#both installments of it are 6 chapters

[daydreams-after-dark]

Free Use Jail Cell, Part 1

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 (final) | extra: Police Reports | extra: Dinner date with Minho

full master list for additional installments

Police Officer Skz ot8 x female reader

Premise: you're arrested and held for 24 hours by 8 police officers at the local police station / reader has her fantasy play out.

Word Count: 3k (part 1)

Chapter Summary: Officer Seo Changbin arrests you and has some one on one time with you before taking you to the station. You meet the other officers. (This chapter is Changbin focused, but a little bit happens at the end with the other officers.)

a/n: This fic will be in multiple parts because I get too impatient not to share what I’ve written so far. There will be two, possibly three installments turns out it will be more like 6 (tag list is open).

I refer to the officers as “Officer Hyunjin”, “Officer Minho” etc just to make it quick to identify the characters. 

The whole premise is planned and explained in the fic. The story is purely fantasy, but please be mindful of content warnings, as it has potentially triggering content. I want you to be safe here on my blog.

CW: planned fantasy role play, police arrest, nudity, unprotected sex in a semi public space, pain kink, roleplay pain, anal play, blow jobs, cum eating, name calling (both praising and degrading), reference to sexual acts, imprisonment, restraints (handcuffing).

🚨🚨🚨🚨

The lights of the police patrol car reflect in your rear view mirror, signaling for you to stop your car.

“Dammit.” You sigh as you pull your car over to the side of the road.

You watch in your side mirror as a police officer emerges from his patrol car, and your heart rate increases when you see the well built figure approach your window. 

“Everything okay, Officer?” You say innocently.

“I’m gonna need you step out of the vehicle, Ma'am.” He says sternly.

“But I wasn’t speeding.” You protest as he opens your car door and pulls you out.

“Ouch! You’re hurting me!” You writhe against him, but he’s too strong.

“No. But you’ve just resisted arrest, so you’re in big trouble little bunny.” He slams you front first against the side of your car and proceeds to handcuff your hands around your back.

“You’ve got the wrong woman, Dude!” You cry.

“That’s Officer Seo Changbin, to you.” He tears you away from your car abruptly and tugs you towards his police car. “In.” He throws you in the back of the car like a rag doll.

“But my car!” You wail, as he slams the door and hops into the driver’s seat.

“Shh. It’ll be impounded. Now not another word.”

“But you haven’t read me my rights! You can’t do this!”

But Officer SEO Changbin ignores you as he drives away.

After half an hour of you demanding he explain what you’ve actually been arrested for, and half an hour of being met with silence, Officer Changbin pulls off the main road and parks his car in a deserted space under a bridge.

Alarm bells go off in your head as you look around. The area is absolutely deserted. You frantically try to formulate a plan to escape. But even if you did escape, you’re fucking handcuffed.

The Officer opens the back door and slips in beside you, holding a tablet and stylus. “Y/n. Twenty five. Female. Submitted a ‘free use jail fantasy’. That is you, is it not?” He quirks an eyebrow at you. 

You stare at the man, but remain silent. Isn’t that one of your rights?

Changbin sighs. “This is your contract. I need you to understand the terms of our engagement.”

He holds the tablet in front of you so you can read exactly what you signed yourself up for. 

I, y/n, agree to being held prisoner in a police station setting, where eight men have the right to use my body how they see fit. This includes: degradation, humiliation, spanking, oral sex, vaginal penetration, anal penetration (includes use of fingers), double penetration, rough sex, use of props and restraints. 

Please read below for further details.

You scroll through the rest of the pages. Details of the acts that may take place, photos of the men and their role, special interests and skills. They are fucking handsome as hell too.

What the fuck have you signed up for? It sounded good in your head. It sounded good when you applied. But now it’s real.. You gulp and look at the Officer. 

“Sign here.” He points to the space at the bottom of page 12.

“Umm…”  you nudge your head towards your restraints.

“Oh yes of course.” Changbin releases your cuffs, opting to secure them in front of you instead. You take the stylus and sign on the dotted line.

You only live once right?

“Great. So as of now you belong to us. Well, for the next 24 hours.” He says matter of fact.

You suck on your lower lip. “So, like right now you could get me to do…things?” You say in a small voice.

