debates over what my secrets were, how they could find out, and with these debates’ rumours had started to spread, like wildfire. Unbeknown to me, Liv Morgan was backstage hiding out, and she was fuelling that fire. 

I was in full panic mode as the others also piled in through the door, Finn entering last locked the door behind him and turned to face me. He took a brisk walk forward before grabbing me by my shoulders and slapping me straight across the face to break my panic. I stood in shock, as did the others, what the actual fuck was he playing at. 

Then, not more than a second later he pulled me in tight, wrapping his hands around my face, my neck, then one hand on my back as he locked his lips in against mine. A full make out session had my hormones come flooding in and my body temperature spiked. My inner core heating up as I felt an all too familiar tingle rise up between my legs. Finn pulled himself off me for a second and looked me dead in the eyes.

“We are going to win this war y/n. You will become champion. There will be absolutely no distractions in that ring, do you hear me!” His Irish accent purred across each syllable, even if he meant to be stern it just sounded beyond sexy to me. I nodded in response to his questions. 

“Good. Because no distractions works both ways and you being in this new gear well, it reminded me that I have been waiting to fuck you for far too long.” The other members of Judgment Day nodded in agreement, Rhea ran her tounge along her teeth, her tounge piercing clinking across each tooth. She turned to Damian who was smirking down at her. Dominik stood running his hand across a growing bulge in his tight black and white printed leggings and watched as Finn tugged at my black and pink leather strapped top, locking his lips back onto mine as he pushed me back onto the wall. His hand quick to prevent my head from hitting the wall before kneeling down and throwing my left leg over his shoulder, Finn began planting kisses up my inner thigh towards my panties, the heartbeat inside growing stronger with every inch he covered. 

I reached out and motioned a grabby hand towards Dominick who didn’t hesitate to race forward and takeover where Finns lips had been. Our tongue’s entwined in a deep desperation for each other as his hands began exploring over my chest, pulling down the front of my top to expose one of my breasts. Dom twisted and tugged at my nipple as Rhea came over to join, swiftly followed by Damian. 

She turned his hips, so his back was against the wall as Dom and I continued to kiss and Rhea pulled down on his pants, exposing his dick to the cold air. It bounced for a moment in its solid form but before it could react to the fresh air she began running her tounge along it and took it in its whole form to the back of her throat. Beginning to bob her head up and down Dominik’s knees became weak and Finn grabbed onto one of his thighs to support him, pressing him back against the wall. 

Finn tugged at my wrestling gear shorts, knowing full well time was not on our side to be able to fully undress. Instead, he tugged at the fabric pulling it to the side, exposing the mini black laced thong I had worn, hoping to finish off a championship winning night with a trip to our sex pit of a bedroom back home. 

Finns warm tounge moved its way up between my folds, the man clearly enjoying the fact I was already soaked down there as he began playing with my clit, his tounge reaching its peak before motioning backwards and repeating the movement over and over. My breath hitched in my throat as I broke the kiss off from Dominik, riding out the pleasure of my Irish lover between my thighs, desperate moans escaped my lips which only drove him to speed up. 

Damian reached out both his strong arms and positioned himself between me and Dominik, his strong legs fitting in the gap between Rhea & Finn who were both on their knees already, busy enjoying themselves. Lowering his black ripped jeans Damian took our hands and placed them on his dick as he leant back to the wall, exchanging make out sessions between myself and Dom as we both tugged, rubbed and fondled his cock together. Damian’s cock was something to behold, the sheer size and girth that man wielded made anyone’s insides turn to jelly. To this day I still say a prayer and thank the sex lords from above and below that I get to call him mine. 

It wasn’t long before the knot in between my stomach began to build, and my thighs began to shake as Finn bought me towards my climax. My grip on Damian loosening and Dom now taking over in full as Finn pinned both my wrists against the wall by my sides. His grip so tight on me small bruises had begun to form, but this only drove my inner sex goddess wild as she was dancing in the awash of my orgasm as Finn drove his fingers deep inside me, pounding three at a time with the inward curl that drove every inch of my body crazy, while his tounge punished my clit. 

“Oh shi..Oh sh..Finn, Finn, shh…shhii” My words were loud and broken as I took quick rapid deep breaths, riding out an all-time high that I had waited so long for it seemed like my body wasn’t quite ready for this flood of pure hormonal ecstasy. 

Rhea, Damian and Dominik all turned their heads to watch as I reached my orgasm, face fully flushed and legs trembling. Dominick followed quickly behind as my summit had driven Rhea to a desperation of her own and a few deep throated swallows later saw her lapping up the delicious cum shot Dom had gracefully given her. 

Finn was quick to drop my leg and rush to his feet, taking a fist full of my hair and dragging me over to the arm of the sofa. He threw me across and pulled at my hips raising my arse higher in the air for a better access point. He was quick to lower his wrestling gear leggings too as he didn’t hesitate to forcefully ram his rock-solid cock deep inside me, I was now wet enough he could easily bury himself. He began thrusting aggressively, pounding his cock deep inside of me as Damian ditched his hand job from Dominik, planting a final kiss on the boy’s lips and then moved to position himself in front of me, opening my mouth and easing in his cock to touch my tonsils. 

