#THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU… IMPORTANT THINGS MUST BE SAID THREE TIMES!

[fauvester]

omigod. more holiday charity art

[gianish]

It's HERE

I regretted not being able to get the @jaydick-week Redhood zine so much, and now my leftover sale haul has arrived!! I'm so happy, I've been yelling about it to everyone who'll listen for the whole day.

Thank you so much for organising, this is such an amazing project!!

(Awful photo with no box, because it arrived just as I was running for the bus, so I just dropped everything in my bag for later.)

Included the perfect decoration for my earphones!

[chiasaaa]

—i’ll be your model

itoshi sae x f! reader

summary: dating a fashion designer has its pros and cons the same way dating a famous football player has its own. however, sae realized that you haven’t used one particular pro yet in your three years of dating.

warning: english is not my first language. apologies for any grammatical or spelling errors.

— itoshi sae is the kind of man whom his lover could describe as selfless. contrary to popular opinion, getting to know sae proves that point pretty well. sae will always come to your beck and call. he will provide you things you both need and want without you having to ask. he will most definitely drop whatever it could be he’s doing if it meant tending to your requests.

it already nearly happened one time when you called thirty minutes before an important match, telling him that you need to go to your gynecologist for your yearly check-up. it wasn’t anything serious, but he meant every fibre of his being when he said he’s going to drive all the way back just to accompany you.

if it weren’t for you threatening to lock the doors of your home from him, he would have ditched the game altogether and leave billions of fans disappointed along with his team. it was a good thing he ended up with someone like you.

someday, the whole world will thank you for it.

call him a lovesick fool, but itoshi sae will always and forever be hopelessly in love with you. he doesn’t mind if you want to go to greece in three hours; he’d already booked the earliest flight there. it indeed happened when you both sat in your living room one valentine’s day and you joked about making spontaneous plans like flying out to greece just to have a moonlit dinner with the temple of artemis in view. sae hadn’t known you were joking because he fished his phone out quick to do whatever it is you kept blabbering on.

candlelit dinner? check.

romantic violin music? check.

private villa overlooking a beautiful view? check.

economy tickets? he booked first-class.

and of course, he had long prepared his gift and your five-flower bouquet. you weren’t one for big bouquets as you loved preserving them in frames, and so you requested that if he were to give you such, he will have to make do with only five main flowers.

doesn’t mean he can stop putting blind boxes in them, though. you’re quite the menace when it comes to it.

sae had continuously provided you all your wants and needs, yet the one thing he finally realized is that you never asked for any of it.

much like today, as you’re earnestly looking through portfolios of famous celebrities who proposed to be your brand’s model. you did think that it’s about time for you to expand your model pool (you’re in it for the money) and you searched high and low for the perfect person to adorn your new creations.

specifically, the men’s product line.

sae picks up one of the photos you have scattered on the countertop, realizing that it was none other than isagi yoichi.

“athletes are part of your options?” he asks, turning the page to you. you didn’t even bother looking up as you responded back.

“yep, i’m looking through other athletes i can reach out to as an endorser.”

weird. isn’t he an athlete?

why didn’t you ask him first?

sae sets his teacup down its designated saucer, breathing in and out shortly to prepare himself for yet another confrontation. he’s still in the process of being more honest with you, when it comes to how he feels about certain things happening within your relationship. sae always tries his very best for you, and that includes biting back his usually sharp tongue because he knows how sensitive you can get.

“i assume you have strict requirements in finding one?”

“not really. i just need to look for someone who i can say is the one for the job,” you finally look up, smiling tiredly, “the same way i saw it when i looked at you.”

he must be dying early because the way you said it might as well make him combust. his heart pounded against his rib violently, wondering what you meant behind such words.

you knew he had fallen in love with you since you kicked a ball straight to his head (accidentally), but when was this time you’ve known he’s the one with a simple gaze?

as heart-fluttering as it is to think about, it’s not the current matter at hand. he couldn’t help but frown a little at the realization that he wasn’t the first person you thought of when you wanted to have a celebrity model your work.

he’s pretty famous, isn’t he?

not only that, you have always been so vocal about how he’s so handsome that the model industry’s lucky he chose to play football as his career path. that has to account for something, right?

as a fashion designer, you have one of the most keen eyes when it comes to potential models.

you’ve seen it in him.

“what do you mean by that?”

“exactly as it means, querido.” you hum, already back to work. you take a pencil from the counter and used it to tie your hair effortlessly, a few strands falling to frame your beautiful face. if it wasn’t for the fact that this is a big deal to him, sae would have long been hypnotized by your beauty.

“why don’t you use me, then?” he said it in a way that showed how upset he actually is about the situation. you couldn’t have possible missed that, and you really didn’t. you look up from your work, hiking your specs right up your nose with the joint of your finger.

“what do you mean?”

“exactly as it means, hermosa.”

you snort. of course, sae used your own words against you. though, you couldn’t say that you didn’t expect that from him. sae is too selfless for his own good, and as his partner, you’re not about to let him sabotage himself with this ridiculous adventure of over-generosity. you didn’t even know it was a thing until you met him.

as much as you loved that he will sacrifice anything and everything for the people he cares for, you must admit that it bothers you a little. that is why you took control of what you can and avoided his involvement as much as possible.

“i can’t possibly do that to you.” was your response after a short while, propping an elbow on the granite to rest your chin upon the palm of your hand. you twist the stool you’re sitting on to face him, taking his hand with your free one. “i’m not about to use you for my own benefit, querido. i didn’t date you just to have your face on my brand and milk you.”

“but you’re not,” sae raises your locked hands, planting a gentle kiss on the back of your palm. “i want to do this for you. honestly, i’m a little upset that i wasn’t the first person you thought of.”

you chuckle. “didn’t you hear me earlier? i said i’m looking for someone who will make me think ‘he’s the one!’ the same way you made me think that.”

the confusion soon replaced by embarrassment in the form of tinted cheeks and reddening ear tips had you pause for a little.

“did you take that in the romantic context?” giggling, you lean closer to him and ruffled his hair. “you’re my blueprint right now as i searched through these files. i was looking for someone like you.”

then, as if there’s a sudden change in the wind, sae regained his confidence and fired back at you.

“there’s no one else like me.” he takes your chin between his fingers. “so use me, hermosa.”

and you gave in the same way you allowed him to kiss you long and deep, telling you in every way possible that he loves you even after the universe collapses.

itoshi sae is a selfless man, yet you didn’t know that he’s only ever like that when it comes to you.

it didn’t matter if it was spontaneous trips, ditching big games, or standing in front of the camera for you.

whatever it is, as long as it’s you, then he will do everything in his power to make it come true.

[amirasainz]

Hiii I love your blog so much. It always makes me so happy when you post something♥️😘

Can you write like Oscar x reader, where they are both in university and they always meet in the library. It's like the silent love and they slowly fall in love with each other.

Enjoy reading and send some requests

-xoxo, Babygirl 💋

The quiet kind of love

The first time Oscar noticed Yn, she was sitting three tables away from him in Oxford’s grand Bodleian Library. He wouldn’t have given her a second glance if it weren’t for the fact that she was always there. Every evening, just after 6 PM, Oscar would settle in at his usual spot by the arched windows, and without fail, she would be somewhere nearby, always engrossed in her books.

It became a quiet routine. They both came to the library at the same time, stayed until it closed, and left without exchanging a word. The first week, it was coincidence. The second, it became an unspoken ritual.

Oscar was the kind of student who liked order. His desk was neatly arranged with color-coded notes, pencils lined up with perfect precision. He had come to Oxford with a scholarship to study history, and he took every second seriously. He told himself that he didn’t have time for distractions, and Yn, sitting quietly at her table, wasn’t one. But still, he noticed her.

Yn had a quiet intensity about her. She studied with the same focus and determination that Oscar did, but there was something different about the way she immersed herself in her work. Where Oscar’s approach was clinical, Yn’s was passionate. Her fingers would glide through pages, her pencil tapping against the desk when she was deep in thought. She studied literature, and every so often, Oscar would glance up and see her smiling slightly at whatever she was reading.

For a long time, they didn’t speak. Neither one seemed inclined to break the silence. It wasn’t awkward, though. The quietness of their shared space felt right, like they both understood the importance of the library and their respective work. It was a kind of peaceful companionship.

Then one evening, as the early chill of October settled into the old stone walls, Oscar glanced up from his notes and saw Yn sitting at her usual spot. But this time, there was something different. She had a takeaway coffee cup in front of her, and without thinking, she stood up and walked over to him.

Oscar blinked in surprise as Yn set the cup down next to his laptop. “I noticed you always look exhausted by the time we leave,” she said, her voice soft and even. “Thought you might need this.”

He didn’t know what to say. His brain stalled for a moment before he managed to mumble, “Thanks.”

Yn nodded, a small, polite smile on her face, and returned to her seat. That was it. A coffee, a thank you, and then back to silence.

The next evening, when Oscar arrived, he brought two packets of biscuits with him. After half an hour, he quietly stood up and walked to her table. Yn looked up, her wide, curious eyes meeting his for a second before she noticed the snacks.

“Here,” he said simply, holding them out. “I figured you might get hungry.”

Yn’s lips curved into a full smile this time, not the reserved one he had seen before. She took the biscuits with a small nod. “Thank you, Oscar.”

He felt a warmth spread through him, hearing her say his name for the first time. How did she know? Then he remembered their IDs had been out on the table one time when the librarian was checking their books, and she must have caught a glimpse. He liked how his name sounded in her voice—like it was meant to be there.

“See you tomorrow?” she asked, more a statement than a question.

“Yeah,” Oscar replied, surprised by how natural it felt.

From then on, every evening they brought small things for each other—Yn’s coffee, Oscar’s snacks, sometimes even a scribbled note with a suggestion for a book they thought the other would enjoy. They still didn’t talk much, but the silence between them felt comfortable, not awkward. There was something more than just the quiet. It was shared, and it was theirs.

Weeks passed, and as November approached, the air grew cooler. Oscar found himself looking forward to the evenings more than ever. It wasn’t just the books or the studying—it was the simple act of seeing Yn, knowing she would be there.

One Friday, the library was quieter than usual. Most students had gone home early for the weekend, but Oscar and Yn remained, tucked into their usual places. After about two hours, Oscar stretched, his back aching from sitting so long, and when he looked over at Yn, she was staring at him.

She blinked, caught off guard for a moment, then smiled. “Want to take a break?” she asked, her voice soft.

Oscar hesitated. They had never taken breaks together before. But he nodded, feeling something stir in his chest. “Yeah. Let’s go for a walk.”

They left the library and wandered through the cobbled streets of Oxford, the night air crisp and cold. Their breath hung in the air like ghosts, and for the first time, they talked.

Yn spoke about her love for literature, her fascination with stories that revealed something hidden about the world. Oscar shared his passion for history, for the way people and events could shape entire civilizations. They walked for hours, moving from topic to topic as if they had always known each other. It wasn’t forced; the conversation flowed easily, like it had been waiting to happen.

“I’ve always thought Oxford was the perfect place to study,” Yn said as they paused by a bridge, watching the river flow beneath them. “The history here, the way the buildings seem to have stories of their own… It feels like the right place to find something, or someone.”

Oscar turned to look at her, the moonlight casting a silver glow on her features. He wanted to ask her what she meant by “someone,” but instead, he just said, “Yeah, it does.”

When they returned to the library, neither of them mentioned the walk. But from that night on, something had changed. They no longer sat in complete silence; sometimes, one would quietly comment on a passage they were reading, and the other would respond. They didn’t need to talk much, but the few words they shared each night felt more meaningful than entire conversations with anyone else.

By December, their routine had deepened. One evening, when Yn arrived, Oscar was already there, waiting with her coffee and a small smile. She sat down, and without thinking, reached across the table, her fingers lightly brushing his hand. She started to pull away, embarrassed, but Oscar’s hand moved to meet hers.

The touch was brief, barely more than a second, but it felt like something had shifted. Neither of them spoke about it, but from that night on, their hands would meet under the table, fingers brushing, lingering longer each time. It wasn’t something they planned or discussed, but it felt natural, like a quiet confession they both understood.

One evening, after the library had emptied, Yn leaned over her desk and whispered, “Do you ever feel like this is the best part of the day?”

Oscar looked up from his notes, surprised by her sudden admission. “Yeah,” he said honestly. “I do.”

She smiled, her eyes soft. “I like this. Us.”

“Me too,” Oscar said quietly. His heart was pounding, and before he could stop himself, he reached across the table and took her hand fully in his. This time, she didn’t pull away.

The weeks leading up to Christmas were filled with more moments like that. They spent their evenings together, sometimes in silence, sometimes whispering small things to each other. They held hands more often now, not hiding it under the table but keeping them interlocked where they could see. It was as if every day, they allowed themselves to fall a little more into the connection they had been building.

Then, one night, just as the library was about to close, Yn looked over at Oscar, her eyes serious. “Oscar,” she said softly.

“Yeah?”

She hesitated, as if searching for the right words, then spoke. “I think I’m falling in love with you.”

Oscar stared at her, the words settling over him like a blanket. He knew, in that moment, that he felt the same. He had felt it for weeks but hadn’t been able to put it into words.

“I think I’m falling in love with you too,” he said, his voice steady but full of emotion.

Yn smiled, her eyes shining. And for the first time, they both understood that the quiet library, the long nights, the coffee and biscuits—it had all led to this. Their unspoken connection had turned into something real, something they could no longer ignore.

Oscar leaned across the table, and in the soft glow of the library’s lamps, he kissed her, gently, just for a moment. It was a quiet kiss, fitting for the quiet love that had grown between them.

When they pulled away, Yn’s smile widened. “Let’s keep meeting here,” she whispered.

“Always,” Oscar replied, knowing that now, the library was more than just a place to study. It was where they had found each other.

And so, they did.

[punkshort]

Roommates | 7. jack and jill

Pairing: pornstar!joel x f!reader

Chapter Summary: You and Joel organize Tommy and Maria's bachelor and bachelorette party together, making it the first time you've spoken to each other since you moved out.

Chapter Warnings: language, discussions revolving mental health and therapy, insecurity issues, anxiety, angst, alcohol and food consumption, idiots in love but won't admit it, cigarette use, one bed couch trope

WC: 6.8K

Series Masterlist

Five Months Later

Everything was fine. Everything was going to be fine. There was no need to be nervous.

Okay, so you were going back to the house for the very first time since you moved out. You didn't count the time last month when you idled in the driveway in your car, waiting to pick Maria up to go to her dress fitting. You avoided it as much as you could, but eventually she asked you to come over to help with wedding planning. She wanted to look over the seating chart and because it was so big and she insisted on making a physical floor plan instead of a digital one, she guilted you into coming to the house.

You didn't have the nerve to ask if Joel would be there, but when you pulled up to the house, your stomach doing cartwheels and threatening to bring up your breakfast, Joel's truck was gone.

Relief and disappointment flooded you all at once.

When you approached the front door, your hand hovered over the doorknob. Should you knock? Do you just walk in? You stood there a minute too long, going back and forth, undecided, until the door swung open with Maria standing on the other side.

"What are you doing?"

"I don't know."

She rolled her eyes and opened the door wider. "Don't be weird," she told you as you slid past her into the familiar hall to kick off your sneakers.

Although the house was generally the same, it felt different now.

"Is anyone home?" you asked timidly as you followed her into the kitchen to grab some drinks.

"Tommy's got work," she replied, pulling a bottle of wine from the fridge. You took a deep breath and inwardly groaned. She was really going to make you work for it.

"And... Joel?"

She stopped and looked at you like you were speaking another language. "Have you still not spoken to him?"

You chewed on your lower lip and her shoulders sagged.

"C'mon, you promised us you would work things out before you left."

"We will! I've just been... busy, I guess."

"It's been months. You need to talk to him," she scolded, brushing past you as she headed to the dining room table where her seating chart was all spread out. "We're getting close to the big day and you guys need to plan our Jack and Jill."

You cocked an eyebrow at her and took the glass she extended your way. "Jack and Jill?"

"Yeah, y'know, where the bachelor and bachelorette parties join into one big party?" You must have looked confused because she frowned and popped her hand on her hip. "I mentioned this three months ago."

"I know, I know, I just forgot."

"You need to get your shit together. You're my maid of honor! I need you."

"I will, I promise," you said firmly, taking a sip of wine. "I'll text him tomorrow and I'll set something up so we can start planning."

She eyed you up for a moment before dropping into a chair with a sigh. "Thanks. Sorry, I know this is tough but you guys gotta work things out. You're both too important to us."

"We will. Don't even give it another thought." You sat down across from her and glanced around while she opened up a notebook with her guest list. "So, where is he?"

"Well, if you would have called him in the past five months, you would know he moved out."

You raised your eyebrows in surprise. "When?"

"Like, two months ago, I think."

"Good. That's... good. Good for him."

"He bought a house."

You nearly choked on your wine. "He did?"

She nodded and bit back a grin. "A lot of things have changed. You'd be surprised."

"What's that mean?" you asked with a frown. She just shrugged.

"You'll have to talk to him and find out."

You tossed a piece of popcorn across the table at her and she giggled. "Enough about Joel. Let's get down to business. Like where am I going to put my Aunt Cathie when she refuses to speak to anyone on my side of the family?"

You tapped your chin and looked down at the poster. "Kitchen?"

In hindsight, picking a coffee shop was a bad idea. You were nervous enough as it was, the last thing you needed was extra caffeine. But still you found yourself sitting at a small table by the window twenty minutes before you were supposed to meet Joel, tapping your foot anxiously on the tile floor and turning around every time one of the doors opened.

To kill time, you stared down at your texts from earlier in the week, rereading them over and over, trying to pick up on his energy so you could get an idea of what you were walking into.

Hey

Then, two painful hours later:

Hey

I was hoping we could meet up sometime soon if you're free? Maria not so subtly pointed out we need to plan their Jack and Jill party.

You remembered at the time, the little text bubbles appeared and disappeared over and over, as if he were changing his mind until he finally sent:

Sure. Thursday?

Thursday works. Java Joint on third?

I can swing by after work around 4

Okay - looking forward to it :)

Then... nothing.

Maybe the smiley face was overkill.

You drained the last of your iced latte and got up to throw it in the trash. When you sat back down at your table, a flurry of activity caught your attention through the window. Three girls were bouncing on their heels and giggling into their palms, grabbing each other's shoulders with their phones in their hands as they spoke to none other than Joel fucking Miller. He had his sunglasses on and a white Henley shirt, the material stretching across his broad chest and arms. Paired with the confident smirk on his face, he looked devastatingly good. You watched with a twist of envy in your chest as the girls all took selfies with his arm wrapped around their shoulders before he finally jutted his thumb towards the coffee shop and gave them a final wave, turning on his heel and then heading in your direction. Once his back was turned, the girls collectively lost their shit while looking down at their pictures, but you couldn't pay them any more attention because Joel was about to walk through the door.

Butterflies burst in your stomach when he pushed his sunglasses on top of his head, locking eyes with you, and suddenly it felt like no time had passed at all. Memories of watching movies with your feet tucked under his thigh and making dinners together flashed before your eyes while you forced yourself to give him a shy wave.

He simply nodded in return and motioned towards the counter, indicating he was getting something to drink, and when his gaze finally left yours in favor of reading the menu, you let yourself fully take him in. He looked really fucking good. Something was different but you couldn't put your finger on it. Healthier, maybe? Or maybe he just looked happier now without all the stress you brought into his life.

He must have said something flirty to the barista because she giggled and the tips of her ears turned red and, after he paid, he sauntered down the counter, casually resting his elbow on the hard surface while scrolling his phone.

From the look of it, he was no where near as nervous as you felt, which just made your anxiety spike more.

The barista slid his coffee across the counter with a wide smile and he gave her a wink before turning to weave his way through the tables. You straightened up as he approached and tried to look normal.

"Hi."

He sat down across from you, putting his coffee down with a grunt. "Hey."

Your heart was practically wedged in your throat and your fingers wouldn't stop tapping nervously on the table.

"H-how are things?"

He shrugged and took a sip from his cup. "Alright. Busy."

He was looking everywhere but your eyes. You supposed you deserved that, but it still stung.

"How's work?"

He sighed and rubbed his eyes. "We don't gotta do this, y'know."

"Do what?"

"This," he said, waving his finger back and forth between you. "We can be civil for the sake of Tommy and Maria but we don't gotta pretend this is somethin' it ain't."

You tried to hide the hurt from your eyes but he must have clocked it because he pinched the bridge of his nose and made a frustrated sound.

"Don't gimme that look."

"I'm not," you replied defiantly, staring down at your fingers now. "I'm sorry, Joel. For all of it."

"You made that pretty damn clear when you left."

Your eyes snapped up to him as he took another sip from his coffee and looked around the café. Then your gaze fell onto the writing on his cup: a name with a phone number and a little heart and your stomach rolled but you took a deep breath, just like you practiced, and let it go.

"I didn't leave because I regretted it," you whispered. His eyes finally landed on you, patiently waiting for you to speak again. "I left because I couldn't stay away from you."

His eyes softened but he remained quiet, so you took a shaky breath in and continued.

"I needed time to think over what I did and why I did it and what I really want," you nervously began to shred your straw wrapper as you spoke. "And I couldn't do that with you so goddamn close because there's just something about you that drives me fucking crazy."

His lips twitched. "Crazy in what way?"

You sighed and slumped down in your chair. "Crazy as in every time I see you I want to kiss you and laugh with you and tell you about my day and just... be near you."

"Then why the hell didn't you wanna try 'n make it work?"

"Because of your job," you groaned pathetically, knowing full well you sounded like a broken record. "It's not your fault, Joel, it's mine. I have... issues. But I'm working on it. I've started seeing a therapist-"

"What issues?" he pressed.

"Jealousy, insecurity, self-doubt, anxiety... you name it."

He took a deep breath and readjusted in his chair so he was facing you instead of the café. "I didn't know you were goin' through all that. Is it helpin'?" he asked softly, and for the first time you thought you heard the Joel you used to know.

"Yeah, but it's hard," you replied. "It takes a lot of work to change the way you think and react to something. But I'm trying. Really, I am. Because-" you took a deep breath and raked your fingers through your hair. "No one makes me happy the way you made me happy. And I really, really fucking miss you." Tears welled up in your eyes that you quickly blinked away. Crying in the middle of a coffee shop was not on your list of things to do that day.

"What are you tryin' to tell me?" he asked, dropping his head so he could catch your eye. "Hm? Say it."

"I know I blew my chance with you and I don't deserve another one, but can we please try to be friends again?"

His gaze bounced back and forth between your eyes, studying your expression before slowly straightening up in his seat. "Friends?"

You nodded weakly, your lips pressed into a thin line.

He rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he considered it.

"What'll that look like?"

You frowned and gave him a little shrug. "Joke around. Inquire about each other's lives. Help each other out. Be supportive of one another."

He nodded along as you listed everything off with a confused look on your face, unclear as to why he was asking you to define friendship. "That's it?"

"What do you mean?"

"That's all you want?"

And there it was again: that undeniable pull, that undercurrent of tension bonding you together, making you question every word and every look.

"Yes," you finally answered quietly. It was a lie, of course, but you were too scared to put yourself fully out there. You already felt vulnerable enough with what you confessed and you couldn't stand the rejection if you told him the truth.

He ticked his jaw to the side and you could have sworn in that moment, he saw right through you. But maybe you were wrong, because his next words were -

"Alright, then. Let's be friends."

Your eyes lit up as he pulled out his phone and opened his calendar app.

"Thank you, Joel."

He nodded without looking up. "What weekend were you thinkin' for this party?"

"So you two kissed and made up?"

You scowled at Maria over the aisle at a local florist.

"We did not kiss, thank you."

She grinned and rolled her eyes before picking up a deep pink carnation. "It's a figure of speech, but you never know."

"Things are fine. I mean, they aren't like they were before, I doubt it ever will be, but you have nothing to worry about. We can be in the same room together without anything getting weird. I don't like that one," you added when she picked up a red poppy. She plunked it back down in the bucket and kept browsing.

"Good. And how's the party planning?"

"Really good, we're almost all done. I just need to pick up the shirts and the favors and we should be good to go."

"I can't thank you enough for organizing this for us, I'm so excited! It's gonna be the best weekend ever," she gushed, picking up a few other flowers in similar shades of pink.

"Well, hopefully your actual wedding will be a better weekend, but I appreciate the sentiment," you giggled.

"How are we doing ladies? Do you have any questions?" asked the florist, an older man who was wearing a Hawaiian shirt. Maria launched into a laundry list of questions and you grinned before leaning against the register and pulling out your phone. You had to actively stop yourself from opening up your text chain with Joel. In the past, aside from Maria, he was your person. He was the one you always texted silly things to whenever you were bored or lonely. Even though he agreed to be friends again, it had yet to feel the same. In fact, you still hadn't seen him since that day in the coffee shop. You had managed to do all the planning for the Jack and Jill over the phone, but you didn't want to tell Maria that. Something told you she would want you to try harder with him and you were too nervous to stick your neck out there. The shame you harbored for the way everything fell apart after the camping trip was too great.

"You wanna grab lunch?" she asked once she was done going over in excruciating detail the flowers she wanted in each bouquet and centerpiece.

"God, yes."

There was a nearby Mexican place you both loved so you ordered a couple margaritas while you waited for your food.

"Can I ask you a question that I've been dying to know the answer to but wanted to get you loosened up on booze first?"

You quirked an eyebrow at Maria and nodded hesitantly.

"Have you talked to Sam?"

You closed your eyes and groaned.

"Very briefly, only once. About a month after... you know."

She sipped her drink and nodded. "And?"

"It went about as well as you could expect. I tried to apologize but he was so hurt, I think I just made things worse."

"Thank god he got that new job. The timing couldn't have been better," she said, then winced when she saw the look in your face. "I'm sorry, I just meant at least you didn't have to worry about work being a factor. You had enough going on as it was."

"I know what you meant, it's okay," you assured her.

Maria stirred her drink with her straw for a moment, the two of you falling into a comfortable silence while you listened to Latin music over the speakers and blankly watched some soccer match that was muted on the TV over the bar.

"Can I ask you another messy question?" she finally asked. You grinned and shrugged.

"Go for it."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

You swallowed the lump in your throat and dropped your gaze to the table. "What was I gonna say? 'Oh, by the way, I'm fucking your boyfriend's brother behind my boyfriend's back?' You would have slapped me."

She laughed and leaned back in her seat to make room for the sizzling fajitas that got placed down in front of you both. She eagerly picked one up and began to pour salsa and sour cream on top before she spoke again.

"I don't think I would have slapped you, but I definitely would have made you to dump Sam and get with Joel."

"Yeah, that's not something I would have wanted to hear," you told her with a laugh.

"So," she said, wiping some sour cream from the corner of her mouth, "you didn't wanna date him because of his job, but fucking him was okay?"

You paused your chewing and gave her a blank stare. "What happened didn't make a ton of sense, but I can tell you this much: I was in deep denial over what was happening with Joel. I told myself it was just a friends with benefits thing and it didn't mean anything, but there's just something about him that I can't describe. Like we have some connection that's impossible to ignore, or something? Even the annoying things about him make me smile. I know I sound crazy, I'll shut up," you said when you noticed the incredulous look on Maria's face.

"Girl, you love him."

You balked and nearly choked on your taco. "No."

"Yes."

You shook your head and took a big sip from your margarita. "I care about him deeply but I'm not in love with him."

Maria widened her eyes in disbelief and looked back down at her food. "Okay... just sounds to me like something more."

You quickly changed the subject to her wedding dress, which easily distracted her while you let what she said about Joel marinate. Were you in love with Joel? Is that why you couldn't let Sam in? Were you that blind?

In the end, you decided to let it go. It didn't matter, anyway. What you had with Joel was over, and after the way things ended, you couldn't imagine a situation where he would ever want to give you another chance, assuming you could get past all your insecurities surrounding his profession. Therapy was helping, but you had a long way to go, and ultimately you were seeking help to better yourself overall, not to make things work with Joel.

Maria had told you Joel bought a house but for some reason, you imagined it was a small ranch house somewhere, not a gorgeous two-story relatively new build. Or so, it looked new as you walked up the driveway and stared at the new black roof and white siding. You could feel your heart beginning to beat faster the closer you got to his front porch, gripping the brown paper bag at your side with sweaty fingers.

Stop it, you're just leaving the shirts at his door, there's no need to be nervous.

You climbed the creaky wooden steps and looked at the two Adirondack chairs with a table in between and suddenly you felt a pit form in your stomach. Two?

Why hadn't it occurred to you before now that he could be seeing someone? What if he was bringing her as a date to the wedding?

Stop. It. Drop the bag and fucking go.

You nestled the paper bag behind one of the chairs and turned to leave when you heard the front door squeak open.

"What're you doin'?"

You closed your eyes and silently cursed to yourself before spinning around with a forced smile on your face, only to have it immediately slip with you saw Joel had greeted you completely shirtless with his hair a disheveled mess.

Shit.

"Hey, I'm, uh, just dropping off the shirts for the guys," you pointed to the paper bag, his eyes following your finger.

He opened the screen door, stepping out to pick it up and you had to look away. He was wearing basketball shorts and the material clung around his bulge just a little too well.

"Why didn't you just knock?"

"Um," you took a breath and met his gaze, refusing to let your eyes drop lower than his neck. "Didn't wanna bother you."

"It's no bother. You wanna come in?" he asked. You finally picked up on the gravelly sound to his voice once you were able to ignore his smooth, broad chest.

"Did you just wake up?"

He shrugged and gave you half a smirk while he held the door open.

"Worked late."

"Ah," you replied, gaze dropping to the porch while you rocked back and forth on your heels. Work.

"You comin' in or not? I'm lettin' flies in."

"Uh, sure," you finally decided, sneaking past him, purposely holding your breath so you wouldn't breathe in his intoxicating scent.

His front door opened into his living room, which was about how you expected it to look: a dark couch with a matching chair surrounding a glass coffee table in front of a big screen TV with green and blue plastic clamshell video game cases scattered on the floor.

"Want somethin' to drink?" he asked, brushing past you as he ambled into his kitchen. You followed, noting his house seemed to lack... something.

"Water's fine."

It was bare. That's what it was. It hit you when you were in the kitchen. He had all the essentials but there was no warmth, no decorations, no pictures.

"Did you just move in?" you asked, then thanked him when he handed you a bottle of water.

"'Bout three months ago."

"Oh," you replied before taking a slow sip of water, your eyes darting around the sparse kitchen. "It's nice," you finally said when you pulled the bottle from your lips.

At least you could be sure he wasn't living with a girl. His home practically screamed bachelor pad.

"Thanks. How's your ma?" he asked before picking up a half drank mug of coffee.

You leaned against the kitchen counter and crossed your arms. "She's good. She's already found a new boyfriend. And here I thought I was doing her a favor by moving in and keeping her company," you said with a soft laugh. "Now I feel like I'm in the way of her exciting social life."

Joel nodded and sat down at the kitchen table with a grunt, his legs spread wide as he leaned back into the chair.

"Been meanin' to apologize to you," he said, staring down at his coffee sitting on the table. "Shoulda been there to help you move out, or at least say bye. I'm real sorry 'bout that."

That took you by surprise.

"You don't have anything to apologize for," you said immediately with a shake of your head. "It would have been too painful, anyway."

Joel took a deep breath through his nose. "Yeah, reckon that's why I bailed that day."

Neither of you said anything for a moment, both of you thinking back to that week when everything fell apart.

"I'm so sorry for what I did to you, Joel," you said quietly. He frowned and looked up.

"What you did to me?"

"Yeah. For pulling you into my mess and hurting you. It was never my intention, but I recognize it was my fault. I started it. I kissed you. I came to your room that day. It's all on me, okay?" You looked at him with raw pain in your eyes and he sighed.

"Darlin', if you didn't start it, I would've. It ain't all on you," he told you softly.

You nodded and you felt tears welling up in your eyes, so you dropped your gaze to the floor and pressed your lips into a thin line, trying to stifle your emotion, but Joel could see it.

"It was fun while it lasted though, huh?" he joked, then grinned when you laughed and swiped away a stray tear.

"Yeah," you sniffled with a smile.

Joel pursed his lips and looked back down at his mug, his middle finger gently tracing the lip of the ceramic when he asked, "you seein' anyone?"

You shook your head. "No. I think it's probably best I take some time to work on myself first."

The same question for him was on the tip of your tongue but you couldn't bring yourself to ask because if the answer was yes, you weren't sure you were ready to hear it.

"Well, anyway," he said with a slap to his thighs, "everythin' ready for tomorrow? Need me to do anythin'?"

You smiled and shook your head. "Just handle the guys and I'll handle the girls. I have all the money to pay the limo bus driver. Did you have enough for the booze?"

"Mhm, no problem there," Joel said after taking a sip from his now lukewarm coffee.

The goal was to bar crawl some local spots in downtown Austin and in between, party on the limo bus.

"Just make sure to have a good playlist ready so we can connect to the speakers on the bus," you told him as you headed for the front door.

"Y'leavin'?" he asked, getting up to follow you. You shrugged and slid your shoes back on.

"Yeah, unless there was something else?"

He scratched his beard while he struggled to come up with anything that might make you stay. It just felt too nice to have you around again and he didn't want it to end.

"No, nothin' else," he finally said. "See you tomorrow."

Back to the scene of the crime, you almost let slip, but fortunately common sense kicked in and said, "Tommy and Maria's, 8pm so you can help me pack up the bus before everyone arrives."

"Yes, ma'am," he replied, leaning against the doorframe as he watched you jog down his porch steps, tossing one more wave over your shoulder before getting into your car. As he watched you drive away, he tried to stifle that familiar, desperate feeling he always felt whenever you left and forced himself to go back inside.

The party bus was already wild before it reached the end of the street. You just sat down after passing around Jell-O shots and making sure the snacks and waters you brought were readily available to the entire bus when Maria shoved a solo cup in your hand.

"What's this?" you asked over the roar coming from the speakers blaring AC/DC and the guys screaming along to the lyrics after they all did a toast to Tommy, throwing back shots of tequila.

"Jungle juice!" she replied with a grin. You took a sip and raised your eyebrows in surprise.

"Not bad!"

The lights on the bus dimmed and you looked up to find Joel playing around with the knobs at the front of the bus. Suddenly, brightly colored lights that lined the floor and roof of the bus turned on, painting everyone in a red glow that faded to orange then to all the colors of the rainbow.

"Come on, Tommy! Show us what you got!" one of Maria's bridesmaids yelled when Tommy stood up and leaned on the stripper pole in the middle of the floor for support when the bus took a turn.

"I ain't drunk enough yet, ladies!" he replied with a lopsided grin. Joel chuckled as he made his way back to his seat.

"What about you, Joel?" she asked, then all the groomsmen began whooping and pumping their fists, encouraging him, but he shook his head and sat down.

"Gotta pay me extra for that," he smirked. He brought his beer to his lips and glanced briefly in your direction before looking away.

The whole bus was wearing matching white shirts with Tommy and Maria's names printed on the back with the date of their wedding and a note at the bottom that, depending if you were a girl or a guy, said if found, please return me to the bride/groom.

On the front of the shirts was a big box where everyone could tally all the drinks and shots they had that evening with the sharpie necklaces you handed out as everyone boarded the bus. So far, most people had at least one drink or shot under their belts.