“Yes, that’s right. I could instruct you to do things. Or, I could just do things to you. Free use, remember?” He takes the tablet from you and places it next to him in the seat. Your eyes fall on his thick bicep and you feel an ache between your legs. He sits back, slouching against the backseat, and his eyes drop to your bare leg.

A heavy silence fills the car. 

Changbin reaches out to squeeze your thigh, just above your knee and you hold your breath as his hand slowly slides up under your skirt.

“Show me your panties.” He whispers, lifting your skirt up. You open your legs for him. 

His plush, pink lips part slightly.  “Take them off.” He instructs.

You shimmy your panties off and wait for your next instructions. 

“Unbuckle my belt.”

The chain of the handcuffs rattling, and his heavy breaths are the only sounds as you bring your hands to his belt. “Uunzip my pants and take out my cock.”

Your heart begins to race, and your mouth becomes dry, as anticipation and fear bubble in your stomach. Your fingers shake as you unzip his fly and pull his length through the opening of his boxers. Fuck, he is so thick. Your eyes flick up to his.

“Suck it.” He says, staring at you.

You take a deep breath and bring your mouth closer to the fat tip, wondering you you’d even be able to stretch your mouth around it. You kiss the slit. Changbin hisses. “Don’t tease.” He says with a gravely tone. 

You swirl your tongue around the tip, then along the shaft, moistening it up. But Changbin is impatient, and he presses his hand on the back of your head, indicating that he’s had enough of your chaste ministrations.

You stretch your mouth around his girth and sink your head down over him. God, he’s not going to fit. You’re going to choke. 

“C’mon, deeper.” He pushes your head, coaxing you to take more of him. Your eyes immediately water, but you do your very best to suck him enthusiastically.

You feel his hand slide down your back and over your ass. You whimper when he lifts your skirt up and he spanks you on the ass. “Deeper.” He moans. 

You lift off and take a big breath before taking him back in your mouth, forcing yourself to take even more of him. His fingers finds your pussy, sliding them  through your wet folds. He gathers some of your arousal and brings the pad of his finger to your asshole. 

“Hmm… you feel like you’re gonna be so tight. The boys are going to have fun stretching out this little thing. You won’t be able to sit for a week.” He chuckles. 

You moan at the thought, excited to be used.

Changbin’s finger breaches the tight ring of muscle as he presses inside. It’s just to the first knuckle but it’s making you hungry for more.

“That’s enough for now.” He decides, withdrawing his finger and pulling your mouth off his cock. You sit up whining at the loss. “Are we going to go to the police station now?” You inquire.

Changbin scoffs. “Greedy little thing. Can’t wait for what’s in store for you.” He strokes your tear stained cheek. “We’ll go soon. But not until you ride me. Climb on.” He nods towards his cock. “I want first feel of your pussy.”

You straddle Officer Changbin, wrapping your still cuffed hands around his neck, and he holds his cock steady for you as you lower yourself down on him. “Fuck!” You squeak as you feel the tip against your entrance. “You’re so big Officer. I’m not sure I can take you.” 

You swallow, looking into his eyes. There’s lust there. You can see it. He looks like he could hurt you, but there’s a kindness in his expression too, and you wonder if the other men will be like him?

“If you can’t take my cock, how are you gonna take two at once?” He whispers. “Sit on it. I want to feel your walls wrapped around my dick.”

“What if I say no? What happens?” You challenge him.”

“‘No’s not your safe word.” He grips your hips and slowly lowers you down onto his length. “Just keep your eyes on me, sweet thing. Shhh. I know Binnie’s thick.”

You shake your head. “It’s too big.” 

“It’s gonna feel good. I promise. Let me stretch your tight little walls.” He breathes against your cheek.

You feel yourself stretching for him, slowly relaxing to accommodate his size. Inch by inch you feel him fill you. 

“You are tight aren’t you? Fuck, like a vice.” He closes his eyes and tries to steady his breath.

You push yourself down all the way and pause. 

Changbin opens his eyes again and lifts your skirt so he can see where you’re impaled on him.

“See. Look at that.” He says in awe. Your eyes follow his as you lift up slightly and lower yourself again, watching him disappear inside you. 