Surprisingly, something had clicked inside of Dom who had pulled Rhea up to her feet and had attempted to throw her over the foldup chair in the corner of the room, not far from where Finn and Damian were fucking me front to back. Rhea had smirked at his attempt and wagged her finger in his face before pulling him into a deep kiss and whispering in his ear, “Aye Papi, look at you being the dominant one.” She smirked and winked before finishing her sentence; “Beg me baby boy”. 

Dom grinned and got down on one knee, peppering her thigh with sweet intensive kisses as he began his pleas. Taking a handful of his hair she pulled the boy up to his feet and walked them both over, kicking the stool over and having Dom take a seat. Then Rhea placed one hand on Damian’s shoulder and had him remove his cock from my mouth before Rhea climbed on the sofa cushion in front of me and pulled me into a deep sensual kiss. Damian didn’t hesitate to lower Rheas black leather gear shorts and bury his cock inside of her. 

Dominick sat watching his four partners in front of him, his two girls being fucked intensely by his two dominant daddies. His dick was quick to harden up again as he reached a hand inside his crotch and palmed at himself, ever so loving the view. 

Between the four of us our moans and groans were loud, desperate and full of passion. They echoed throughout our clubhouse, through the hallways and out of the locker room. It was obvious to passersby what was going on, but no one dared comment. It had become common knowledge regarding the relationship between us all, whether people agreed or not, they were instinctively too afraid of Rhea, Damian and Finn to dare comment. 

 Both men now thrusting in unison, groaned deeply and reached out mirroring each other, taking a handful of their girl’s hair to arch our backs as they reached their penultimate high. A warm sensation filling our cores before releasing their grip on our hair and letting us go. A hard slap on my ass from Finn gave me the go ahead to stand up, Damian knew better with Rhea and stepped back allowing Mami to return to her feet on her own accord. 

“Fuck...” I said, turning my head and stretching out my back as I looked in the mirror to see my now full after sex appearance before noticing the clock which stated we had less than 5 minutes until we needed to be at gorilla. 

“Oh Fuck! Shit, look at me!” I stated trying not to laugh, Rhea was quick to grab my hand and pull me over to the dressing table stationed in the corner where she was fast in fixing my make-up, followed by her own. 

The boys all took a seat on the couch, fist bumping each other for a ‘job well done’ while we girls just laughed. 

Once Rhea had given me the all clear I stood up and began stretching out my arms and neck, readjusting my gear and doing all the final checks. 

“Hermosa, I would have thought Finn had stretched you out enough already, no?” Damian chuckled as Finn looked up and winked in my direction, biting his tounge. 

“Very funny…” I said, looking over to them as we all began to make our way out of the clubhouse. 

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

We briskly raced our way to Gorilla, as each member of the judgment day walked behind me, psyching up for the match ahead. One way or another, I would be walking out of WrestleMania as the new women’s world champion! They all believed in me, heck I believed in me, and I knew I could do this. 

But it was short lived as when we reached the backstage section with the rest of production team, everyone seemed to be looking over in hushed voices or concerned looks. 

Pushing past them all I followed behind Rhea and Damian, holding on tight to Dominik’s hand as Finn closed in behind us. Security were quick to cut us off as they blocked the entrance to the ramp. 

“What the hell? What’s going on?!” Damian was furious at their actions as he came face to face with one of the security guards, Rhea in a stand-off with the other. 

“I’ll tell you what’s going on…” Hunters voice boomed out from behind us as we all turned, Finn now leading our group as my grip on Dom’s hands became tighter with anxiety and he pulled me in close to his side. Behind him, lurked Liv Morgan who was wearing a devilish grin. 

“You four…” Hunter pointed to Rhea, Damian, Dominik and Finn, “are late, get to the ring now! The match is starting in less than one minute! Liv Morgan will be joining you; she will go 1-1 against Abby the Witch for the Women’s world championship”. 

“The Fuck man?!” Rhea shouted, pushing Dom, Myself and Finn out of the way. She stood head on from Hunter, the fire in her eyes burnt with fury. 

“The Hell she will!” Damian’s voice was loud as his voice filled the room. Finn stood staring down the boss in front of him. Triple H held up a hand in Rhea’s face, his persona calm and collected as he turned to face me, smiling. 

“And you y/w/n ...........” 

His words were blunt, cold and full of the authority he loved to push in everyone’s faces. 

...

...

...

“You're fired.” 

[dewdrop-writes]

Blood of Ambition - Chapter 2: Reflections in Ash

Dio Brando x (f) Reader

I feel odd writing specifically fem readers but for this specific storyline it made most sense so idk

cw: canon-typical violence, Dio still very much committing atrocities

<<Previous || Next>>

Dio’s life had taken a drastic turn. After a long journey in a carriage—the first time he had ever travelled in one—he arrived to a truly remarkable sight. The manor stood grand and sturdy, with intricate, towering windows that allowed light to flood in from every angle, capped with a glimmering deep-green roof. It didn’t seem real. He knew that the upper class enjoyed the finer things in life, but not a single townhouse or hovel from his old neighbourhood could compare to the Joestar estate.

He quickly steeled his expression. He had to play his cards right, and appearing as a wide-eyed street rat in awe of the Joestar fortune was not an option. With a deliberate, arrogant stride, he exited the carriage, eager to close the chapter of his life that had led him here—and tear it from his story entirely.