"Alright, who wants to play Tipsy Hoe?" you called out while holding up a stack of index cards. The bus cheered so you began to explain the rules. "We pick one card with a specific word on it that nobody's allowed to say. The person who says it first has to take a shot and then we pick another one."

Another of Maria's bridesmaids eagerly volunteered to pick the first card. You fanned them out as she carefully chose one from the middle and read it. "The word is Bride!" she announced, and half the bus collapsed into laughter.

"Take a shot, you can't say it! Just hold it up!" you giggled when she laughed and buried her face in her hands. "Okay, go again."

After taking a shot and drawing another tally mark on her shirt, she picked another card and this time, held it up for everyone to see: dress.

"What's that say? I can't read it?" Joel teased from the back, and she stuck out her tongue.

"Ha ha, not falling for it."

You sat back down and took a sip from your cup before leaning into Maria's side to take a few selfies only for them to come out completely blurry from the dim lighting, but you saved them anyway.

Joel brushed past the two of you to go to the front of the bus and direct the driver on where to drop the group off for the first bar, and as the bus slowed down, most people chugged the rest of their drinks and added a mark to their shirts before standing up and filing out the door.

"Jesus, Tommy, when'd you have four drinks?" Maria asked when she saw his shirt. He grinned and draped an arm around her shoulders.

"What can I say? The guys can be persuasive."

"Hey, don't you know that girl over there?" Joel asked when he suddenly appeared at your side with a cigarette hanging from his lips. He pointed over to a group of three girls standing right outside the bar with sparkly outfits on and heavy eyeshadow.

"Which one?"

"The one in the blue."

"The blue top or the blue dress?"

He smirked and shot you a wink before taking a deep drag of his cigarette. You groaned and slapped your palm to your face.

"I can't believe I fell for that."

He laughed, a plume of smoke rolling from his lips, then tossed the cigarette on the ground. "C'mon, I'll buy you the shot."

"It's the least you could do," you teased, following him inside past the bouncer. The bar was dark and really fucking loud as you weaved your way through the throngs of sweaty people until Joel managed to squeeze his way to the bar and flag down a bartender. While you waited for your drinks, you tried to locate the rest of the group, but the only people you saw were Maria and Tommy down at the other end of the bar with one other groomsman you didn't know very well.

"Bottoms up," Joel told you after handing you the shot and a mixed drink. You winced when you tossed it back, then handed him the empty glass. He pushed it back across the sticky bar along with his own empty shot glass then pointed to your shirt.

"Ah, right," you mumbled before uncapping the sharpie around your neck and scribbling a tick mark on the fabric. Joel stretched his own shirt out and you hesitated for just a second before drawing a quick mark on his shirt and tried not to focus too much on the sweat that had soaked through the collar already.

"You stayin' at Tommy and Maria's tonight?" he asked. He brought a bottle of beer to his lips and took a long sip but didn't take his eyes away from you.

"Yeah, I can't imagine driving home at this rate," you replied while motioning to your shirt with your free hand. He nodded and let his eyes drift around the room behind you, head nodding slightly to the beat of the music before he said, "Maybe we can watch a movie. Like old times."

You raised your eyebrows in surprise. "You're staying over, too?"

He nodded again and took another drink as your heart fluttered nervously in your chest. Maria conveniently failed to mention he was planning on staying the night, as well. Where the hell did she expect you both to sleep when there was only one couch?

You scanned the bar and found her laughing at something Tommy was saying, waving his hands around dramatically as he told some story. Narrowing your eyes, you hoped she could feel the heat from your stare, but of course she was oblivious.

Just as you were about to reply to him about the movie, you felt someone's arm snake around your waist right before their overpowering cologne made you gag.

"You wanna dance?" a voice slurred in your ear, and you immediately twisted away from his sour breath and turned to face him. He wasn't with your group, just some other patron, and he looked completely wasted. A thin sheen of sweat covered his neck and face and his eyes looked glassy as he stared down at you, waiting for an answer.

"Uh, no thank you! I was just leaving."

"Aw, come on, just one dance?" the stranger pushed with a lopsided grin but it just made him look even more sloppy.

"She's with me," Joel said defensively before tugging you closer and tucking you under his arm. You could smell his deodorant and soap and it instantly transported you back in time to the point where you had to fight the urge to bury your face against his chest and breathe deep.

"My bad," the guy said, raising his hands defensively before walking away.

"Thanks," you said so softly you weren't sure he could hear you over the music, but he did. He dropped his arm and cleared his throat as you tried to create a bit of space between you again without being awkward, but it was hard to do.

"I hope you don't feel like you can't dance with other guys 'cause I'm here," he said.

"No, I know, I'm just not looking for... that right now," you assured him before taking a long sip from your drink and glancing around the bar.

"Right, you mentioned that," he replied. The topic of your love life caused a heavy silence to settle between you even though you were surrounded by noise. Right when you were about to make an excuse and leave, he spoke again.

"How's all that goin', by the way? Therapy?"

"It's... going okay," you said. What was he getting at?

He tossed back the rest of his beer and slid the empty across the bar.

"Okay enough to start datin' again soon?"

You swallowed nervously. Was he asking for a specific reason?

The look on your face made him switch gears because he grinned and shrugged. "Friends ask 'bout each other, right?"

Oh.

"They do."

He nodded, his smile faltering a moment when his gaze slid to your lips before he forced himself to look away. "C'mon, let's find the rest of the party." Then he took your hand and led you through the crowd.

Stop it, get it together, he's just being nice, like you asked, you told yourself. But you really, really hoped you were wrong.

"Here's some extra pillows and blankets," Maria sang gleefully with a shit eating grin.

"I can't believe you," you seethed quietly so Joel wouldn't hear you from downstairs.

"What? I forgot Tommy told Joel he could stay over," she said with a tipsy shrug.

"I'm half tempted to call an Uber."

"Don't you fucking dare. Now be an adult and go sleep with your ex," she giggled, giving your shoulder a shove to make you move towards the direction of the stairs.

"Hilarious," you replied dryly, but before you took another step she pulled you into a hug.

"Thank you so much for tonight, we had such a," she hiccuped before pulling away, "great time."

You blew her a kiss before giving her the finger. "Love you."

"Love you, too!" she practically shouted, and you turned around halfway down the stairs to shush her. She slapped her hands over her mouth and giggled before stumbling into her bedroom and shutting the door.

"Wha' the hell was she shoutin' for?" Joel asked groggily from his spot splayed out on the couch, remote control hanging limply from his fingers as he blinked at the TV, trying to clear his vision.

"Nothing. Here," you said, tossing him a pillow and blanket. He reached out to catch them but missed, then started to giggle when he accidentally slid from the couch onto the floor to pick them up. You grinned and threw yours on the other end of the couch and wandered into the kitchen, returning with two bottles of ice cold water. "Drink this," you said with a yawn. He took it and you plopped down on the other end of the couch while Joel flicked through title after title on one of the many streaming services Tommy and Maria had.

While Joel continued to browse, you shifted uncomfortably before setting down your water and reaching behind you to unclasp your bra. With practiced ease, you pulled it out from under your shirt without having to remove any clothes and tossed it on the floor. Joel's eyes widened when he saw it and looked at you.

"Don't get any ideas, I just can't sleep in a bra."

He smirked before picking a romcom and settling in under his blanket. "Next you gonna tell me you can't sleep with panties on?"

You snorted and felt your cheeks flush but thankfully the lights in the living room were off, leaving only the glow from the television to light the room.

"You wish."

The alcohol was making both of you way flirtier than you intended to be, so you shut up. You watched the movie hazily for a while, laughing softly at Hugh Grant's charismatic humor. It was quiet for so long that you had assumed Joel fell asleep until he suddenly spoke again.

"This's nice."

You rolled your head to the side and smiled at him. "Yeah, it is."

He smiled back, his eyes bright from the glow from the television, cheeks still a little pink from the booze as he looked you up and down. "C'mere."

You pinched your eyebrows together. "Why?" you asked slowly. He rolled his eyes and waved you over.

"Jus' get your ass over here."

With a sigh, you scooted over to his end of the couch and once you got close enough, he threw his arm around your shoulders and pulled you into his side. You let out a quiet oof when the side of your face came in contact with his chest, but god the way he smelled had you reeling for the second time that night. Even with the lingering scent of cigarette smoke and spilled liquor, he still smelled amazing. He smelled like him. A comforting smell you missed so much in the past five months that it almost hurt to have it back again.

His hand gently stroked your back as you watched the movie. The steady thrum of his heart beating against your ear combined with the alcohol and his warmth made your eyelids droop and before you knew it, you were out like a light. When Joel realized you were asleep, he looked down at you and smiled before turning off the television and slowly rotating you both so you were laying (albeit, scrunched) together along the couch. His arm remained wrapped around you and your face was buried against his chest with one of your legs draped over one of his and everything finally felt right again.

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[benedictscanvas]

pretty boy, pretty girl - jamie tartt x reader

pairing: jamie tartt x fem!reader

word count: 2.1k

a/n: okay yes. it has been six months. which is actually mad to me, but there we are - whoops! i've been off following my dream and wrote this while procrastinating an assignment, so this is by no means a return!! honestly i was just itching to write it, but i don't know how much time i have for more - enjoy nevertheless <3

warnings: just a little bit of suggestion towards the end, reader is referred to as 'pretty girl' as the title implies amongst other pet names, quite a lot of swearing (some things don't change)

---

“Hi love.”

Jamie barely murmurs it as he walks past you, can’t help himself but to drag a palm along your back, one shoulder blade to the other, as he goes. 

He knows he’s bold sometimes, but he swears it’s instinct. He glances back to see whether your expression holds any discomfort, but all he finds is your grin, a tiny wave. He continues on his path towards the canteen, knowing that your corridor conversation with Rebecca is probably important.

Somewhere between here and there, he decides to get your lunch, your usual, and sits alone on a table until you appear.

You do, three and a half minutes later. As soon as he sees you, the irrepressible urge to make you grin again is back with a vengeance. He waves you over to his table with a gesture to the food he’s got for you and- there it is again.

If he was a slightly smarter man, maybe he’d consider why all it took was the sight of him to draw your lips upwards, set your eyes alight.

“Thought I’d save y’ from the queue,” he speaks, still soft, in a tone he feels he only uses with you. You match his unnecessary low volume.

“Thanks, angel,” you say easily, and you must not see his stomach doing flips, “Too good to me, you are.”

“Shut up,” he deflects, wonders if you can see him fluster at your nickname for him, “Are you still coming tonight?”

You groan. He frowns, and you quickly correct.

“Sorry. It’ll be fun.”

“Yeah, you sound proper convinced, an’ all.”

You chuckle, taking a bite out of your sandwich and taking a pause to chew. Jamie eats too, content to let you think before you speak. It was slowly teaching him to do the same.

“I’m just boring, Jamie. My favourite people are all under this roof, but usually they’re sober, you know?”

He often forgets you don’t really drink. Your friendship (however sour that word feels in relation to you) usually confined to these halls, to the pitch, to various football stadiums up and down the country. When they all get a chance to let loose, you’re very quick with the excuses, but he’s believed them blindly until this moment.

“Shit, y’ don’t drink, right? I can’t imagine that’s much fun in a club. I won’t tell anyone if you happen to come down with an illness or somethin’ this afternoon.”

You’re grinning at him again, all bright and sunny. It’s downright infectious, so Jamie nudges your foot with his on purpose and then apologises like it’s an accident.

“You’re alright,” you reassure, “I will join tonight. Even if it just proves to myself I’m not missing out on anything. Maybe Colin’s not as bad a drunk as I’ve been led to believe.”

Jamie winces.

“No, he is pretty bad,” he admits and then finally comes up with something to make you more comfortable, “Hey, what about this? I won’t drink either and we can spend the evening laughin’ at everyone else.”

You poke his hand and he tries not to drop his crisp packet.

“It’s everyone’s ‘relax and recharge’ night, Ted said. We both know you relax much easier with a few drinks in you. And I’d never judge anyone for that, I really hope it doesn’t come across like I’m judging any-“

“It doesn’t, sweetness,” he cuts in, “But actually, I’ll relax better if I’m one hundred percent positive that you’re relaxing too. What better way than judgin’ everyone else, together like?”

You purse your lips thoughtfully, mid-chew. He feels like he’s holding his breath, like he’s underwater and you’re in charge of the oxygen tank.

“Well, see how you feel when we’re there. It sounds lovely but only if you’re still up for it when we’re right next to a bar,” you say, still unconvinced. He wants to convince you fully, but he can’t decide if he should argue with you or kiss you silly before you speak again, “Hey, if not, I’ll buy you a drink?”

“Pretty sure that’s my line, love.”

“I said it, I meant it. Girls can buy drinks for pretty boys, you know.”

He thinks you might have removed his oxygen tank now. There’s some cruelty in that sentence but you don’t know you’re wielding it. He wills himself to flirt back even though it’ll only make him feel sick.

“Okay, pretty girl. One passionfruit J2O, please.”

Another grin. He’s so fucking fucked.

---

He’s been waiting for you for around forty minutes. He doesn’t know if that’s the normal amount of time you take to get ready, even if he wishes he knew, so he just waits, leaning against his car.

After fifty, he decides there’s no harm in just checking you’re alright and haven’t slipped on a sparkly floor that an evening cleaner has done a number on.

You mentioned going to the kit room to get changed, and he meets Will on his way there.

“Hey mate, you seen Y/N?”

Will looks paler than he’s ever been. Guilty. Jamie narrows his eyes and waits.

“Kit room.”

It’s all that Will says. When Jamie doesn’t walk off immediately, still waiting for an explanation for Will’s strange demeanour, Will turns around and legs it all the way down the corridor, turns left at the end and never returns.

Jamie shakes his head and continues in the direction of the kit room. The closer he gets, the more he hears. Muffled banging, shouting. He picks up the pace.

“Y/N? Love?”

“Jamie! Jamie, in here!”

Your voice floats out from the kit room and he hurries over. Still very confused, Jamie turns the door handle and finds the door won’t budge, however hard he shoves his shoulder against it.

“It’s locked, babe. Did you lock it?”

He hears your exasperated sigh and feels a little embarrassed.

“No I didn’t bleeding lock it! Well, I did, when I was getting changed, but then when I unlocked it my side it had been locked from the outside.”

Jamie struggled to put the dots together. Had Will locked you in? Judging by the running, he had… and he’d done it on purpose. A spark of anger shot down Jamie’s spine but he tried to convince himself there must be a reason.

Before he could, there was a hand on his on the door, pulling him away. It was being unlocked by another hand and then he was being shoved inside, hard enough to stumble against one of the benches. A piece of paper was thrown at his face and Jamie groaned as he heard the lock click back in place.

“What the fuck?” he muttered as he stood up fully, more dazed than angry now as he stared at the locked door.

“Jesus, Jamie, are you alright? Who the fuck was that?”

“I dunno,” he says, staring at the door as if it might have answers. Your hand on his face wakes him up, his eyes shifting to yours where you look him over with concern.

“You’re alright, though?”

You ask it like you need the answer, and Jamie needs you to stop trailing a finger along his hairline either way.

“Fine, love,” he assures you, patting the juncture between your shoulder and neck gently until your hands drop to your sides. Then he raises his voice, and he’s not really talking to you anymore, “Whoever’s locked us in here as some kind of joke won’t be fuckin’ alright though!”

No answer. He picks up the small piece of paper from the floor and reads it in his head.

Tell her, you prick.

He’s actually going to hit Roy with his car. Lightly, definitely not enough to damage him, but enough to really, really piss him off.

This was all some ridiculous attempt to make him tell you how he felt about you? Absolutely not. Never. He wouldn’t be coerced into something so delicate, so important.

“What’s it say?”

You’re peering over the top of the paper, but he folds it in two before you can read anything. His chuckle comes out strained.

“It says: Get fucking pranked. Must be Roy, he’s probably scared Will into helpin’ him, the fucker. I’m afraid it’s payback for putting all his socks on the ceiling last week, babe, an’ you’ve been caught in the middle.”

You pause, staring at your shoes. For some reason, you look far more forlorn than the situation calls for, but it’s gone before he can think about it further.

“On the ceiling?”

He nods and you giggle. It’s only as you step away from him in your laughter that he realises how close you had been. He should’ve savoured it.

It’s also only as you step away that Jamie finally gets a glimpse of your outfit and nearly reaches out to the nearby bench for strength. He’s never seen you in a v-neck anything before, let alone a dress, and he thinks it might do him in.

“You look good,” he says lamely, then tries again, “Great. Fan-fuckin’-tastic, I mean.”

“I like that last one,” you smile, ducking your head. He thinks, or rather hopes, you’re a little flustered, “Fan-fuckin’-tastic happens to be what I was going for.”

“Yeah,” he breathes, words gone as soon as he’d found them. And now he was staring. Shit.

“I like your suit,” you say, maybe breathless yourself. It must be his ears. You reach up as if you might fiddle with his lapel but just point towards it before your hand drops again. You practically fall down onto the bench you’re both stood beside and he follows, ever obedient, “Shame no one else will ever see it. How long do you think we’ll be stuck here?”

The suit isn’t for anyone except you. That’s what he’d say if he had any stupid bravery. He’s an awful coward, he thinks.

“Until Roy gets bored or Keeley finds out I reckon,” Jamie guesses, “Y’ wanna play I-spy?”

You sigh, but when he peeks at you out of the corner of his eye, you’re grinning your silly, lovely grin again.

“I spy with my little eye…”

---

It is around 11pm, when Jamie has not long fallen asleep against the jacket he had scrunched behind his head, that he feels your hand on his ankle. He can tell, as he wakes without opening his eyes, that you’re not trying to rouse him. The touch is light, feathery. Maybe an accident.

No, not an accident. It wouldn’t have lasted this long, and your thumb is drawing absentminded circles into his ankle bone. You think he’s asleep and you’ve reached out to hold him anyway.

He opens his eyes but doesn’t move. His legs are stretched out on the bench in front of him and you sit upright next his sock-clad feet, one hand on his bare ankle. You’re staring at a piece of paper so intently he wonders what could possibly be so interesting.

“This doesn’t say get fucking pranked, Jamie,” you murmur, and his hand flies to his jacket pocket. It must have fallen out when he slumped into a slumber. He’s sat up in a blink, watching the hand that had been so soothing, fall back at your side suddenly.

“I’m sorry. Shit. I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

“No, don’t,” you insist, still staring at the piece of paper. Instead of whirling on him for answers, you reach calmly into one of the boot cubbies beside your head and pull out a piece of paper from one of the boots. You chuck it at him without looking.

He unfolds it with careful, if shaky, hands.

Tell him, you silly shit.

It takes him an absurdly long time to understand what the hell this second piece of paper means. Later, when the two of you look back on this moment (and you do so often), you’ll wonder how he could have been so dense and he’ll spin you a line about how too good to be true it all felt. But in the moment, he has no lines and no words, until your hand lands heavy on his knee this time.

“Jamie,” you say softly, through a grin that is so different from your usual that he could pass out. It’s so beautiful and so strikingly lovesick that he thinks he might actually be sick, “What do you have to tell me?”

“What?”

He feels dumber than he’s ever felt. But your hand is still on his knee and now you’re shuffling closer to him on the bench.

“What do you have to tell me?” you repeat, then you poke his chest playfully as you add, “You prick.”

He still looks confused, so you clearly decide the best way to catch him up is to kiss him.

You pull away after a moment, a moment of pure heaven, because clearly you don't want to kiss him fully until he's all clued in.

"Come on, pretty boy," you say, teasing, "Figure it out. I was going to buy you a passionfruit J2O. It's the sign of all signs."

He should be laughing at your joke, but all he really wants to do is kiss you again. And again.

Maybe again.

"Oh pretty girl," he says, and he feels the rumble of his low tone in his chest. He places a hand on your face, fingers itching at your hairline, "I'll tell you anything ya wanna hear, I swear. Anythin'."

He hears your breath hitch, but he feels it too, where the meat of his palm is covering your neck.

"Anything?" you answer back, "I could have a lot of fun with this."

You scrunch up your brow like you're thinking and he's so stupidly in love with you that he just tells you. Too-soon be damned.

"Smooth talker," you laugh, giddy, and you kiss him again. And it's so good that he doesn't even remember you didn't say it back until hours later.

(at which point, you say it back so many times and in so many ways, Jamie is certain that he's the luckiest man in the world. he might not hit Roy with his car after all)

[magics-neptunes-things]

Calm After Storm

Hi guys!

It was way too long since I didn't write for Leah, so here is a sweet little thing.

I'm so happy Arsenal won yesterday, even if I almost cry three times and had two hearts attacks. And of course I think about Frida, hopping she's ok :(

TW : Lover fight, Angst.

______________________________________________________________

Leah is intense. Always have, always been and that’s how you love her. You love how much she can be passionate about everything she’s doing. You love her love for football, for her family, for her friends. She is always here to help her relatives for everything. She’s here for her grandmother when she needs help for groceries, she’s here when her mother can’t walk their dog, she’s here to get her brother to the airport at 8 in the morning even if she played a game the night before, she’s here to support her teammates through injuries.

She’s everywhere she can be, at every time.

You, in another hand, you’re calmer. You’re a little shy and need some time to observe the people you don’t know before opening up. You are as affectionate and attentive to your loved one than Leah, but in a more discreet way.

Those differences are the meanly reasons of why you didn’t understand at first why Leah seems interested in you. You met her thanks to your friend Lotte and Leah took the time to talk to you every time you came to watch Lotte plays. When Leah did her ACL, she attends almost every game, and you talk a lot during this time. That’s where she asks you out for the first time, after having asking Lotte if you are into girls.

You said yes, obviously.

If you didn’t think that Leah must be interested in you, you were deeply charmed by the personality of the blonde. She’s funny, intelligent, great to talk to and you have a lot in common. And yes, you must admit that you find her unbelievably attractive. Like almost half of the population but hey, you’re just a girl.

Leah kissed you at your second date. She asks you at the fourth to be her girlfriend and introduce you to her family after six months of dating. Of course, they already have known about you. And you knew them thanks to the Arsenal VIP room. But it was the first official diner with the Williamson and relatives.

You are not living together for now, but you find yourself a lot at each other’s house. You love being at Leah’s, everything smells like her. But she loves being at your house too. At Christmas, Leah gave you the keys of her house and you gave her the keys of your flat.

You love her, a lot. And you know that she loves you back, even if those precious words were never pronounced to each other. At least you both know that you care for each other. A lot.

That doesn’t mean you never fight, to be honest. Not later than yesterday, you had a really stupid argument about something really stupid. But with Leah’s stress about football and her comeback and your proper tiredness thanks to your job, it was sometimes happening. Some means words were exchanged, and Leah ended up leaving your flat, slamming your door.

Stubbornly, you decided not to write to her. In your opinion, she was wrong, and it was even more wrong to leave the way she did. You were hurt a little bit too, by the argument and after by the fact that Leah didn’t call you or at least send you a message. Not the same night, not the day after.

Almost two days later, you still didn’t have talk to each other. You ask casually to Lotte how Leah is doing when you have her on the phone. But your cousin answers that she was Switzerland in your love life and that she didn’t want to be involved in anything. Unless it’s for marriage or children. So, basically, you don’t know how Leah is today.

You saw the video and the pictures posted by Arsenal’s admin on Instagram, but that’s all. You choose not to go to the game, not sure that Leah wants you here. It’s an important game though, so you decide to watch it on TV. Leah’s starting and it’s strange to see your girlfriend’s face on your TV screen. She’s focused, her glare well fixed on her face. Her blue eyes are piercing her opponents.

But that doesn’t help Arsenal to win today. It wasn’t a big loss, but it was a loss anyway. Leah seems particularly sad, and you feel your heart cracks. So, you decided to jump in a jean, in your car and to go to Arsenal’s stadium. Leah gave you a pass to access to the parking lot, so you just use it to get in it.

You know that Leah went to the game with Beth, so you’re not surprised not to see her car. But, when you get out from yours, you can’t help but feel a little bit uncomfortable. What if Leah doesn’t want you here? Maybe your idea wasn’t as good as you thought at first. You almost decided to leave when Leah passes the door.

She’s looking at the ground, not listening to Beth or Laia Codina who are walking with her. The other blond spots you first and elbows Leah who looks at her. Beth then points in your direction and when Leah spots you too, she seems as surprised as she is relieved.

You don’t move, only waving shyly at her. She gives you a little smile in return, turning into Beth to says her something. You don’t know what it is, but Beth rolls her eyes and push Leah in her direction with her hand before mimic a kick in the ass.

“Hello” you say softly when Leah is next to you.

“Hi” breaths Leah.

You reach out to take her bag, putting it on the back seat of your car. Then you went to opens Leah’s door, but you cross her eyes, and she seems so upset that you can’t do nothing against that. So, you reach out to her again, so that she can grasp it this time. And, when Leah almost jumps on your hand, you take her delicately against you. She hugs you back, putting her face in your neck almost immediately.

“You played good” you whisper after some seconds.

“You weren’t here to watch” Leah objects, her face still in your neck.

“I watched you on TV.”

At your explanation, Leah pushes herself even more against you and you tighten your arms against her. No one like to lose obviously, but you’ve never seen someone with such an ability to take all the blame on themselves. You know that tomorrow, Leah would pass half of her day watching the game, analyzing her mistakes and noting them in her notebook. You hate that damn notebook.

“You still watched me?”

You can’t help but smile, hearing how small your girlfriend is when asks you that question. Leah Williamson, captain of England and Euro champion looks like a little girl right now. No one ever saw this part of Leah, or her mother only maybe. But you do.

“Of course.”

You could have tease her and answering that you wanted to watch Katie, but it wasn’t really the good timing. Leah takes a deep breath and release you, looking attentively at your face before trying another smile. You smile back and stroke her hair before nodding at your car.

“Can I take you home?”

“I’d love to.”

You don’t really talk during the journey to your house, but Leah captures your hand in hers almost immediately. She strokes your fingers and plays with your ring all along, looking out by the window. You let her, knowing with time that she needs some quiet sometimes to figuring things out.

When you get out of your car, you take Leah’s bag with one hand, your girlfriend’s hand with the other and go to the ascensor. In it, you can smell Leah’s shampoo and that’s make you smile. The blonde surprise your smile in the mirror of the ascensor and you just shrug. She doesn’t have the time to question you though, the doors opening just after.

“Do you want to order pizzas? Or I can go to Tesco to take you a ham sandwich if you prefer?”

“Nah, pizza is good Babe. Don’t worry”

You let Leah orders your diner, using this time to wash her dirty laundry before heading back to the living room. Leah had made herself comfortable, lying on your couch. But she stands when she spots you, making you frown.

“We need to talk. About our fight.”

You feel your face fall, hopping to never discuss your fight again. You hate fighting with Leah, and you hate the way you feel after. You were hopping that you can have like a silence contract to forget it. Plus, the We need to talk sentence is never really good. But Leah seems to understand really fast what’s happening in your head, because she takes your hand when she sits down on the couch again, taking you with her. You are almost sitting on her lap when she talks again.

“I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am. I don’t even remember why the fight start, but I shouldn’t have left like that. It was childish and I’m really sorry. Are you still angry with me?”

You shook your head negatively, relieved to learn that Leah doesn’t want to break up or something like that.

“No, I’m not. To be honest, the same night I was more sad to sleep without you than angry.”

“Why didn’t write me?” Leah asks with curiosity.

“I wasn’t sure you’d answer me and I was afraid I’d be even sadder.”

Leah sighs softly, stroking your back. Her eyes are looking at you with intensity and you bite unconsciously your lip.

“Do you want to know a secret?” Leah asks you soon after.

You nod, taking advantage of your position to cuddle against her. Leah puts her chin on top of your head, and you can hear her heart when she talks again.

“I was sad too. I was hopping you will come to the game but when I didn’t see you, I realize how much I fucked up. And after the game, all I was thinking is that I will have to deal with the loss all alone. Almost everyone was going home to their partner and mine was probably angry at me. I just wanted to go home and hide under the cover. When I saw you in the parking lot, I was thinking of the best way to apologize and get you back. I knew it was my fault, but it didn’t ease the sadness of it, it was even worse I think.”

“Don’t say that” you mumble “It was my fault too. We were both arguing.”

Leah hums and you look up at her before kissing her cheek. It was nice to know how much your presence means to Leah whether it’s during the games or at home. You love being here for her obviously.

“But we’re good now, right?”

Leah smiles, with her real smile and you feel your heart fluttered.

“We’re good, my girl.”

Then you kiss her for the first time since the fight and you get lost in your embrace. The kiss is sweet, tender and you feel like floating somewhere above the ground. Maybe your exchange will change in something more passionate if your pizzas weren’t already here.

You eat them in front of the TV, but still cuddling against each other. Leah finishes her pizza first and takes you more against her soon after. She kisses your cheek several times, not really interested in the movie she picks before. When you feel teeth against the skin of your neck, you decide to forget your meal to roll on your girlfriend.

Leah smirks, happy to have all your attention and catch your lips in an intense kiss. You whimper, surprise by the intensity of it but didn’t waist time to answer it.

“Thanks for coming for me tonight.”

Leah whispers it way later, when you were under the cover of your bed, almost asleep. The pizzas were eaten, you forgot the movie to better activities and after that you took a hot bath.

 Leah’s body is warm against yours and you hum at first for only answer.

“My pleasure” you mumble, half-hiding your face in her.

You yawn and Leah start scratching your neck, just like she knows you like. You only need thirty seconds to fall asleep after that. Leah needs a little more time, but she watches you sleep to pass time. She knows she’s lucky to have you and she swears to herself not to leave you angry anymore.

[ladythornofrivia]

Mr. Targaryen Will See You Now

Modern!Aemond x Reader (three parts)

warnings (for the future chapters): sex, oral sex, loss of virginity, squirting, stalking, obsession, manipulation, reader being clueless, but not totally innocent, blackmail, p in v sex, blood kink, knife kink, gun kink, handcuff kink, bdsm, masturbation, fingering

a/n: I’ve been doing okay, but things have been complicated. There are times I wish someone would love and protect me like in the romance book—longing for a romantic life and longing for connection and consistency. I’m still clinging on. Oh, and I started to drive, I’ve gotten better at driving, but still need to learn. And my family has been cruel to me that even made me believe that no one will love me. But art is my passion, one thing that keeps me alive until now. And thank you guys, for supporting me. I love you guys very much.

The morning hair wasn’t cooperating; you took a nice long, hot shower the night before the interview—which you knew nothing about, and planned on spending time to read books and drink merlot and binge on snacks, or watching korean soap operas, being a usual daydreamer you are— and you were getting ready for the interview, groggy, and sobbing on the inside.

The iron curl is broken. And nothing to repair except for your roommate’s curler, tried to make the curls tighter, hence why you brushed your hair back for a softer effect.

Long story short, your friend has called in sick, and asked you to fill in the details for her. Nevertheless, a shy and innocent girl such as yourself. Under a bad weather, you have to fill in, that’s what a good friend does.

Any shenanigans and canceled during the day of interview meant blacklist.

The appointment must be that important.

Clad in knit white jacket with black lines, white top and silky pleated skirt, with your sideswept longish strands tucked in, you were sure you’re going to vomit. Vomit from misery, vomit from stomach pain, or vomit from an awful weather, you made sure your clean, it-girl makeup is on plastered to your sleepy expression, hoping no one would take you as a joke. Presenting as possible also means the downside of being insecure or inferior is low. But with amount of makeup you set up, you made sure you’re neither too plain nor extravagant.

Everything has to be balanced accordingly. But appearance willing to stand out, if the destiny allows it to be.

“You got that tape recorder, right?”

“Yeah.”

“And the interview sheet?”

“Got it right here in my purse.”

“How about the gift for him?”

Your brows knitted. “I have it all set. I don’t think he’s going to accept this. There’s no way in hell.”

“Not if it comes from gorgeous lady like you. You look prim and proper today! Ready to go at the Met Gala, Miss Victoria’s Secret Model?”

“Ha, as if! Besides, I can’t go in looking like a wet rag. They’ll kick me out.” Sprayed a fee spritz of the sweet, vanilla, cotton-candy smelling perfume on your neck and neckline over your interview getup.

“Funny.” Your friend howled a wet, sloppy and stuffy sneeze. “Don’t mind me, just get your round ass going before someone decides to come behind you and give it a good smack, and it’s not going to be me.”

She spilled a good part of the soup as your friend accidentally swallowed and slurped the noodle and coughed. Oops.

“Careful, that’s a $50 white carpet I just got,” you said with a tiny smile.

“I’m being careful,” your friend said, inspecting the bowl if the spicy soup spilled. And there’s none.

“Alright, alright. I’ll go ahead. Stay still.”

“And you stay naughty with your ass poking out,” your friend shouted behind you as you walked off.