“Bounce on me. Show me what a good little girl you are, and I’ll put in a good word in my report.”

He digs his hands into your ass cheeks, spreading them and using his grip on them to bounce you.

“I need you to scream for me. No one’s gonna hear you, but I want you to scream your lungs out anyway.”

He grips you tighter, and as though you weigh nothing, he lifts you up and slams you down. You cry out. “Again!” He growls as he slides you up his cock, and drops you back down. “Scream.”

You cry out, screaming loudly.

“Hurts doesn’t it, bunny?” He uses his hips to fuck up into you ferociously.

“N-no…feels goo-”

“Say it hurts. Scream like it hurts.” He growls and throws  you off him and pushes your face into the car seat. He lifts your hips to meet his cock and thrusts into you forcefully. Every thrust is deep and hard. Your pussy feels stretched to its limits. 

He’s relentless, pounding into you harder and harder. The sound of your bodies colliding filling the car. The windows are steamed up, and you're certain the car is rocking wildly.

“Stop… please… too hard…it hurts…” you scream. But you don’t use your safe word. It actually feels incredible.

“Is Binnie too much, hmm? Poor little cunt struggling to fit me?” He mocks you.

You scream louder. He picks up the pace. 

“Fuck…I’m coming!!!” You let out the loudest scream your lungs can muster, as you clench your walls around Changbin’s cock.

“That’s it, so nice and loud for me.”  He helps you ride out your orgasm and then withdraws from your still quivering cunt.

“Good, compliant little bunny. Come, drink up.” He strokes your hair as he helps you turn around so you can wrap your lips around his cock again. He pumps the length a few times until you feel his hot, thick cum coat your tongue. 

“Open. Show me.” The tilts your chin as you present to him your mouth full of semen. “Swallow it up for me.”

You keep your eyes locked on him as you swallow the thick, salty substance, and then open back up to show him.

“Good girl. We need to get you into your cell.” He smirks and gets back into the front of the car.

🚨🚨🚨🚨

It’s almost dark when you get to the police station and you’re feeling incredibly nervous about what lies ahead. 

Changbin helps you get out of the vehicle, leaving your panties on the floor, and escorts you up the front steps of the building. It actually looks like a real police station too, and you wonder how on earth they managed to have access to this place.

The seven other men are waiting for you. They eagerly stand up from their desks as Changbin walks you past until you reach the cell at the far end of the room.

“In.” He grunts, removing your handcuffs and pushing you inside and slamming the door closed behind you. You quickly take in your surroundings. There’s absolutely nothing in your cell except a mattress with two folded blankets on top.

“So this is the sweet thing we have to break?” One of the men jeers. 

“This will be fun.” Another adds.

You turn back towards the men, who are all lined up on the other side of the bars. They watch you. So many eyes. On you. Some look mean. Others look kind. You recognise each of them from the photos, and you know from your research you need to watch out for the ones named Seungmin and Minho. 

“Y/n. Come meet the officers.” The Chef, Chan you believe his name is, says firmly.

You take a step forward.

“No.” He stops you. “First, strip.” 

“Oh!” You squeak. You hesitate. Are you really ready for this? But there’s something thrilling about this situation, and you know, deep down, even though you’re nervous, scared even, you don’t want to stop. Your hands tremble as they grasp the hem of your top and you pull it over your head. Leaving your top half In merely a flimsy sheer bra.

“Fuck. She’s hot.” One of them men whistle under his breath.

“The skirt too..” Chan barks.

“B-but-“ you remember you’re not wearing underwear.

“Skirt. Off. I don’t like repeating myself.” Chan snaps.

You lower your eyes as you peel your skirt down and let drop it to the floor.

“No panties. What a slut.” Minho smirks.

You can feel all eyes on your bare pussy. 

“Look at the officers before you y/n.”

You lift your head and look at the men.  

“For the next twenty four hours these men own your body. They want your cunt? You let them have it. They want to fuck your ass? It’s theirs. They want to take you two at a time? Tie you up, use restraints? You do not resist. They feel they need to punish you? You take it willingly. They want to degrade you, humiliate you?” 

Seungmin laughs at that.