Dio was not fond of the Joestar brat. The boy stood in the way of his ambitions merely by existing. Born into wealth and privilege, yet awkward and unpolished, Jonathan was a paradox Dio despised. He, himself, had learned to harden his heart long ago, so he felt no qualms about unleashing his cruelty.

With startling ease, he found he could toy with the boy however he pleased, facing no consequences. It took only a few sweet words, a carefully crafted look, and the old man was won over. Dio relished how his own charm outshone Jonathan’s in every way, from speech to manner. The twisted pleasure he felt when Lord Joestar scolded his son for his lacklustre performance was something he had grown to nurture.

Of course, usurping Jonathan’s place as heir wouldn’t be so easy. Dio had to pull out every stop, and he did so with calculated precision. He humiliated the boy in front of his friends, slowly isolated him, and made every move with the skill of a seasoned chess master. He gathered a new flock of followers, more refined than those he’d manipulated in London, though they were still nothing more than sheep in his eyes.

But it wasn’t enough. His thirst for cruelty only grew, as did his hunger for control. He supposed his resilience and willingness to dirty his hands was the one gift from his father that he appreciated. To secure his place, he knew he had to break Jonathan completely. He had thought he’d succeeded in crushing the boy’s spirit by ridding him of that infernal dog, but Jonathan’s resilience surprised him. Now, he had somehow even acquired a female companion.

Dio hadn’t completely forgotten you—the one person he might’ve once dared to call a friend. Occasionally, his thoughts would drift away from his ambitions, back to the streets of London.

How were you doing?

There was little he could do to satisfy his curiosity; your world was days away, with not even an address to tether it to his own. He had been deliberate, ruthless in shedding the remnants of his past, moulding himself into something that could pass for nobility. Yet, some part of him was concerned. Were you still stealing? Begging for scraps? Had you been caught by the Yard without his guidance to shield you?

Then there was Erina, entering Jonathan’s life with her soft kindness, her eyes filled with that same warmth that you once showed him. A subtle jealousy mingled with resentment. He found himself wondering: what would you think if you saw him now, standing in the shadow of the Joestar fortune?

Dio felt nothing but distaste for the girl. She was from an acceptable family, dressed in fine silks, her hair neat and tidy. But her carefully sculpted gentleness couldn’t hold a candle to you—the fire and spirit that had shaped you, that fierce resilience he had admired. Erina’s pure, sheltered demeanour only highlighted her naivety, and it stung all the more for how easily her kindness lifted Jonathan’s spirits.

But Dio supposed he could remedy that. She was honourable and unguarded, an open book, and he knew it would be no challenge to drive her away from Jojo’s side. A single, stolen kiss would serve his purpose—a simple, calculated move, nothing more than a checkmate in a game he intended to win.

Yet the moment his lips forced against her soft ones, a rush of images seared through his mind: he could almost see you in her place, your eyes blazing with a mix of hatred and panic as you wiped your mouth furiously, disgusted by him. The thought sent a wave of anger through him, surprising him with its intensity.

Would you look at him with those same accusing eyes if you saw him now?

Though Jonathan’s burst of righteous fury had been an unexpected and humiliating blow, it ultimately sharpened Dio’s focus, allowing him to reconfigure his plans with greater subtlety. Jonathan was clearly stronger and more resolute than he’d first appeared, a fact that required more finesse from Dio’s scheming hand.

Suspicion lingered in Jonathan’s eyes, but over time, a tentative illusion of trust began to form between them. Jonathan, it seemed, had finally stepped onto the chessboard, stepping up to the rivalry Dio had initiated. And as the years passed, they grew into civil young men, appearing as brothers bound by fate and upbringing.

At least, that’s how it seemed to an outside observer. Dio had no qualms about slipping into the role of the perfect brother and dutiful son. It was almost effortless—another mask, another performance.

At seventeen, Dio returned to the bustling streets of London. Four years had passed since he’d left, yet everything still felt so familiar. Lord Joestar had errands in the city and had encouraged his “boys” to join him. Jonathan had accepted readily, and despite his own hesitation to revisit his roots, Dio had followed suit.

The streets they now strolled through were cleaner and finer than the ones he had known in his youth. After all, it wouldn’t do for two young noblemen to be caught lingering in the capital’s filthy slums. Dio walked leisurely behind Jonathan, his crimson gaze sweeping lazily over the surroundings. It felt strangely surreal to parade through the city clad in clothes tailored from the finest fabrics, his pockets now heavy with coin. He noted the stares of awe and curiosity from the common passersby, who easily recognized the wealth radiating from both their manner and attire.

Suddenly, Jonathan came to a halt. Dio frowned, a teasing remark on the tip of his tongue as he followed his gaze. They stood before a modest bakery, unremarkable at first glance, yet the sweet aroma drifting through the air was undeniably enticing. But it wasn’t the pastries in the window that caught Dio’s attention—it was the young woman carefully arranging them.

You.

Your hair was no longer a tangled and dirty mess, now neatly tucked beneath the kerchief covering it. A dark brown woollen dress draped modestly over your figure, simple but clean. An apron shielded your clothing from flour as you gently arranged a new selection in the display. You looked healthier, no longer bearing the ashen, malnourished pallor of your past. Despite your plain attire, there was a glow about you.