You must achieve perfectionism at all costs. That’s what beauty is for.

~~~

As you entered the high floor of the building, the receptionists, looking flawless and elegant, greeted you, as if you’re another member of the company. Beautiful women with beautiful problems with beautiful men, you’d assume.

“Miss Stark?”

“Yes?” you replied, the receptionist insisted to take your coat off, but you politely refused with a sweet grin, but you gave your umbrella instead. Nonetheless, the secretary lead you to the high double doors—grey and glossy.

Immaculate.

“Mr. Targaryen will see you now.”

And opened the door. By your mistake, you didn’t realize one of your items dropped, causing you to lunge forward and knees bruised, following by your personal items and paper for the interview flopped on the ground.

Your ankle received a sharp pain, pressuring.

By the glass window, a long-haired man in a steel grey suit pivoted his head around from the noise and approached. “Are you alright, miss?”

His voice tuned in your ears. You have never heard a voice with profound deepness and…seduction.

A realization pang when you found yourself agitating like a shy teenage girl in high school, a shy, awkward girl talking to a handsome guy. You bet he’s the type of guy who’s popular, but doesn’t give a fuck what anyone thinks of him, or that he doesn’t occur to him as a benefit of being popular.

You’ve never seen him on papers and articles on the internet. No picture has come to a close when you glimpsed at him in person. Too long, in fact. You thought it would be an old man wanting more attention from the source of dangerous media.

He’s that gorgeous.

Immaculate. Neat.

And strictly punctual.

Is he taking his father’s place for the interview?

“I’m doing okay, sir. I apologize for the inconvenience,” you replied with modesty, nearly breaking the sweat on your brow.

Instead, he huffed, returning back to his desk and leaned himself over the table, awaiting. Watching. A faint scar outlined from the thin brow to cheekbone.

You’d assume he’s associated with dangerous people underground. Though you never knew him personally. Only an assumption.

“Sit,” he commanded, ever so still.

Gulping your parched throat, after drinking water and caffeine—you purchased on your way—in the car, heading for the massive building, you wondered drinking coffee has an effect on the stability in the nervous system. Sat on one of the empty green chairs, you had your utensil pen you bought online from a Japanese website and an aesthetic mini notebook, readying the questions. Flipping over the rippled pages, you studied over the questions, and as it turns out your friend has more of an aspect on the side of…inappropriate philosophy.

Nearly face palming yourself, you wanted to strangle your friend for setting you up for failure.

What the hell are you thinking, dude?

“Are you just going to sit there and act like a mousy librarian or are you going to interview me for the benefit of my time and success?”

Shoulder blades flinched at the sound of his tone. “Pardon me, sir,” you stated, nearly shitting your skirt and thong on his green velvet chair. And cleared your throat. “My first question is…” Your friend’s questions doesn’t give that much benefit for his time and success, so you tweaked your friend’s intentions to more of a productive approach. “How do you stabilize the company despite on the near downfall from the predecessor’s influential endeavors?”

Aemond’s violet eye gleamed. “You did your research on my father.”

In silence, your head inclined as acknowledgment.

“My father’s attempts on reclaim to the company was rather a long difficult process. His real endeavor was to lure people for…unsavory tasks and planned on passing his inheritance to his oldest daughter, my half-sister, Rhaenyra.”

Something in his statement was trying to say he wishes to air the dirty laundry. But you knew that he’s not an idiot.

“And how do you approach it compared to his “past” attempts?”

“Business travels had more suitable to catering and stabilizing the company in years, by speaking to several CEOs and their predecessors who are much more responsible to financial and stocks, how they be able to keep the staff members and their company intact in excellent condition and how business traveling has more benefits on success than staying in one place in one country. Their predecessors are much more controlling than how much stocks they hold—eventually they lost their staff and shares due to certain disadvantages. I learned both sides of the same coin, and I learned to take advantage of both.”

“By being fair and firm,” you assumed, pen scribbling. “You want to be superior and be well-respected, but you also try to be fair in all sides to keep a steady balance, hence why you travel to different countries to learn about different cultures and their ways of work culture, how they handle their staff and clients. And you looked at the bad effects to make sure no mistake is taken place.”

“Precisely.” Aemond smirked as you wrote along his statement.

Scribbling further down on the page until you flipped to a next one, you tweaked another question that your friend’s opposing curiosity has.

“With comes along the inheritance, and with the hefty influence of social media, how do you manage to steady the balance as well? With your father’s…whereabouts and the company, and with today’s social influence and societal aspects on differences, how else do you keep manage from falling?”

Aemond clicked his tongue. “It was a difficult process, and like any ordinary day, we strive for sanity to survive. Not everyone handles scandals correctly. While those who handle with promiscuity, I handled myself, the staff and the company with grace.”

“I assumed that some of the members who are in connections with you, have no ability to face the outcome with grace like you?” you said without thinking.

Aemond frowned at that. “Not everyone.”

“My apologies, sir.” You flipped the blank page over. “And with that said, how do you envision your company in the next 30 years?”

“The questions you asked are vitally intimidating. Are you trying to challenge me in a way?”

“For your benefit of time and success, yes.”

Aemond’s lips curled into a soft grin. “Clever girl.”

Gulped again, you found your legs coiled to a tighter position. Hand nearly shook and released the pen, but caught on it.

Focus, (Y/N). No time to be naughty.

Stop being naughty. Don’t leave yourself along with naughty thoughts. You don’t want to jump on him.

Aemond sat down near you to another set of green velvet chair.

“Continue,” he said, almost sounded like a purr.

“I, uh,” you looked over your friend’s silly questions and alternate it with another. Meanwhile Aemond amused himself with your fluster. “With you as a CEO of the Targaryen Company, where do you find yourself in the next 20 years? Are you planning to be the CEO, or are you planning to inherit the company and stocks to someone new, someone who’s not related to you, even?”

Aemond’s head tilted to the side, his white-blond hair spilled over his right shoulder.

“I would like to know more about yourself, Miss Stark. For a woman who belongs to a prestigious family, your wit and tongue are sharp. Are you always this curious?”

“You’ve met them?”

His brow flicked up. “I met your father during the meeting sometime last week. He has a well-deserved reputation.”

Your hands clutched tighter.

Aemond squinted his hues. “There’s more than meets the eye. What is your name?”

Correcting your postured, you answered in delicate voice. “My name is (Y/N), sir. (Y/N) (L/N).”

Aemond hummed. “(Y/N). I never thought you took your friend’s place to interview me.”

“She’s sick.”

“Figures.”

Your brows scrunched. “How do you know?”

“I can see the way you’re fidgeting to your pen.”

“How do you know her?”

“I know she’s not the brightest girl, nor a brightest student. I overheard her spoke once over a party on how she wanted to have a wonderful marriage with a wealthy man to make her ex-boyfriend jealous.”

“Okay, I don’t need to know that sort of detail, but—”

Aemond took the folded paper from your hand. “Are you single? Are you interested in marriage besides marrying to your own company? Does your family know that I’m single?” He looked at you in disbelief and said, “I’m surprised you have thought of particular questions you asked on the spot despite the opposing questions your friend makes.”

“It’s a job interview. It’s meant to be taken seriously.”

“And you did well, Miss (Y/N). Therefore, I wished to know more about you.” His back leaned in on a large chair frame, as he tossed the folded paper on a small coffee table. “What are you studying right now?”

“I major in history and art.”

“What are your favorite things to do on your spare time?”

“I like to go to the gym. Go to Starbucks and drink coffee. Sometimes I make coffee at home, and then…I sometimes read and watch a lot of shows…”

“What kind of shows?”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“So it’s romance?”

“Yes, but a different kind of romance…” you stated, awkward.

Aemond titled his head again.

You shifted in your seat.

“It’s a…um….”

He chuckled. “I never meant to put you on a spot, Miss (L/N), I apologize. So what are your plans regarding to work?”

“I’m studying at the moment for my finals.”

Aemond uncrossed his legs, his back leaned forward, gazing to your eyes. “I would like for you to be as my secretary.”

Your lips parted.

“There’s an internship that I’m offering at the current moment. More benefits for my staff and PTO.”

You leaned back and thought of the offer, but Aemond stopped you.

“What sort of books are you into, Miss (Y/N)? If I were to guess, Jane Austen, Charlotte Bronte or Tom Hardy, which author do you prefer?”

“I prefer Leo Tolstoy and Fyodor Dostoevsky.”

Aemond folded his hands together. “Sad and poetic?”

“It’s the closest thing to reality. I don’t mind Jane Austen and Charlotte Bronte or Tom Hardy. Although Tom Hardy’s stories are also considered as tragic. But..reading modern romance novels isn’t so bad. But I found myself more addictive to coffee, fashionable clothes and beauty products more now.”

You found yourself smiling at that. The sharp gasp filled in your throat when Aemond’s hand reached you, and tugged the band wrapped around your hair, loosening it, and combed the silk, lustrous strands through his fingertips, staring at you.

“Perfect,” he whispered.

You nearly pinched yourself before the secretary entered. “There’s a meeting in the conference room. Another company has requested for your presence.”

Aemond retrieved his hand on time. “I’ll be there soon.”

The door closed as you said, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.” And a heavy thud clashed onto the ground. It was a gift. For him.

“For you,” you said, handing the gift over.

“What is it?”

“Chocolate.”

Aemond chuckled shortly. “I don’t eat sweets, Miss (L/N).”

As you got up from the seat, Aemond’s hand grasp for your wrist, making your head turn to meet his beautiful eyes. “Think about my offer,” he said, along that, he handed you his card by tucking the card in on one of your back pocket of your skirt, lingering on feeling your round ass than how someone touched you.

With that, you bowed and left his spacious offer, leaving him with wonder and amazement.

He ripped out the ribbon and wrap, revealing it to be compliments for him. Chocolates—as you claimed—and framed translucent glass with a green ink dragon inside.

He ripped one of the pieces from the chocolate box and ate one. Sweet, like yours. He wondered what you would feel and taste like.

Aemond found himself a new toy to play with. Another bite of the caramelized chocolate, with finding himself in an entrance with you, he has his sights on you. And thus dialing the phone number on his smartphone.

“Sir?” a voice said on the other side of the phone call.

“Hello. I have a task for you. You won’t fail me.”

One taste of you, and he won’t ever plan on letting you go.

~~~

Heavy door slammed shut and met up with your friend again.

“Sooo…how’s your meeting with him? What’s he like?”

“He’s…nice?”

“Nice? Saying the word ‘nice’ is automatically a code for friend zone.”

“No, I mean, he, he’s intimidating, and yet he’s able to answer my questions.”

“You mean my questions?”

You handed over your notebook to your friend on your original questions. “Wow, even I can’t ask a question like that.”

“Aemond found out that I stepped in for the interview instead of you.”

“How can you tell?”

“He met your father last week. And he already knows what you look like.”

“I never even knew him personally.”

“And he overheard you on how you wanted to marry a rich to make your ex jealous. That’s not something to easily slip by. Aemond has sharp ears and tongue.”

“Ugh, he caught me.”

“And yet those questions you wanted to ask him is simply more than an interview because why?”

“Because no one knows about him personally.”

“Yeah, but on a matter of a serious spectrum, not a flirtation. Do you even find him attractive, or do you want to set up with his siblings?”

“Ew, no, I don’t find Aemond handsome, but his other brothers do. Or his uncle.” Your friend looked over your interview questions. “Looks like he’s impressed by you.”

“He is.”

“So is he asking you out on a date?”

“No he asked me to be as his secretary.”

Your friend gasped. “No!”

“Yes, he is. He mentioned about the internship, and..”

“Are you going to take it?”

“I haven’t thought about it that much. I’m still studying for the finals.”

Your friend made a casual dismissive wave. “You’ll do great in the company and you get to see his gorgeous face everyday.”

“I thought you said he’s not your type.”

“He’s not. I like his uncle more. Older guys are my thing.”

“Right. Because older men knows how to take care because of their experience.”

“Exactly! I think you and Aemond are going to get along so well! Who knows you’ll get benefits. Even from him.” She winked and took the rest of the coffee.

“Hey!”

“Thanks for the coffee!” And the bedroom door slammed shut, leaving you happy about today’s outcome.

Clapped your hands together, you said aloud to yourself, “Alright! Time for me to take a shower, get dressed and watch some drama on Netflix.” And cheered your way into the bathroom. “By the way,” you called your friend out, shouting, “I didn’t get to tape-record him!”