“They can. If they want to treat you nice, be sweet, they’re allowed to do that too. But you don’t come without permission. They control your orgasms.”

Chan basically recites  your submission request back to you.

“Alright. Come forward to meet the officers who will be taking good care of you over the next twenty four hours.” 

You take a step forward. “On your knees.” Chan corrects you.

You drop to your knees, the floor is cold and hard, and you crawl over to where the men wait.

The one named Minho comes forward and presents his erect cock to you, sliding it through the bars. “Come say hello, kitten.” He says coldly.

You look up at him as you wrap your mouth around him, and he immediately takes hold of the back of your head to keep it still while he fucks your mouth. You hear several belts being unbuckled around you.

So this is the introductions then?

“Changbin and I will leave you to it.” Chan informs the group and he and Changbin leave you with the remaining six officers.

From what you can tell from the way Minho holds your head and watches you with intense eyes, is that the man can read your limits. He pushes in just enough to make you gag, but not quite making you choke. His rhythm is smooth and consistent, and when he cums you know he’s holding back a pretty moan. He’s definitely a dom, but one that really understands a sub.

Felix, the pretty and gentle blond, is careful with your face, he doesn’t push too far, and he lets you use your hand on him. But there’s a glimmer in his eye that tells you he doesn’t mind the kinkier side of things, or that he might like seeing you in pain.

Hyunjin. He doesn’t even have to speak and he’s got you blushing. Just the way he’s looking at you, his tongue licking his pretty lips, has you dripping down your legs. The man is beautiful, sensual, and  the way he’s working with you as you work his cock, moving with your mouth and hand, makes you believe he finds sex to be about connection. You’re not entirely sure how that will play out.

Jeongin. Seems sweet and innocent, but his entire expression changes to demonic once his tip hits your throat. You’re not sure what he has in store for you, but you know it’s not going to sweet, and you find yourself imagining all sorts of scenarios with him.

Jisung is next. Confident, demanding with his cock. Mumbles “slut” a few times, and thrusts his hips erratically. He’s unpredictable, and you splutter when he pushes far too deep for you. A flicker of fear and concern crosses his features, and you get the urge to help him stay in the character he’s trying to portray. You moan enthusiastically, and he quickly recovers, fucking you without restraint.

Seungmin is last. He’s cruel with his words, and careless with his thrusts. He’s energy is cold, and you know that if you need to be punished, he’s the guy to give it to you. That is until he comes back with an oversized shirt and a tray of food, and asks you if you have any questions about the agreement.

🚨🚨🚨🚨

You sit alone in your cell and eat your dinner, wondering what the night will hold. You don’t have to wait long though, because Chan is walking towards your cell. 

“Y/n. It’s time for your interrogation with Detective Minho and Officer Seungmin.”

Fuck.

↣↣ up next, interrogation time with 2min here

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[whambambatfam]

Webs of a Wing

Chapter 6

I'm sorry again this one took so long! I'm still not happy with how it turned out but if I hold and try to fix it any longer I'll never post again.

The names suggested for the spider were all so good. I chose Silk, adorable name. Another suggested name was Spider-mite, I think that would be a cute hero name for them.

Reader ages 17 - 18

───── ⋆⋅ 🕸 ⋅⋆ ─────

With the last year of highschool coming up Gewn’s been diligently looking for colleges. Her schools have already been picked and her applications ready, she's now helping the two of you. Since her school choices align with all your dreams of escaping Gotham, she's finding both something in New York.

“Try Education Connection. You could get connected," MJ sang from her seat slouched over your desk. “For free.. free with education connection."

“What about this one?” You turn the laptop towards Gwen, grumbling when the rubber foot catches on your blanket, “It looks like the program has good reviews. Journalism, photography and acting...”

As she leans in to see, setting aside the sample of your web. The floor in front of her is scattered with her little notes and tools. She's been interested in what it's made of and has even synthesized it. While it's not so tough that you need something like a batarang to cut, it still works the same. With it you work together to design a web shooter that straps to the wrist. Together the two of you make quite the neat little invention.

“Hey, so, does your spider have a name?" MJ calls out to you, her finger taps gently against the glass causing the creature inside to surry over, investigating the noise. “Like, what do you call them?"