Dio’s heart stalled, skipping a beat in surprise at the sight.

“How about we grab a couple pastries, Dio?” Jonathan asked, breaking the blonde out of his momentary trance. “It smells wonderful! I’m certain father would appreciate some too.”

Dio was ready to protest, but before he could even mutter out a single word, Jonathan was already heading towards the building. Ice flooded his veins as he followed suit cautiously.

Would you recognize him?

The bell above the door chimed, alerting you of new customers. Quickly, you brushed the flour from your hands onto your apron and hurried to the counter, a warm smile on your lips. You were momentarily taken aback by the tall young man before you, his frame towering over you. Despite his imposing size, his expression was gentle.

Your gaze swept over him, noting the fine quality of his attire. He was clearly wealthier than most of your usual customers. You offered him your brightest smile.

"Welcome, sir! How can I be of assistance?"

At the sound of the bell once more, your eyes shifted — and your breath caught. Another young man had entered, dressed just as finely, shorter than his companion by just a touch. His golden hair shimmered in the light, and his piercing crimson gaze held you, pinned in place.

A jolt shot through you at the uncanny sight before you. The young man differed so much from the feisty boy you had grown up with. Gone were the baggy rags, the days of swiping bread from bakers, or brawling with the other boys in the neighbourhood. Now, he looked polished, finely dressed, carrying himself with the poise of someone born to this life. Only his captivating eyes and those unmistakable birthmarks hinted at his past.

Your breath caught, your smile faltering for a moment before you tore your gaze from him, returning your attention to the man before you. The man gave you a warm smile, his gaze flickering over your selection with curiosity.

"I think I’d like to try an Eccles cake… perhaps a scone?" he glanced at you sheepishly. "What would you recommend?"

Your eyes flicked briefly to the blonde approaching the two of you. “I just baked a fresh batch of gingerbread, if you’re interested. Would you like to try one? I set a couple aside just for that.” You offered him your sweetest service smile. His eyes lit up with excitement.

“Yes! That would be wonderful, miss!”

You stifled a laugh and reached for the basket you’d stowed away behind the counter, its bite-sized treats nestled neatly inside. You held it out, your smile growing ever so slightly as the young man eagerly took one and bit into it.

“This is delicious, miss!” he said, turning to his companion with enthusiasm. “Come and try these, Dio!”

After a moment’s hesitation, Dio stepped closer. You could barely conceal your awe at what a refined man he had grown into.

Would he even recognize you now?

You hadn’t spoken in years, so you could hardly hold it against him. He had moved up in the world, and his days of associating with a lowly girl like you were far behind him. Still, though you hated to admit it, you had sometimes wished he’d at least tried to contact you in some form.

Reaching his hand into the basket, your eyes met. His cold expression of indifference shifted ever so slightly, hesitance in his lingering gaze. You could tell from the subtle twitch of his brow and flicker of his eyes: he did recognize you.

Dio bit into the gingerbread, his gaze never leaving you. There was something different about him since your shared childhood—something complex, almost sinister, simmered beneath the surface.

All he offered in reaction to the treat was a noncommittal hum. If this indifference was uncharacteristic of him, his companion didn’t seem to notice. Despite Dio’s magnetic pull, you forced yourself to focus on the other young man before you. He was much kinder than you’d expected of nobility, open and friendly in a way that surprised you. If your intuition was correct, this had to be none other than Lord Joestar’s heir.

“I almost forgot!” Jonathan exclaimed, turning to Dio after paying for his selection. “I need to send this letter for Father! Would you like to accompany me?”

Dio cast you a veiled glance.

“No. I’ll… stay here a moment longer. I think I’ll get a couple of treats for myself.” His voice was steady, but beneath the smooth indifference, conflicting emotions flickered in his gaze.

You stood in tense silence as Jonathan dashed out, leaving you alone with Dio. You swallowed thickly, sneaking a glance at him. His expression was unreadable now, a far cry from the boy whose thoughts you once understood with a single look.

“(Name),” his deep, commanding voice jolted you from your thoughts, and you jumped.

“Dio,” you replied evenly, keeping your tone as neutral as you could. Your younger self was screaming to rush forward, to sweep him into a tight embrace, but the older, wiser part of you held that urge firmly in check.

You studied him warily, noticing his gaze sweep over you with a detached, almost clinical interest.

“How did you end up… here?” he asked at last, his brows twitching ever so slightly. To most, the movement would have gone unnoticed, but you caught it, picking up on the faint curiosity behind his guarded demeanour.

“Here?” you replied, crossing your arms as you leaned against the counter.

“Well,” he paused, observing you with a touch more interest, “you look… nicer than I recall.”

His words held a cutting edge, and while you might have taken offence were this anyone else, coming from Dio, they stung differently.

“Nicer? As in, not begging and stealing? Wearing clothes that actually fit?” you tried to keep your tone light, but you lacked Dio’s practised skill in hiding emotion. A trace of bitterness crept into your voice despite your efforts.

Dio’s lips curved into a faint smirk that never quite reached his eyes.

“Yes, that’s one way to put it.”

You couldn’t decide what hurt more: his words or the cold indifference behind them. You cast a desperate glance out the window, almost hoping for a customer to save you from the thick tension settling between you. No such luck.