“WHHHAAAAAATTTTT?!” is what your frantic friend responded.

~~~

Unbeknownst to you, while you’re undressed and soaked in the shower, Aemond’s pants unzipped, his hand caressed his large cock, pressed it harder as you scrubbed your legs and backside.

Delicious.

The bulge in his pants was ready to spring during the interview with you.

Thanks to the card he handed over by tucking it into your back pocket, he felt how good your ass looks. How your ponytail given him an impression that you’re a good girl on the outside but a bad girl was somewhere hiding, dying to get out.

Stroking his hard cock faster, moaning aloud—strained—as he watched you rinsed the soap from your body and stepped out of the shower with your tits bounced, remembering the perfume scent as Aemond went close to you. How he’ll perform his fantasies with you. Envisioned you, right next to a knife, he’ll play with blood trickling down on your skin alongside of bruises on your wrists on handcuffs.

It was beautiful.

Divine.

Cum spritz out, flying and plopping over his thighs, leaving him with a heavy huff and lustful gaze glueing to your naked body, drying up from a steamed shower.

She’ll be mine.

Taglist: @kittendoll05 @xcharlottemikaelsonx @paninisstuff @angeljcca @marvelescvpe @heavenly1927 @snh96 @httpsmenace @domithebomi @moonseye @faesspace @liannafae @buccini555 @watercolorskyy @taangie @qardasngan @jolixtreesunn @screaming-potato @dixie-elocin @momowhoo @saturnssrings @dani5216 @blackgaladriel @theboleyngirlx @elaratyrell @fun-loving-peach @jmliebert @ilikechocolatemilkh @20thcentwriter @sepherinaspoppies @venmondiese @snowprincesa1 @witchy-v1xen @1800-fight-me @fan-goddess @persephonerinyes @anukulee @galactict3a @maxshortformaxine @lcolumbia1988 @ilikemintpeassss-blog @arcielee @hippiedippiekitty @bellaisasleep @lokiofasgard12 @barnes70stark @vipervixxen @f1girlieee @namelesslosers @darylandbethfanforever9

[thelargefrye]

BECAUSE I'M HIM ... mature one - shot (21+) | PART I

pairing : supe!ateez x supe!villain!f!reader ( ft. supe!villain!sanhwa x supe!villain!f!reader )

genre : dark, mature, heroes and villains, demon slayer x mha inspired, angst

word count : 24k

warnings : language, a lot... a LOT of fight scenes 😮‍💨, death / murder, blood / body gore, suicide, choking, attempted murder, the government wouldn't do that to you - oh yes they would, mass killing (a whole island gets wiped out – not in detail and only mentioned), MAJOR character deaths, cannibalism (kind of), mention human sacrifice, any korean that appears might be inaccurate

smut warnings : unprotected sex, pain kink, wound... fingering (I CAN EXPLAIN), handjob

listen to the official soundtrack here

note : for topaz's @sanjoongie YOTV collab – had so much fun planning this and writing it, thank you for allowing me to be apart of this collab and i hope you enjoy it! please make sure to check out the other fics for this collab with the masterlist!

also thank you to @anyamaris for letting me word vomit this to you!

with the hero association struggling to take down the villain alliance, they and the government force death row villains to team up with some of the world's greatest heroes in order to hunt down and defeat them. you are one of those villains.

ACT I: THE FINAL SELECTION

maximum security prison – interrogation room – day

the briefing room was sterile and cold. not only that but filled with tension that it could be easily cut with a knife. the seven heroes in the room along with the two hero association agents stood in a line, waiting. their hero uniforms were sharp and pristine – like they had never experienced being in a fight before. some of them exchanged wary glances, waiting for their captain to speak up. 

some of the wary glances focus on said captain, hongjoong, as he lets out an annoyed sigh, arms crossed and a scowl on his face, “i still think this is a mistake. we don’t need some damn villains on our team.” 

“maybe we should hear the reasoning first,” jongho says calmly as he leans against the wall and gestures to the two agents who are whispering amongst themselves, “they must have a plan after all.” 

wooyoung let out an annoyed tsk at the youngest member’s words, “seriously? whose bright idea was it to bring in villains? we’re supposed to be heroes, not babysitters.” 

“or they’re just desperate,” yeosang sounds a little skeptical before he’s glancing at yunho, “yunho, you… you knew y/n, didn’t you? before you became a hero?” 

“yeah. we… we grew up together. went to school together too,” he answers, his body stiffening slightly at the mention of you and your… past together. 

“and you’re only bringing that up now? feels like a pretty important detail,” wooyoung says, looking at yunho was a raised eyebrow. he was suspicious of why yunho would exclude ever telling the team this information. 

the top hero looks at wooyoung, “it’s not relevant. that was years ago,” he says, defensively, but why? was he trying to defend himself or you? 

“not relevant?” hongjoong speaks up this time, “you sure about that? she turned into a villain, killed a bunch of people at vanguard, yunho. makes me wonder if you missed the warning signs back then.” 

yunho clenches his fist, eyes shooting a glare at his captain, but mingi steps in, “alright, that’s enough. no reason to randomly start pointing fingers.” 

wooyoung turns his head, “still doesn’t mean this is right. we shouldn’t be working with people who are on fucking death row of all things,” he says under his breath. 

“we don’t have to like it, but you know the villain alliance is escalating. if bringing in these three gives us an edge, we can’t afford to turn it down.” 

“of course you would be on the side of bringing the villains in, yeosang,” wooyoung says, eyes glaring at his friend, teammate, “just because they have dark powers like yours doesn’t mean they are like you.” yeosang’s ears burn a bright red as his eyes look down to the floor, avoiding the others uneasy glances.

the tension in the room hangs heavy, with yunho shifting uncomfortably as the others cast sidelong glances at him. the door opens, breaking the moment and yunho internally sighs in relief, as the three villains – seonghwa, san, and you – are escorted inside by armed guards. your gray prison uniforms are a stark contrast to the heroes’ pristine, clean ones. yunho’s eyes focus in on the thick collars around your necks, a dim, red light pulsing faintly – prisoner control devices. you are further restrained with a sleek, heavy, metal helmet that entirely covers your head and face. yunho is sure that you can’t see out of it at all. 

“this is ridiculous. putting them on our team?” hongjoong says once more, scowl growing even deeper. 

“by order of the hero association, you’re to work together,” one of the agents said, fixing their glasses, “the villain alliance is escalating – demon appearances are increasing, dangerously, you’ll need their help. villains are better suited to take down other villains afterall.” 

your head tilts slightly, sensing the hostility in the room despite being unable to see it. seonghwa and san exchange quick glances, their body language guarded. 

“this is a bad idea. they’re basically just as dangerous as the demons,” jongho whispers quietly from the other side of yunho. 

“we don’t have a choice,” yunho says back, trying his best to sound neutral; however, he can’t tear his eyes away from you. all he can do is picture you from six years ago, before the hero association and public claimed you to be one of the worst villains alive. 

the other agent steps forward, their presence commanding attention as they begin to speak, “we’ve gathered intel that the villain alliance has been growing exponentially with more and more demons popping up. they are also reported to have a ranking system with the top demons known as the twelve moons. these twelve demons are the alliance’s most strongest aside from their leader – nicha yontararak, is powerful. we don’t know the exact extent of her powers yet. which is why these three,” they say pointing to you and the other two villains, “are some of our strongest villains we have on death row. they’ve… agreed to cooperate.” 

wooyoung can’t help but let out a snicker at the agent’s words, “‘agreed’? pretty sure those collars say otherwise.” 

“as if we want to help you all. i would rather happily stay in my cell and watch you all fail miserably,” san snaps back sharply. 

wooyoung steps forward, jaw clenched, “big words for someone in cuffs.” 

“careful, hero. the collars don’t stop us from speaking,” seonghwa says, his voice the complete opposite of san’s. like fire and ice. 

you remain silent, your head shifting slightly as if trying your best to track the conversation. the helmet not only robs you of your sight, but also most of your hearing. your restrained demeanor makes you an enigmatic presence amongst the three villains. 

“enough. we’re all here for the same reason,” yeosang says calmly, trying to de-escalate the situation before it grew even more hostile. was that even possible? he surely didn’t want to find out. 

“speak for yourself,” hongjoong scoffs.

the first agent speaks up again, “this isn’t up for debate. the decision is final. get them integrated into the team.” the guards step back but remain close, their hands on their weapons as if waiting for either villains or heroes to make the wrong move. the two agents turn to leave but the second one pauses at the door. 

“one last thing. these collars can and will neutralize them if they step out of line. you have our full authorization to engage them if necessary, captain hongjoong.” the agents exits the room, leaving a thick silence behind. the room feels suffocating with unspoken tension. 

“so, will you actually be able to help us? or is this just an eventual setup?” jongho asks, looking towards the villains. 

“we were in prison, not their meetings,” seonghwa deadpans at the youngest hero, “do we look like demons to you?” 

yunho finds himself stepping closer to you, “y/n? how… how have you been?” his voice is quiet and he cringes at how he sounds. why the hell would he ask you that? of course you haven’t been good, you’ve been in prison. 

you don’t answer him; however, choosing to remain silent which causes hongjoong to let out a laugh as if to ridicule yunho. yunho casts a quick glance at you. his jaw tightens, an unfamiliar guilt gnawing at him. he shifts uncomfortably, wondering if things could’ve been different – if he had done more, maybe tried harder to help you all those years ago. his fingers curl into fists before he looks away, swallowing his thoughts. 

“don’t waste your breath, yunho. she doesn’t care about any of this,” hongjoong says. 

san steps forward, tension rolling off his form, “watch your mouth,” he threatens with a clenched jaw. 

“or what?” hongjoong asks with a cold smile, “you can’t do anything without your leash.” 

before things could escalate further, mingi steps between them, raising his hands in a calming gesture. “we’re supposed to be working together. let’s not start killing each other before the real fight.” 

seonghwa places a hand on san’s shoulder, guiding him back a step. you tilt your head slightly, as if observing the dynamics despite your blindness. 

“this is going well,” yeosang says softly, the tension clearly making him on edge. 

“it’s gonna get worse,” wooyoung mutters. 

“then we’d better figure it out fast. the villain alliance isn’t going to wait for us to get along,” jongho says seriously as he looks around. 

ateez compound – common room – evening

the ateez compound is probably the nicest facility you’ve ever seen. its sleek in design and filled with every necessity a hero team might need and more: training rooms, living quarters, a common area with large couches, a television that actually worked, and a kitchen off to the side. the atmosphere, however, is anything but welcoming, you conclude. 

you sit in the corner of the common room, back against the wall, and your head finally free of that damn helmet that you had been forced to wear for six years in prison. seonghwa leans on the arm of one of the long couches, observing the room with an icy, detached look. san, sits cross-legged on the floor, tossing a small ball against the wall and catching it repeatedly. the three of you remain isolated, a rather stark contrast to the other heroes clustered together on the other side of the room. 

the air on the other side of the common area is heavy with an uneasy mix of silence and tension. hongjoong stands by the large window that overlooks the surrounding outside area of the compound, arms crossed, his sharp gaze darting towards the three villains every few seconds. his eyes stay on you a little longer, taking in your calm yet unreadable face. wooyoung leans against the wall near him, arms folded tightly, while yeosang and mingi quietly watch from the kitchen. 

jongho watches everyone from his spot on the other couch that isn’t occupied by seonghwa. yunho, perched on the edge of a chair, keeps glancing at you but says nothing. 

“i still can’t believe we have to live with them. it’s like inviting a time bomb into your house,” hongjoong grimaces. 

“more like three. pretty sure those collars won’t stop them if they decide to go rogue,” wooyoung snickers from beside him. 

“you don’t know that. maybe this could work if we actually tried,” mingi said, a little louder than he intended. hongjoong shifts his gaze to mingi, eyebrows raised. 

“tried? they’re not here to make friends, mingi. they’re here because the association thinks villains killing villains is easier than us doing it.” 

“it doesn’t mean they can’t be allies. everyone starts somewhere,” yeosang says calmly. 

wooyoung rolls his eyes at the red-haired hero’s words, “dark powers stick together, huh?” yeosang doesn’t respond to the obvious bait, but his jaw tightens. meanwhile, you tilt your head slightly, almost like you were listening. 

san catches his ball with an annoyed sigh, “we can hear you, you know.” he says flatly. 

“good,” wooyoung responds mockingly, “saves me the trouble of repeating myself.” 

“you’re very brave when you’re surrounded by your friends,” you suddenly speak up, breaking your silence. the room goes quiet at your words. this is the first time any of them have heard you speak and it sends an uneasy shiver down the heroes’ spines as you narrow your eyes over at wooyoung. an unexplainable energy feels like his chest when you make eye contact, and he opens his mouth to respond, but hongjoong puts a hand on his arm, shaking his head. the tension is palpable. 

the setting sun is the only thing warming the otherwise cold room, painting the usually white walls with an orange glow to it. 

ateez compound – rooftop – later that night

the rooftop of the compound offers a great view of the surrounding forest. you can see the city in the distance, the skyline blinking and it reminds you of the stars that are in the sky. yeosang stands at the edge, leaning on the railing looking out at said skyline. you join him, your movements quiet. 

“couldn’t sleep?” you ask, opting to not look at yeosang, but you could tell he was distracted. 

“no.” 

“figured,” you said, smirking lightly, “i guess the compound’s not as relaxing as it usually is, huh?”

yeosang doesn’t respond immediately. you shift a little, looking from him to the city where his eyes are. 

“do they… hate you too?” you asked quietly, as if you were worried that someone unwanted would overhear you. 

“what?” yeosang finally looks at you, a look of surprise on his face. 

“the others. your powers are different. they must notice.”

yeosang lets out an awkward cough as he considers your words for a moment, then shrugs. “i’ve gotten used to it. people are scared of what they don’t understand. it’s easier to focus on appearances instead.” 

“the public loves appearances more than powers,” you said absentmindedly and yeosang can’t help but agree. you hear him take a breath, like he was going to say something, but changes his mind. “what? just ask what you want.” 

“the helmet.”

“what about it?”

“why were you wearing it?”

“it was a security measure. the association learned that it was harder for me to use my powers if i couldn’t see, so… bye-bye sight,” you explain to him and yeosang frowns at your words. 

“the… hero association isn’t bad are they?” he asks and you remain quiet for a few moments before letting out a sigh. 

“not to you maybe, but i am what they label as a villain,” you say with a dry laugh. “so… yeah.” 

“right,” he says with a nod before he’s watching you step away from the edge and back towards the door. 

“make sure you get some sleep, yeosang, good night,” you say, leaving yeosang alone once again. 

“good night, y/n.”

ateez compound – training room – morning

the training room is dimly lit, walls lined with weapons and dummies. seonghwa is sitting on the floor, stretching, while yeosang practices his summoning abilities nearby. dark shadows twist and coil around him, taking the form of skeletal figures. you lean against the wall, watching yeosang’s power with mild interest. 

“so they kept you in solitary confinement?” yeosang asks, looking over to where you are leaning against the wall. 

“they didn’t trust me to not use my powers on the other prisoners,” you say rather flatly. 

“must have been… isolating,” he says with a small nod. 

your expression flickers for a moment before you shrug, “isolations not so bad when the company’s worse.”

seonghwa snorts softly, but there’s tension in his posture. jongho enters the room, his presence grounding. he surveys the scene before turning his attention to you. 

“they’re not wrong to be cautious. you’re powerful,” he says. 

“careful, jongho. almost sounds like a compliment,” you say with a smirk. 

“just an observation, but power doesn’t mean anything without control.”

seonghwa’s eyes flicker to you, a shadow of concern in his expression. before anyone can respond, yeosang’s shadowy figure lunges towards a dummy, striking it with force. the sound echoes, breaking the tension.

“you ever think about what you’d be doing if you weren’t here? if things were different?” yeosang asks rather casually that it almost makes you laugh at how easy-going and innocent his demeanor is. 

you hesitate, your gaze turning hazing and distant for a moment, “sometimes. doesn’t change anything, though.” 

seonghwa exchanges a glance with jongho, unspoken thoughts hanging heavy in the air. 

ateez compound – outdoor training grounds – day

the outdoor training grounds are sprawling, surrounded by high fences in order to protect the compound from any unwanted visitors and allow its residents to easily overlook the gray sky. you and yunho are standing opposite each other on the sparring mat, the rest of the team watching from the sidelines. hongjoong has said that him and the others should get a feel of what they are working with when it comes to you, seonghwa, and san. of course, you know he thinks he’s just wasting his time. if wooyoung not voicing the fact loudly didn’t tell you anything. 

“you ready?” yunho asks awkwardly, but when is he not awkward with you? 

“always,” you reply flatly. 

the two of you begin sparring, your movements sharp and calculated. yunho hesitates, his strikes lacking conviction and passion. you take advantage of this, knocking him off balance. 

“what’s wrong, number one hero? afraid to hit me?” you taunt him. 

yunho regains his footing, his jaw tightening, “of course not,” he says defensively. he lungs forward, but you counter effortlessly, your power flickering subtly around you – small bouts of red lightning appearing. yunho falters, his mind clouded with static. flashes of a memory – unclear and fragmented – flicker in his mind. he stumbles, clutching his head. 

you pause, brows furrowing, “yunho?” 

before you can approach, mingi’s voice cuts through the haze. “yunho! you okay?” yunho straightens, shaking off the disorientation.

“i’m fine,” he says, brushing it off like nothing happened. 

you step back, your expression guarded. the sparring session resumes, but the tension is heavier now. yunho is more aggressive in his movements, as if trying to prove something, but your skills thankfully keep you ahead. 

“enough! this isn’t a fight to the death,” hongjoong says from the sidelines.

yunho steps back, breathing heavily. you lower your guard, gaze lingering on him. “you’re holding back,” you say quietly. 

yunho doesn’t respond, turning away. the team disperses, the unresolved tension hanging over them like a storm cloud. 

ateez compound – common room – evening

mingi and yeosang are playing a game of cards at the table while seonghwa reads a book on the couch nearby. san lounges not too far from him, watching the game with mild interest. you sit in the corner by the window, eyes glued to the nature surrounding the compound. a flock of crows fly by and they have you entranced for a moment. 

“you’re terrible at this,” mingi says to yeosang with a large grin on his face. 

“i’m letting you win,” yeosang deadpans back at the light-user. 

you glance away from the window, your gaze flickering between them and their cards. 

“he cheats, you know,” you say, directing your words to yeosang. the handsome hero looks towards his teammate with wide, shocked eyes which makes mingi gasps, feigning offense. 

“i do not!” he shrieks out, this causes san to chuckle from his seat as seonghwa looks up from his book, a faint smirk on his face. you know moments of peace like this are brief, but you can’t help but feel this is a small step towards a hopeful unity. 

if only the others were like mingi and yeosang…  

ateez compound – training room – night

you’ve grown use to hearing the hum of the machinery in the training room over the short amount of time you’ve been here. it echoing and bouncing off the walls and sparring mats. you stood near the edge of the large sparring mat, back against the wall with seonghwa next to you. his arms crossed and his shoulder brushing against yours as he whispers quiet words into your ear. the quiet promises of something later making you let out a small smile. 

san sits across from you all on the floor, stretching, his broad shoulders even more prominent in the black tank top he’s wearing. he can’t help the soft grin that graces his lips as he watches you and seonghwa. “that definitely looks like training.”  

you turn to look at the blood user, grinning softly, “i think we’ve had enough training for one day.”

seonghwa hums in agreement, tilting his head towards you slightly, “i agree. i’d rather just be here.” 

san lets out a chuckle, rising to his feet and stepping closer to the two of you. he stops just next to you, his hands brushing lightly over your arms and it sends a chill down your spine. 

“i think you look better when you’re not fighting,” san teases, making you laugh. 

“i don’t fight all the time,” you say, rolling your eyes a little bit at his words, “you were always the one starting fights in prison. i was too busy being held in solitary confinement.”

“and you only came out when they threw san in,” seonghwa says, making san send a glare over the other male. 

you notice seonghwa watches you and san with a calm expression, eyes soften as you can’t help but rest your forehead gently against san’s. you feel the shapeshifter’s finger tracing up your back, neck – over the damn death collar, and under your chin before he’s turning your face to look at him. 

“hwa…” you call out his name softly and it feels unreal almost. like the three of you weren’t villains, but just… normal people. “i don’t know what i’d do without you both,” you add quietly as you feel seonghwa’s arms slip around your waist. seonghwa’s grip is both grounding and gentle as he pulls you towards him. you feel san pressing a light kiss to your hair and you feel your heart speed up from how close to the males are. 

you haven’t been this close to them in a while and it felt nice. 

seonghwa draws your attention back to him as his hand comes to brush along your cheek, lifting your chin slightly as his lips connect with yours. san hovers behind you, sandwiching you between the two, his hands resting lighting on your hips and slipping underneath your shirt, and tracing small circles into your skin. 

the moment stretches, tender and unguarded, and for now you forget about the hero association, the villain alliance, hongjoong’s aggressive attitude, and even yunho’s avoid eyes. you felt normal. your fingers curl gently into seonghwa’s shirt to pull him closer to you – if that was even possible. san presses his forehead against your shoulder and you feel his lips press into your skin. 

from the shadows of the door, yunho stands frozen in place. his eyes watching the intimacy between you three and he can’t help the twist in his gut at the sight. his fists clench, unclench, clench again at his sides as an unfamiliar mix of emotions flickering through him.

the room blurs slightly, but yunho can’t find it in him to look away. like he refuses to look away. heart pounding in his ears when seonghwa presses his lips to yours once more, san’s thumb grazing over your bandaged, healing skin with a sort of tenderness yunho didn’t even realize the blood user even had. 

a faint static hum fills yunho’s mind. his vision distorts – flashes of static along with something distant and obscured flicker across his thoughts. he grips the doorway, feeling his breath hitch as sweat builds along his hairline. a vague image – your face, slightly younger and laughing, suddenly blurs into focus for a split second, only to fade back into the static. 

his breath shudders as the static fragments slip away, leaving a dull ache in its wake. yunho’s knuckles whiten against the frame as his mind reels in so many directions.

“y…ho? yun…? yunho? you good?” mingi’s sudden voice snaps yunho out of his daze and grounds him. 

the top hero stiffens a little, blinking as he turns to see his friend approaching him. yunho clears his throat and steps away from the doorway, not wanting mingi to find out he was spying on you three. 

shaking the lingering ache from his mind, “yeah, i’m fine.” a fake smile appears on his face, and he hopes that mingi buys it. 

“you sure?” he asks, eyes studying him and a frown faintly appearing, “you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

yunho forces a laugh, his smile still not reaching his eyes as he nods, “just tired.” his gaze shifts back towards the training room, thoughts lingering on the villains one last time. the warmth you all seem to share feels distant, like something yunho can’t reach. 

as yunho walks past mingi and down the hall, his expression hardens, but the flicker of the static memory lingers. haunting and incomplete. his fingers brush briefly over his temple, the ache refusing to fade. 

outskirts of seoul – itaewon district – night 

the nine of you stand together at the edge of the seemingly desolate district. the supposedly once lively streets are eerily silent. when briefed about the mission originally, you were expecting to see at least some people hiding in their homes, away from the villain that is terrorizing the district. however, this place was completely deserted: broken windows, overturned cars, and abandoned belongings create an unsettling atmosphere that sends an unwanted chill down your spine. a flickering streetlight buzzes faintly in the distance and you think it only adds to unsettling tension. 

hongjoong stands at the front of the group, his eyes scanning the area, “stay sharp. something’s not right here,” he says and you all nod. despite how much you don’t like hongjoong for how hostile he’s been, you have to hand it to him that he takes his captain role seriously in cases like this. 

“it’s too quiet. no birds, no wind… nothing,” yeosang says, frown evident on his face as he also looks around. 

you all continue to walk cautiously down the street. mingi kneels down next to an abandoned bicycle, the handlebars bent and smeared with blood. “whatever happened here wasn’t long ago,” he says, looking from the bicycle to you and the others. 

suddenly, a low clicking noise echoes through the streets. everyone freezes.

“what the hell was that?” yunho asks, tensing as he clenches his fists. you look around nervously, your breath visible in the cold air. when did it suddenly get so cold?

“probably a rat,” wooyoung snickers, but you can tell he’s trying to hide his nerves, “or maybe y/n’s shadow creeping around.” you shoot him a sharp glare, but choose to say nothing. you refuse to waste your breath on him and his snide remarks. 

“that’s no rat,” seonghwa whispers, eyes narrowing. 

the clicking grows louder, accompanied by the sound of something wet and slithering. the sounds fill your senses as you and the team move cautiously toward the sound, weapons ready. as you turn a corner, that’s when you come across the horrific thing – a man (or what looked like a man) crouched over a pile of corpses, tearing into the flesh of his victims as blood pools around him at his feet. 

you couldn’t help but let out a gasp when the man’s head suddenly snapped towards your group. no… it wasn’t man, at least not anymore, you concluded. his face had been morphed into something similar to a spider. several beady eyes and fangs protruding from his mouth, his limbs were also similar to that of a spider – long and spindly limbs which you figure made it easier for the creature to tear into flesh. 

“what the fuck?” jongho grimaced, gripping his fist as the spider monster stood to his full height and let out a hiss.  

“it’s a demon! be careful!” you shouted right as the demon lunged for mingi who used his light powers in defense. the demon stopped in his tracks, shielding his eyes, he let out another shrieking hiss before he’s jumping back and away into the shadows. 

“why the hell is there a demon here?” jongho asks, eyes wide in surprise which matches the rest of your faces. 

“i don’t know, but i have a feeling he’s not the only one here,” hongjoong says, eyes locking onto the pile of corpses the demon was just eating from. “let’s split up, this is no longer just a regular investigation mission.” 

outside itaewon district – forest – night

you and wooyoung run through the dark forest, the sound of your footsteps are muffled by the damp earth beneath you. the trees are dense, casting long, twisted shadows in the dim moonlight. 

“we should’ve stayed with the others. i don’t trust you watching my back,” wooyoung snarls out from slightly ahead of you. 

“don’t worry, wooyoung. i wouldn’t trust me either,” you say, rolling your eyes.

wooyoung opens his mouth to retort but stops short of his remark when you both stumble into a clearing. a woman wearing a white kimono stands in the center, strands of silk coming out of her fingers and you notice she’s manipulating them. this must be the demon controlling the other spider demons. her eyes are closed, so it's hard to tell if she’s noticed you and wooyoung yet. 

“this must be the main demon,” you whisper to wooyoung who nods in agreement. “we kill her and the others should die as well.” 

an eerily smile then stretches onto the woman’s face, eyes snapping open and you notice that instead of regular pupils she instead has 하위다섯 – lower five – written on her eyes. “ah~ fresh prey. how delightful~ you both will be perfect additions to my family,” she says, words dripping from her mouth. 

wooyoung lets out a tsk, “let’s see how delightful you find this,” he says, raising both hands and allowing both of them to easily be engulfed in ice and flames. 

“she’s with the villain alliance, be careful!” you say, but wooyoung seems to ignore your warning as he unleashes streams of fire and ice, weaving them together to attack the woman. the villain lungs for wooyoung, spider limbs ripping from her back and you watch as she easily dodges all of wooyoung’s attacks. her inhuman agility easily gives the hero a run for his money. 

that’s when you notice her fingers, moving and invisible silk strings glimmering slightly in the moonlight. you suck in a breath when you realize that you and wooyoung have walked right into her web. you summon a sword with your powers, shimmering red as you grip it tightly in your hold, charging at the spider villain. 

you manage to cut down one of her spider limbs, black blood spraying the area around while some of it lands on your arm. you let out a hiss as the blood starts to burn. acid. her blood was acidic thanks to her powers. she lets out another hiss before directing her attention towards you now. your blade gleaming in the moonlight. the two of you clash violently, the sound of steel meeting hardened exoskeleton rings through the forest air. the woman retaliates, one of her bladed limbs slicing across your arm, drawing blood. 

wooyoung suddenly appears from your peripheral, left fist covered in ice as he manages to strike her, freezing the part that wooyoung made contact with. you use wooyoung as a distraction, slashing through the silk strands before countering a powerful swing from one of her spider limbs. 

“you’re not walking away from this,” wooyoung hisses out before attacking her again with his ice powers. the villain grits her teeth, silk strands whip out, wrapping around your arm and yanking you forward. 

“you’re wasting your potential with these weaklings,” she says, gripping your face tightly as another strand of silk catches your other arm. you feel the strands digging into your skin and slowly dripping down your arms. “join my family.”

“not… a chance,” you hissed out before managing to headbut the villain and knocking her away. wooyoung burns the strands that held you, and you turn to give him a nod before you snap your attention back to the villain.  

she lets out a high-pitched scream that shakes the trees around the clearing. her eyes begin to transform into a darker red color, teeth sharpening as the strands attached to her fingers turn a blood red. 

“i am sakura, lower rank five of the twelve moons. servant to lady nicha, creator of the demons and leader of the villain alliance, and i will make sure to kill you all and bring your heads back to her on a plate!” sakura hisses out as her remaining spider limbs hoist her up above you and wooyoung. 

you brace your sword while wooyoung stands next to you, both fire and ice at the ready. “like to see you try, spider-bitch.” 

outside itaewon district – deeper in the forest – night

yunho and san run through the forest, breathing uneven from both villain and hero as they rush into the clearing. they manage to arrive just as you and wooyoung struggle to subdue sakura. the villain’s grotesque, spider-like form creating dangerous shadow-like figures under the moonlight, her bladed limbs slicing through the air with deadly precision. 

“we’re here!” yunho shouts as him and san rush forward, “hold her off!” 

“about time! she’s a damn nightmare!” wooyoung says through gritted teeth as he dodges one of sakura’s limbs. 

sakura lets out an inhuman screech, her silk strands snapping like whips towards the group. you counter, slashing the threads mid-air with your glowing sword, but more strands follow, faster and more aggressive than the previous ones. 

“she’s not slowing down!” you shout, dodging and slashing at several strands. so many are coming at once that you don’t even notice more of them coming from behind; however, san does. he plants his feet firmly, his blood tendrils lashing out like crimson blades, slicing through the silk strands. he extends a sharp tendril forward, wrapping it around one of sakura’s legs, and yanks her off balance. 

“i’ve got her! go!” san shouts and you nod rushing towards the villain, blade raised high in the air, but sakura twists unnaturally, snapping san’s blood tendrils with her powerful limbs. she leaps into the air, flipping away from the males and lands directly in front of you. sakura thrusts one of her bladed limbs towards your chest. you dodge, but not fast enough – sakura’s limb slices across your upper arm, drawing blood. 

you let out a hiss as you roll away from her, “fucking hell,” you mutter, glaring at the spider villain who has a malicious smile stretching across her face. 

you easily shrug off the pain, swinging your sword with calculated fury, sparks flying as the blade clashes against sakura’s hardened limbs. each strike grows more vicious, the forest ground beneath you splattered with dirt, blood, and silk. 

yunho then comes rushing in, “stay back, y/n!” he barrels into sakura with his shoulder, sending her sprawling to the ground. he stands in front of you, his fists flowing faintly with energy. 

“a hero protecting a villain? how sweet. too bad i’ll have to kill you both!” sakura snarls out tauntingly. she then lunges, her blades arms spinning in a flurry of strikes. yunho ducks and counters, landing a glowing punch that sends her reeling. 

“now!” yunho shouts to san who nods. 

san forms a massive spear from both his own blood and what’s already been spilled and hurls it with deadly precision. it impales sakura’s shoulder, pinning her to a tree. he then hurls several smaller ones into her body to keep her from trying to get free. 

“do it now! take her down before she gets free!” san shouts urgently to you. you sprint forward, sword glowing brighter as your power surges. but sakura, even pinned, refuses to go down easily it seems. she lets out a screech and pulls herself free, shattering the tree behind her and even leaving several large holes in her body. 

“you’ll have to try harder than that!” sakura snarls with a laugh. 

“how the fuck is she still alive?!” wooyoung shouts, annoyed. 

“you have to aim for the neck when it comes to demons,” yunho tells him. 

suddenly, sakura summons more spider demons, their grotesque forms crawling from the shadows of the forest. all bearing a striking resemblance to sakura herself. wooyoung steps up, unleashing a fiery explosion that engulfs several of them.

“i’ve got the small ones. you three handle her!” he shouts before having two more spider demons engulfed in flames with loud screeches. 

san and yunho close in on sakura, attacking in unison. san uses his blood tendrils to ensnare her limbs, while yunho lands precise strikes on her half regenerated torso, forcing her back. 

sakura leaps into the trees, her movements becoming even more fast and erratic. you follow her, launching herself into the air with a burst of power. 

“you’re not getting away!” you shout, swinging your sword mid-air, narrowly missing sakura as the villain flips backward. they land in a small clearing, separated from the others. 

sakura smirks, her bladed limbs ready for another attack, “you’re persistent, but you’re just a pawn, same as me.” 

“we are nothing alike,” you say, gritting your teeth and charging again, sword blazing. you land a powerful slash across sakura’s abdomen, black blood spilling onto the ground and just barely missing you. sakura screams in rage and pain, movements becoming more erratic and less precise. 

yunho and san catch up, cornering sakura from opposite sides. san skewers one of her limbs with his blood tendrils, holding her in place, while yunho delivers a devastating punch to her mid section, you even hear her exoskeleton cracking. 

“we need to immobilize her! take her into custody for the hero association!” yunho shouts to you. you approach sakura, sword trembling in your hands from the amount of energy this fight has taken. that’s when your eyes meet sakura’s. 

you see a wave of panic flood her eyes as she begins struggling to free herself. “kill me! you have to kill me!” her voice desperate and pleading. it catches the three of you off guard at her sudden tone change. 

“what?” you say, sword gripped tightly in your hand. 

“she’ll find me! lady nicha will do worse than death! please, just kill me!” her words screaming and bouncing off the trees surrounding the clearing. 

you hesitate, sword hovering at sakura’s neck. the conflict in your eyes is clear as sakura’s pleas echo in your ears. her pleas sounding hauntingly familiar to those you have heard before. 

yunho notices the hesitation in your stance, “y/n, don’t hesitate– 

before anyone can act, sakura seizes your sword with her remaining limb and makes a clean swipe at her neck. the blade cuts through her neck, head being severed from her body as they both collapse, lifeless. blood sprays across your body, her blood staining your face and hands. 

you stand frozen, staring at sakura’s body. “she… she killed herself,” you whisper, shaken at the sight. 

san steps forward in an attempt to comfort you, his expression softening. “y/n, it's not your fault– 

you flinch and push him away, stumbling back. you turn to face both san and yunho with wide and shaken eyes. yunho stares at your bloodied face, “y/n–

suddenly, yunho grabs his head, a sharp pain overtaking him as his vision fills with static, distorted images flashing before his eyes. he sees fragments of you, blood across your face, but instead of fear you look almost… emotionless. dead. 

“no…” he groans, clutching his head in pain, “not again.” he collapses to his knees right as wooyoung joins the three in the clearing. he rushes up to yunho, panic on his face as he shakes his shoulder. 

“yunho! what’s happening?” the elemental hero asks, voice also full of panic. 

yunho doesn’t respond, his mind consumed by the visions. meanwhile, you still remain frozen, staring at your blood-covered hands. the clearing is silent except for the rustling of the wind and the faint distant calls of the others calling for their four teammates and the cawing of a single crow.

infinity castle – ██████

the infinity castle groaned with restless energy, its every moving labyrinth walls shifting in different patterns under the glow of several thousand orange lanterns. at the heart of it all, lady nicha stood on a platform, exuding a dominance that was godlike. 

karina, seated beside her with her bipa resting gracefully in her lap, plucked a melancholic melody from its strings. the mournful tune filled the endless castle dimension, heavy and foreboding, stirring unease in the very air. 

“karina. call them.”

without a word, karina’s fingers plucked a singular cord. several hanok doors appeared, sliding open and summoning the lower rank moons. one-by-one they stood on the platform above nicha, her cold gaze watching them intently. they all knelt down, heads bowed low, trembling beneath the weight of nicha’s presence and stare. 

the woman surveyed them with disdain, her eyes narrowing as she looked over them. her voice, calm but laced with venom, shattered the silence. “sakura was killed. why is it that you demons in the lower ranks are so utterly weak? the upper ranks of the twelve moons have remained unchanged. how many times have you been replaced?”

that’s easy for you to say, but we… one of the lower moons thought. 

“that’s easy for you to say, but we…” nicha says, repeating the demon’s thoughts. “what? go ahead and say it.” her eyes piercing down at the lower moon with her red eyes. 

i’m screwed! they thought, body trembling.  

“screwed how?” 

the air grew impossibly cold, the shadows on the walls twisting with sudden ferocity. her expression darkened, her crimson eyes gleaming with a silent fury. suddenly, a grotesque tendril appeared and attacked the lower moon, raising him upside down in the air. his eyes wide in fear, but had no opportunity to scream as the tendril shredded through him. blood pooling down blew and covering both the platform and remaining lower moons. 

nicha then turns her attention to one of the other lower moons, “every time you cross paths with a hero you run. the only thing on your mind is to escape it's an embarrassment to the villain alliance.”

the demon immediately began trying to explain herself, saying how she repeatedly puts her life on the line for lady nicha and her cause. 

“are you… calling me a liar?” nicha’s voice reverberates through the chamber, each syllable a knife carving into the demon’s hysteric composure. the music from karina’s bipa continued to play with a sharper edge. the grotesque tendril immediately crushed the lower moon with its weight. her blood spraying the remaining three lower moons with blood. 

before nicha could continue her slaughter on the lower moons, the lower third suddenly dashes away. his demon speed taking him away from the platform he was originally summoned on and further into the infinity castle. 

the only option is to run! he thought as he jumped from one sideways roof to another. 

a sudden slash was heard before the lower moon’s head was clutched in nicha’s head, dripping blood as his dead eyes stared at the remaining too. 

“i believe the twelve moons are better off consisting of just the upper ranks. i am now dismantling the lower ranks.”

nicha then effortlessly tosses the severed head down onto the other platform. the head hitting the wooden ground with a thump! and rolling slightly before coming to a sudden stop. 

“do you have any last words?”

“i can still be of use to you, lady nicha! if you were to just give me more of your blood then–

“what makes you think you can order me to give you my blood?”

“you misunderstand! you misunderstand!”

“shut up. i misunderstand nothing. i’m never mistaken about anything. my word is absolute,” nicha’s eyes began to glow as she continued to look at the lower moon, “you tried to tell me what to do, yet you are the worthless one. you deserve to die.” 

lower moon one, yena, is suddenly the only one left, her face covered in the blood of her previous fellow lower moons. yet, she continues to look up at lady nicha with more adoration than fear. eyes glazed over. 

“do you have any last words?” nicha asks, looking at the demon. 

“if i am to die by your hand, my lady, then i am honored~ you have given me everything. my strength, my purpose… my life. if i am unworthy, than i would rather die by your hand than live in disgrace~” 

nicha paused, her fury momentarily eclipsed by curiosity. her crimson eyes narrowed as she regarded the unshaken demon. 

“honored, are you?” the dimension fell silent. but the silence didn’t last long when a fleshy, grotesque tendril came down from above and stabbed yena in the neck. injecting the lower moon with some of nicha’s blood. yena suddenly fell to the floor and began to thrash and convulse, letting out a guttural cry. 

“that’s what i like to hear~” nicha said, a faint cold smile twitching upon her lips for a split second. she seemed to gain some sick satisfaction at watching yena convulse on the ground beneath her. “i’ll give you an ample share of my blood. make yourself useful to me, then. if you kill the female villain who works with the heroes then i will give you even more of my blood. failure is not an option.” 

yena could only let out a gurgled noise in response. karina plucked several notes on her bipa. with each note a hanok door appeared and shut, separating nicha from yena who struggled on the ground. one final note plucked and a door appeared underneath yena, opening and whisking her away and back to wherever she was prior.

ACT II: MUHAN TRAIN

busan district – train station – night

the moon hangs low in the night sky, its pale light illuminating the quiet train station. mingi walks over to the entrance, his boots crunching the gravel underneath. he adjusts his gloves and scans the area. the train station is quiet, almost abandoned of human life as he steps inside to look around. there’s a single light glowing warmly in the place. there’s no one at the counter, too dangerous to be out at night anymore. 

he remembers hongjoong briefing him on the mission: investigate the train that had twenty passengers suddenly vanish without a trace. the association think its the work of a high-level villain. mingi though? he’s not entirely sure anymore, especially after dealing with sakura back in the itaewon district. 

“this place gives me the creeps,” he mutters under his breath. the faint sound of a train whistle echoes through the distance. mingi frowns as he feels a chill run directly down his spine. he looks around cautiously, his heightened senses on alert.