“Huh?" Quirking a brow, you turn away from the info page. “Umm.. My baby..?”

She huffs, spinning about to face you properly, “Seriously? What about a name?!" Crossing her arms she contemplates the strange arachnid meandering about their enclosure, “How about Yuk-yuk? Lil’ Nasty?”

Gwen shakes her head, considering the creatures as well before giving her own, “What about Silk?”

You crawl across your bed and over your desk where your dear pet resides, “Do you like that one?” MJ rolls away as you open the top to pull out the excited spider, “Silk it is."

Besides school, you've been considering starting to make some of your own money. You don't want to stay used to relying on the Wayne's seemingly endless supply of wealth. The possibility of selling your creation crossed your mind but, even if it's not as strong as your webs, it's too much power to let fall into the wrong hands. You'd rather keep it to yourself or at least let Gwen have it, she did come up with the main component. Which she does gratefully, the two of you even try out swings across small gaps and webbing up practice we.

Luckily, there's another one of your hobbies that has a great chance of earning you cash. So, you went digging through your trove of Dynamic Duo pictures. The older ones, that you could bring yourself to part from, were quickly snatched up by obsessive fans and collectors. A few investigation sites took your more recent shots but nothing made you more than getting fresh action shots to news outlets. Besides the bank you were putting away, seeing your work starting to make front pages was nice.

Since it's been working out so well, you'd almost forgotten about the costume. You tested out the type of material that doesn't hamper your cling abilities together once but it had slipped your mind. That was until MJ pulled it from her closet one night with excited jazz hands. She hadn't said anything when she insisted you two spend the night.

MJ waves the suit around as she pushes over her hard work, “I even got Gwen help install this so you can switch on your.. Wall-see-through thingy." She wiggles her fingers over the large white eyes of the mask.

Gwen ushers you out into the hall, suit in hand. “Now go! Put it on! Hurry!" You're all but shoved into the bathroom to change.

Slipping the mask on and adjusting to your face, you look into the mirror for the first time. “This is...” Holy shit, you look like a real vigilante- one that can’t be ignored. The red and blue cut around your form is surprisingly flattering. It looks cool, feels cool, you feel cool. What more could you ask for in a superhero costume?

There's a knock on the door behind Mj call in to you, “It's too tight isn't it? Sorry, i really thought-”

Flinging the door open, carefully not to damage it, “Mj, it's amazing!” You wrap her in a tight hug, carefully not to hurt her, “Thank you so much for doing this for me.”

“So, you're really gonna swing around Gotham like that?” Gwen quips with a chuckle as you release the frazzled ginger from your grasp.

MJ winks, “Take lots of pictures, tiger.”

“Always do."

What started as a test run of your new suit that has quickly turned south when you spotted them. While snapping a few pics of the bat and bird you managed to land yourself right in the heart of a fear toxin explosion. The impending blast caught your danger sense in time but you couldn't get away from the gas fast enough. A scarecrow thug managed to grab you while you were disoriented, sinking their switchblade into your side.

Coughing and sputtering, you manage to push them away, just for them to come back swinging. The knife edge sliced straight through your suit and the skin underneath with each swipe. Stuffing your face into the crook of your elbow, you managed to grab their wrist. Tossing them over your shoulder and their back hits the brick wall behind you before they fall to the ground head first. Giving them one good parting kick you crawl up the wall before they could get up again.

Swinging to a nearby apartment complex, your foot slips on the ledge as you stumble onto your rooftop. Retching the camera from your neck with one hand, you press the other into your weeping side and totter over to where you stashed your bag. The downside of a spandex suit is having absolutely nowhere to put things like your phone. You have to get out of here, you need to get home, you need... “Alfred, please...”

The next time you open your eyes the grimy alleyways of Gotham are replaced with the pristine walls of your modest bedroom in Wayne manor. Sitting up you find yourself free of pain despite the agony of getting attacked. Every scrap and cut is gone, as if they were never there to begin with. Your hand slides under your shirt to find a bandage over the spot that pricks knife got you. Peeling it off you find the gash has healed completely, leaving only the faint sliver of a scar in its wake. Nice.

NO, not nice. How did you get here? Where is your camera? Phone? Suit- YOu rip the blanket from your body, finding yourself in a pair of your pajamas. Fuck! Where the hell is your spider suit?