Clearing your throat, you fidgeted with the broom, sweeping at the fine layer of flour on the floor just to occupy yourself. His intense gaze trailed your every movement.

“The baker here, Mr. Haverford, caught me stealing a few years back. I thought he’d turn me in on the spot, but…he offered me a job instead.” Despite yourself, a small, fond smile slipped onto your lips as you recalled that day.

You had been so terrified then, barely fifteen, clutching the stolen pastry in your trembling hands. Mr. Haverford had stood over you, his large hand resting heavily on your shoulder. Yet he hadn’t struck you, hadn’t dragged you to the authorities, hadn’t even raised his voice.

Instead, he’d smiled—a gentle, compassionate smile.

“I’ve lived and worked here since,” you murmured, sneaking a glance at Dio. For just a moment, you thought you caught a flicker of something in his expression: his brows lifting slightly, his lips parting as though to speak. But the moment was fleeting, leaving you wondering if you’d seen it at all.

Taking a hesitant breath, you forced a faint smirk onto your face.

“You look well too, Dio. I trust you’ve been doing all right?” Your voice was soft, but a hint of teasing laced your words. You felt breathless, waiting for his reply.

This time, there was no mistaking it. The corners of his mouth twitched upward.

“I suppose I have. The Joestars have been…kind to me.”

Despite the seemingly gracious words, a familiar unease stirred within you. It felt as though there was something he wasn’t saying, a part of him hidden beneath the surface. But after four years apart, the connection you’d once shared had faded, leaving fragments of familiarity in its place.

“Who was that young man with you?” you asked, catching your lip between your teeth.

Dio’s hands tightened at your question. He’d noticed the easy way you and Jonathan had conversed, and it unsettled him.

“Jonathan. Lord Joestar’s son. His son by birth, that is.” His voice chilled, his eyes narrowing as he studied you.

"Ah." You nodded, finally setting the broom aside as another tense silence settled between you. 

Had you offended him?

Your gaze darted around the room, and you lit up with relief as the bell above the door chimed again. Your expression softened, melting into familiarity as a regular stepped inside.

“Hello, Charles! What’ll it be today?” you asked, flashing him a genuine, easy smile. For a moment, you could almost forget Dio’s stifling presence behind you.

But Dio’s demeanour only grew frostier. The young man who had entered looked about your age, plain in every conceivable way, though not poorly off. And yet, you smiled at him with a fondness Dio remembered all too well, one that had once been his.

"Some apple tart, please! It’s my mother’s favourite," Charles replied cheerily, paying Dio no mind, his gaze fixed solely on you.

A laugh bubbled out of you, light and genuine—a giggle.

“You’re in luck! Mr. Haverford took the day off, so all of today’s treats were baked by yours truly.” You flashed a toothy grin at Charles, whose face lit up with excitement.

Dio’s eye twitched as he watched the fool’s eagerness grow, the blush of his cheeks and ears a tell-tale sign.

“Fantastic news! I can always tell when it’s you behind the baking.” Charles leaned in, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “Don’t let Mr. Haverford hear, but yours are better!”

You giggled, a warm pink hue spreading across your face as you rolled your eyes. “I’m not giving you a discount for flattery, you know!”

Dio tuned out the rest, his gaze flicking between you and Charles, his hardened expression barely concealing the simmering irritation. Had you truly replaced him with some common, insipid fool?

By the time Charles finally left, Dio had stewed long enough. Thoughts churned and frustrations swelled within him with every shared laugh or casual glance between you and that nobody. Yet he forced himself to keep his composure.

“Who was that?” he asked, cocking a brow at you, his voice smooth but lacking its usual restraint. There was a crack in his perfect mask, just the slightest slip that told you he wasn’t as detached as he appeared.

“Charles is a regular,” you explained, your smile fading slightly as you watched him exit. “He often gets treats for his siblings or mother.”

Dio’s brow twitched, his eyes gleaming with something unreadable. “He likes you, you know.”

You stammered, wide-eyed, heat rising to your cheeks. That earned a chuckle from Dio, a real, genuine sound you hadn’t heard from him in years.

“That’s—Dio!” You struggled for a response, attempting to glare at him through your embarrassment.

This felt strangely familiar, almost nostalgic.

Dio merely shrugged, his smirk widening. “I can read people like him easily.”

You frowned, unsettled by his choice of words. People like him? You felt the urge to snap at his snobbish tone but managed to bite back the impulse. “Whatever, Dio. Even if he did, it’s hardly any of your business.”

There it was again—something swirling beneath that composed exterior of his.

Before the tension could mount any further, Dio’s tall companion, Jonathan, re-entered, gaze flickering between the two of you. He seemed to sense the charged atmosphere lingering in the room, his expression softening as he turned to Dio.

“Let’s go. Father’s expecting us for dinner.”

Dio narrowed his eyes slightly, but he gave no argument, stepping toward the door. Jonathan cast you a quick, concerned look before the two disappeared through the exit, leaving you with only the quiet echo of their departure.

You assumed that this chance encounter would be nothing more than that. 

But it appeared as though fate held other plans for you.

[suugarbabe]

[Chapter 3]

Word count: ~3.3k

Warnings: mentions of blood and violence

You grasped at the object your arm was slung around, expecting the warmth and hardness of Mattheo’s chest. Instead you grasped onto the silk of a pillowcase. Your eyes slowly fluttered opened, your mind trying to organize your thoughts and figure out if last night really happened or not.