mingi comes to the conclusion that this sleepy town looks like it forgot the concept of daylight. the streets are dimly lit, and most of the windows are closed, not a single outside soul able to see what goes on inside. he stops in front of a rundown looking diner and enters to see a few locals gathered about the place. the bell above the door jingles half-heartedly at his arrival. 

the smell of stale coffee and grease fills and lingers in the air. mingi approaches the counter where an elderly waitress, face lined with years of worry, greets him. 

“you’re not from around here, are you?” her voice is hushed as she looks over mingi’s appearance, his natural stark white hair making him easily stand out amongst the locals. 

mingi shakes his head, “i’m here about the train. heard anything strange?” his words catch the gazes of the other patrons who look nervous.

the waitress hesitates before leaning closer, her voice low and trembling, “it’s not just the train. there’s someone… something. we call him ‘the slasher.’”

mingi straightens, brows furrowing, “the slasher?” he repeats. 

“attacks people at night. leaves them… torn apart. no one’s seen his face. some think he’s a legend at this point.” 

“and you’re sure it’s not connected to the train?” mingi asks, hands tightening into fists. the waitress shakes her head, glancing towards the door nervously. 

“no, but he’s just as dangerous.”

suddenly, a loud crash comes from outside. mingi bolts to the door, throwing it open to see a figure standing under a flickering streetlight. 

mingi assumes this is the slasher the waitress told him about. the figure stands tall, shrouded in darkness. his mask is stitched together with mismatched pieces of leath, and his hands are tipped with sharp, metallic claws. mingi thinks he just walked straight out of a horror film. a terrified civilian is pinned against the wall beside him, struggling to break free. 

“leave, hero, or they bleed,” the slasher hissed out, beady eyes staring straight at mingi. 

mingi steps forward, unshaken by the threat, “let them go. now!” 

the slasher tilts his head, amused. he tosses the civilian back, who lets out a cry, before lunging towards mingi with surprising speed. the villain swipes his claws in a flurry, each strike aiming for mingi’s vital points. mingi is able to duck and dodge with precision, his combat skills sharp and deliberate like any high-class hero. 

“is that all you’ve got?” mingi asks grinning. 

mingi retaliates, delivering a powerful kick that sends the slasher flying into a pile of crates. the villain recovers quickly, leaping into the air and slashing downward. mingi rolls out of the way, his fist glowing faintly with his light energy. the alley becomes a quick battlefield, the slasher’s claws leave deep gouges in the brick walls. meanwhile, mingi counters with precise strikes that force the villain to become defensive. 

“you’re faster than the others, but you won’t leave here alive,” the villain taunts, a maniacal laugh leaving his lips. 

“we’ll see about that,” mingi says. the hero charges, his energy-infused punch connecting with the slasher’s chest. the impact sends a shockwave through the alley, shattering nearby windows. the slasher stumbles, his claws sending sparks flying as they scrape the ground. 

realizing he’s outmatched, the slasher attempts to flee. mingi chases him through the streets, their movements a blur of speed and violence. 

the fight ends at the edge of town, where mingi finally subdues the slashes. with a final punch, he knocks the villain unconscious, leaving him crumpled on the ground. the first rays of sunlight peak over the horizon, bathing the scene in a faint golden glow. mingi wipes sweat from his brow, breathing heavily. 

“one down. now for the train,” he says to himself as he goes to connect the hero association so they can deal with the villain that lays on the ground.  

busan district – train station – sunrise

mingi approaches the train station once again. this time instead of being abandoned, he notices a person at the ticket booth. he walks up to the older woman who simply smiles at him. 

“the muhan train… is it running?” he asks.

“oh, yes! they sent her back from the train yard last night,” she explains and mingi is surprised by the news, but if this means he can figure out the mystery surrounding it then…

“three tickets, please,” mingi says, holding up three fingers. the older woman lets out a chuckle as she gets the three tickets ready. mingi pays the woman before thanking her. 

he pockets the tickets and turns, spotting a familiar figure waiting for him near the platform – yunho, with you standing a few feet behind, your expression unreadable. mingi is honestly surprised that hongjoong sent the two of you on this mission with him considering the results of the last mission. 

“took you long enough,” yunho says, nodding towards his friend. 

“ran into some… distractions,” mingi said with a smile. you glance towards him, your eyes briefly flickering down to the faint scratches on his arm. 

“looks like you’ve been busy,” you say, crossing your arms. mingi chuckles, brushing your comment off as approaches you. 

“don’t worry about it. let’s go. we’ve got a train to catch,” he says, handing you and yunho your tickets. the train whistle suddenly blows and the three of you board before it begins to move, carrying you all to your next destination. 

muhan train – passenger car – night

the train hums steadily as you, mingi, and yunho sit in a modest, warmly lit passenger car. one of the overhead lights flicker softly, making your eye twitch every time it does. a few other passengers sit scattered throughout the car, their light chatter fills the air peacefully. 

“the hero association thinks it’s a demon,” yunho’s voice is low as he leans forward, “it’s the only explanation for twenty people vanishing without a trace.”

“a demon on a train? sounds like something out of a horror movie,” mingi says with a frown, his eyes darting from yunho to you to see your reaction. 

“except this one’s real,” you said seriously, expression void of any possible emotion. 

the three of you glance around the car. the other passengers seem oblivious, but there’s an undeniable tension in the air that you’re positive these civilians are ignoring. ignorance is bliss afterall, you think. a conductor enters, punching tickets as he moves down the aisle. his movements are stiff, mechanical, and his face gaunt, with dark circles under his eyes. like he hasn’t slept in days, weeks. 

the conductor then approaches your row. 

“tickets, please,” he says monotonously. yunho hands over your tickets and the tired man punches them with robotic precision, his hands trembling slightly. 

“you look exhausted,” you say, observing the conductor quietly. the man hesitates but doesn’t respond. he finishes punching the tickets and moves on, his shoulders sagging under an invisible weight. you watch him leave, a small frown tugging your lips.

“you ever feel like we’re the ones who need a break?” mingi asks, stretching and letting out a yawn a little too loudly. 

“maybe after we survive this,” you say, smiling faintly. 

mingi chuckles, leaning back in his seat. the train’s gentle rocking starts to lull you three into a drowsy state. 

“wake me if the demon shows up,” mingi says, stifling another yawn. you can’t help but also let out a small yawn, eyes feeling heavy and tired as you tilt your head back against the seat. eyes closing. 

muhan train – abandon passenger car – night

the conductor steps into a dim, smoke-filled room. a large mirror reflects distorted shapes of the cabin you and the others are in. yena stands before the mirror, draped in a dark, flowing outfit with theatrical accents of feathers and embroidered stars. her piercing, icy blue eyes gleam the words 아래하나 – lower one – read where her pupils should be, and her smile is predatory, exuding both elegance and malice. she’s clearly not human, not anymore at least.

“welcome back, my loyal friend~” she speaks softly, with a mock bow towards the conductor. 

“i did what you asked. can i… can i rest now? can i be with my family now?” he asks pleadingly. 

yena tilts her head, “of course. i always reward devotion,” she steps closer, placing her gloved hand over his chest. a strange light emanates from her hand as the conductor's body stiffens. his head tilts back, and his eyes close. 

“dream deeply,” she whispers. his body collapses like a marionette with its strings cut. 

yena turns to the mirror, which now shows glowing tendrils snaking into the train’s walls. she lets out a deep laugh, “let’s see what their hearts desire most!” she says to herself, throwing her hands in the air in a large theatrical movement. 

████ – beach – sunset

you let out a gasp, eyes snapping open and you find yourself standing on a beach. it’s peaceful and you can see the waves glittering under the warm sunset. san and seonghwa are beside you, both dressed casually and laughing. san reaches over, brushing sand off her arm with a grin. 

“you’re terrible at building sandcastles,” he says with a smirk. 

seonghwa lets out a chuckle, “more like demolishing them,” he says teasingly. 

you let out a laugh, your voice feeling light and free like you’ve been this way your entire life. the three of you sit together, looking out at the horizon. san wraps an arm around your shoulder, while seonghwa offers you a soda. 

“i’m glad we decided to take this vacation, get away from the city,” seonghwa says softly. 

san nods, “just us.” 

you feel your smile falter for a moment, a faint sense of wrongness creeps in. you look down at your hands, which are clean and unscarred – too perfect. 

“this… isn’t right.”

daegu district – the song residence – day 

mingi stands outside a small house, holding a certificate in one hand and dressed in his pristine hero uniform. when he walks inside he sees his parents sitting inside the cozy living room, their figures illuminated by warm light. 

“mom, dad, i did it! i’m a hero now!” he says to them excitedly before talking about everything he has done in order to be recognized by the hero association. they both glance up, faces unreadable. his mother gives him a small, distracted smile before returning to her knitting. 

“that’s nice, honey,” she says, voice flat and with no emotion. 

his father barely looks up from his newspaper, “don’t forget to take out the trash.” 

mingi’s expression falters, his face full of confusion and hurt which flickers in his eyes. 

seoul district – cherry blossom tree park – day

the seoul district was bustling with life, students, faculty, and regular civilians alike enjoying the warm spring breeze that carried the faint scent of flowers. but what captured everyone’s attention the most were the cherry blossom trees scattered across the park’s main road. their petals glowing faintly under the soft sunlight. 

it was the height of cherry blossom season – or so it appeared. 

yunho smiled as he glanced at you walking beside him, your gaze fixed on the pink and white blossoms overhead. you had always had a particular fondness for things like this, where the world seemed to pause just enough to let beauty shine through. 

“i told you this would be worth it,” yunho said, his voice tinged with pride. “i knew you’d like it.” 

you slowed your steps, eyes narrowing slightly as you studied the trees more closely. your lips quirked into a small, curious frown. “they’re… not real.” 

yunho looked at you with wide eyes, heart sinking at your words, “what?”

you gestured toward one of the branches, where the faint flicker of light betrayed its holographic nature. “they’re projections. pretty sure, but not real cherry blossoms.” 

yunho let out a soft groan, running a hand through his hair. “i’m sorry, y/n. i thought… i didn’t realize. i just wanted to—

“yunho, stop,” you say, turning to him and cutting him off with a gentle smile. “it’s okay. you went out of your way to do something sweet for me, and that means more than whether the blossoms are real or not.” 

your words lifted a weight off of yunho’s shoulders and warmed his heart and body like how you usually manage to do to him. yunho rubbed the back of his neck, ears turning bright red as he struggled to find the words to respond with. “i… i just thought you’d like it,” he mumbles, avoiding your gaze. 

“and i do,” you replied, “especially since i’m here with you,” your tone as sincere as the sparkle in your eyes. 

the two of you began walking along the path that curved beneath the cherry blossoms, their petals shimmering softly in the breeze. yunho couldn’t help but keep sneaking glances at you, his heart beating a little faster every time she laughed or pointed out something that caught her interest. 

as they passed a family sitting on a nearby bench, your attention was drawn to a child tugging at their parent’s sleeve. “i wish they were real,” the child said wistfully, staring up at the holographic blossoms. 

you slowed your pace, expression unreadable. yunho noticed but said nothing, assuming your silence was related to quiet disappointment. 

“ready to go?” he asked once you reached the far end of the path. 

“yeah, but i need to use the bathroom first,” you said quickly, darting off before he could respond. 

yunho chuckled, shaking his head as he made his way to a nearby bench beneath one of the holographic trees. 

but then the ground began to rumble. 

yunho immediately shot to his feet, instincts kicking in as he scanned the area for danger. the tremors grew stronger, causing people to cry out and scramble for safety. students began to murmur about a potential villain attack, and yunho was already calculating how to evacuate everyone if needed. 

but before panic could fully set in, something else happened. 

the holographic trees flickered out of existence, their light dimming until they vanished completely. in their place, real cherry blossom trees burst from the ground, their roots spreading as their branches stretched towards the sky. petals began to cascade like rain, painting the park in shades of pink and white. 

yunho was speechless, his breath catching as he took in the sight. the blossoms swayed gently in the breeze, their delicate scent filling the air. it was more beautiful than what he could have ever imagined, almost otherworldly in its perfection. 

“wow!” your voice broke through his trance, and he turned to see you approaching with a wide smile. “look at them!” you stopped beside him, your gaze fixated on the blossoms above. “beautiful, aren’t they, yunho?”

there was something in your tone, a quiet pride that made him look at you instead of the trees. your eyes sparkled with mischief, and he felt a pang of realization hit him. 

“you…” he started, voice trailing off. 

“hmm? what are you saying?” you asked innocently, tilting your head as if you hadn’t just performed a miracle. 

yunho opened his mouth to respond, but the words caught in his throat. instead, he shook his head with a soft laugh. “nothing. forget it.”

you grinned, clearly amused. “oh! before we leave, we should get ––––– a keychain. he’ll never let me hear the end of it if we don’t bring him something.” 

yunho looked at you with confusion written over his face as your voice began to become static. especially when you spoke of someone else’s name. 

“who?” he asked and you looked at him with equal confusion. 

“––––––”

yunho suddenly felt a pain rush through his head, he heard you let out a soft gasp as you touched his arm. his vision being overcomed with static as he saw flashes of different images. 

“yunho? are you okay?” your voice panicked as the pain slowly began to subside from his head.

he shook his head as he straightened up, “yeah, sure,” he replied with a tight lipped smile. you looked at him with wide, innocent eyes before nodding at him. you grabbed his arm in order to pull him towards the park gift shop. 

as you both walked through the park, now alive with real cherry blossoms, yunho couldn’t help but steal one last glance at you. you were radiant, laughter ringing out like music, and for a brief moment, he forgot about everything else. 

all he could think about was how much he wanted this moment to last forever.  

████ – beach – sunset

you feel a sense of unease grow as you stand up. you take a step away from san and seonghwa, your gaze sharpening. 

“this isn’t real.”

san grabs your arm, his grip firm. your eyes look from his hand to his eyes. “stay, please,” he says.

“don’t you want to stay here? with us?” seonghwa asks firmly. 

you hesitate for a moment, pain flickering across your face, but you push san away as you take off running down the beach. you need to wake up, who knew what the demon will do if you don’t do it soon. 

there has to be an end to this place, you conclude as you summon your sword. the red metal glittering in the setting sun as you run along the sand. you figure if you run in a straight line then you should hit the end eventually. right?

“y/n!” you freeze in your tracks at the sudden voice. you feel a chill run down your spine at the familiar voice. what? you feel your breath getting heavy as you hear the person’s footsteps coming closer to you. 

“where are you going? don’t you want to stay here? with me?” 

you hesitate for a moment before turning to see him standing not too far from you. you feel tears begin to well up in your eyes at the sight of him. you feel a part of you pulling towards him, to stay like he wants. like what you want.  

you shake your head, “i’m sorry. there’s people i have to protect.” 

he lets out a laugh as he tilts his head, “i’ll see you later then.” 

you nod your head, looking down at your sword before getting an idea. raising your sword, you plunge it into your chest. the dream shattering like glass.

muhan train – passenger car – night

you wake with a gasp, face pale and sweat-drenched. around you, the passengers are asleep, faces twisted in an unnatural serenity. you shake yunho and mingi in an attempt to wake them, but they remain unresponsive. 

“damnit! you bastards, wake up!” you hiss before summoning your sword and searching for the demon that was responsible for this. 

muhan train – train roof – night

you climb onto the roof, the cold wind biting at your skin. yena stands there, her dark cloak billowing out dramatically. she looks at you with surprise before it transforms into a menacing grin. 

“awake already? how rude of you to leave the dream i tailored so carefully.”

“let’s skip the theatrics,” you say, gripping your sword tightly. 

“oh, darling, i am the theatrics,” she says with a chuckle. yena strikes first, her movement fluid and almost dance-like. you block her attacks with your sword, red sparks flying with every clash. yena’s attacks are graceful but deadly, her nails cutting into your arm. 

“i could give you everything. no more blood, no more pain. just… bliss,” she tells you, tone playful. 

you grit your teeth, “i’ll take reality over your lies.” the fight grows more brutal, with blood spraying as yena’s claws grazes your cheek. you retaliate with a slash across yena’s torso, the villain staggering briefly before smiling. 

the battle intensifies, you pushing through your injuries. finally, you land your sword where her neck lies and sever her head. yena’s head rolls along the roof of the train, body falling to her knees. but yena smirks

“you think this ends here?” yena asks, smiling as blood pours everywhere. 

the train begins to twist and transform, metal screeching as it takes on a grotesque, almost living form. yena’s head attached itself to a flesh tendril as she laughs down at you. her body clapping at the scene before it. 

“what the hell?”

muhan train – train roof – night

the cold wind howls, whipping through your hair as you stand on the roof of the speeding train. you grip your sword tightly, blood dripping from a shallow cut on her arm. the moonlight casts an eerie glow on yena, whose cloak billows unnaturally, as if alive. her sharp features are accentuated by the shadows, and her sly smile reveals teeth too sharp to be human. 

“look at you. so determined. so angry. it’s almost… endearing,” yena speaks, mockingly towards you. you narrow your eyes, sword steady in your hands.

“you’re done terrorizing these people.”

“oh, darling, i’ve only just begun~” she replies with a smirk. 

yena lunges with inhuman speed, her hands slicing through the air like claws. you dodge, barely missing the lethal swipe, and retaliate with a quick slash of your sword. sparks fly as the blade connects with yena’s clock, but the fabric seems to absorb the impact, leaving her unharmed. 

you let out a quick cuss as yena spins, her movements fluid and unnervingly elegant, landing a kick to your side. you stumble but quickly regain your footing, slashing upward. this time, the blade grazes yena’s arm, drawing dark, ink-colored blood. 

“how rude,” yena hisses out, she attacks back. her claws slashing across your shoulder. blood sprays onto the roof, and you grit your teeth, refusing to show weakness. 

muhan train – passenger car – night

inside, yunho jerks awake, his vision blurry and disoriented. around him, the other passengers remain unconscious, their faces peaceful yet unsettling. he notices the grotesque, flesh-like tendrils snaking along the walls and ceiling – pulsing veins of flesh and metal intertwining. 

“what the hell…” he says to himself. a sudden groan shakes the train as the walls ripple, the train itself coming alive in the moment. yunho stumbles toward the back, his instincts and years of training kicking in. 

muhan train – train roof – night

the fight between you and yena escalates. the demon’s movements grow more erratic, her strikes faster and more lethal. you counter with calculated blocks, your sword glowing faintly as you channel your powers into it. you manage to land a deep slash across yena’s chest, causing the villain to stagger. 

but yena only laughs, her voice echoing unnaturally, “you’re strong~ i’ll give you that. but you’re still so… mortal.” 

she raises her arms, the train beneath you begins to twist and convulse. you stumble as the roof warps under your feet. yena’s body shifts, her legs melting into the train. 

“you’re on my turf now, nameless.” 

the train screeches as more of the flesh and metal tendrils burst from the sides, snaking towards you. you slash at them, severing a few, but more only take their place. 

“yunho! mingi! protect the passengers!” you shout, hoping that at one if not both of them are awake by now. hopefully, they found a way to wake up. 

you see movement behind you, and turn to see yunho now on the roof. “we’re not leaving you!” he shouts. 

“just do it!” 

yunho hesitates, but a sharp tendril lashes towards him. he ducks and retreats, heading inside to protect the passengers. 

muhan train – living nightmare train car – night

the interior of the train shifts and slowly becomes unrecognizable. walls pulsate with fleshy growths, and even grotesque eyes and mouths form sporadically, watching and whispering. mingi wakes up to this sudden nightmare, body stiff from the unnatural slumber. he shakes his head as he grabs a nearby pole for support to stand up. 

“what the hell is going on?” he asks, looking around completely horrified. “this really is a horror movie!”

yunho runs towards him, slamming a tendril aside with his fist. “mingi, help me! we need to protect the passengers!” 

mingi nods, steeling himself, and the two begin tearing tendrils away from the unconscious passengers. managing to destroy and burn away the grotesque flesh that covered the car walls. 

muhan train – train roof – night

you fight with everything you have. slashing through webs of tendrils, your body bleeding from multiple cuts. the train’s transformation has made the fight infinitely harder – yena is everywhere. 

“you can’t kill what’s become eternal, little villain,” yena sneers. 

you grit your teeth, sword glowing bright as you channel more energy into it. “watch me.” you then drive your blade into the train roof, sending a shockwave through the mutated structure. yena screams, momentarily destabilized, as parts of the train begin to reverie to normal.

muhan train – living nightmare train car – night

yunho and mingi manage to protect the last of the passengers, securing each of the passenger cars. 

yunho looked up, “do you think y/n is doing okay?” 

mingi looks up as well, “she’s stronger than all of us put together, yunho. she’s got this.” 

yunho licks his lips at mingi’s words, “i hope so, for her sake especially.”

muhan train – train roof – night

you continue to fight, your injuries mounting. yena, now more monstrous than human, laughs as her tendrils lash out. you dodge, though one catches your side, slamming you into the roof. you let out a couch, blood splattering onto the metal. 

yena leans closer to you, “you’re resilient, i’ll give you that. but you’re only delaying the inevitable.”

you grip your sword tightly, glaring at the demon, “inevitable? maybe, but i’ll still win.” 

with a roar, you lunge forward, slashing wildly. the blade glows brighter with each strike, curing through yena’s defenses. finally, you spot yena’s neck – embedded deep within the train’s core. you leap into the air, bringing your sword down in one final, desperate strike. 

“die already!” you scream out. the blade servers yena’s neck, and the demon lets out a bloodcurdling scream as her body begins to disintegrate. the train convulse violently, throwing you to side. 

the power behind your attack has the training derailing, lying on its side in a broken heap. passengers awaken slowly, groggy but alive. yunho helps some of them out while mingi finds you thrown on the other side of the tracks, bleeding heavily. 

derailment site – night

the area is silent except for the crackling of smoldering wreckage from the now derailed train. mingi crouches beside you, helping you sit up after having been thrown off the train, your blood-soaked clothes sticking to her skin. you wince as he carefully presses a piece of torn fabric against her side to staunch the bleeding. 

“stay still, y/n. you’ve lost too much blood already.” 

you grimace, “you’re one to talk… you’re just as banged up.”

“you’re way worse off. besides, someone’s gotta keep you alive.” 

the moment of tense peace between you both is shattered by the sound of slow, deliberate footsteps crunching on gravel. a figure emerges from the shadows – a man with a sharp, predatory grin and glowing crimson eyes that read 상위삼 – upper three. the demon from the villain alliance, you conclude, strolls forward. his movements are unnervingly casual, his aura radiating just as menacingly. 

“well, well. looks like i just missed the show, huh?”

mingi quickly stands, stepping protectively in front of you, “who are you?”

the demon lets out a mocking laugh, “aw, you don’t recognize me? i’m hurt. yeonjun, upper rank three of the villain alliance. and you… you’re mingi, right? the loud and flashy one.”

“if you’re looking for a fight, you’re got one.”

you struggle to push yourself up, your hand gripping your sword tightly. “mingi, don’t—

mingi turns to you, “stay down, y/n. you’re in no shape to fight.”

“you can’t take him on alone! don’t be stupid!”

“don’t worry. i’ve got this. after this, we’ll go get something good to eat, okay?” he says, smiling reassuringly to you. you hesitate, jaw tightening, but you finally nod, clutching your wound as you watch mingi step forward. 

“oh, this is gonna be fun,” yeonjun says with a grin. 

mingi charges first, throwing a heavy punch aimed at yeonjun’s face. the demon dodged effortlessly, countering with a kick to mingi’s stomach that sends him skidding back. 

“is that all you’ve got?” he laugh, “come on hero, show me some real power!”

mingi doesn’t respond, rushing back in with a flurry of punches and kicks. his fists land solid blows on yeonjun’s chest, but the demon barely flinches, his wounds healing almost instantly. 

“you’re strong, i’ll give you that. but you’re holding back. still clinging to your humanity.” yeonjun strikes back, his claws raking across mingi’s arm, leaving deep gashes. blood splatters onto the ground, but mingi doesn’t falter. he lands a powerful uppercut that sends yeonjun staggering. 

“humanity’s what makes me stronger than you,” mingi says proudly. 

“oh, please! don’t give me that righteous crap. you’d be unstoppable as a demon. think about it – we could fight like this forever! no limits, no consequences. just endless battles!” 

“not interested.”

the fight intensifies, with mingi and yeonjun exchanging brutal blows. mingi’s knuckles are raw and bleeding, and his breathing grows labored. yeonjun, meanwhile, remains eerily unscathed, his wounds closing as quickly as they open. you watch from the sidelines, clutching your side. your eyes dart between the two fighters, your frustration building as you realize mingi is starting to falter. 

“mingi, stop! you’re gonna get yourself killed!” you shout, panic running through your body and tone. yeonjun smirks, his claws glowing faintly with a dark energy. 

“she’s right, you know. you can’t win this.” the demon lunges, his claws piercing through mingi’s chest. blood pours from the wound as mingi gasps, his body jerking in shock. 

“no!” you scream, terror running through your body. you reach forward, wound shooting a sharp pain through your being and you fall forward. 

despite the mortal injury, mingi musters the last of his strength, his fist glows with energy. he slams it into yeonjun’s face, sending the demon flying backwards. the villain lands with a grunt, momentarily stunned, but his body begins to regenerate almost instantly. 

“you really are stubborn. i’ll give you that, but this? this is just sad,” he says disappointedly. 

mingi collapses to his knees, blood dripping from his lips as his strength finally gives out. you manage to stumble to your feet, sword in hand, vision swimming from blood loss. 

yeonjun notices the faint glow of the horizon as the sun begins to rise. his expression shifts from amusement to alarm. he then starts running back into the dense forest, you wobbling after him shouting. 

“you… you bastard! you coward! come back and finish this!” you say staggering forward and making it to the forest line. 

“you think i’m running from you? that’s cute,” he laughs as he gets further and further away. 

you, in a desperate move, throw your sword. the blade slices through the air and impales yeonjun’s chest. the demon falters, yanking the sword out with a grimace before fully disappearing into the shadows. 

“you coward!” you scream with as much strength as you could muster. 

derailment site – sunrise

you stumble back towards mingi, falling to your knees in front of him. his breathing is shallow, his face pale. you press your hands against his chest, trying to stop the bleeding. 

“st-stay with me, mingi. come on, you promised me food, remember? you can’t back out now,” you tell him panicking. 

mingi smiles faintly, his voice barely a whisper, “are… are the passengers safe?”

you feel tears begin to build up in your eyes, “yeah. they’re safe. you did it.”

yunho arrives, climbing over the other side of the tracks after having helped the passengers and contacted the association. what was a look of relief turns into sheer horror as he sees mingi’s condition. 

“mingi! no, no, no!” he drops to his knees in front of his friend and beside you, trying desperately to heal him, but it’s too late. 

“take care of her. and… don’t let each other skip any meals.” with one final breath, mingi goes still. 

yunho lets out a loud sob, screaming into the sky as he calls out to mingi, his best friend. “mingi! no! please!” 

you sit silently in front of mingi, tears streaming down your face as you stare at your blood-covered hands. you look up to see a lone crow circling above them, its caw echoing in the still morning air.

ACT III: WINTER IS COMING

daegu district – funeral hall - day

the room is quiet, filled with somber faces and the scent of white lilies. a framed photo of mingi rests at the front, surrounded by wreaths from both family, friends, the hero association, and mingi’s fans. yunho and hongjoong stand near the back, dressed in black suits, their expressions tense and heavy. 

yunho’s jaw is tight as he glances towards mingi’s parents at the front of the hall. his mother dabs a handkerchief at her eyes, while his father gaze stays locked on the floor, one hand around his wife’s shoulder and the other clenched into a fist at his side. 

“have you talked to them yet?” yunho asks, whispering to hongjoong.

“no,” hongjoong says flatly. yunho frowns but doesn’t press further.

daegu district – outside funeral hall – after the service

the crowd slowly began to thin, eventually leaving only yunho, hongjoong, and mingi’s parents. the four stand in the funeral home’s quiet garden. tension hangs thick in the air as mingi’s father finally speaks.

“you have some nerve showing your faces here,” mr. song spits out angrily at the two heroes. 

yunho steps forward, his voice steady but strained. “we’re here to pay our respects.” 

“respects?” mrs. song’s voice trembles with bitterness as she talks, “is that what you call this? he’s dead because of you.”

yunho flinches, but hongjoong doesn’t react, his expression unreadable. 

mr. song points an accusing finger towards yunho, “you dragged him into this – into being a hero. if it weren’t for you, he’d still be alive.” 

yunho’s hands ball into fists, but he keeps his tone measured. “mingi chose to become a hero because he wanted to make a difference. he believed in what we were doing.” 

“and look where it got him! he should have stayed here, with us, where he was safe. but no, he had to go off chasing some foolish dream and get himself killed!” his mother snarled. the words cut deep, but yunho refused to back down. 

“he wasn’t chasing a foolish dream. he was trying to protect people – people like you.”

mr. song steps forward, his face contorted with more rage than grief, “don’t you dare try to justify this to us. you think we care about your excuses? our son is gone, and it’s your fault!”

before yunho can respond, hongjoong bows deeply, his head low. “you’re right. this is our fault. we failed him, and for that, we’re sorry.”

the gesture catches everyone off guard, including yunho. 

mingi’s mother scoffs, her voice cold as she sneers at hongjoong and his action, “sorry? what good is sorry? it won’t bring him back. just leave. both of you.”

hongjoong straightens, his face blank, and nods. without another word, he turns and begins 

daegu district – outside funeral hall – late afternoon

the two walk in silence, the weight of the encounter pressing down on them. finally, yunho breaks the silence. 

“why did you do that?” he asks his captain angrily. 

hongjoong doesn’t look at him, his voice quiet but firm. “because it’s what they needed to hear.” 

“they needed to hear the truth! that mingi was a hero, that he died protecting people! not some empty apology that makes it sound like we didn’t care!” yunho says, feeling all his emotions about to explode out of him. 

hongjoong stops abruptly, turning to face yunho. “you think i don’t care?” he says, voice rising, “you think this doesn’t tear me apart, too?”

yunho glares at him, emotions continuing to boil over. “then why do you always act like nothing touches you? like you don’t feel anything?” 

“because someone has to keep it together. someone has to be the one to face people like them and take the blame if it means they get even a shred of peace.”

yunho’s anger falters, replaced by a flicker of understanding. “you don’t have to carry it all on your own, you know,” yunho says quietly. 

hongjoong exhales deeply, running a hand through his hair. “i know, but it’s easier this way.” they stand in silence for a moment, the tension easing slightly. 

“mingi wouldn’t want us to be like this. he’d want us to look out for each other,” yunho says softly. 

hongjoong nods, gaze distant, “you’re right.”

the two continue walking as the sun begins to set. side by side, the tension between them slowly fading along with an unspoken promise of healing lingering between them.

seoul district – living room – night 

a group of older adults sit around a fireplace, glasses of wine in hand. laughter fills the room as they exchange words and stories. one of them, a well-dressed man in 50s, leans back in his chair and takes a sip of his drink. 

“you know, our little girl’s been reading college-level texts since she was eight. smart as a whip, that one!” he says and his wife next to him smiles. 

“she’s going to take the hero association to new heights, i’m sure of it. honestly, we couldn’t be prouder – even if she isn’t… well, you know.”

“adopted or not, she’s clearly got your drive,” the other woman says. 

“yes, it's a shame that she suffers from a strange condition, not being able to go outside during the day though hasn’t killed her drive though,” the first man said. the group laughs and continues their chatter, their voices a warm hum against the crackling fire. 

seoul district – home library – night

upstairs, a young girl, no older than thirteen, stands in a room with the walls lined with towering bookshelves. the room is softly lit, casting shadows across the spines of ancient tomes and leather-bound books. the girl’s small hands flip through a dense book written in an unfamiliar language. 

her attention sharpens as she scans the pages, her lips forming silent words, able to follow along easily with the unfamiliar script. a faint breeze causes the sheer curtains on the balcony doors to sway, though the night outside is still. 

the balcony doors creak open, a tall figure steps inside, his movements measured and deliberate. yeonjun enters, bowing low as the curtains blow around him. 

“lady nicha,” yeonjun’s voice is low and respectful. the complete opposite of what it was during his fight with mingi. 

the girl turns slowly, her youthful face serene, yet unnervingly cold. her dark eyes flash a vivid, burning red, illuminating her face for an instant before fading back to normal. she tilts her head, studying him like he was a mere insect to her.

“you’re late,” her voice, mature and calm, is the complete opposite of her youthful and innocent appearance. 

“i came as quickly as i could,” he keeps his head low as he speaks. eyes staying towards the floor and not daring to look at the girl in front of him. 

nicha closes the book with soft thud, even so a ripple of air rushes through the room due to her single action. though her stature is small, the air around her is suffocating, charged with unlimited power. 

“report.”

yeonjun straightens but keeps his gaze averted, respectfully. “the train mission was… partially successful. the hero mingi is dead.”

nicha’s expression remains unchanged, her eyes unblinking as she continues to stare at yeonjun. waiting for him to continue with his report. 

he hesitates for a moment before continuing, “but the other hero and the female villain survived.” the room grows deathly silent at his words. 

“didn’t i tell you to kill all of them?” nicha’s voice is soft, yet menacing. the air ripples with an unseen force. the books on the shelves around them tremble. 

“the sun was rising soon. i couldn’t stay much longer. if i had—

a sudden deafening crack interrupts him as the windows behind him shatter. shards of glass explode and fly inward. yeonjun doesn’t flinch, though his shoulders tense. the glass hovers mid-air for a split second before raining down on the floor. 

the room itself seems to quake, the walls vibrating faintly under nicha’s silent fury. she steps towards yeonjun, her bare feet crunching softly against the scattered glass. she doesn’t flinch as the glass shards pierce her feet. 

“excuses,” she spits, voice low and full of venom. yeonjun swallows hard but remains rooted in place, his eyes fixed on the ground. unmoving. 

nicha then tilts her head, like a curious child, “do you think i care about the sun? or your limits?” her voice echoes unnaturally through the room. reverberating as if spoken by many voices at once. 

yeonjun struggles to maintain his composure, “it won’t happen again. i’ll finish the job.” nicha’s lips curve into a faint smile, though her eyes and the smile itself remains devoid of warmth. 

“no, it won’t.” the tension in the air snaps as quickly as it rose. nicha turns away from yeonjun, dismissing him with a flick of her hand. “leave.”

yeonjun hesitates for a fraction of a second before bowing deeply and retreating. he steps carefully through the broken glass, his movements eerily silent. the balcony doors close behind him, and nicha turns back to her book. she resumes where she left off, her expression as calm as if nothing had happened. 

ateez compound – common room – night

the compound is unusually quiet. the common room feels colder than usual, the air heavy with grief. jongho, wooyoung, and yeosang sit together on the couch. none of them speak for a while, each lost in their thoughts. 

“it doesn’t feel real,” wooyoung says softly, finally breaking the silence. 

jongho, sitting with his elbows on his knees, nods but doesn’t lift his head. “i keep thinking he’s going to walk through the door. make some dumb joke about how we’re all too serious,” he says quietly. 

yeosang leans back, staring at the ceiling, voice distant and solemn, “he always made it look so easy. like no matter how bad things got, he’d figure it out.” 

wooyoung lets out a shaky laugh, but it’s devoid of humor, “that’s because he was stubborn as hell. he hated giving up on anything.” 

there’s a brief silence as the three exchange a look. despite their different temperaments, the loss of mingi has brought them closer in their unfortunate shared grief. 

“we should’ve been there,” jongho says, voice full of regret. 

yeosang shakes his head at the youngest’s words, “we can’t think like that. it’s not what he’d want,” yeosang’s voice is soft but firm. 

wooyoung’s eyes glisten, but he blinks them away, refusing to let the tears fall. “he was family. all of us… we’re family, right?” he asks, staring at his hands. 

jongho and yeosang both nod, their faces set with quiet determination. yeosang looks at the both of them, “and family sticks together. no matter what.”

ateez compound – infirmary – night

the sterile, white walls of the infirmary feel suffocating. you sit on the edge of the bed, side bandaged, but face still pale from the results of the last mission. the faint sound of the compound’s hum buzzes in the background and slowly in your mind. you stare out the window, moonlight illuminating your face. 

your eyes are hollow, expression distant. one hand absentmindedly touches the bandages on your abdomen. “i should’ve done more,” you whisper to yourself. 

a single tear escapes, sliding down your cheek. suddenly, your nose begins to bleed. you wipe it quickly with the back of your hand, frowning. your eyes immediately snap to the infirmary door, watching as san steps into the room, carrying a small tray with supplies. 

“i figured you’d still be awake,” he says, sitting down beside her. 

“i can’t sleep,” you say in reply, softly. san places the tray on the side table, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. 

“no one blames you, y/n,” he says quietly.

your jaw tightens, and you look away, voice trembling, “that’s a lie. either way… i blame me.” 

san reaches out, hand hovering near yours before pulling back. “you fought harder than anyone else could’ve in your condition.” 

“it wasn’t enough! mingi’s gone because i wasn’t strong enough to stop that bastard!” your voice cracks, and a faint glow of your powers flickers around your fingers. the air in the room becomes momentarily heavy. san tenses but stays calm. 

“y/n,” he calls out to her, soft but firm. the sound of his voice pulls you back, and the glow dissipates. you exhale shakily, guilt washing over you.

“i’m sorry,” you say quietly. 

“you don’t have to apologize.” there’s a long silence before san gestures to the bandages on her abdomen. “let me change those for you.” 

you hesitate but eventually nod, lifting the hem of your shirt to reveal the bloodstained bandages underneath. san’s fingers brush against your skin as he helps you take your shirt off before he carefully unwraps the bandages, his touch gentle but precise. the intimacy isn’t lost for either of you. you watch him closely, the room growing quieter as the tension between you builds. 

“does it hurt?” he asks, glancing up at you. 

“not as much as it did before,” you tell him softly. 

san chuckles faintly, his voice low, “you’re tougher than you give yourself credit for.”

his fingers linger for a moment over your wound, his finger edging around the stitches some agent from the association had done when they arrived at the derailment site. you feel your breath caught in your chest when you feel him push down on the stitches. like he was testing the durability of your stitches. you feel your heart begin to pound in your chest the more he presses down. 

“san…” you manage out, his eyes flicker up to meet your own. 

“does that hurt?” he asks, eyes never yours, fingers pressing down into your wound. 

“a little…” you trail off, feeling the sting begin to build up. as the pain from his touch begins to spread, you feel a certain heat also begin to spread over you. the pain and heat mixing in your body making your heart jump in your chest, breath hitching. 

your hand comes up to grab a fistful of san’s shirt when you feel your stitches finally giving out. a gasp leaves your lips, but san muffles any remaining sounds that want to escape. his lips pressing to yours in an open mouth, tongue abusing yours as two of his fingers jab into your wound – into you. 

san’s mouth trails from your mouth and down your jaw, tongue leaving a wet trail over your skin. he trails his tongue over your jaw and down your throat where he meets your death collar. you hear grumbled over the collar before skipping over and continuing down. he meets your lips again when you pull him back up to kiss you, his fingers teasingly moving in and out of your wound. 

the pain making your moan and clench your eyes shut, jaw clenched, san is panting heavily in your ear like a dog in heat at the feeling of your insides. 

“f-fuck,” he pants out, you cringe at the lewd, wet sounds your wound and his fingers are making together. you feel a little embarrassed about it, but the way he reacts makes the heat from your core reappear – as if it even disappeared. you’re just as sick as he is, you think to yourself. your hand comes down to his crotch, palming the noticeable tent in his pants. san lets out a moan, lips crushing yours when your hands travels inside his pants and grabs his cock. 

your tongues do a wild dance, spit running down your chins as his free hand grips your hair and keeps your head in place. the sting from his grip mixed with penetration of your wound sends a pleasurable wave over your body. your hand gives san’s tip a squeeze making him thrust up into your hand. 

“fuckfuckfuck,” san pants out, as you feel him curl his fingers, “feels so good,” he adds, eyes glazed over with a look of lust. 

“s-san,” you moan out as you suddenly both his hands are moving, his left fingers covered in blood that he spreads over the expanse of your body as he moves you to lay down. you let go of his cock, eyes watching as it stands red and angry at being let go. precum beads at the top of his tip trailing down the length of it and the sight makes you even more hornier than you were. 

blood begins to run out of your newly open wound, but san effortlessly uses his powers to stop it. how convenient. you let out a small wince when he bends you in half, yanking your pants and underwear to your knees. “sorry– can’t wait,” he rushes out as you feel his tip rub between your folds that were already slick and easily helping him slip inside of you.  

the two of you let out a string of moans as san enters you, his cock stretching you out and there’s a slight sting to his stretch. only thanks to not having him inside you for the past several months. you honestly were starting to forget how good it felt to have him inside you. san immediately begins to thrusts inside of you, holding onto your legs as leverage. 