Jumping out of bed you start scouring your room, your suit or bag or something! Trying to be mindful of your own strength, you sling your door open. If you got home and changed then it must be in the house somewhere. You just have to find it before-

“Looking for something?” Alfred stands on the other side of the door, his arms folded neatly behind his back.

You nearly jump out of your skin at the sight. Your arms flying into the air involuntarily as wips of webs shoot out to dangle from your wrists. “Alfred! Uh..” Coughing away the squeak in your surprised voice doesn't help the lump in your throat. “No, no of course not. Why would- what would I even be looking for anyway?” Shaking off the web you cross your arms tight over your chest.

The old butler cocks his head, “Are you sure, young master?” Pinched between the two fingers on each of his hands is your suit, bloodied and tattered. “So, this isn't yours?”

“How did-?” It feels like the air has been knocked out of your lungs.

“You sure took quite the beating if you can't remember who picked you up last night, patched your wounds, and put you to bed.” His mention conjures the vague memory of being dragged into a car and dumped onto a table with a bright light above. “Though, everything seemed to be mostly healed by the time I got you to the cave. All under your father's nose I'll have you know.”

Shame licks its hot flames up the back of your neck. “Ah, shit-”

“Language.” He corrects.

“Sorry! But, um..” Eyeing the tattered garb, you ask sheepishly, "What are you.. gonna do with it?”

“I will respect your..” One of the old man’s snowy brows raises, deepening the creases of his forehead. He searches for the right words and settles on, “creative decisions in design..” then folds it up as nicely as he can, stony gaze returning to you, “I will not have you running around unprotected.”

Shrinking under his gaze, you couldn't possibly just let MJ's hard work all go to waste, “Please, let me at least hold onto that one. It's.. special.”

The old man's concession was obvious the moment he saw your pleading face. “Well, I suppose so.. After I mend it, that is, young master.”

You can't help throwing your arms around him and he accepts you gladly, “Al.. I don't want him to know...” Sniffling into his suit, he pats your head.

Alfred lets out a heavy sigh and nods, “I understand...”

Nothing could shake the bond the two of you shared. Like the doting grandfather coming around to clean up after his reckless grandchild. He patched your wound, mends your suit, and It takes twice as long as the first but you made due with the patched up one MJ made in the meantime. Not that you're out fighting crime for real.. yet.. and that's not because you're scared after that whole incident.

Of course, when it does arrive, the suit is a work of beauty all over again. The design was faithful to MJ as promised with your eye covers still having the X-ray tech Gwen put in. This time the material is more durable, insulated even, and a few extra features too! You haven't figured them all out yet but you'll get there.

Test run, take two! This time you're not gonna get caught up in some crazy fight. Batman's plethora of super powered villains were tucked away for the moment. That left you free to follow him through the city using one of your new gadgets- a batman tracker. Oh Al, he knows you too well.

Traversing the Gotham rooftops, something peculiar catches your eyes just as you catch up to your target. Golden hair flutters behind her as a young girl leans over the gaps between buildings. Wow, a new Robin already? And a girl, nice! Although it does leave a heavy feeling in your heart. Is Tim okay? He's alive right? Damn kid, why do you have to be so worried about him? God, you wish the little prick wasn't so skittish, you might actually know what's going on. Maybe Alfred knows, he better, you're asking as soon as you get home. If your bastard of a father left another child for dead-

"Woah! Who are you?!”

The sudden sound of the new girl's chipper voice coming from right beside you sends you scrambling up the wall in surprise. "Please, I'm good, promise!"

Mouth hung open, she had to crane her neck to look up at you, “Promise?"

“Uh, yeah.." Shimmying down the wall you extend your hand to her, little finger raised. “P-pinky promise?”

She’s eyeing you behind that mask and you can feel it. Oh yeah, your suspicion as hell and she has every right to tuck tail and run. “Well.. I've definitely never met a bad guy like you.” Luckily for you, she doesn’t seem to think you're a threat and even cracks a smile.

Before you can say more, probably for the better, she’s called away, "Robin. Stay focused." Batman gruff command causes you both to straighten, exchanging waves before parting ways.