Laying your head on the pillow in your grasp, you were hit with the unmistakable scent of Mattheo. The mix of sandalwood and amber mixed with fire whiskey and smoke flooded your senses. You tried to remember the feeling of his arms wrapped around you as you drifted off into your first peaceful sleep in months, but all you could remember was the light ghosting of his fingertips on your skin.

You sat up in bed, taking in the room around you again. Beyond his scent on your pillow, there was no trace of Mattheo in your room whatsoever. Climbing down from the bed you walked over to your barren closet, choosing something simple for the day before you decided to explore the manor. Grabbing your tea from Gimball from the nightstand, you slid your feet into your slippers and headed towards the door. You’d have to ask Gimball for his tea recipe, it was perfect.

Stepping in to the hall you take notice of how much more elegant the hall looks with the sunlight peeking in. You stared at the double doors next to yours, wondering if Mattheo was inside, wondering what time he left you alone in your bed. Did he wait until you were just asleep? Did he stay there and hold you for hours before finally retreating to his own room, or did he leave in the morning just before you woke? Your hand hovered above the door knob, contemplating the risks and rewards of trying to enter Mattheo’s room.

“He’s not here,” Pansy’s voice cut through your internal thoughts, making you whip around and grab your mug with both hands. “Oh, erm, yeah, that’s fine. I was just, ehm, where is he, do you know?” Pansy narrowed her eyes, walking towards you with her arms crossed, “He and Enzo left pretty early this morning on…business.” You sipped your tea, responding with a short hum, “Mattheo said you would give me a tour of the manor today?”

Pansy nodded, turning towards the stairs, “Yes, and we’ve got a lot of ground to cover, so do try and keep up.” She started quickly down the stairs, you hustling behind her. Pansy led you down the stair case and through a set of double doors, “This is the kitchen, I don’t really know why you’d need to come down here as Gimball will bring you anything and everything you need with just a simple call and ask.” You nodded, setting your mug in the sink as you passed by.

Passing through the same doors Pansy turned down a new hall, similarly looking to the one upstairs with all of the bedrooms, “Down this hall is the security room, if you’re ever looking for Blaise or Theo they’ll likely be holed up in here doing work. This door is Draco’s office, don’t go in there unless you want a fight,” Pansy eyed you over her shoulder, “which you might want, but just be careful. Remember he’s on the team for a reason, not just because he and Mattheo are family.”

Pansy stopped at a set of double doors at the end of the hall, “These doors-” You cut her off, finishing her sentence, “lead to Mattheo’s office. The man really loves french doors, doesn’t he?” Pansy shrugged her shoulders, “What can I say, the man loves a grand entrance.” You laughed, easily agreeing with the statement.

You were led further to the outside of the house, presented with a larger in ground pool the size of a tennis court. Beyond the pool Pansy showed you the vineyard, thanks to Theo’s family, and the large and expansive garden. She led you to the front entrance of the garden, telling you of all the different flowers and plants that were growing inside, “We basically have the garden enchanted like a greenhouse, allowing us access to essentially any ingredients we would need for any potion we would need. Would you believe me if I told you the one we make the most are healing concoctions.”

A light laugh escaped your lips, “Surprisingly yes, I do believe that.” You walked side by side back towards the manor, you gnawing at your lip deciding if you should ask the question that was beating at your brain. You couldn’t see it but Pansy was smirking, “Ask your question, I can tell you’re dying to.” You let out a huff, “Am I that easy to read? Mattheo certainly won’t like that.”

Pansy’s eyes sparkled with something you couldn’t quite read, “I’m sure he likes you just fine.” You opened your mouth to protest when she cut you off, “Question, Birdie, what was it?” You frowned slightly, “Everyone just going to call me Birdie now instead of my real name? You know what, whatever. Right, so this morning you said Mattheo and Enzo left on business.” Pansy nodded, confirming she was on track with you so far, “I was just wondering…what exactly is the business. Unless they’re doing club business early in the morning.”

The smirk on Pansy’s face was telling, but you weren’t exactly sure what it was telling you. “You’re a smart witch, I’m sure you’ve gathered that there’s more than just the club when it comes to business with these boys.” You nodded, following Pansy back into the manner and towards the foyer. “Grab my arm, Birdie.” You did as told, then were instantly transported to what looked like a muggle artillery room.

“Wha-Where are we?” Pansy simply smirked, walking towards the glass door in front of you, “Believe it or not were right below the foyer. Only way to get here is through apparition and only the six of us- well I guess seven now - have the ability to do so. Theo looks daft but he’s actually fantastic at protection spells.”

Reaching her hand as far as it would go, then dragging her finger all the way down the glass. As she did so, you noticed a series of different light charges shift within the door frame before hearing a clicking sound, signifying an unlocking. “This,” Pansy opened the door, signaling for you to follow her, “is your first glimpse into the business.”

You marveled at the room around you, never seeing muggle weapons in person. They were shinier than you expected, in an array of grays, silvers and blacks. You were surprised at all the different shapes and sizes they seemed to come in, confused further why a band of wizards would see a purpose in them. “Muggle weapons are the business? That doesn’t make any sense, Pans.”