“fuck– i forgot how good this pussy is,” he hisses out as his cock hits your g-spot, over and over again. you feel your eyes roll into the back of your head at the feeling, mouth hanging open and moans spilling into the air. the lewd wet sounds from just moments ago, return as san continues to fuck your pussy. your wetness smearing up your thighs and over your ass as his pace doesn’t stop once he finally found a good pace. 

“damn infirmary beds… too fuckin’ small,” he spits out as one of his legs almost fall off the side from how he tries to spread you out more. you feel the head of his cock hitting your sweet spot, head thrown back you feel your climax continue to build up. 

“s-s-san-nie! i’m close!” you tell him, you feel his fingers digging into the backs of thighs as he begins to drill into you with his cock. if you weren’t getting your insides rearranged then you would have been worried about the infirmary bed. thankfully, san’s powers have to do with blood and not strength. 

however, his natural strength was nothing to laugh about. 

you let out a choked sob as you feel yourself coming. san sheathes himself deep inside of you as he also comes. his thick cum painting your walls and even dripping out as san tries to fuck it back into you. he pulls out, running the head and base of his cock between your creamy folds, watching with a daze expression. 

you let a hiss of pain out when your orgasm subsides and the pain from your open wound begins to overtake you. 

san seems to snap out of it as he’s quickly fixing himself and you. he looks at your wound, gently touching it, his fingers still coated in your now dried blood. 

“let me fix you up,” he says, grabbing what he needs and begins to patch up your wound. “there,” he says softly once your wound is closed once more. 

“san…” you say quietly as you sit up. his eyes meet yours, expression unreadable now, but filled with something. 

“does it still hurt?” he asks softly, reaching over to grab new bandages and you shake your head. “good,” he adds, wrapping the new bandages around your abdomen. 

“thanks,” you tell him when he’s done and finally help you put your shirt back on. the earlier mood seemingly settling back between the two of you. mind racing as you think back to how if you had been stronger than you won’t have suffered the wounds you did. you could’ve helped mingi and maybe he would still be here.

“you don’t have to carry this alone,” he tells you softly, snapping you out of your thoughts. you blink, tears welling up again. 

“i… i don’t know how to move forward,” you confess. san places a hand on your shoulder, his thumb brushing lightly against your collarbone. 

“one step at a time. me and seonghwa… we’ll be there with you. for you,” he says, your faces inches apart. the tension between you both is almost visible. neither of you move, the moment hanging in the air before you look away, breaking the spell. 

“thank you.”

san doesn’t respond, but his hand lingers on your shoulder for a moment longer before he pulls away. the two of you sit in silence, the weight of your grief and unspoken emotions filling the room.

ateez compound – common room – day

the compound has become quieter the last few days, somber stillness that reflected the weight of mingi’s death. you sat alone at the kitchen table, which was connected into the common room, staring at the half-empty cup of tea in front of you. the guilt you had been feeling was unbearable. a constant ache in your chest that refused to fade. you replayed the moment over and over again, mind torturing you with the what-ifs. 

wooyoung leaned against the wall nearby, his arms crossed as he stared out the window. every so often his sharp gaze would flicker over to you, who remained unmoving. the tension between them and the rest of the team had been simmering for days, about ready to boil over at any second. 

“you’re really just sitting there?” he finally asked, voice low but cutting. you chose not to respond to him. fingers tightening around the mug instead. “answer me!” wooyoung snapped, stepping closer. now in the kitchen area. “do you feel anything? mingi is dead! and you’re sitting here like it’s just another day!”

you flinched slightly at his words, guilt twisting even tighter, but before you could muster a reply, san stood abruptly from his spot by the other large window in the common room. “that’s enough, wooyoung,” he says, his voice full of warning and danger, not to mention laced with a certain coldness. 

“enough? are you kidding me?” wooyoung sounds offended by san’s words, his eyes blazing as he directs his attention to san. “mingi died because of her! if she hadn't been so–

“don’t you dare fucking finish that sentence,” san cuts him off, stepping close until they were just nearly nose-to-nose with each other. his fists clenched at his sides, just barely able to restrain himself from punching the hero. “you have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“i know exactly what i’m talking about,” wooyoung shot back. “she’s clearly a liability. always has been since day one, and now mingi’s gone because of it. i’m surprised yunho isn’t dead too because of her.”

“wooyoung, stop!” yeosang tries to step in, but he was immediately drowned out by the argument. 

san’s jaw tightened, “mingi’s death isn’t her fault. she risked her life to save those passengers and was injured because of that demon. how was she supposed to know an even stronger one was going to show up right after? huh? tell me that.”

wooyoung let out a bitter laugh, one full of anger and disbelief. “you always defend her, don’t you? no matter what she does, you’re always there to protect her. i thought she was one the world’s worst villains, can she not protect herself?”

“and you’re always looking for someone to blame,” san retorts, “mingi wouldn’t want this – wouldn’t want you tearing the team apart because you can’t deal with your grief and personal issues! you’ve been hostile since day one, wooyoung, don’t you have anything else better to do than be this petty?”

wooyoung’s hands balled into fists, elements of fire and ice sparking off both hands, “don’t you dare talk to me about grief! at least i actually cared about mingi. at least i–

“enough!” jongho’s voice echoes through the room as he steps between them, shoving them apart with a firm grip on each of their shoulders. “both of you stop this right now. fighting each other won’t bring him back.” 

san shrugs jongho’s hand off with a huff as he reluctantly steps back. wooyoung scowled but didn’t push further; however, the anger in his eyes didn’t fade. from across the room, seonghwa, who had been silent observing, finally spoke. 

“this isn’t helping anyone. least of all mingi.” 

wooyoung muttered something under his breath that no one caught before storming out of the common room. his footsteps echoing through the hallway. 

yeosang, who had also been watching quietly, approached you. he placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, his expression soft as you look up at him with tired eyes. “come on. let’s get out of here for a bit,” he says quietly. you hesitate for a moment before nodding, face pale and drawn from watching san and wooyoung as you let yeosang guide you out of the room. you both walked in silence down the corridor, tension still heavy in the air for everyone. 

“don’t let him get to you,” yeosang says eventually, his voice calm but firm. he does his best in trying to assure you. 

you stopped walking and leaned against the wall, hands trembling. “he’s right, though,” you whispered. “i failed. i couldn’t save mingi.” 

yeosang shook his head, his hands gently coming to support yours, “you did what you could. none of this is your fault, and if it wasn’t for you there would have been a lot more casualties. you did a good thing.” 

tears began to well up in your eyes as you listened to speak, despite trying to blink them away. “it feels like my fault. every time i close my eyes, i see him. he fought so hard, we were supposed to get something to eat after the mission. he promised.” 

yeosang leaned against the wall beside you, his presence steady and grounding. “we’ve all lost people, y/n. but you don’t have to carry this by yourself. you’ve got us to help you through this. we are all figuring this out, together.” 

you looked up at him, vision blurry with tears, yet you still managed a small, grateful smile, “thank you, yeosang.” 

before he could respond, jongho comes rushing down the corridor, expression tense. you don’t think you’ve seen jongho look like this, not since when you first met him a few months ago. “someone’s approaching the compound,” he says breathlessly. 

you and yeosang exchanged a look before you are following after jongho to the main entrance. wooyoung is already there, fists clenched and fire and ice seeping off his fingers. he’s ready just in case. 

then you see them. a long figure staggered closer, silhouette weak and unsteady. it was a young woman. as she came closer, you could tell the three heroes immediately recognized her. she had to be a fellow hero. 

“it’s winter,” yeosang says, eyes flickering over to meet yours. like he was filling you in on who this was. winter? you think you’ve heard that name being tossed around before when you were still in prison. some of the male villains idolizing her, having crushes on her despite her being a hero and them villains.

winter’s uniform was torn and soaked with blood, her face pale and bruised as she nearly collapsed at the entrance. you can’t help but notice how despite her torn uniform and injuries, the light pink shawl with stars on it remained… almost untouched as it draped around her arms. jongho and yeosang rushed over to support her, each of them taking an arm to help steady her as they carefully helped her inside. 

“my team…” winter began to say, her voice weak and trembling as she let out a small gasp, “we were attacked. a-a villain– demon, i don’t know what it was. they’re all dead! i’m– i’m the only one who made it out,” she tells you all, tears beginning to build up in her eyes. 

wooyoung frowned at the news, “you can stay here until hongjoong and yunho get back. they’ll know what to do.” 

you watch as winter’s gaze swept the room before she immediately caught her breath, eyes narrowing when they landed on you, san, and seonghwa. “i didn’t think the rumors were true. that the hero association made you work with villains,” she said, her tone in clear disdain at you and your two lovers. 

you looked away, eyes moving over your team. yeosang looked slightly surprised by her words while jongho, seonghwa, and wooyoung – surprisingly – remained neutral. san; however, looked at winter with a match of disdain, his eyes narrowing on her. like he was trying to figure her out. 

“especially her,” you heard winter say, you snapped your attention back to her, her eyes boring right into you, “everyone knows how dangerous she is.” 

“watch your fucking mouth,” san snapped, his voice sharp and glare icy as he stepped forward. 

“san,” wooyoung’s tone is one of warning, “don’t start.” 

“i’m not starting anything,” he shot back, “but i’m not going to stand here and listen to some crap nonsense.” 

“nonsense?” winter scoffed, “she’s a clear liability. i’m surprised the association even let her out.”

“enough!” san’s voice booms through the room, silencing winter who stares at the villain in shock, “you don’t know anything about her.” he hisses, pointing a finger at her in warning. 

but then wooyoung steps up, “and you don’t know what to back off,” he counters, stepping closer to san. “you’re so blinded by your feelings for her that you can’t see the truth. is her pussy really that good?”

before anyone could react, san punches wooyoung which in turn sends the hero stumbling back and falling to the ground. blood drips from wooyoung’s nose, jaw clenched as he turns to look back at san. 

“say that again, wooyoung. i fucking dare you,” san’s fist are still clenched, waiting for wooyoung to once again run his mouth. 

wooyoung stands up, blood smearing across his face as he attempts to wipe it away, but before he could do anything further with san, yeosang steps between them. “guys, stop!” his voice is sharper and more commanding than you have ever heard from the usually soft-spoken hero. “we have more important things to deal with right now, and none of them involve fighting each other.” 

seonghwa comes and places a calming hand on san’s shoulder, his voice low, “let’s go.” 

san hesitates, his gaze landing on wooyoung before turning and lingering on winter for a moment before turning away. “this isn’t over,” he mutters, allowing seonghwa to guide him and you out of the room. 

as you walked away, you notice san glancing over his shoulder, eyes narrowing once more. you know he was suspicious about winter, something clearly not sitting right with him about her. but he didn’t say anything to either you or seonghwa. keeping his thoughts to himself, you couldn’t deny the sense of unease settled around you three. 

ateez compound – common room – few days later

the atmosphere in the compound had grown overwhelmingly thick with tension over the past several days. winter, oblivious to the tension she was causing, settled into a room and easily integrated herself into the team’s space. her injuries healed surprisingly fast, and she often roamed the halls, stopping sometimes to exchange casual remarks with her fellow heroes. 

wooyoung, for one, didn’t seem to mind her presence. spending more time with her than anyone else has, sharing meals or discussing tactics. he calms he just wants her to feel welcomed, but yeosang tells you he thinks otherwise. winter’s willingness to integrate herself so quickly, barely mourning the grief of her teammates, made san’s suspicions grow with each passing day.

“she’s not who she says she is,” san muttered under his breath during a meeting in the common area. you had chosen to stay in your room, shutting yourself away from everyone. the absence of mingi and the growing tension making you unable to tolerate being in the same room as the others. wooyoung especially. 

wooyoung let out a dramatic sigh, slamming his cup down on the table. “for the last time, san, she’s a hero! she’s on our side!” 

“and you’re so sure of that?” san shoots back, voice low but clearly full of distrust. “she just shows up, conveniently alive after her entire team is killed, and we’re supposed to believe she’s fine?” 

“what’s your problem, huh?” wooyoung counters, standing up from his chair. “are you mad because someone else is able to see how much of a liability you two and y/n are? that you should’ve stayed in prison to rot?”

san’s eyes darkened, his collar digging into his skin, and his fists clenched at his sides, “don’t you dare bring seonghwa and y/n into this.” 

“oh, i’ll bring them into this,” wooyoung says, stepping closer and voice rising. “you’re so suspicious of winter, yet ever since the three of you joined, the number of demon attacks have also increased! and how convenient that when y/n is sent on a mission there’s not one, but two demons from the twelve moons that show up! how is that not suspicious!”

seonghwa, who had been silently observing from the corner, finally speaks up, “both of you, enough. arguing isn’t going to help anything, especially when we need to be a team more than ever.”

“she’s dangerous,” san says through gritted teeth, pointing towards the hallway where winter had disappeared moments ago. 

“and you’re paranoid,” wooyoung snaps back, brushing past san as he leaves the room. 

san exhaled sharply, jaw tight as he sat back down, his mind racing with uneasy thoughts. jongho who had stood at the front of the room let out an annoyed sigh, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“great meeting everybody, glad we got things accomplished,” he says sarcastically.

ateez compound – y/n’s room – ████

your room was shrouded in a heavy stillness, the air thick with the weight of your grief. the blinds were tightly shut, casting the space in darkness. you lay curled up in your bed, knees drawn to your chest, staring at the blank wall. your heart ached with the guilt that continuously gnawed at you, an endless replay of mingi’s final moments in your mind. it was fucking awful. 

a soft knock broke through the silence, but you didn’t respond. had you even heard the knock in the first place?

the door creaked open, and seonghwa stepped inside, carrying a tray of food. his footsteps are quiet as he nears you, as if he understood the weight of the room and how it demanded silence. 

“y/n,” seonghwa’s voice is soft, laced with concern, “you need to eat.”

“i’m not hungry,” you reply, voice hoarse and barely audible. 

seonghwa sighed, setting the tray down on the bedside table before making his way over to the blinds and turning them just a hair to where light was shining in. the room now shrouded in a form of twilight. seonghwa lowers himself onto the edge of your bed. his gaze gentle but insistent, even if you can’t see him. your back facing him, you remain unmoving. 

“you’ve been in here for days. yeosang is worried. we all are,” he tells you, but you know that’s not the case. wooyoung surely isn’t and jongho just chooses to remain… neutral. you know hongjoong would have already killed you if he was here. it felt like a countdown just waiting for him and yunho to return. 

you chose not to respond, gaze fixed on the same spot on the wall. the silence stretched between the two of you, heavy and unyielding. 

without a word, seonghwa shifted closer. he reached out, his hand tentative and slow as he carefully reached up to brush some hair away from your face. his touch was warm, grounding. you didn’t deserve it. “y/n,” he murmured, voice breaking slightly. “please, don’t shut me out,” you feel your heart clenched. 

you eventually turned your head to look at him, eyes glassy with unshed tears. “i failed him,” you whispered, voice trembling. “if i hadn’t been injured in that fight with yena then i could’ve saved him.” 

seonghwa’s heart twists at hearing the anguish in your voice. he lays down beside you, pulling you into his arms. you tried to resist for a moment before giving up, collapsing against him, burying your face in his chest. 

“you didn’t fail him,” he said softly, voice steady despite the emotions threatening to spill over. “you did everything you could.” 

“i could’ve stopped that bastard, seonghwa. i could’ve– 

you cut your own self off as the tears you had been holding back finally broke free. body shaking as the tears began to soak through seonghwa’s shirt. 

“no,” he says, tone firm but gentle. he titled your chin up, forcing you to look at him. “you couldn’t have known. you couldn’t have done anything differently. don’t let this guilt consume you, y/n. you saved all those people on that train from that demon. you did something.” 

you stared at him, tears spilling over as your lips quivered. “i feel like i’m drowning,” you confessed, voice barely a whisper. “i can’t breathe. i can’t… i can’t do this.”

seonghwa’s arms tighten around you, his forehead knocking gently against yours. “you’re not alone,” he said, voice shaking slightly. “you hear me? you’re not alone in this. i’m here, san’s here, yeosang even. and i’ll always be here.” 

your sobs grew louder, emotions spiralling out of control. the room around you both began to shift. the walls ripped like waves, furniture flickered in and out of existence, and the air seemed to hum with an unnatural energy. 

seonghwa noticed but didn’t falter. he held you tighter, attempting to ground you with his presence. “breathe with me,” he whispers, voice soothing. “in and out. just focus on me.” 

you clung to seonghwa as if he were your lifeline, your ragged breaths slowly matching his steady rhythm. gradually, the room settled. the walls returned to their solid state, the flickering ceased, and the unnatural energy faded away. 

you pulled away slightly, face streaked with tears. “i’m scared,” you confessed, voice unstable as you continued. “i’m scared of losing control and hurting people i care about.”

seonghwa cups your face with his hands, thumb gently wiping the tears away. “you’re stronger than you think,” he tells you, voice filled with a quiet sureness. “you’ve been through so much and you’re still here. still fighting. that’s what matters most.” 

you feel your lower lip tremble as you search his eyes, finding only unwavering support and affection. unwavering love. “i don’t know if i can continue doing this alone,” you admitted softly. 

“and you won’t,” he tells you, “you have us. you have me.” 

for the first time in days, you feel a flicker of something other than guilt and grief. hope, perhaps? you let out a shaky breath and rest your forehead against his once again. “thank you,” you whisper, voice full of raw emotions and eyes looking at him with sincerity. 

seonghwa smiles soft, his arms still wrapped around you, “always,” he tells you, leaning over to pressing a soft kiss to your lips. 

you felt your breathing steady and tears finally stop, you allowed yourself to lean into him, feeling the weight of your grief just ever so slightly begin to lift. it was good to be reminded that seonghwa was here – san too – and that you weren’t alone. 

ateez compound – winter’s room – night

winter walks down the quiet corridor, her footsteps light and measured as the compound has settled into its usual nightly rhythm. her expression remains neutral, composed – a perfect mask of calm that easily hid the storm beneath. each step brought her closer to her room, where she knew she could let her guard down for a moment. 

she pushed the door open with a soft creaked sound. her hand instinctively reaches for the light switch, but she immediately freezes. 

someone was sitting on her bed. 

the faint light from the hallway cast a silhouette that is both commanding and terrifying. lady nicha.

the door closes behind winter as she immediately drops to both knees, bowing deeply, her head pressed against the cold floor. her voice was steady as she spoke, “lady nicha, i wasn’t expecting you.”

the air in the room felt heavy, suffocating, as if the walls themselves bowed to nicha’s presence. she sat clearly relaxed on the edge of the bed, her posture deceptively casual, but her eyes shined with a predatory sharpness. she tapped her painted, burgundy fingers against her knee. each movement deliberate, echoing in the tense silence. 

“rise,” she then commands, voice smooth yet still laced with authority that left no room for discussion. 

winter raised her body off the ground, still kneeling with her head slightly bowed. her star-patterned shawl shimmering in the moonlight that peeked into the room. “such a disguise you have,” nicha says, voice tilted with fake amusement.

nicha’s lips curved into a slow, wicked smile. “you’ve done well, wonyoung,” she purred, her voice a mix of praise and menace. “to think, they’ve welcomed you so easily and trusted you. allowed you to even sow discord among them, but, ah, i guess that part wasn’t so hard considering their distrust among each other.”

wonyoung tilted her head, her expression one of pride, “it’s as you planned, my lady. the seeds of doubt and tension are starting to blossom. they’re starting to fray at the edges.” 

nicha stood, the air around her growing heavier still. she approached wonyoung, her presence overwhelming. each step she took seemed to dim the light in the room, shadows pooling at her feet and seemed to have a mind of their own. “good,” she said, voice low and deliberate, “but your work is far from over.” 

wonyoung met her gaze for a moment, unwavering despite the oppressive and powerful aura that surrounded nicha. “what would you have me do, my lady?”

“take them out,” she says, tone sharp as a blade. “one by one, if you must. but the female villain, y/n…” she pauses, her eyes narrowing, a cruel smile playing on her lips. “she must suffer. break her and her power will surely destroy the rest.” 

wonyoung nodded, her expression determined, “i won’t fail you.” 

nicha’s smile widened, though it held no warmth. she raised a hand, her fingers brushing wonyoung’s cheek in a mockery of affection. the action, nonetheless, still sent a chill down wonyoung’s spine. “see that you don’t. i have no use for failures.”

the room seemed to pulse with nicha’s presence, the walls vibrating faintly as if the very fabric of reality bent to her will. “remember, child,” she continued, her voice a whisper that felt like a scream to wonyoung. “my power is what allowed you to stand here. do not make me regret granting it to you.” 

wonyoung bowed her head again, voice firm, “i will not disappoint you, lady nicha.”

nicha laughed softly, a sound that sent more shivers down wonyoung’s spine. “good,” she said, her form beginning to dissolve into the shadows that slowly gathered around her. “then go, prove yourself worthy of the power i’ve bestowed upon you.”

with her final words echoing inside the room, nicha’s presence dissolved, leaving the room eerily still. the oppressive weight lifted, but her dominance remained a lingering sense. like a phantom hand clutched wonyoung’s throat, reminding her to not fail. 

then, as the last traces of  nicha’s aura faded, wonyoung straightened up, standing up from the ground as her face hardened. “y/n,” she mumbled, a flicker of something unreadable crossing her features. “let’s see if you’re as strong as they say you are.” 

with a resolute breath, she turned in order to begin preparing for the next phase of her plan. nicha’s commands echoing in her mind, a constant reminder for the price of failure. failure that wasn’t an option for her.

ateez compound – common room – the next afternoon 

the morning light streamed from the compound’s windows and into the common room where jongho and yeosang were. a faint buzz from jongho’s phone interrupted their conversation, which leads him to glancing at the device before quickled opening the message. 

“what is it?” yeosang asks, noticing the subtle tension in jongho’s shoulders. 

“it’s from hongjoong,” jongho replied, voice low. “i told him and yunho about winter being here and what she said happened to her team.”

yeosang frowns, “do you think it's about that?”

jongho didn’t respond immediately, his eyes fully focused on the message as he read it. yeosang notes his face slowly drain of color, hand tightening around the phone. yeosang is afraid the younger hero is going to crush the device if he doesn’t let up. 

“jongho?” yeosang says, his concern growing. “what does it say?”

jongho hesitates, swallowing the lump that forms in his throat, voice with an unusual tremble as he replies, “they found her team… what was left of the bodies were recovered.”

yeosang’s brows furrowed at the news, “that’s awful, but why do you–

“winter’s body was found with them,” jongho cuts him off, voice shaking. 

a chilling silence falls between them, the weight of jongho’s words sinking in. yeosang’s eyes widened in disbelief, “what?”

jongho hands him the phone, letting him read the message himself, “hongjoong says we need to be careful. whoever’s here with us isn’t winter.”

“we need to tell the others now,” yeosang says, despite his mind racing at the sudden thought of potential danger within their own compound. 

jongho nodded, his expression grim as they split up. 

ateez compound – outside training grounds – afternoon 

you sat outside of the compound, enjoying the quietness of nature, but still trying to process everything that has happened over the past few days. your eyes flickered up towards the sky where you saw several crows flying around in a circle. five crows to be exact. their cawing sends a chill down your spine for reasons you can’t quite explain.

odd, you think to yourself. the last time you saw a crow was right after mingi–

the door behind your flies open and you turn to see yeosang running outside towards you. his urgency cutting through the peaceful air. “y/n, we have a problem.”

you meet yeosang halfway, placing a hand on his shoulder, “what’s wrong?”

“winter isn’t who she says she is. her body was found with her team,” he says, not wasting any time

your eyes widened as you process his words, “you’re saying… she’s an imposter?” san was right then, his suspicions that something wasn’t right with winter were true. 

yeosang nods his head, “yes. hongjoong just sent the intel. whoever’s been with us all this time isn’t winter. we need to act now.”

you looked at yeosang, voice calm but urgent as you spoke, “then let’s move. we can’t let her make the first move. where are the others?”

ateez compound – training room – afternoon

in the training area, seonghwa stood next to winter on the sidelines as he watched san and wooyoung spar. jongho enters the room, heart pounding as he approaches wooyoung. 

“wooyoung,” jongho calls out, trying to keep his voice steady as he gives a cautious look to winter. “i need to talk to you. it’s important.”

wooyoung raised an eyebrow, pausing his sparring. after years of working with jongho, he realized that something was wrong with the youngest. he was nervous despite being able to mask it well for the others in the room. “what’s up?”

“let’s talk somewhere else,” jongho says, glancing at winter out of the corner of his eye. 

winter tilted her head, faint smile playing on her lips, “why can’t you say it here?”

jongho hesitated, but before he could answer, san stepped forward, having also picked up on the shift of jongho’s eyes. san’s own eyes narrowing that the female hero, “maybe he doesn’t want you to hear it.”

winter’s smile faltered, her expression sharpening, “i don’t see why that would be a problem? unless, of course, you’re trying to hide something.” 

san let out a dry laugh, the tension almost touchable at this point, “funny, i was about to say the same thing to you.”

wooyoung stepped between them, his own frustration boiling over, “can you stop? this isn’t the time–

“actually,” jongho interrupts him, voice slightly louder now, “this is the time.” he adds as he takes a deep breath, his eyes locked on his teammate. “winter’s team was found, and so was she. dead.” 

the room fell deathly silent. 

then the sound of an unsettling laughter broke it.

the longer the laugh went, the louder and unsettling it became. all eyes turned to winter, who straightened her entire demeanor. she no longer looked like the hero, but instead her platinum blonde hair turning a pitch black. eyes becoming sharper, more dangerous. what were once brown shifted into an unnatural green, her pupils also shifting to where 상위육 could be clearly read. her once delicate features twisted into a cruel smirk as she looked at the group. 

“well,” she says, her voice dripping with mockery and fake disappointment, “it seems the charade is up.”  

san stepped forward, fists clenched, while wooyoung could only stare in shock and betrayal. jongho then spoke up, voice steady and firm, “get ready! this isn’t over!”

wonyoung’s smirk widened, her confidence unshaken, “oh, i’m counting on it.”

wonyoung’s shawl, now wrapped around her waist appears with a snake-patterned, shoot out from her arms, snapping toward san. the sudden attack forces san to leap back, just narrowly avoiding being impaled. wooyoung stumbles back in shock as the ribbons carve into the wall, leaving deep gashes. 

“she’s a demon!” seonghwa says right as the room erupts into chaos with the ribbons coiling and striking with lethal precision. wonyoung whirls, her snake-like ribbons extending and retracting at her will, smashing training dummies and throwing debris into the air. san ducks under one ribbon and slashes another with his hardened blood. the severed ribbon falling lifelessly to the ground. 

seonghwa turns to both wooyoung and jongho, “go, we’ll handle her!” jongho nods his head, turning towards wooyoung who is clearly hesitating for a moment. jongho grabs the older by the arm pulling him out of the training room. 

“come on, wooyoung, we need to send a message to the association!” wooyoung snaps out of his daze and nods, the two males rushing out and leaving the two villains to take care of the demon. 

“not just any type of demon, too, but a part of the twelve moons,” san says with gritted teeth. “but her upper six status means she should just be child’s play.”

seonghwa moves in from the side, his strikes calculated, but wonyoung twirls gracefully, her ribbons creating a barrier that easily deflects his attacks. she laughs, her voice echoing eerily throughout the room. 

“you think you can defeat me? how adorable.”

one ribbon wraps around san’s arm, lifting him off the ground and slamming him into a wall. he lets out a groan but manages to twist free and lands on his feet just as seonghwa launches a flurry of attacks. his sheer strength blowing through several of wonyoung’s ribbons. the demon’s movements are fluid, almost dance-like, as she dodges and counters. 

“she’s toying with us,” seonghwa says to san. 

“not for long,” he replies before charging forward, his blood shaped into hardened weapons. he slices through one of the ribbons, which recoils with a hiss, but two more easily snap towards him. seonghwa intercepts, his fist catching the ribbon mid-strike and easily ripping it apart. 

“impressive, but let’s see how long you last,” wonyoung purrs. she then slams her hand into the ground, ribbons erupt in every direction, tearing through the floor. san and seonghwa are forced to separate, dodging the onslaught. san sprints along the edge of the room, dodge debris, while seonghwa rushes head on, leaping into the air for higher ground. 

“seonghwa, now!”

seonghwa drives his clawed fist downward towards wonyoung. she blocks with her ribbons, but san takes the opportunity to strike from the side, slicing through another ribbon and grazing her arm. wonyoung hisses in pain, her composure faltering for the first time. 

“you’ll pay for that!” she snaps, her ribbons lash out wildly, one catching seonghwa in the side and throwing him across the room. he crashes into a pile of rubble, groaning in pain. san dodges and weaves, landing another strike on wonyoung, but she quickly retaliates by wrapping a ribbon around his ankle and yanking him off his feet. 

“let… go, damnit!” san swipes his blood through the ribbon, slicing it and rolling to his feet. he and seonghwa regroup, their breathing heavy. “been awhile since we’ve been this out of breath together, huh?” san comments with a smirk making seonghwa roll his eyes. 

wonyoung glares at them, blood trickling from a wound on her forehead, “enough of this!” she extends her arms, ribbons converge into a massive, writing mass above her head. with a deafening crack, she sends it crashing down towards the two villains. they dive in opposite directions, the impact leaving a large crater in the floor. 

“we need to end this now,” seonghwa says, a frown drawn across his face. san nods, his expression grim. they continue to launch several attacks, san striking high while seonghwa goes low. wonyoung struggles to keep up, her movements becoming more erratic as the two villains close in. finally, san manages to land a deathly blow, his blood blade slicing through her neck in one clean cut. 

wonyoung’s head falls from her body and to the floor, her body slumping to the floor on her knees. seonghwa and san are left panting, their bodies fighting to keep up with the fight they just went through. they both look down at the demon’s body, and that’s when they notice that wonyoung’s head and body isn’t disintegrating. 

instead, wonyoung’s head rolls around, body jerking to life as she begins to wail like a child, her voice piercing and unsettling. the sight of her still being alive sends a chill down both villains’ spines. 

“what the–

“this isn’t fair! this isn’t fair!” she wails out, fisting slamming against the ground as fat crocodile tears run down her face. “i was supposed to kill you all! devour you all! oppa, help me! oppa!” 

seonghwa and san freeze, expressions a mix of confusion and horror as they watch wonyoung’s body begin to convulse. her body jerks forward as the sound of flesh tearing fills the air as wonyoung’s back splits open. san is quick to realize another figure was crawling out of her body and jumps straight into action. 

his blade striking down, dusting covers the room as wonyoung’s cries fall silent for a moment. and for a split second san and seonghwa both think he’s managed to kill the new demon. 

“shh, i’m here,” a voice speaks behind both of them. both seonghwa and san whirl around to see the new demon crouched in front of a still sobbing wonyoung. reattaching her head to her body like it was nothing. 

“sunghoon-oppa, it's not fair!” wonyoung cries out as the male demon gives his sister a crooked smile. 

“it’s okay now,” he says, patting her head before standing. his eyes matching wonyoung’s reading 상위육 – upper six – and his expression is hardened. “i’ll take care of them. go handle the others,” he says, addressing wonyoung. wonyoung nods, her ribbons snapping menacingly as she quickly teleports away. 

before either villain can react, sunghoon teleports behind them, his movements too fast to track. “shall we begin?”

san lets out a huff as he grabs seonghwa and rushes out of the training room and into the courtyard of the compound. sunghoon easily follows after them, his body emanating dark, almost snake-like energy. instead of ribbons like wonyoung, sunghoon has dangerous, fang-shaped blades coming out of his forearms.

“you gave up your humanity, was it worth it? becoming a puppet for the villains just to survive?” san asks, eyes narrowing as looks at sunghoon. 

“i didn’t do this for survival,” he replies back coldly, but there’s a faint undertone of pain almost, “i did it to protect my sister. everything i’ve done – every choice i’ve made was to keep her safe.” 

seonghwa steps forward, voice sharp, “and now you’re dragging her into the abyss with you.” 

sunghoon’s smirk falters at seonghwa’s words, “the abyss is kinder than the world that the hero’s call justice. the heroes and their association… they don’t protect anyone. you should know that better than anyone here.”

without warning, sunghoon attacks with his blades clashing against san’s blood. san manages to roll away, sending blood spikes towards the demon who easily dodges them. 

“you talk big, but i don’t see much strength,” san says. 

sunghoon chuckles at san, “you haven’t seen anything yet.” 

sunghoon continues to launch himself at the two villains, his blades clashing and creating sparks as seonghwa and san either parry his attack or dodge them. one of sunghoon’s blades manage to cut against seonghwa’s arm, the male hissing as he looks down at it. 

“his blades are poisonous,” seonghwa hisses out. 

“then we’ll need to hurry up and kill him before the poison kills us,” san says, jaw clenched as he used his blood to create two swords, tossing one to seonghwa who easily catches it with his uninjured arm. the fight only begins to escalate as sunghoon launches a flurry of attacks, twirling in the dance with his blades, glistening with venom, attempting to slice and cut at both san and seonghwa. 

seonghwa trembles, feeling the weight of his injury and battle getting to him. he knew he could never fully control himself when he transform, but seonghwa knew that his monstrous strength would help push them to win against this fight. 

the air around them began to grow colder with a creeping chill that seeped into the bones of both san and sunghoon. san attempted to reach out to seonghwa, but with one shove it sent san flying back and tumbling to the ground. 

“fuck,” he mumbles as he watches seonghwa. his body contorting with an unsettling and sickening sound of sounds cracking as his frame elongated. joints bending in grotesque and inhuman angles. his skin took on a deathly pale, almost translucent hue – it was the complete opposite of his usual sun-kissed skin – veins began to pulse dark and prominent beneath the surface. 

his once calm and calculating expression now twisted into something monstrous, a predator. his teeth sharpened, canines elongating like his body did into jagged points where the sole purpose was to tear at flesh. san felt his heart sink as he continued to watch as seonghwa’s eyes even turned into black voids that looked at every and anything with an unnatural and sick hunger. his fingers stretched, nails hardening into proper, monstrous claws that were just waiting to tear into its next target. 

sunghoon looked at seonghwa’s monstrous form, completely caught off guard and his usual strong facade faded for a moment. “what are you?” he hisses out, “what kind of demon are you?” 

seonghwa responded with a loud roar that sent shockwaves across the area and he lunged at the demon with his large, grotesque form. seonghwa was able to attack sunghoon with his bone-like antlers, slashing into the demon and sending him flying backwards and leaving a deep.

san is able to adjust quickly, using seonghwa’s sudden transformation and attacks as distractions to land more precise strikes.

ateez compound – control room – night 

yeosang lets out a shaky breath as he reached the control room. running over, he begins to type frantically on the condole, sweating beading down his forehead as he attempted to contact both hongjoong and yunho, but also the hero association. suddenly, the glow of the monitor flickers as a shadow looms behind him. he feels his ear twitch as the sound of a faint hiss, wonyoung’s ribbon snakes dart forward like some fanged vipers. 

you burst in, sword slashing through the first set of ribbons before wonyoung can even register that you are in the room. the severed ends writhe on the floor before quickly retracting. the ends you cut off, fell to the floor seemingly turning back into pieces of fabric. 

“go! send the message, yeosang!” you shout to him as you stand between him and wonyoung. hesitates for a moment, looking between you and wonyoung. “now, yeosang!” you shout louder. yeosang nods before quickly sending the message. 

you can hear his ragged breathing, clearly surprised and a little terrified by the demon in front of you both. you turn to look at him for a moment before gesturing towards the door. “be careful,” he whispers before making a bolt for the door. wonyoung’s head tilts as she watches him flee. 

“heroes are so predictable, always running,” she taunts with a hiss. 

you roll your shoulders, sword gripped tightly between your hands, “looks like it's just you and me.”

wonyoung lets out a tsk sound before lunging at you, her ribbons weaving in intricate patterns, each one snapping towards you like a striking snake. you manage to parry most of them with your sword, slicing through some as sparks fly with metal meeting energy. 

“you can’t keep this up forever,” wonyoung says with a smirk. 

“good thing i don’t need forever,” you told her, breathless and through gritted teeth. you roll to the side as a ribbon smashes into the console behind you, shattering the screen. you charge forward, slicing through multiple ribbons, but one catches your ankle, yanking you off balance. 

you land hard, coughing as the wind is knocked out of you. before you can recover, a ribbon snakes around your wrist, picks you up and slams you into the wall. blood trickles from your forehead, some of it running into your eye, but you quickly wipe it away. 

“what’s the matter? too weak to save yourself?” wonyoung asks mockingly, her ribboned snakes almost floating around her like extra arms. you grit your teeth, eyes glowing faintly as you feel your power begin to flare. you channel your energy into your sword, severing the ribbon holding your wrist. 

“you talk too much,” you say fiercely. you lunge again, blade igniting with light. wonyoung retreats, her ribbons forming a barrier around her. you leap, slashing downward with all your strength. the barrier shatters into pieces of limp fabric, and wonyoung stumbles back, clutching a deep wound across her shoulder. 

wonyoung scowls, her ribbons writhing wildly around her, “you’ll regret that!” 

wonyoung summons more ribbons, these even more thick and serpent-like that before, ones with glowing eyes and fangs. they hiss and dart towards you, and you just barely manage to dodge them. one snake grazes your side, tearing through your uniform and leaving a deep, bleeding gash. 

you press your hand against the wound, feeling that the snake had torn through the stitches of your wound and made it even deeper. blood pooling out and staining your clothes a deep burgundy. you let out a small hiss in pain, managing to steady yourself as you look towards wonyoung with narrowed eyes, “i’ve faced worse than you.”

“i can guarantee you’ve never faced someone like me.” 

the fight continues to become more intense, the control room becoming a battlefield of destroyed debris and shredded fabric everywhere. your sword blazes as you cut through the ribboned snakes, but wonyoung is relentless as her snakes continue to regenerate faster than you can destroy them 

jongho and wooyoung rush into the control room, when they arrive they find the place basically destroyed and you on one knee, blade digging into the ground for support. 

wooyoung immediately feels his rage build up, turning to wonyoung who looks at the three with a mocking smile, blood dripping from her wound you had given her earlier. “you lied to us! tricked us!” he says furiously, his fist catching on fire. 

“and you fell for it so easily. how pathetic,” she says, clearly amused by wooyoung’s anger. 

wooyoung begins to charge, but you reach out to grab his arm, stopping him. “don’t let her get in your head. it’s what she wants,” you say weakly. 

wooyoung simply glares at you, ripping his arm out of your grasp like you’re the one with fire powers, “she doesn’t deserve mercy!”

“wooyoung, focus! don’t let your anger get you killed,” jongho snaps.

“oh, how sweet,” wonyoung says with a laugh, “the little team trying so hard to hold it together.” 

you give both wooyoung and jongho a look as you steady yourself, sweat dripping from your forehead and mixing with blood. you can slowly start to feel the blood loss beginning to affect you, but you push forward and ignore it. the three of you quickly begin to attack in unison, combining abilities in order to overwhelm wonyoung. jongho slams his fists into the ground, sending shockwaves that manage to throw the demon off balance. wooyoung sends several fire and ice blasts towards her ribbons, even sending ice shards that pin them to the walls. 

you take advantage of the opening, rushing forward and delivering a deep slash across wonyoung’s abdomen. 

wonyoung lets out a snarl, “you think you’ve won?” her ribbons explode outward, throwing the three of you back. jongho grunts as he takes the brunt of the impact, shielding you and wooyoung. 

“thanks,” you say breathless to jongho.

“don’t thank me yet,” he says. 

wonyoung begins to unravel, her ribbons coming together to form a massive snake that towers over you guys. she sends the snake striking downward, its mouth opening up and ready to swallow you whole. wooyoung; however, leaps at the massive snake head, fist ablaze as he strikes it and easily catches it on fire. it screeches as it burns and dissolves, but another snake wraps around him and constricts him. 

“wooyoung!” you yell as jongho rushes up and grabs the snake, able to pry it off of wooyoung. his raw strength easily overpowering it. the three of you regroup, panting and bloodied. 

“keep your head in the fight. we need to end this,” you say, pointedly towards wooyoung who refuses to meet your eyes in the moment. 

jongho nods, “together.” 

you guys decide to combine your power, jongho creating another shockwave to destabilize the demon, wooyoung’s ice shards pinning her in place, and you channeling your remaining energy into your blade. 

“it’s over,” you say, leaping forward and delivering the killing blow, severing wonyoung’s head. she lets out a loud cry as her head goes flying, your powers being able to create a large crater in the wall that connects you all to the courtyard where you can see san and seonghwa’s monstrous form fighting sunghoon. 

in the courtyard, sunghoon falters for a second as wonyoung’s cry echoes through the compound. his distraction allows seonghwa to attack with feral blows. while san lands a devastating blow, driving his blade across sunghoon’s neck and sends his head flying. 

sunghoong’s head lands towards where wonyoung’s head had landed. wonyoung crying out for sunghoon, tears streaming down her face. 

“oppa… i’m scared,” she says weakly, the tears continuing to fall. 

“it’s okay, little one, i’m here,” sunghoon says back, voice breaking as he begins to watch as wonyoung’s body and head dissolve. seemingly not caring that his own is doing the same thing. finally, their bodies and head turn to ash, the wind blowing them away. 

seonghwa falls to his knees, having transformed back into his human self. you limp towards san and seonghwa, collapsing next to seonghwa, arms wrapping around him as the tension in the air remains heavy. 

“it’s okay,” you say quietly as you hold seonghwa in your arms, just like how he has done for you. 

ateez compound – courtyard – dawn

the team gathers, battered and bloodied, in the courtyard. the compound was completely destroyed by the two demons. hongjoong and yunho rush in, their expressions dark and grieve-stricken as they take in the scene before.

“what happened?” hongjoong asks, voice low and slightly commanding. 

“we stopped them,” jongho answered, exhaustion heavy in his voice as he leaned against a piece of debris. 

you lean against a wall, glancing down at your hands, yeosang doing his best to patch your wound up. san sitting next to seonghwa, still comforting the villain, calming hand running down his back. wooyoung stares blankly, fists clenched.

“i trusted her…” he says quietly.

“she fooled all of us. don’t put that on yourself,” jongho says firmly. he turns to hongjoong and yunho before quietly filling them in on everything that happened. otherwise, you and the rest of the team sit in silence, the weight of the destroyed compound heavy in the air.

TO BE CONTINUED IN PART II

[milktrician]

Hello hello! :D

SQH-SY siblings au for the ask game, please?

I'm pretty sure I wrote this after someone wrote a text post about the idea but idk if I would be able to track that down, or if it existed at all and I'm misremembering. Anyway, I didn't really have a set plot in mind after I wrote this short snippet other than it would be very funny for Shen Yuan to try and actively sabotague Shang Qinghua's efforts to become head disciple of An Ding while looking as innocent as possible. I don't think I'm going to write anymore for this idea as I have other wips I want to focus on but feel free anyone to write out their own interpretation! Anyways, here's what I wrote a few weeks back:

[ Activation code: “Dumbfuck author, dumbfuck novel.” System automatically triggered ]

What? What the fuck is this?

[ Host is in the midst of transmigration! ]

No—what? This is a dream, Airplane’s stupid fucking writing must have made me pass out!

Rrgh! I need to punch the fucker IRL!

[ Host would like to see Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky? ]

YES!

[ Beginning transmigration… ]

What?

“Oh! It’s a boy!”

“W-Wait what? Doctor, didn’t you say it was going to be a girl?”

What the hell?

He feels himself get wrapped within a cloth, and suddenly he's enveloped in warmth. He’s being…held?

Any attempt to move his limbs is caught by the cloth wrapped around him. His tongue presses against toothless gums, and his vision is too blurry to make out anything.

No…

“Haha, well surprises always happen! Did you have a name in mind if you two had another son?”

“Ah, well I suppose we never gave any thought to it. A-Yu, you’re always good at coming up with names with your little stories, how about you name your little brother?”

No…

“You…ah, shouldn’t it be up to you two? Like erm. Tradition or something? Like this is a whole baby I sh-shouldn’t be responsible for the name he’ll be called for the rest of his life!”

A woman then laughs above him, 

“A-Yu, I think I’m much too tired to think right now. You’re a smart boy, any name you come up with I’m sure he’ll appreciate it.”

He…died. 

Transmigration’s real!?

AND HE’S A BABY!

Oh—whoever this person is, please don’t name him something stupid.

[ Don’t worry Host! This System has you covered! ]

“…Yuan?” Whoever “A-Yu” is, he said that like he wasn’t even sure of it himself! Thank god he still has his old name in this life at least.

“Shang Yuan…I like that.”

System…where have I transmigrated?

[ This System operates in line with the design concept “YOU CAN YOU UP, NO CAN NO BB”; we hope to provide you with the best possible experience. It is our sincere wish that during your time, you can fulfill your desires and, in accordance to your wish, ‘see Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky’ ]

[ Congratulations! Congratulations! Congratulations! Important things must be said three times! ]

What now?!

[ User has completed his wish! ]

I…did?

[ Entering Limited Sandbox Mode! Feel free to explore within the constraints of the plot! ]

[ We hope you enjoy the world of Proud Immortal Demon Way! ]

WHAT?

“Ah! He’s crying, give him here.”

“Ahh. You’re so cute lil bro! Cutest baby in the whole wide world!”

A-Yu, or Shang Hongyu, is his new older brother in this life and is maybe eight or nine years older than him. He’s apparently very smart for his age, and their parents are already tutoring him to take over their father’s business.

He hears his older brother sniffle,

“Too bad you’ll probably never see me again in a few years.” he says, “I’ve gotta head to Cang Qiong and make my way up An Ding in the next few years.”

Hold on a second.

His older brother holds him tight against his chest, and from here he can feel his breath shudder.

“I’ve never had a sibling by blood before.”

He’s brought to his sibling’s bed and his brother lays next to him lazily.

“Just a few more years and you guys won’t have to see me again.” his brother says to noone, “They’re…surprisingly good parents, didi. Once they don’t have me to worry about, they can spoil you as much as you want.”

Geez, what kind of weird complex do you have?

Though. Shang surely is a common surname right? Lots of Shangs to go to An Ding!

System where in the timeline are we?

[ System is currently in maintenance for future updates! ]

Fine. He’ll figure it out his own way!

His own chubby fingers are able to grab onto his brother’s robe.

“Gege.” He says, to the best of his ability with his shitty little baby mouth.

He doesn’t expect his brother to burst out crying and start to hug him tight.

[edenesth]

TWTHH Spinoff: Take Me Away [2]

Pairing: private investigator!Wooyoung x courtesan!reader

AU: historical au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 7.7k

Trigger Warnings: forced prostitution, brief mention of suicidal thoughts, attempted sexual assault

Summary: While working on a new case in town, Wooyoung was captivated when he stumbled upon a beauty unlike any other. Just as he began to believe that he might have found a Lady Park of his own, word got out that she was merely the newest courtesan at the town's brothel. Disheartened by this revelation, he nearly abandons his pursuit of her until he hears whispers suggesting that she may not have been there of her own will.

Part 1 | Main Story | Spinoff Masterlist

"So, that's what happened... My lord, I realise it might seem shameless of me to have declined the bonus before and now ask for it, but I must save her!" Wooyoung pleaded, recounting everything from the beginning: from the moment he bumped into you on the street—alright, he might have left out the part where he was infatuated like a schoolboy and moping around like a fool—to discovering the truth about your situation, and the recent visit he had paid you.

Before the general could offer reassurance, another voice interrupted from the entrance of the study, beating him to it, "Hwa, we have to help him! The poor thing must be scared out of her mind!"

All three men turned their heads to find Lady Park standing there, her eyes wide with worry as she entered the room. Seonghwa didn't hesitate to rush to his wife's side before wrapping an arm securely around her smaller frame, "What are you doing here, my love? It's late, you should be resting."

The private investigator felt his breath catch as he beheld his former dream girl. He'd be lying if he said he didn't miss her. She looked even more beautiful than before, if that were possible, seemingly glowing. Perhaps that was the effect of receiving the general's affection. He had to calm his foolish heart and maintain his composure as he rose from his seat to bow respectfully to her, watching as she offered him a warm smile in response.

"I couldn't sleep when Jongho told me Wooyoung was here. I got worried and had to come see if everything was alright," the lady said, addressing her husband as she pouted at him, "Please tell me you're going to agree to his request..."

Seonghwa chuckled, gently nuzzling his nose against her head before planting a tender peck there, "I was going to agree, but you came in just in time to cut me off," He turned to face the younger man, who looked at them with a mix of admiration and gratitude, "Don't worry, Wooyoung. We'll provide all the assistance you need. If you'd like, I can send Jongho along with you on this mission."

The assistant felt his cheeks flush at the unexpected offer. He couldn't fathom sneaking into a place like a brothel, even for such an important cause. Fortunately, the investigator declined with a shake of his head, sensing his friend's apprehension, "No, sir. That won't be necessary, your financial assistance is all I require for now. This is something I must accomplish on my own."

Lady Park nodded, speaking on behalf of her husband, "Alright, but if you require anything—anything at all—please don't hesitate to ask. We'll do everything in our power to support you."

"Thank you, my lady. I'll keep that in mind; I really appreciate it," Wooyoung replied with a deep bow. If his current situation hadn't been so urgent, he might have remarked on how unusually attentive the general was to her. Seonghwa was always by her side, but there was something different in the carefulness of the way he handled her.

"If that's all, we'll be turning in for the night," the newly married man announced as he guided his wife out of the room.

The investigator nodded quickly, "Of course. I've kept you both up long enough; please don't let me stop you."

"Come, my love. You need rest."

Before leaving the room completely, the lady turned back to Wooyoung again, her expression earnest, "Promise me you'll get her out of there," the younger man nodded firmly, "I promise, my lady."

As Lady Park's words lingered in the air, Wooyoung sensed the depth of her plea. He discerned the subtle pain reflected in her eyes, a silent acknowledgement passing between them. The general's wife seemed to grasp the anguish of being trapped in a relentless nightmare all too well, to be abandoned by one's own father.

His resolve to save you had already been firm, but now, fueled by the lady's empathy, his determination surged even stronger. It wasn't just about a silly crush anymore; it became a quest to right a grave injustice and bring solace to a soul in torment.

After the couple retired to their private quarters, Wooyoung stayed behind to devise a more comprehensive plan with the ever-meticulous Jongho, who had once been his greatest asset when they were gathering evidence against the former Minister Jang. With precision, the assistant outlined all his suggestions in a neatly drafted plan, folding the parchment into a perfect rectangle before handing it to the investigator.

"Here, decide which ones suit your situation the best. Just let me know how much you require, and I'll take care of all your transactions. You should probably head to the dressmaker's shop for your disguise as soon as possible if you wish to set those plans into motion the following night."

"Thanks, Jongho. You're a real one."

"Yeah, yeah. Just go."

In no time, Wooyoung arrived at the entrance of Hongjoong's shop, cautiously stepping inside while marvelling at the colourful hanboks on display. He braced himself for a possible lecture from the older man, knowing that he was already swamped with orders, not just from Lady Park, but from noblewomen all over town. And here the investigator was, about to place an urgent special order that needed to be fulfilled before the next nightfall.

His steps halted abruptly upon hearing the familiar, annoyed sound of a throat clearing from the back of the shop, "Jung Wooyoung, you'd better have a good explanation for welcoming yourself into my shop at such an early hour," came the gruff voice.

"H-hyung, listen... I know the last thing you want is to see my face first thing in the morning, but—"

"Damn right, I don't. So, get straight to the point. There better be a valid reason for your presence, or I'll see to it that you're banned from entering my shop for good."

Arms crossed over his chest, Hongjoong listened with a raised brow as the younger man swiftly retold the tale he'd shared with the general just hours earlier. Rather than reacting as seriously as expected, the dressmaker merely grinned teasingly, "Ahh, I see you've finally moved on from your little crush on Lady Park, huh? I hate to admit this, but I guess I am feeling slightly proud of you."

Wooyoung couldn't hide his unamused expression as he pursed his lips in disbelief, "Really? That's the only thing you can think of saying after everything I just told you?"

With a scoff, the older man snatched the parchment out of the investigator's hands, "Yes, and? Don't get sassy with me now. Show me the design you need done immediately, or you can figure out how to go about this on your own."

"Okay, okay, sheesh. Here's a sketch of the design I've seen on the male servants in the brothel. Fortunately, it's not too complicated, so it should be easy for you," the younger man said, handing over the sketch as he watched Hongjoong inspect it seriously, "Got it. This should be done in a few hours. You owe me a meal after this, Jung."

The investigator saluted playfully, "Yes, sir."

Noticing the exhaustion evident in Wooyoung's eyes, the older man softened, "You haven't slept a wink, have you? You look like you're about to keel over. Go take a nap in the back; there's a bed. I'll wake you when it's ready. We can't afford for you to pass out on the job. Poor Miss Han won't stand a chance if that happens."

Though he joked, the younger man sensed the concern behind his words. He nodded gratefully, "Thanks, hyung."

Once his head hit the pillow, he slipped into a deep sleep, just as Hongjoong had predicted. Since leaving you the previous night, his mind had been consumed with endless thoughts, meticulously crafting an elaborate plan to rescue you. He examined every detail, acutely aware that even the smallest mistake could jeopardise the entire operation. Failure was not an option, especially when it concerned you. He had made a promise to get you out, and he was resolute in keeping it. But for now, he would succumb to his exhaustion, if only for a brief respite.

I'll be there soon, Miss Han.

He awoke hours later, his sleep haunted by dreams of your frightened face pleading for him to save you. The dressmaker stood at the edge of the bed, gently shaking him awake, holding out the disguise, "How's this? Is it close enough to the real thing?"

With a groggy rub of his eyes, Wooyoung pulled himself up to sit. He blinked repeatedly to clear his vision, then turned his attention to the replica of the servant uniform laid out before him. As he examined it, his eyes widened at how closely it resembled the actual outfit.

"It's perfect, hyung," he declared, nodding in approval, "They'll never suspect a thing."

"This way, Mr. Jung. She's ready for you."

Today felt different from the first day. The emotions swirling inside you were no longer tinged with dread or overwhelming fear.

Instead, anticipation coursed through you as you sat straight on the king-sized bed in the same room. Biting your lip, you waited eagerly to see him again. Since he last bid you goodbye, your thoughts had been consumed by him. The sincerity in his eyes lingered in your mind, nearly bringing tears to your own. It was hard to believe that someone cared for you so deeply, especially considering your own father's indifference. Despite this, part of you still had doubts, wondering if you would ever see him again.

Yet, here he was, keeping his promise.

"Hi, Miss Han," he greeted, almost shyly, as he waved awkwardly by the entrance. After closing the door behind him, he made his way to the table in the centre of the room, setting down the duffel bag he'd been carrying on his shoulder.

You smiled meekly, approaching him, "Hello, Mr. Jung. It's good to see you again."

His smile faltered slightly at your words. He sensed the surprise in your tone as if you hadn't expected him to return, and it hurt him to think you might not trust him fully. With determination, he nodded and reassured you, "Of course, I promised to get you out of here. You'll be seeing a lot more of me from now on."

Your eyes widened in wonder as he unfurled his bag, revealing a set that looked like an exact replica of the uniform worn by the male servants in the Mansion of Midnight, "Woah, where did you get that?" you asked, curious and astonished.

With an enthusiastic beam, he replied, "It's all part of my job. I often need to wear disguises. With this, I'll be able to move around the establishment without any issues. Now, if you'll excuse me."

Blushing furiously, you turned away immediately as he hastily moved to undress and change into the servant outfit.

Your cheeks burned as you struggled to recover from catching a glimpse of his bare back. He seemed so calm, as if undressing was the most natural thing in the world. But for you, it was a different story. Being a virgin through and through, you hadn't been near any men other than your father all your life. Even then, he wasn't home most of the time.

To be in a room alone with a man like this, and for him to get changed so casually before you, was enough to fluster you. You had barely spoken to any boys up close before this, let alone in a situation like this. The unexpected moment left you feeling both intrigued and embarrassed, unsure of how to act or what to say next.

Before you could further overthink it, Wooyoung proudly announced, "Alright, I'm done!" Startled, you turned to see him looking just like one of the many servants in the brothel, though perhaps a bit too handsome to blend in seamlessly. Nonetheless, you hoped no one would pay too much attention to him.

Stuffing his own clothes back into the bag on the table, he assured you, "You stay here. I'll be back as soon as I can. Today, I'll work on figuring out the full layout of the entire place and create a detailed map before I start investigating their operations."

You nodded, feeling a mix of apprehension and gratitude, "Don't worry, I'll be right here. Be safe out there, Mr. Jung."

With a final smile directed at you, he sneaked out the same way he entered once he was sure the coast was clear, leaving you alone in the room, your thoughts swirling with anticipation and anxiety.

After the investigator departed, you sank back onto the bed, feeling a rush of embarrassment flood over you. You scolded yourself mentally for being such a child, recognising that now was not the time for such distractions. Contemplating the situation, you understood why he seemed so unaffected. His focus was solely on his mission, leaving little room for trivial concerns like your reaction.

Feeling foolish for allowing yourself to be so affected, you resolved to move past it. What truly mattered was for his plan to succeed, and for you to finally gain freedom from this place. And to do so, you braced yourself for more moments like that.

As hours passed with you sitting alone, worrying about whether or not his disguise remained undetected, you heard footsteps approaching from outside. Your heart leapt with hope, anticipating his return, only for it to plummet when you recognised the feminine silhouette through the paper walls.

It wasn't just any female; it was Iseul.

Oh god, what is she doing here?

Her intentions became clear as she called out to Wooyoung in a seductive tone, "Mr. Jung, are you truly enjoying yourself in there? Your silence speaks volumes. I had my doubts, and now they're confirmed. A man who is enjoying himself wouldn't be able to keep his voice down; I'd know that. I told you she wouldn't be able to satisfy you. It's not too late to change your mind, you know? I'll treat you much better, trust me."

In a panic, you decided to speak up, hoping to persuade her to leave you alone, "I-Iseul unnie, everything is fine! Please don't worry about Mr. Jung. I'm sure you have plenty of clients waiting for you."

She scoffed dismissively, "Oh, please, stay out of this, rookie. I wasn't speaking to you. You'd better keep quiet if you know what's good for you. I'll leave only when he tells me to. What say you, Mr. Jung?" Your anxiety escalated as you felt her suspicions intensify with each passing moment of the private investigator's silence. This could all end if she so much as pushed the door open. Who knew what consequences awaited you and Wooyoung if you were found out?

"Mr. Jung...? Why isn't he responding? What have you done to him, Han?! If he doesn't answer by the count of three, I'm coming in, do you understand?"

As Iseul's threat escalated, Wooyoung suddenly appeared through the room window right on time, catching you off guard. Aware of the risk of being seen in his disguise while with you, he swiftly shed the servant outfit, leaving himself shirtless.

With the door starting to creak open, panic surged within you. Acting on instinct, you quickly tugged open the outer layer of your hanbok and pulled Wooyoung onto the bed with you. Without a second thought, you pressed your lips firmly against his, the only action that seemed to make sense in the heat of the moment.

Almost spontaneously, he wrapped his arms around you, drawing you closer and kissing you back with fervour, doing everything in his power to make the act appear convincing to the senior courtesan.

"M-Mr. Jung...?" she croaked, her eyes widening in disbelief at the unexpectedly intimate sight before her.

Breaking away from the kiss, he turned to her with a feigned look of annoyance, protectively using his body to shield your partially undressed form, "Excuse me, but what exactly do you think you're doing in here? My silence should have been clear enough that I'm not interested in you or your services. What's so difficult to understand? Also, I'd show Miss Han more respect if I were you. If you don't leave us at once, I'll file a major complaint against you. I'm sure that wouldn't help your reputation now, would it?"

With clenched fists, Iseul stormed out of the room, her pride wounded beyond repair, "I'll get you back for this. Just you wait, Han."

Once she was gone, the two of you jumped apart, red-faced as you scrambled to put your clothes back on. Clearing your throats, you tried to push aside the awkwardness and ignore the rapid beating of your hearts. The investigator reached into his bag, retrieving a fresh parchment. He distracted himself by immediately sketching the layout of the place while it was still fresh in his mind.

Throughout the evening, he remained focused on refining the map, and you stayed close, ensuring he had everything he needed: snacks, tea, a blanket in case it got chilly—anything to make yourself useful and assist him in his task. At the same time, you both fought to recover from the fact that you'd just shared your first kiss with one another so aggressively, constantly reminding yourselves that it was all for the mission to get you out and held no deeper significance.

As you escorted the investigator to the door at the end of his session, you pondered addressing the obvious elephant in the room. It became apparent that you both felt equally bothered by it when you simultaneously began to apologise.

"Look, I'm sorry for kissing you—"

"I apologise for touching you like that—"

You blinked rapidly, clearing your throat and rubbing the back of your neck sheepishly, "I suppose there might be more of that in the future if we want to succeed. Perhaps it would be wise for us to establish now that any intimate encounters we have from this point onward will be solely for the sake of the mission and nothing more."

But what if I want more than that?

Despite conflicting thoughts, Wooyoung smiled and nodded in agreement, reminding himself that exploring his attraction to you was not the priority at the moment.

The following week, the investigator faithfully honoured his daily promise, buying up all your time and effectively warding off any other potential clients. By this point, everyone in the brothel recognised you as Mr. Jung's girl. The other girls looked on with envy, marvelling at your ability to captivate the attention of such a young, handsome patron. His generosity and apparent protectiveness, as evidenced by his exclusive attention to you, sparked admiration and jealousy among them. It was as if he feared anyone else laying claim to you.

As the days went by, you grew closer, bonding over your shared time together. You developed an admiration for his profession, understanding the meticulous planning and inherent risks involved in his work. Witnessing his passion for what he did stirred emotions within you, though you struggled to define them. Was it gratitude, the joy of friendship, or something more?

Yet, amid the newfound closeness, a nagging uncertainty lingered in the back of your mind. What would happen to your relationship once he succeeded in freeing you? Would you still remain friends, or would circumstances pull you apart? The mere thought of never seeing him again left you with a pang of sadness, leaving you to ponder the depths of your feelings and the unknown future ahead.

You were startled from your thoughts as Wooyoung once again slipped in through the room window, following his routine from the past week. This time, however, he finally met your gaze with hopeful eyes. Changing out of his servant's disguise and settling back at the table, he began, "Good news, Miss Han. After digging through shady operations for so long, I finally unearthed something big. This wouldn't just be enough to secure your freedom but could also lead to the Mansion of Midnight's downfall."

"Really? What is it?" you asked, eyes wide.

He nodded, gesturing to the chair beside him, "You might want to take a seat first."

Just when you believed you had reached the limit of your trauma, another wave crashed over you. Through him, you learned the extent of the horrors perpetrated by the establishment. He cleared his throat, "I was right. Their operations are nowhere near clean. Other than forced prostitution, they're also exploiting minors, conducting illegal side businesses involving drugging clients to prolong their stay and coercing victims into settling debts, even if it meant sacrificing their own daughters... just like you."

"How despicable..." you murmured, sinking back in your seat as the weight of the revelation settled over you.

Wooyoung reached out, gently clasping your hand on the table, "It'll be alright. I promise I'll put an end to this once and for all."

Concern etched your features as you covered his hand with yours, "But Mr. Jung, what if the authorities are on their side? They must have some powerful allies to operate for so long. What if things don't go as planned? It's too risky. What if they retaliate when they find out you've uncovered so much? Who knows what they'll do to you?"

His grin widened as he rubbed a comforting thumb over your skin, "Are you concerned about me now, my lady?"

You frowned, gripping his hand tighter, "You know better than to call me that, I'm no lady."

At some point, you had grown accustomed to his mildly annoying antics as a result of the time spent together. He eventually felt comfortable enough to reveal his true self, showcasing a playful side that oddly made your heart flutter around him even more. Amidst the constant anxiety of your situation, his optimism provided a refreshing contrast. Slowly, he had become your source of solace, the only one you could rely on in this turbulent environment.

Leaning closer teasingly, he smirked, "You are to me, and that's all that matters. But that's beside the point. It's good to know you finally care enough to worry about me too."

Pushing him away gently, you clucked your tongue, "And what if I am? You... you're all I have, Jung Wooyoung," you admitted, feeling a surge of emotion as you contemplated the potential consequences of his plan failing.

Sensing you were on the verge of tears, he turned to face you properly, his heart skipping a beat at the softness in your voice when you said his name. But he didn't let it show; if you only knew what your words had done to him and his poor heart. A selfish part of him wished to be that for you forever. To be the only one you'd depend on, the only one you'd go to when you needed a shoulder to cry on, the only one you'd share all your sorrows and happiness with.

Gently grasping your shoulders, he turned you to face him, "Hey, hey, look at me. You may be right. They might have some corrupt official backing them. But don't forget who I have on my side. I have General Park, His Majesty's most trusted warrior. Who do you think holds more power here, hm?"

He couldn't help but feel a warmth spreading through him as he watched the adorable expression on your face, seeing the realisation dawn upon you as you absorbed his words. It was clear that you had momentarily forgotten about the powerful allies he possessed. This newfound confidence filled you with hope, making the idea of escaping from this place seem less like an impossible dream.

"Tomorrow is the day we're freeing you and bringing this place down. Are you ready to get out of here, my lady?" he asked, his voice filled with determination.

Returning his smile, you nodded eagerly, "I sure am, Mr. Jung."

But when tomorrow finally arrived, all your hopes and dreams came crashing down as you received the news that your usual appointment with Wooyoung had been replaced. Instead, your time had been reserved by one of the scariest clients known for his brutal force. This client, known as the Mad Dog, was infamous for leaving courtesans bruised, scarred, and unable to walk for days.

Should've known it was all going too well.

The brothel madam looked down at you with feigned pity as you trembled in fear. The staff busied themselves, fixing your hair and makeup, preparing you in an even more revealing hanbok than the usual ones you wore when meeting with the investigator.

"I'm sorry, my dear," the madam cooed rather sarcastically, "I'm not sure how the Mad Dog found out about you, especially considering how new you are. But you know what he's like; he always gets what he wants. He offered to pay twice the normal price, and who are we to say no to him? Just endure this for today. I'm sure sweet Mr. Jung will be gentle with you later on."

Without offering her a response, you fought to contain the panicked tears threatening to spill as the madam left after ensuring you stayed put. Just as the staff completed the final touches on your appearance, a smug figure materialised at the room's entrance. Looking up, you saw Iseul standing there, a smirk playing on her lips as she observed your distress.

"Congratulations, rookie," she sneered, "It's quite an accomplishment to catch the Mad Dog's eye. You've been doing so well lately, securing such a loyal client early in your career. I had to put in a good word for you." Your eyes widened in horror as you realised she had been the one to orchestrate this.

"You're welcome, Miss Han. Enjoy yourself tonight. I promise I'll take good care of Mr. Jung for you in the meantime," she added with a grin, biting her lip before slipping out the way she came.

No, please. This cannot be happening.

Seated once more on the edge of the familiar bed, tonight was different. Emotions flooded through you—fear so intense it threatened to overwhelm, and a desperate urge to jump off the building. The open window seemed to beckon, tempting you with its freedom to the afterlife. Yet, a part of you held out hope for a miracle, yearning for Wooyoung to appear through that very window and rescue you from this nightmare.

Just as you contemplated reaching for the window, your heart seized at the sound of heavy footsteps—unlike the investigator's usual light tread—approaching the room. Paralysed with fear, you could only sit and watch as the intimidating man strode in. Closing the door firmly behind him, he nodded approvingly, "I suppose I can see the appeal. You're quite the beauty, aren't you?"

His nickname, "Mad Dog," seemed fitting as you observed his nearly crazed eyes. A shiver ran down your spine as he scanned you from head to toe, making you feel exposed and violated just by his gaze alone. With his middle-aged appearance and burly build, coupled with a receding hairline and furrowed brow, he resembled a creature straight out of your worst nightmares. The mere thought of him near you turned your stomach. How could anyone possibly willingly allow him to touch them?

With a sleazy lick of his lips, he wasted no time closing the distance between you. Panic surged through you as you realised you couldn't do this. Your eyes darted to the exit, and you made a desperate dash for it, but he was faster. He let out a guttural laugh as he ensnared you in his beefy arms, "No, let me go! I refuse!" you screamed, struggling against his grasp.

"I don't think that's up to you, doll. I've paid a hefty amount for you, this better be worth it," he growled, throwing you onto the bed and tearing open the outer layer of your hanbok as if it were paper. Tears streamed down your face as you cried, "Stay away from me!" You scrambled backwards, trying to put some distance between you, only to find yourself cornered against the headboard.

"Help! Somebody, please, help me!"

"Shout all you want, sweetheart. No one's coming to save you."

Wooyoung's blood boiled as he absorbed the brothel madam's words, "What do you mean she's with another client? I've had her reserved all week. Is this how you conduct business? It seems you're not honouring my requests very well."

She let out a teasing laugh, playfully slapping him on the arm with her decorative fan, "Oh, Mr. Jung, don't be so upset. She's not with just any ordinary client; it's a valued patron we can't afford to turn away. He's paid double your usual rate. You'll have her all to yourself again by tomorrow. In the meantime, we've selected our finest girls to compensate for today. Take your pick. And just for you, we'll even offer a discount," she said, gesturing to the lineup of courtesans batting their eyelashes seductively at him.

Ignoring the courtesans, he pressed further, "And who is this client you're speaking of? I can pay triple the amount if that's what it takes for me to have Miss Han."

The other girls exchanged jealous huffs, wondering what made you so special for the investigator to be this possessive. Iseul's grin widened as she intervened, "It's the infamous Mad Dog, Mr. Jung. I'm sure you've heard of him. Unfortunately, money won't sway his desires. He's not someone we can afford to offend. Now, how about I show you a good time today? Who knows, you might find yourself forgetting all about her after this."

His heart lurched in his chest at the revelation. After meticulously gathering information about the big clients in the Mansion of Midnight, he knew the Mad Dog was the most notorious of them all. The mere thought of that abomination laying his rough hands on you filled him with a murderous rage like never before. He had promised to keep you safe and could not allow this to happen to you.

He would never forgive himself.

With only you in mind, nothing else mattered as he pushed the brothel madam aside and stormed up the stairs to your usual room, "No, wait! Mr. Jung! You cannot do this!" they called out to him, trying to stop him, but he shoved anyone in his way aside.

His blood ran cold when he heard your familiar voice crying miserably for help. Kicking the door open, he saw red and nearly went feral at the sight before him: your outer layer of hanbok torn to shreds, the skirt of your inner layer pushed up to your thighs, and the man's head buried in your neck, seemingly trying to leave his mark, trapping your arms above your head as you struggled helplessly against him.

"Get your filthy hands off her, you bastard!" Wooyoung growled, his fury fueling a surge of strength as he pulled the Mad Dog off your delicate frame, landing a punch on his cheek hard enough to send him crashing to the ground with a groan.

As he watched you immediately curl up, shaking like a leaf, his heart broke. Hastily, he draped a blanket over you, shielding you from further exposure. Meeting your tear-filled gaze, you pleaded pitifully, "Please, take me away from here."

Pressing a kiss onto your forehead, he locked eyes with you, "I promise I will. I'm here now, you're safe with me."

Relief flooded through you as his presence reassured you that he wasn't just a figment of your imagination. For a moment, you had feared he wouldn't arrive in time to save you. You knew he would come, but the thought of him being a moment too late haunted you. If he had been, you feared losing the last shred of your innocence, making you forever tainted and unworthy in his eyes. It was then that you realised your feelings for him were undeniable. It was so much more than just gratitude or the joy of friendship.

You wanted more than to be a charity case.

You wanted him.

Wanted to be with Jung Wooyoung.

"You'll regret that, boy. Do you even know who you're dealing with? You're that loyal little customer of hers, aren't you?" the monster threatened as he struggled to push himself off the ground.

The investigator held you close as you whimpered, trying to comfort you while glaring at the Mad Dog, "I am, and you'll regret messing with my woman," he asserted. Clinging to him, your heart pounded in your chest for different reasons: for his words, desperately hoping he meant them, and for fear of his safety from the man's potential wrath.

"Stop this at once, Mr. Jung! If you persist, we'll have no option but to blacklist you from our establishment," the brothel madam warned, her eyes widening in disbelief at the scene before her.

Wooyoung's smirk widened, "I'd like to see you try. I didn't want to do this the hard way, but you've given me no choice."

The Mad Dog chuckled, "And what exactly do you plan to do, kid?"

"You'll find out." With a sharp whistle aimed out the open window, a group of what appeared to be royal guards swiftly entered through the main entrance, causing everyone to freeze as they tried to comprehend the sudden turn of events.

"Is this the woman you mentioned, Investigator Jung?" the head guard inquired, pointing to the brothel madam.

"Yes, that's her," Wooyoung confirmed.

The woman froze in panic, "Wh-what is the meaning of this?"

"You, as the owner of the Mansion of Midnight, are under arrest for forced prostitution, exploiting minors, drugging patrons, and coercing victims into settling debts through illegal means," the head guard stated monotonously.

She resisted as the guards secured her arms in a tight grip, preventing her from escaping, "No, that's not true! There is an official who can vouch for the legitimacy of my business."

"If you're referring to the local magistrate who took your bribes and covered up your illegal activities, I regret to inform you that he's already in custody, awaiting trial. He didn't protect you during his interrogation," the head guard responded before instructing his comrades, "Guards, search the premises and arrest all accomplices."

"Yes, sir!" came the unified reply.

She sagged hopelessly in the grasp of the guards behind her as the rest dispersed to halt all operations and apprehend the other culprits, "H-how...?" she stammered.

Wooyoung fixed her with a stern gaze, "It appears you've truly forgotten what I do for a living and the powerful allies I have. Perhaps you should have thought twice before accepting me as a client. That was the first misstep leading to your downfall."

As the guards dragged the brothel madam out, leaving the Mad Dog panicking in his spot, he realised he had underestimated the young man before him. He hadn't known this was the famous Investigator Jung all along. Suddenly, he regretted the threats and taunts he had hurled just moments ago.

He wasn't the only one in a state of anxiety; Iseul stood wide-eyed, shaking, and attempting to sneak away unnoticed. However, the investigator's keen eye caught her every move. With a nod in their direction, a few guards swiftly stepped forward to capture them before they could flee.

"This one's guilty of sexual assault and violence against countless women, and this one has encouraged his actions," Wooyoung declared firmly, "Perhaps they could both use a good lesson in the torture chambers. I'm sure General Park would approve."

Both Iseul and the Mad Dog pleaded for forgiveness as they were dragged out of the room, their cries fading into the distance.

Thank god, it's finally over...

Overwhelmed by the torrent of emotions you just experienced, the sudden relief was enough to render you unconscious, lying limp in Wooyoung's arms. With an exhausted sigh, he cradled your head against his neck, planting a gentle kiss on your temple and whispering, "Rest now, my lady. I won't let anyone harm you again."

As you regained consciousness, you blinked and rubbed your eyes until the unfamiliar surroundings came into focus. Panic surged through you as you shot up from the bed, causing the comforter around you to slip down and reveal the high-quality sleepwear you were dressed in. In an instant, someone entered the room from the doorway. Pulling the comforter up to your chest as a shield, you cowered in fear, "Wh-where am I and who are you?" you stammered.

The elderly woman smiled warmly down at you, "Hello, Miss Han. I hope you've had a good rest. My name is Eunsook, and I'm the head maid of General Park's estate."

Your jaw dropped as you tried to process her words, "G-General Park...? As in the strongest general in all of Joseon, the King's most trusted warrior?"

The head maid chuckled and nodded, "Yes, the one and only."

"Was it Mr. Jung who brought me here?" you croaked, to which she replied, "Indeed, Investigator Jung brought you here as soon as the situation at the Mansion of Midnight had been taken care of. Would you like to see him, my dear?"

"I... I'm sure he has more important matters to attend to than to see me. He promised to free me, and he's done that... There's no more reason for him to see me," you murmured, lowering your head. As much as you longed for him, you knew better. You didn't deserve him. Even though you were now free, you still came from a humble background and had nothing to offer him.

Your head snapped up when you heard the familiar sound of tongue clucking, and you were surprised to see Wooyoung there, shaking his head disapprovingly. It turns out he had been hiding by the entrance the whole time. However, the cheeky grin on his lips betrayed his feigned disappointment. It was clear he didn't have the heart to actually lecture you; he was prepared for this. Somehow, he knew your lack of confidence would potentially get in the way of you expressing your true feelings.

"Really? After everything I've done for you, you don't think there's a reason for us to see each other anymore?" he said teasingly, "So you have no plans to repay me, hm?"

Eunsook couldn't help but giggle into her fist at your flustered expression, clearly caught off guard by the investigator's sudden appearance. The elderly woman bowed slightly, "I should probably go check on Lady Park. I'll be leaving you two alone to talk."

With a grateful nod in her direction, he approached you and settled onto the bed, facing you directly, "Tell me, do you truly believe there's no need to repay me for all the effort I invested in rescuing you?"

Avoiding his piercing gaze, you gulped, "So, what is it that you want then? As I've said, I don't have much to offer other than—"

He gently reached for your hand resting on your lap, interrupting your words. His touch was reassuring as he stroked the back of your palm as if it were second nature, "It would be great if you could start by allowing me to court you, my lady."

You gasped, meeting his eyes immediately, "What? You cannot possibly mean that, you deserve someone so much better—"

Shaking his head, he squeezed your hand gently, "That's not what I want to hear. I want to know what you want, my lady. Do you want to be with me? If not, I can leave you be, if that's what you truly wish. Your happiness is all that matters to me."

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you didn't realise tears were streaming down your cheeks until he lifted a hand to wipe them, "Tell me... what is it that you want?"

Emotions swirled within you as you felt your heart fluttering at his caring and respectful demeanour. His considerate words and actions were something you had never experienced in your life. The affection you felt for him in that moment threatened to burst from your chest.

The soft and sincere look in his eyes only deepened your emotions, causing tears to flow harder. Summoning all your courage, you dared to squeeze his hand back. What kind of fool would you be to push him away now? You couldn't bear to let him down, nor were you selfless enough to let him go.

Drawing closer to him, you chose to let your actions speak and pressed your lips softly against his, warmth enveloping your body as you felt him kissing you back with equal tenderness. He cupped your wet cheek gently, his touch offering a sense of comfort and security.

Pulling back slowly, you whispered against his lips, "You... I want you, Jung Wooyoung."

"Then it's me you shall have."

And that marked the first day of him courting you. As days turned into weeks, you settled into a new routine at the general's estate. Lady Park's kindness knew no bounds, and she graciously allowed you to stay there, knowing you had nowhere else to turn. Certainly not to that decrepit place with your despicable father.

Amidst this new life, you found solace in the companionship of the mistress. She taught you the art of embroidery, a skill that not only passed the time but also allowed you to contribute in some small way to the household. When you weren't with her, you spent your time with the investigator as you got to know each other better.

Then came the news—the Mansion of Midnight had been officially shut down. It was a relief to hear that justice had been served, and the perpetrators were facing the consequences of their actions. The girls who had been trapped there were finally free, receiving the care and support they deserved from the government.

Life seemed to be looking up in every way, but there was one thing that weighed heavily on your mind—Wooyoung's plans to introduce you to his parents.

"You worry too much, they're going to love you," were the last words from Lady Park and Eunsook before sending you off. The journey to his family estate passed in a blur, and before you knew it, you found yourself seated in the living hall of the estate. It was smaller than the general's, given that they were an average family.

Wooyoung reached for your hand and brought it to his lips, pressing a kiss on your knuckles, "Relax, love. Everything will be okay," he reassured you. But despite the assurances from everyone, a part of you still feared how his family would perceive you.

As his parents finally greeted you, your heart raced with nervous anticipation. Throughout the meeting, it was evident that you were finding it difficult to be yourself, tiptoeing around cautiously despite the elderly couple's friendly demeanour. Deep down, you imagined all sorts of possibilities, fearing their kindness might be a facade meant to separate you both once you left.

Sensing your nerves and doubts, his mother gently set down her teacup and offered you a warm and motherly smile, "Miss Han, I hope my son hasn't been bothering you too much with his antics. I know he can be a handful, but we can see he's serious about you. When the time comes for him to propose, I hope you'll consider giving him a chance." His father chuckled and nodded in agreement as you stared at them in shock.