The black haired girl simply shook her head, “Weapons are the way in to the bigger picture, Birdie.” You walked up to a wall fingers dancing over what looked like a long black gun with an attached barrel to the end, “Which is what?” Pansy walked up behind you, “Power. Mattheo is building an empire, love. Not just in the wizarding world, but the muggle one as well. If there’s ever another war, he doesn’t want to make the same mistakes that his father did.”

The last sentence gave you the little bit of detail to connect the dots that you needed to better understand Mattheo and his ways, his demeanor. You felt stupid for not making the connection earlier, but you blamed Mattheo and his charm for distracting you from thinking clearly. “Mattheo is Voldemort’s son,” it left your lips in almost a whisper. Pansy nodded, “I wouldn’t bring it up, though. He’s got quite a distaste for his father. But you can’t blame him. Not after how he grew up, everything he had to deal with.”

You turned to Pansy, “How does no one know that Voldemort had a son?” Pansy held out her arm, you took it without hesitation. In a whirl you were back in the foyer, following Pansy to the sitting room watching as she collapsed on one of the couches by the fireplace. You gave her an incredulous look. She huffed, sitting up straighter and rolling her eyes, “If you sit, Birdie, I’ll tell you, but not everything. That’s for Mattheo to do. If he wants to.”

You sat on the couch across from her, not being able to help but sink into the plush cushions and relaxing slightly. Pansy let out a long sigh before starting, “Mattheo hides his past very well, better than you even and you seem like almost an expert at it. Mattheo didn’t attend school with the rest of us, his mother choosing to homeschool him, teaching him what she thought was important and what he would need to be a real leader. Guess she was right about that part.”

“How are he and Draco related? I know that the Malfoy’s were loyal death eaters but I didn’t think they were related to the Dark Lord himself.” Pansy shook her head, “You’re right there, they’re not related through him. Their mother’s are sisters, Draco’s actually almost a year older than Mattheo but you couldn’t tell by how timid and scared he acts around him.” You both laughed at this, even in the few days you had been around the group you recognize everyone cowering away from Mattheo if his voice was raised even slightly.

A popping sound signaled the arrival of someone near the foyer. “Must be the boys,” Pansy stood from the sofa, you following quickly behind her. You gasped at the sight before you. Mattheo’s white dress shirt was ripped like someone has pressed him against a shredder, cuts and new bruising evident behind the tears. He had blood splattered across his cheek, though it did not seem to be of his own. His knuckles were dripping, from what you were sure was a mix of his own blood and whoever he had seemed to beat.

Enzo was leaning most of his weight on his slightly shorter friend, eyes fluttering between awareness and close to losing consciousness. His arm that was not slung over Mattheo’s shoulders was pressed against his side where he was bleeding…badly. The gash in his side did not seem to be from anything muggle or an object, but from magic as you could see the black rim of the edges of his skin. “What the fuck happened?” You voice was the first to break the silence beyond Enzo’s moaning.

“Pansy grab the others, and some healing potions,” Matteo barked the order out like he’d said it a hundred times, which at his calmness of this situation made you think he had. You quickly conjured a table and helped Mattheo place Enzo on it. You looked over Enzo completely, seeing a few more cuts on his legs, the gash on his stomach, going up further he had a few defensive wounds on his forearms and a couple of cuts on his face.

When your face was level with Enzo’s eyesight, he smiled slightly, “Well, hey there, Angel.” You ran your thumb along his cheek bone, “Hey, Enzie. I’m gonna fix you up, but it’s gonna hurt. Try not to move, and try not to be mad at me after, okay?” Enzo did his best to nod before his eyes fluttered closed again. You grabbed your wand from your pocket, knowing where you’d have to start first when Mattheo seized your wrist, “What do you think you’re doing?”

“What does it look like? I’m trying to help now if you would just let…go of me,” Mattheo’s grip only tightened as you tried to pull away. “Do you even know what you’re doing, Princess? You don’t even know what happened or what he was hit with. Pansy’s getting the healing potions, I don’t need you fucking up my best defense.”

You scoffed at his skepticism, “Well by the discoloration around his wound I can tell you he was hit with dark magic. And those healing potions, I looked at them today when Pansy gave me my little grand tour, it’ll take your best defense a week to heal with those, while if you would just let me get to work he’ll be mostly healed by the morning. Now, if you excuse me,” you yanked your wrist again, harder this time. You know the only reason you were able to was because Mattheo let go, but you got straight to work anyway.

Placing your wand between your teeth briefly you used both hands to rip Enzo’s shirt open, fully exposing the depths of what you were dealing with. The open wound went diagonally from his right hip to almost the center of his abdomen. You waved your wand over the length of his body, mending all of the small cuts quickly. Mattheo watched as you worked, standing across from you in a worried stance, one hand over his mouth while his elbow rested on the arm over his chest.

Pansy and the others came barreling down the hall, several different healing potions in hand, “What does she think she’s doing?” Malfoy shouted, your previous impression still leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. “Leave her, cousin, we’re going to see how truly valuable she is to us.” Mattheo’s instruction left everyone standing, watching as you worked.

You mumbled an incantation under your breath, beginning to pull the darkness from around the edges of Enzo’s wound. But the pain was too much for him, his eyes shooting open and back immediately arching off the table, “BLOODY FUCKING HELL!” Your frown deepened, “I know, Enz, I’m so sorry, but you’ve got to stay still.” He shook his head, “C-can’t…can’t do it, hurts t-to much, Angel.”

You looked at Mattheo, eyes pleading. He understood what you were thinking immediately, turning towards the others, eyebrows raised. You turned back towards Enzo, leaning close to his face, “The boys are gonna help, okay? They’re gonna hold you down. I need to get it out of you before you can heal properly, okay, Enz? It’s gonna hurt, but you gotta try and stay still. Just try, the boys will help.”

You made eye contact with Mattheo, nodding. He glanced over at the rest of the boys, who each grabbed hold of a limb on Enzo. “I’m so sorry, Enz,” you whispered before hovering your hands over the gash. “Just do it Angel, m’bout to pass out, I can feel it.” You nodded, circling your wand and mumbling the same incantation from before. Your twirled the tip of your wand, pulling up slowly as what looked like shimmering black liquid began to lift from Enzo’s wound.

“What the fuck is that…” Theo gasped as he watched as the string got thicker and longer. When the tail end of the black liquid flicked out you grabbed hold of it with your free hand, holding your wand high above your head to keep as much distance between Enzo and the liquid as you could. “Pansy, a vial, please,” you looked over at her. Pansy stood frozen, eyes stuck on the struggling presence in your hand. “PANSY!” Mattheo’s booming voice snapped her out of whatever trance she was in.

Pansy rushed to your side, empty vial in hand as you guided the contents of your wand and palm inside. As she clogged the top Theo tried to get someone to pay attention to him again, “Is no one going to tell me what that fucking thing was that she just pulled out of Enzo? Was that his fucking soul?”

Blaise rolled his eyes, “You’re a fucking moron, Nott, you know that?” You elbowed Blaise in the side, causing a low groan to emit from the man, “It was dark magic. It gets attached to you when you’re hit with certain spells. It makes it harder for you to heal and is extremely difficult to remove. But once you do you can usually heal the person like normal.”

You held your wand hand over Enzo’s abdomen again, mumbling another healing spell and watching as ribbons of white began connecting the opposite edges of his wound. “Do you have any gauze?” You looked up at Mattheo. He flipped his hand around, summoning a first aid kid and digging around until he found what you had asked for. You wrapped the gauze around Enzo’s middle, the rest of the boys helping lift him in order to wrap it all the way around and secure it properly.

When you were finished, you let out an exasperated sigh, “He’s gonna be out of it for the rest of the night, but he should be basically back to his old self by morning, maybe a little sore but nothing like if he’d only taken the potion. You could probably give him that as well, help with the pain.” You looked over at Blaise and Theo, “You can take him to his room, just dont push on his side. Have Gimball give him something to drink in an hour, I’d watch him for the next three just to make sure he doesn’t get any worse.”

The two boys nodded, hauling Enzo up under his shoulders and walking up the stairs. You shoved your wand back in your pocket with intentions of heading back toward the sitting room when you felt a strong grip on your arm. You turned to see Mattheo, expression unreadable. Before you could protest he was dragging you down the hall, “Mattheo, what the fuck? Let go!” Mattheo said nothing in response and he dragged you further down the hall until you were standing in front of his office doors.

He mumbled reverse protection spells before opening the doors and throwing you inside. You luckily had the wherewithal to catch yourself on his large desk before turning around to face him. “What the hell is wrong with you?” You were practically screaming in his face yet he stood stoic. Except for his eyes. When you looked into his eyes they were darker than you’d ever seen them, like you were staring into an abyss and you were about to be sucked in. You wanted to challenge him, push him into showing you some emotion. You took a step closer, your chest nearly flush to his while you shoved a finger against one of his pecs, “Are you gonna answer me, boss?”

“Are you finished?” Mattheo peered down at you. You scowled at him, taking a step back and leaning against his desk, crossing your arms, “For now.” Mattheo rolled his eyes, “I knew you were going to be difficult but I didn’t expect you to be a brat.” You scoffed, rolling your eyes. He grabbed hold of your chin, fingers squeezing your face, “Just like that. You gonna tell me how you pulled that little stunt in the foyer just now? How you managed to pull that shite from Berkshire?”

You pushed his hand from your face, “My mother taught me. I never had to use it growing up. But after the war I got more practice.” Mattheo closed his eyes at the mention of his father’s previous doings. “He’s going to be fine, you know,” your voice was soft, assuming Mattheo was worried about Enzo. Mattheo shook his head, “I know,” a small smile appeared on his face, “I just can’t believe how much I underestimated how useful you would be to us.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “What?” Mattheo opened his eyes, a low laugh emitting from his throat, “Oh, Princess.” He reached out, cupping your cheek, “I knew you were special that first time you walked into my office. I know Pansy told you what we do, what I’m working towards.” You nodded, still not understanding what he was getting at. He leaned in close, nose nearly touching yours, “Then you know it can get dangerous, hell today was a perfect example.”

“Mattheo I still don’t unders-” Mattheo pressed his thumb to your lips, “You’re mine now, Princess.” Your heart was thundering in your chest, it felt like he had a hold of it and was squeezing. You were sure he could feel your pulse beneath his fingertips as he leaned in closer, lips ghosting against your ear as he whispered, “And you’re never going to leave.”