Reaching out to pat your hand, she continued, "We understand your concerns, but we want you to know that your past doesn't matter to us. Our priority is our son's happiness, and if that means being with you, then we're more than happy with it."

The remainder of the day unfolded smoothly as you dined with Wooyoung's parents before he escorted you back to the general's estate that evening. Lingering by the entrance, he seemed reluctant to part ways just yet. Your intertwined hands swung back and forth as he playfully wiggled his eyebrows at you, "I told you everything would be fine, didn't I? Would it hurt to believe me?"

You scoffed, rolling your eyes, "How can I when all you do is trick me over and over for fun? Do you even love me?"

Feigning offence, he dramatically gasped, placing a hand over his heart, "Excuse me, I'll have you know that while I may joke about many things, my love for you is genuine."

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment as he embraced you, pulling you close, "Stop teasing and say it back already," he urged.

Just as you were on the verge of relenting, a loud clearing of the throat startled you both. Seonghwa stood by the gates, arms crossed over his chest, looking unamused, "Must you two do this right in front of my house?"

His cool demeanour vanished as soon as his wife appeared beside him, giving him a playful smack on the back of his head, "Leave them alone, you idiot!" she chided, before dragging him back into the estate, calling out, "Please continue!"

Laughter filled the air between you as you watched the couple go. After the moment passed, Wooyoung bit his lip, "There's a festival in town tomorrow, and I know you've been eager to go. Shall I pick you up at the same time tomorrow?"

Nodding shyly, you replied, "Yes, same time. I'll see you, Woo."

"See you, love." With a final peck on your lips, he pulled away. Before his hand could fully slip away, you held on, "Wait, I love you too."

With a cheeky grin, he teased, "I know."

"Ugh, you ruined the moment," you said with a playful sigh. Turning to leave, you couldn't help but smile as he whined behind you. Laughing, you added, "Go home, Woo. Don't be late tomorrow." He may be a fool, but he's the fool who saved your life. He's your fool, and you couldn't wait to have more moments like this with him.

Y'all, I'm sorry if this seemed rushed or anything. I sincerely hope this meets expectations! It's not easy trying to fit everything in a two-shot, but I really didn't want to drag it any longer than it has to be because I'm aware I have 6 more spinoffs to complete HAHA

As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

Tag list (1/5): @itstheghostofmypast @huachengsbestie01 @minghaoslatina @weedforthoughtz @minkiflwr @cheolliehugs @ho3-for-yunho @the-kpop-simp @writingwieny @stayatinykatsy @skzline @green-agent @stayinhellevator @vampzity @tinyteezer @evidive @vantediary @superbbananananana @kimyeolchan @chocolate-scoups @decadentstrangernacho @vic0921 @foxinnie8 @marievllr-abg @sunnyhokyu @seungmin-in-thebuilding @heyitsmetonid @sansaurora9904 @darkestacademiamindsx12-blog @pay13 @kpop17 @professormingisglasses @newworldwritings @chicken-fifi @thunderous-wolf @shythinggiver @madnpan @yandere-stories @anxiousskylar @frobin4ever @starssongs98 @kamabokogonpachro @chngbnwf @dollce-exe @jan-l @lovelyred2 @haven-cove @watermelon2319 @dreamingofyeo @akimkim @scuzmunkie @satsuri3su @mismatchfluffysocks @borntoshineateez @st4rhwa @ddaeing @tropicalsstuff @bts-army380 @skteezcursed @beauty143

All Rights Reserved © edenesth // DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.

[my-great-big-book-of-fan-fiction]

L Lawliet X F!Reader Smut Oneshot

VERY SMUTTY SMUT, 18+

FINALLY finished! This was so fun to write, but I've been so distracted recently that I haven't been able to work on any of my hobbies. I apologize for going AWOL for like, what, a month? Anyway, hopefully finishing this will be the start of bringing writing back in my life. Enjoy, L fans, and let me know if you have ideas for more!

Warnings/contents: Oral (reader recieving), PinV, cowgirl, happy trail, slight amounts of biting, and a very tired man

L has been working far too much, and it's showing. Not only has he not been leaving the CTV screens, he's stopped sleeping all together. Not even at his seat. For someone so smart, you'd think he'd know to take better care of himself.

Well, tonight, he's finally returned to your shared bedroom, only to retrieve some important flash drive. You were laying upside down on the bed, your legs propped up on the headboard and your hands busy with a rather riveting game of snake.

As soon as you heard him walk in, you perked up, flipping around and watching him with intent, your phone playing a sad little song at your loss of the now irrelevant game. "Hey! are you done working?"

He had his hands in his pockets, his steps light but slow as he felt weighed down by his lack of energy. "I'm never done working," he answered simply, walking to the nightstand and crouching down in front of it.

He opened a drawer, which contained a safe. He typed in the 12 digit code, opening it and finding a few small files and three flash drives...none of which were the right one. "I put it right here...did you take the red drive from this safe," he asked with slightly narrowed eyes, turning to the left to face you.

"No...is something missing?"

He examined you from the top of your head to the tips of your toes, taking in everything about you. This was the problem, he could never tell if you were lying. Whether it was that he was so infatuated with you he couldn't imagine you lying to him, or if you were simply that good, It was frustratingly inconvenient. Perhaps you simply never lied...that was the delirium from not sleeping speaking, most definitely.

"Are you lying," he asked simply.

"No, unfortunately. I wish I had it...I can help you look," you say sweetly.

"I will find it myself...thank you," he nodded, throwing the polite thanks on the end.

"If you say so," you say in obvious skepticism.

He stands back up, looking down at you as you laid back once more. "Do you doubt my ability," he asked challengingly.

"Well...no...It's just..." you look back up at his big, tired eyes, his face discreetly shifting back and forth between curiosity and annoyance.

You look back to your phone. "You've been so tired, you're running on fumes...I just don't think you're in the right place to be effectively searching for and finding things...or, remembering where you put things...or...doing detective work..."

Silence.

You slowly look back up at him, already wincing at how he must look. When your eyes met his, he just seemed...surprised?

"Do you really think my lack of sleep is affecting my efficiency in a palpable way?" He seemed to be considering the notion.

"I do. Very much so."

"Well...I don't have time to sleep," he mused lowly.

you could work with this. "Would you at least shower? It could help you relax, get your mind off things. It'd only take, like, what, 20 minutes?"

He thought about this.

"I suppose it may assist me in 'getting my mind off things'," he sighed. "Fine. But I'd like you to look for that flash drive while I'm gone," he said firmly. Even without the team around, he still acted like he was your boss. You looked up at him with raised brows.

"...please." This energy deficit was making it harder to engage in social conventions, it took a level of consciousness he did not have currently. Another reason he needed sleep.

"Sure," you said with a smile, sitting up. "Go on, go shower, I'll start looking right now," you assured, standing and guiding him to the bathroom. He walked on his own, shutting the door behind him.

You sighed, turning to face the room, scanning it, your brow furrowed. Then, the water turned on. You glanced to the door. You could hear the rhythm of the raining droplets interrupted by him getting in.

With a deep breath, you relax, walking to the nightstand and opening it back up. You typed in the code to the safe, It was a seemingly randomized combination of the numbers within you and Watari's respective birthdays.

Reaching into your bra, you pulled out the flash drive, placing it atop everything else. You'd have to confess and apologize later, for tricking him. You really just needed a reason to get him away from his computer.

With a satisfied huff, you laid back down, continued your game of snake, and waited for him to get out.

fifteen minutes later, the bathroom door gently pushed open, and out L walked, seeming slightly better. he had a towel wrapped loosely around his hips, a slight and sparse amount of black hair barely visible above the pristine white of the fabric. Another towel was slung around his shoulders, catching the water dripping from his spiked black hair.

perfection.

You sat on the edge of the bed, smiling happily at him. "Hey, how do you feel? Better? About the flash-"

"I'd like to have sex."

Your mouth hung open for a moment, the suddenness shocking you. You supposed it was because he was lacked so much energy before, because him being so direct wasn't rare in the slightest. Meanwhile, he simply stared at you, waiting for a proper response.

"Right...right now?"

"Do you have any other plans?"

"Well, no," you say, laughing a little. "I thought you were tired. You should be tired."

"I am tired, but I've come to the conclusion that sex with you would be beneficial, more so than the shower, and more time efficient than proper rest."

You just laughed even more, giggling at his frankness. "Sure, yeah...so, I'm assuming you'll want to get straight to things? make it quick?" Nothing was unexpected with him, that was for sure.

"Well...not without foreplay. I'm not completely helpless," he muttered, his brows furrowing slightly at the insinuation he wouldn't. He could tell that's what you were thinking.

"Is that so? Here I was, thinking you'd leave me high and dry," you tease.

He took a step closer, before putting his foot up and onto the bed next to you and leaning over you. His hands were at his hips, the natural placement for him after so much time putting them in his pockets. "Do you think that lowly of me," he asked softly. His eyes were half lidded, staring deep into yours as if he were reading your soul, and his lips were parted, slowly taking in air, his breath warm against your face, so impossibly close to you.

Your skin was warming, blood rushing to your cheeks and nose as you take in the sight before you. Then, you smile, bringing your hands to cup his face. "You're trying too hard," you taunt, planting a gentle kiss on his lips. He closed his eyes, and when you pull away he leans in farther for a beat, as if he's trying to chase you. His serious expression disappears, and he sits up just a little more. "Am I," he asked, genuinely, cocking his head a little in curiosity.

He just makes you giggle, he's so funny without even realizing. "Yes," you laugh jokingly, nodding for a moment before you calm down. Then you lean in a little more, glancing down at the foot propped up on the bed, and quietly say, "No. It's nice, fun...but, I'd rather you just be yourself." You tilt your head up, your lips brushing against his, before you give him a true kiss.

He closes his eyes, a shiver running up his spine, and when your mouth opens to slide your tongue across his bottom lip, he gladly opens his own. Your hands stay to the sides of his face, and his eventually make their way to your shoulders. You stop for a moment, scooting backward. Without even thinking, he sits completely on the bed, just to follow your lips, and as a reward you waste no time kissing him again.

You stay like that for a while, making out while he sort of straddles your legs in his usual crouch, until he moves past your mouth and to your jaw. It surprises you for a moment, but you quickly adjust, your hand moving to his damp hair to steady yourself.

He leaves wet, meaningful kisses up your jawline, his hand sliding up to your neck to hold you in place. "Did you know," he starts, planting a kiss to the spot where your ear meets your jaw. "That the ear is one of the most sensitive parts of the body," he finishes, kissing at the shell of your ear and sucking on your lobe for a moment. He wasn't even trying to be overly sexy, at least not in his words, you could tell he simply said it because your ear made him think of it, but the candidness of this moment that was so L made you melt...especially because of his soft, low voice.

"Is that so," you ask, your voice wavering a little.

you could feel his smile against the skin of your ear as he left another impassioned kiss to the shell. "It appears it is," he hummed, his voice dropping ever so slightly. Maybe he was trying.

You could do nothing but let out a nervous giggle, your back arching upward until your chest met his. You turned your head, your ear no longer accessible to him, and planted a kiss to the side of his neck. You could feel him stiffen, his breath catching in his throat. You kissed him again, this time slowly, and his hand moved to be in your hair, the other planted firmly on the top of your hip to steady himself.

You take the moment to remove the towel around his waist, glancing down to see just what you were working with...and there he was.

He was fully erect, around 6 inches, the pale pink tip beading with pre. Perfect. You almost reached out to touch him, to please him, but...

Finally, and rather suddenly, he mutters, "Sit back....please."

You don't argue, you just...do. You sit back from him. You could have kept going, just to tease him, but just in case he was overwhelmed, you sat back.

He wasn't overwhelmed, to your delight, and you knew because he leaned forward and brings his lips to your clavicle, placing a gentle but impassioned kiss there. He hears your breath catch, and as he looks up at you with his usual moon-eyed stare, he catches the way your nostrils flare, and your lips part. "You are aroused," he states softly, his hands running up your sides and under your shirt.

"I am," you titter, his cool hands sending a shiver up your spine as you watch him intently.

"If you take your shirt off, I may be able to assist you," he hums sarcastically, a slight, gentle smile across his face.

You roll your eyes, a big smile on your face as you remove your shirt, setting it aside. You take your bra off too, and your pants for good measure. The only thing left on you is your underwear, something that, as he trails feather light kisses down the valley of your breast and the center of your abdomen, he carefully removes with his thumbs and index fingers. By now, he's on his knees and bent forward completely, his hands holding your legs apart as he brings himself to be face to face with your aching folds.

he gazes up at you, not in question but in curiosity, almost a way to tease you. do you want this? how badly? you really want this, don't you?

He slowly licks his lips as his eyes flick back down to what was before him. He sticks his tongue out, giving a long, tentative lap up from your entrance to your clitoris. as his tongue slides up your clit, beneath the hood, your hips buck, just enough to let him know you're excited. With that, his lips lock onto it, his eyes half lidded as he lavishly sucks and laps, soft groans reverberating through you ever so gently as he pleasures you.

He always seems to enjoy this as much as you do, and with each moan you release, he responds to you with a particularly angled prod of his tongue, or a vibrating groan in return, rewarding the crescendo of your sounds.

Your hand finds its way to his hair, nestling in the soft black stands and gently pulling at the base. At the feeling, he releases a breath he seemed to have been holding, the air fanning against the skin of your thighs and lower abdomen. The sturdy grip he has on your hips tightens a little, and as your hips stutter with the eventual arrival of your orgasm, he looks back up at you, his eyes peering, examining, daring you to look anywhere but at him. You can't help but to stare back.

With one final lap of his tongue, you finish, back arching, head tossing back, your voice ringing through the room in what he can only describe as the song of the angels. He helps you through, gently sucking on your clit, and when you finally come down from it, he pulls away, licking the fluid from his chin and upper lip. It was sort of endearing, watching him do something that looked so...stupid, to put it bluntly.

You laugh despite your panting, smiling as he sits back with his knees rather relaxed compared to usual, not to his chest, although arched halfway there. "you were...considerably louder than usual. has it been a long time since you've experienced an orgasm?"

you almost wanted to chide him for asking a question that had such an obvious answer, but you supposed it was good he didn't negate the fact that you could self pleasure. "Nope. I guess you could say I've been saving myself for you," you sigh teasingly, crawling closer, over his legs, bringing your face and hips above his, respectively.

He instinctively takes your hips, looking up at you with a thoughtful expression. "Why would you do something like that," he asked disdainfully.

You laugh a little. "Does it matter?"

He pauses, looking to your hips. "I suppose not. It makes no difference to me," he muses.

You smile down at him with endearment, your hands sliding to his shoulders. No time to waste.

You lower yourself down his vehemently leaking cock, his grip tightening around you as you push yourself past his tip.

he leaned forward, his knees coming up, your body now between his chest and his legs as your hips met his. he wasn't especially girthy, but his length more than made up for it. You take in a breath, steadying on his shoulders, and slowly slide upward.

He watches with a sort of aroused fascination as you begin to ride him, his eyes not leaving the sight of your body taking his dick in and out, watching and feeling every twitch, listening to every sound, the variations, the angles, everything perceived. You wouldn't think he was enjoying himself all too much, given the fact he was only releasing tempered pants and the occasional hum, but it was his attention that gave it away. Nothing besides his work, and now you, has captured his attention so quickly and so intensely.

If he weren't so tired and in need of a proverbial "quickie," he'd have you in as many different positions as possible. He has a need to see every facet of you, to know how you look and feel and sound in every angle and situation...but, for now, the usual cowgirl will do. And it does, it does rather nicely.

He only looks up at your face when he takes notice of your own noises, growing in volume and desperation. Of course, when he looks up, he can really only see your tits, bouncing away, and he really has no choice but to lavishly suck on your nipple. a formality, truly. The sounds and expressions that elicits is simply heavenly.

He grips your hips tighter, and as the air from his nose fans across your chest, he thrusts himself up. You cry out, his tip unexpectedly hitting your cervix, and all you can do now is shift back and forth as he thrusts up, peer into his large observant eyes as he tongues your breast and uses your body as he wishes. The sight, the feeling, the sounds, it was all too much for you. You moan louder and louder, signaling an orgasm, and the moment his tip pounds a particular spot, you're done. Your hips buckle, your body shakes, and best of all for him, your walls constrict.

in mere moments after you, he begins to truly moan, his cheeks flushing as his orgasm grows closer. After one particularly fast and hard jerk of his hips, he's calling out your name, his teeth pressing into your chest as his lashes flutter, his cum releasing within you in quick spurts, riding the wave as your hips roll against his.

He said this would be quick, a way to relax while staying time efficient, but fortunately he was too tired to take his own tiredness into account. He fell completely asleep beside you, his head pressed into your chest and his legs pressed to your torso as you stroked his hair. He'd sleep for the next 14 hours, and while you got up to pick up the slack at work, get something to eat, or use the restroom, you always returned to him.

I genuinely looked like coraline's dad writing this. I had fun, but wow was I lethargic. I'd like to do this again though, hopefully when I'm feeling more determined!

Taglist: @cheekyweekymouse

[muiitoloko]

hello, I love you’re stories. By any chance, do you plan to write stories featuring Snape ? If not will you be writing a next part of colonel Brandon ? In any case continue to ravish us with your writing and thanks for advising some others writers in one of your below post, they’re so good too !

Title: The Homecoming

Summary: Severus Snape returns home from Hogwarts to his loving wife, finding solace and tenderness in their rare moments together as they cherish their time away from the chaos. Despite the lingering scars and weariness from his battles, their deep connection and mutual support offer a sanctuary of love and peace.

Pairing: Severus Snape × Fem! Reader

Warning: none

Author's Notes: Hey there! Thanks so much for loving my stories! 😊 I’m totally up for writing about any character if people ask, but I must admit, Snape already has a ton of stories out there. I’m more excited about diving into Alan’s characters who don’t get as much love, though I’m definitely willing to write about Snape too! As for Colonel Brandon, I’m currently out of ideas, but I do plan to continue his story soon. And I’m thrilled you liked the other writers I mentioned—they’re my favorites here on Tumblr too! 😄

Severus Snape entered the house, his tall, lean figure slightly hunched from fatigue. The long, dark robes he wore enhanced his imposing presence, even as he exuded exhaustion. His long, greasy black hair framed his pale, angular face, and his piercing dark eyes softened only slightly upon seeing you.

You rushed to him, wrapping your arms around his waist. "Severus," you murmured, pressing your face against his chest. "I missed you."

Snape’s deep, monotone voice carried a hint of warmth as he responded, "And I missed you, my love." He held you tightly, savoring the rare moment of intimacy. As headmaster of Hogwarts, he rarely found time to return home, living more within the castle walls than in the comfort of your shared home. This weekend was one of those rare occasions, leaving the responsibility of maintaining the castle to Minerva McGonagall while he returned home for a well-deserved rest with you, his wife of three years.

"I can't believe you're actually here," you said, looking up at him with a smile. "How was Hogwarts?"

Snape sighed, a hint of weariness in his voice. "The same as always, though Minerva is more than capable of handling things in my absence."

You nodded, guiding him towards the living room. "Come, let’s sit down. You look like you need a rest."

As you led him to the couch, Snape’s eyes softened even more. "I need more than just rest," he said, his voice dropping to a low, intimate tone. "I need you."

But you didn't seem to hear him, very excited to have him home. You sat him down on the couch and began bombarding him with questions, your chatter filling the room. "Are you hungry? Do you want something to eat? How was your trip? Did anything interesting happen at Hogwarts? Oh, Severus, your hair is so greasy! Have you been making potions and not washing your hair again?"

Snape raised an eyebrow, a faint smile playing on his lips despite his exhaustion. "One question at a time, please," he said, his deep, monotone voice carrying a hint of amusement.

You laughed, sitting down beside him and taking his hand in yours. "Sorry, I'm just so happy to have you home. Let’s start with the most important question: are you hungry?"

Snape nodded slightly. "I could eat something, yes."

You jumped up, eager to prepare something for him. "I'll make your favorite! Just sit here and relax."

As you bustled around the kitchen, Snape leaned back on the couch, allowing himself a rare moment of relaxation. The sound of you moving about, the familiar sights and smells of your home, began to soothe the weariness in his bones. He watched you with a soft expression, his piercing dark eyes reflecting a rare moment of peace.

A few minutes later, you returned with a tray, setting it down on the coffee table in front of him. "Here you go, Severus. Eat up."

Snape took a bite, savoring the taste. "Thank you," he said simply, his voice warm.

You sat beside him again, watching him eat with a smile on your face. "So, tell me about Hogwarts. How are things going there?"

Snape sighed, setting down his fork for a moment. "As I said, it's the same as always. The students are as troublesome as ever, but Minerva is managing them well in my absence."

You nodded, listening intently. "And what about you? How are you holding up?"

He looked at you, his expression softening. "It's difficult, as always. But knowing I can come home to you makes it bearable."

You reached out, taking his hand in yours. "I'm glad you're here, Severus. I worry about you."

Snape squeezed your hand gently. "And I you, my love. But for now, let's enjoy this time together."

You leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. "Of course. I'm just so happy to have you home."

As you settled in beside him, the two of you fell into a comfortable silence, savoring the rare and precious moments of togetherness. The world outside might be filled with challenges and dangers, but within the walls of your home, there was a sanctuary of love and peace.

You then played with his hair, noticing its greasy texture. Snape, already irritated, muttered, "Stop it," but you insisted, twirling the strands between your fingers. Snape shot you a stern look, which you completely ignored, prompting him to roll his eyes. Despite his initial resistance, he allowed you to continue, feeling your fingers trail down the back of his neck to the collar of his robes.

As you pulled down the high collar, the scars left by Nagini on his neck were revealed—a stark reminder of the miracle that he survived. Your touch was gentle, your fingers tracing the jagged lines with care.

"Severus," you whispered, your voice filled with a mixture of sadness and admiration, "these scars… it's a miracle you're here."

Snape's dark eyes softened slightly, though his tone remained guarded. "A miracle, or perhaps just a twist of fate," he replied, setting down his fork and turning to face you fully. "Either way, I am here."

You leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to one of the scars. "I'm grateful for that twist of fate every day," you said softly.

Snape's expression was a mixture of weariness and gratitude. "As am I," he murmured, his voice tinged with emotion he rarely allowed himself to show. "Though I wish I could spare you the sight of these reminders."

You shook your head, your eyes meeting his with unwavering resolve. "They are part of you, Severus. Part of the man I love."

He sighed, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his lips. "You are far too forgiving, my dear."

"And you are far too hard on yourself," you countered, your fingers continuing their gentle exploration of his neck. "You are a hero, Severus. You need to remember that."

Snape chuckled softly, a rare sound that sent warmth through your heart. "If you insist," he said, his voice still carrying that familiar, dry tone. "Though I must say, your persistence is quite remarkable."

You laughed, leaning in to press a kiss to his lips. "Well, someone has to remind you of your worth."

Snape returned the kiss, his hand cupping your cheek with a tenderness that contrasted sharply with his usual demeanor. "And for that, I am eternally grateful."

You smiled, resting your forehead against his. "Let's make the most of this weekend, Severus. No more talk of scars or battles. Just us."

He nodded, his eyes reflecting a rare moment of peace. "Just us," he agreed, pulling you into his arms.

The two of you sat there in comfortable silence, savoring the precious moments of togetherness. The world outside, with all its challenges and dangers, seemed a distant memory within the sanctuary of your home. And as the evening wore on, you both found solace in each other's presence, grateful for the love that had brought you together and the strength that would see you through whatever lay ahead.

[banzaitaka]

Hello! I was wondering if you could write some fluff for Dr stone please?

Could you write about Ryusui and Tsukasa ( separately) making reader ( gn please?) Cry of worry for them?

They are both a bit crazy, tsukasa fighting anything and Ryusui just diving in any adventure would make me worried sick, specially if they became stone again or something.

I hope I made sense! Thank you!!

[I forgot you said “fluff“, oops. I dunno how to make that fluffy, I‘m sorry edfgieoigj These are just the moments (Y/N) is worrying. So hurt, no comfortish (there is some comfort from other characters). I wanted to focus on the turmoil itself, so for the comfort you can imagine anything fitting with the storyline]

Characters: Tsukasa Shishio, Ryusui Nanami

No pronouns, gendered terms or description of body used for reader.

Spoilers for season 2 & Special 2 - Ryusui

Dr. Stone_Masterlist

Worrisome

Tsukasa Shishio

You didn’t move from your seat near the cave. You couldn’t. The sheer amount of stress made your body shut down as a defense mechanism. You felt dizzy. Your mind was numb. The situation was just so utterly unbelievable. There was just no way. Just when everything started to light up.

Mirai was sitting besides you, letting you hold her to your side as she cried, her voice being muffled by your clothes.

After years, Mirai finally woke up. After months, the Empire and Kingdom of Science were at peace. There was no reason to fear the other party anymore. And how long did that last? Hours? Minutes?

Tsukasa’s wound was fatal, so Senku decided to essentially kill him himself by freezing him up like leftovers. To save him, sure. But he is dead. Tsukasa, your boyfriend, is dead. For however long, he wouldn’t be there. Wouldn’t be there to hold you, to assure you, make new memories with his sister he has missed so much for forever.

You were scared. So scared. What if Senku’s plan didn’t work? What if everything went downhill from here on out? What if Homura and Hyoga escaped and went on a killing spree?

It was all so scary to think about, you nearly went crazy. Mirai was the only thing keeping you sane, she didn’t know you, but she knew how important you were to her brother. And thus you were important to her too. And the same the other way around.

You pulled her a little closer and rubbed her shoulder, as you were at a loss for words to comfort her. That was when Senku emerged from the cave where it happened. His expression wasn’t much different from yours, but there was a certain determination twinkling in his eyes. As he stepped closer, you noticed him carry something. It was the lion’s fur Tsukasa had draped over his shoulders before making peace with the Kingdom of Science.

Wordlessly, he paused infront of you two and wrapped both of you up in it.

“It’s cold.”, he said after a beat of silence, “I’ll bring him back. And that’s a fact.”

Ryusui Nanami

Your eyebrows were already furrowed when Ryusui ended up being one of the three to test the hot air balloon. Sure, you trusted in Senku’s abilities - you’ve seen what that mind of his can accomplish - but there was still room for unexpected errors. Errors that could lead to very horrible things you did not want to think about. Regardless, that adventure addicted man never missed out on a chance to make you age an additional ten years with his antics.

And as much as you would love to smile lovingly into the distance and say you wouldn’t have it any other way- Well, you couldn’t. You didn’t dare take away such a significant chunk of who he was, but you’d still appreciated it if he would slow down every now and then.

That poor heart of yours was on the brink of explosion almost every single day.

If only that stupid, stupid man wasn’t the love of your life.

For the nth time you looked up into the sky, in the direction the hot air balloon took off in. The stress was messing so hard with your brain you would constantly stop in the middle of your tasks, “Must be a real ain p-ay to deal with, huh?”, Gen appeared on your side, a half-amused, half-sympathetic look on his face. You shared eye-contact for a moment, before humming and looking back into the distance. He followed your gaze, “They’re all going to make it there safely. Senku wouldn’t have it any other way. And that man of yours doesn’t seem like the type to die easily.”, he tried to comfort you.

In return, you offer a sad smile, “Yeah, you’re right. He always comes back to me.”, you pause with a shaky breath, trying to surpress the tears that only seem to dwell up when you talk about your fear, “But…There can always be something.”

“Gen! We need your help over here!”

Nodding in understanding, you urged him to go see what’s up, assuring him you’ll be fine in time. As soon as he left, you let yourself sink to the ground, pulling your knees to your chest. The bustling noise in the distance started to feel like static, leaving you alone in an unbearable silence. Or were you too deep in your own head to hear anything? Either way, it started eating at you. Gnawing on your heart and mind.

You didn’t notice the tears at first. Only when the hiccups began did you realise you were crying.

That dumb, dumb, idiot.

[haikyu-mp4]

Media presence, part 3

word count; 1526 – gn!reader, final part of the mini series

go read part 1 and part 2 first for the best experience

You were tapping your foot under the desk like a bunny, lips pursed as you tried to choose who to talk to first. Your eyes settled on Hinata. “Sweetie,” you started, and he nodded eagerly as if he awaited praise. “You don’t have to do everything Atsumu and Bokuto do.”

Hinata visibly deflated, but puffed out his chest to put on a brave front. “Yes, boss,” he said, and it brought forth a small smile because you did like it when they called you that.

“Imagine how much you could have earned if Calvin Klein was the one asking you to do it. Now it’s just out there for everyone.” you kept saying, visibly frustrated. Once again, Sakusa was thankful that you couldn’t see the smile behind his mask as he watched you from the side.

You turned your attention to Bokuto and Atsumu, who were so perfectly placed in the middle of the four, both wearing very guilty smiles.

“It’s not about posting thirst traps, obviously hot guys draw attention,” you said and just missed the way Sakusa’s nose scrunched. You gritted your teeth, breathing through them as you stared at the angry message from one of your bosses that was open on your computer screen. “It’s the fact that Black Jackals has taken in four younger players and three of them are doing a flexing competition on social media like they’re 17 years old,” you said, definitely rambling at this point.

Did I forget to explain what happened? If it’s not obvious already, all three of your problem children posted shirtless thirst traps on their stories last weekend and hashtagged it with HottestMSBYJackal, and then Atsumu posted another one with a poll on it so people could vote between the three. While they gained a lot of younger followers from the stunt, your bosses were not happy as older fans of the team found them to be way too vain and busy with their bodies, and not focused enough on the sport or whatever. What you felt about it was irrelevant. Caring about what everyone else thought about them was your job.

Bokuto pouted and nodded, not understanding what he did wrong but still not liking your tone. “Sorry, boss.”

“I’m letting you off with a warning, just please think twice before posting stuff. Be normal,” you begged them, shooing your hand as a hint for them to wrap up the meeting.

Atsumu must have put some extra audacity in his smoothie this morning because he seemed to let the whole thing fall off his shoulders when you said they just got a warning. “I need to ask you something first, it’s important.”

“Let’s just go,” Sakusa said. He was trying to herd them outside without touching them, which always proved equally difficult. Perhaps he had an inkling about his teammate’s question.

“Which one would you vote for?” Atsumu asked, a toothy grin growing on his face that usually did great for advertisement. You sighed. They probably expected you not to answer.

“Sakusa,” you said, which made all three start yelling for different reasons. He was your favourite today after not participating, knowing that if he tried to stop them it wouldn’t have worked anyway. You covered your ears, regretting answering immediately.

“Quiet down, this isn’t a playground! Let’s go.” Sakusa commanded, this time with a sternness that made the others kick into gear.

“Keep your shirts on, thank you.” They were all on their way out, Bokuto and Atsumu hanging with their heads like wounded puppies who startled once you spoke again. “Not you, Sakusa.”

“Not keep my shirt on, or?” he asked, that Atsumu-coded smirk ringing from his voice.

“Don’t test me, sit back down,” you said, and he shrugged before following your orders. The other jackals had turned around and were looking between you two curiously until Sakusa closed the door in their faces. He sat down and excused them for being so loud, which you brushed off.

The bosses had instructed you to scold all of them, even though you insisted Sakusa was not part of it. Those old men only saw how everyone referred to the MSBY four online.

Honestly, you had no idea why you asked him to stay, so you had to pull something out of your ass real quick. Your mind was racing with all the things you had to do because even though this wasn’t the biggest scandal, it still came on top of everything you usually did. So instead of lying, you rested your head in your hands for a second. “I’m not sure why I asked you to come back inside.” It wasn’t some grand confession, but just that made it feel like a tiny butterfly was fluttering its wings in Sakusa’s belly. He was so pleased that he wasn’t sure what to say, choosing instead to scoot his chair closer to the desk and wait for you to unbury your face again. You eventually did, resting your chin on your hand instead. “Did you think about my suggestion yet?”

“Yes.”

You smiled, nodding your head as he once again gave you one-word answers. Feeling like there was too little air in the room now, you went to open the window. That might soothe your headache. “Once again, the quality of your answers rock my world,” you said sarcastically.

Sakusa hesitated for a moment before speaking up again. “You do a great job,” he said just as you sat back down. For what felt like the first time that day, you really let your eyes settle on him. His hair was a little extra nice that day, in your opinion. You liked it when it was more messy, not picture perfect. Behind the hair, you could still see how his eyebrows were drawn together. More than usual, you’d say.

If you were honest, you would have told him you didn’t always feel like you did great. That you felt like it was so difficult to understand who you were supposed to cater to when everyone had a different opinion and kept expecting you to bounce back every time you met a new challenge. Because you were so good at your job, that came with expectations.

However, your relationship with Sakusa wasn’t like that, so instead your eyes teared up a bit and you whispered a weak “Thank you”.

He nodded but desperately wished you were close enough that he could ask you to tell him everything. To rest your head on his shoulder and hug you until the pain went away. But he knew he had to go back to practice any minute now, and you two would stay an unspoken thing.

You might have only started looking at him now, but he had practically been staring at you since the second he and his teammates came into that office. “I’m sure those idiots will charm everyone with time,” he said, an added assurance he didn’t usually give anyone else. “I’ve seen Bokuto practising his Bokuto Beam, lately.”

“You’re right,” you said. The Bokuto reference did make you laugh and quickly wipe at one eye where a tear threatened to fall from the pressure. It had been a long day. “I’m just glad you didn’t join them, imagine you finally started posting and I had to yell at you.” Sure, you would love a shirtless photo of Sakusa, but your job came first.

“Mm.” He cringed at the thought, hands stuffed in the pockets of his training jacket. After a beat of silence, Sakusa’s frown slowly loosened up. He was glad he could make you laugh a bit, that wasn’t usually his strong suit. “Anything else?”

“No, you can go,” you sighed. “They need you.” He nodded and silently got up, wondering if he should say something more. But he didn’t, he just left. It left you staring at the door, sighing deeply as you realised your predicament. You felt something special for Sakusa Kiyoomi.

As Sakusa got home and settled into his sofa after he was freshly showered, he unlocked his phone and opened messages. He wrote a message, deleted it, and then repeated this a few more times before switching to Instagram. There, he opened the story camera and angled it to show a small part of his pristine living room where the last lick of the sun was shining across the floor. Imagine you finally started posting, were the words that rang in his ears.

The picture he took was nice enough, and he added “Good evening.” in white before spending a while choosing the font he liked. He even added a calm song he heard the other day and grew to like.

After it was posted, the likes flooded in, but he turned on silent mode and switched back to messages. He wondered if seeing the story would make you do another victory dance. Once again, he opened your contact and wrote, deciding to finally send it.

What are you doing for lunch tomorrow?

You: Probably eat

Sakusa rolled his eyes yet smiled affectionately. Eat with me.

You: Okay:)

You: I look forward to it

No more 'unspoken thing'.

part 1 ║ part 2 ║ part 3 (final part) ║ headcanons ║ masterlist

[callsign-rogueone]

harvest day - l.m.

secret admirer!Liam x Luceran!reader. part of my Valentine’s Day celly! 💕 words: 932 🏷: reader is feminine and has longish hair (can be tied), but no pronouns used. I am once again making random stuff up about Navarrian cultures. featuring my farm-boy Sawyer headcanon lmao (Luceras doesn’t have one major city on the map in the book. It’s all farmland, and you cannot convince me otherwise.)

You nearly crush it under your boot in your hurry to get to class, stepping back at the last second to pick it up.

A tiny dragon carved from wood -- your dragon, complete with his horns and a tiny spiked tail. You run your fingers over the wood — it’s been sanded, perfectly smooth against your skin. The level of detail is incredible. This must have taken hours.

“You’re going to be late, humble one.”

Right. You tuck it into the pocket of your jacket, locking your door behind you and jogging down the hall. 

You make it just in time, apologizing your way down the row, stepping around people’s feet carefully until you’ve made it to your friends. You settle between Rhiannon and Sawyer, thanking them for saving you a seat. “Overslept,” you explain, digging in your bag for your notebook, which you had nearly forgotten to pack.

You remove your flight jacket, taking the tiny dragon from your pocket and setting it on the desk beside your pen.

“Whoa, sick! Who made that?” Sawyer asks.

“I don’t know. I just found it outside my door. It looks just like him, though. Even got the horns right.”

“It is a very good representation of me,” Cruith appraises. “Though I have never once been that small.”

“That's awesome. Maybe they’re like, a wood-wielder or something,” Ridoc suggests, leaning over to examine it.

“I’m pretty sure that signet doesn’t exist,” Rhiannon says dryly.

“If he can do all that with metal, then it's entirely possible someone could do it with wood,” Ridoc defends.

“That’s what she said,” Sawyer says quietly, trying not to laugh.

Ridoc grins. “I’m rubbing off on you, man.”

You snort. “Now that's what she said.”

“Focus,” Rhiannon scolds lightly, ever the responsible squad leader, her eyes not having left the chalkboard this whole time.

“Yes, mom,” the three of you chorus softly, turning your attention back to the professor. 

Violet looks like she has something to say, but she remains quiet.

---------------------------------------------------

“Mail call,” Rhiannon announces, distributing opened letters to each of you.

Your heart drops as soon as you start to read yours.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I just didn’t realize the date. It’s Harvest Day on Wednesday. Last year I was just too busy trying to stay alive to think about it, but…”

Sawyer winces, understanding. “I wish I could be there too. I swear when I graduate, I’m gonna use all my leave every year to help them.”

“I’m so lost,” Ridoc says, looking between you.

You laugh, explaining. “Everyone spends the day — the week, really — helping their neighbors harvest their crops, and there’s always a feast at the end with what we’ve grown.”

“Gods, the food. My family doesn’t come from much, but that was always the one day a year I felt like we were rich,” Sawyer admits.

You sigh in agreement. “It’s gonna be so weird wearing black all day instead of fall colors.” 

“That is the most Luceran thing I’ve ever heard,” Ridoc says. “Sometimes I forget you guys are all farmers.”

“It’s only our single most important holiday,” you laugh. “And we’re not all farmers. Two of us are dragon riders.” 

Sawyer grins at you, putting a hand up for a high five. “Damn right we are.”

---------------------------------------------------

Everyone’s eyes widen at the silky orange ribbon tying your hair back. You beam, turning your head to show it off. “Courtesy of the wood-wielder. I have no idea where they got it.”

Your joy is short-lived.

“Precisely what is that, cadet?” Dain asks sharply, and your face falls. There’s only one thing he can be taking issue with, the only spot of color in the sea of black making up your formation.

“It’s a Luceran tradition,” someone says for you — but not Sawyer or any of your friends. “Today is Harvest Day.”

You turn toward the voice, seeing Liam behind you, his eyes locked with Dain’s as if he’s daring the wingleader to argue with him. How does he know about the holiday? Had he overheard your conversation with your squad earlier?

“I expect it to be gone tomorrow,” Dain concedes. “You’re all dismissed.”

You breathe a sigh of relief as everyone files out of the hall.

“Liam?” You ask softly, and he stops, turning toward you. “Thank you.”

Then you see the small block of wood in his hand, the rough shape of another dragon etched into it. “It was you,” you whisper, stunned.

He laughs. “What?”

You reach into your pocket, producing the carving of Cruith. “You made this, right? Were you the one who wrote those physics notes for me when I was in the infirmary, too?” 

He smiles. “Yeah. That was all me.”

Your heart flutters with hope. “Why?”

“Because I was too nervous to say it, but I really like you.”

You blink. Liam, the one who isn’t scared of anything, was nervous to talk to you? And he has a crush on you? You’ve always found him attractive, but you had never thought this a possibility.

“Say something,” Cruith prods, sounding amused.

You finally form words. “Do you want to go into town with me this weekend?”

He blushes, scratching the back of his neck. “I would really like that.”

“Hey, lovebirds, are you coming to breakfast, or what?” Ridoc calls. “Some of us are starving over here!”

You laugh, a sound Liam will never tire of. “Just a minute!” You yell back.

You touch your fingertips to the soft silk, looking up at him. “Thank you, Liam. It really means a lot to me.”

He smiles. “Of course, sweetheart.”