“Her name is Stephanie Brown.” Alfred was surprisingly forward with you when you came in flabbergasted and waved a picture of the new Robin.

You couldn't suppress the tight feeling in your chest. “What about Tim?” The old man seemed to know what you were thinking before the words left your mouth.

He pats your back reassuringly, “Don't worry, he's simply been grounded.”

That answer triggered a bout of giggles that had nearly choked you, “G-grounded?” Fuck man and here you were all worried about that little shit.

The hand that had reassured you smacks your trembling shoulder, “It is no laughing matter, young master.”

Shaking your head, you successfully stifle your laughter, “No, no. Of course not..”

OH, you have got to get this on camera a hundred times over. A robin with strong screen presence, style, grace, and, to the bats chagrin, an unstoppable sense of humor. Honestly, you couldn't get enough.

The charm she brings to her role reminds you of watching Jason on his first days and you think the two of you might have even gotten close. It's a shame she's never been introduced to you... technically.

In the quiet moment of a now hectic life, when you're the only one in the manor. When you can feel the despondency of those interminable halls seeping into your bones. When the emptiness of this large house is just too much to bare.

You miss it most.

Having someone to bother at times when your friends were too far or your grandfather too busy. Having somebody who filled the gaps of your most lonesome hours. Who made that hollow house only truly feels like home when you were together. Even when you were left in the dark, like the sun is sure to rise every more, the light never stayed away. The melancholy couldn't get through with the fortissimo of your twain joy when reunited.

You miss your brother.

So, deciding you've been away too long, you decide to make the trip over. Pulling on your suit, and throwing something on over top, you all but fly down the grand staircase. Your heart practically stops when you nearly run head first into Alfred, who you swear wasn't anywhere to be found just a moment ago.. sneaky old bastard.

He seems pensive at first but finally gives, pulling out an envelope. Despite the fact it's sealed, you're sure he knows its contents already.

It's a letter from someone claiming to be your ‘Uncle Ben’ who says he's been looking for you and your mother. He wants to know about how your life has been and if you'd come to New York for a visit. It was vague but strangely well timed, so super suspicious. Yet, something you couldn't quite place gropes your heart the thought. That you had other family, could have those familial bonds you craved but were continuously denied. Maybe, just maybe, you would even be able to find her or at least know something about her. The letter crumples in your grip and Alfred takes your hands in his, gentling your touch.

“Alfred.. Please, don't tell him about this.” A sense of deja vu comes with those words and this time you don't think he'll be so easily convinced.

“Young master, please, understand. The last time a child under my care left to-” You're hands, clasped in his, are given a gentle squeeze, “To search for their mother...” He clears his throat, you've never seen him cry but you can hear the pain in his voice. It hurts to know you've caused it.

“Hey- wait- this is different! So different!” You blurt out your hastily in your own defence, "I know you're worried, but I'll be in New York with my friends anyway! Gwen is touring a college there and even MJ has a few schools she wants us to look at.”

Alfred isn't surprised easily but your words actually seem to take the old man off guard for once, “Is that where you plan to further your education as well?” Shit, right, you haven't told him yet.

“Yes, I am..” You admit with a guilty edge, “We'll all be together. I'm not going out on my own..” Swallowing past the lump form in your throat, you add, "and if my.. family- other family? Is there? I need to know.”

His shoulders slump as he concedes to you, “I beg you, dear. Be safe.”

“Of course, Alfred.” Hugging him tight, easing um when you hear him wheeze, “I'm strong enough now to keep everyone plenty safe.” He shakes his head, returning your affection with a morose sigh.

───── ⋆⋅ 🕸 ⋅⋆ ─────

Tag list?!

@butratherbutrather @dorkatron-2000 @mys0cksrwet @nervousalpacalady @notsamaira @facelessisnthere @danir2006 @ryuushou @sirenetheblogger @l3v1us @jsprien213 @crazycaoticsimp @shadowytravelerlover @whatamoodhoney @alittlelostmoonchild @tiarea @tsxukikami @levi-09 @stardustnightfall @antov828 @awawage @kaitense1 @1abi @d3nnji @yhin-gg @ithoughtthinks @cherrydaisymanic @bat1212 @shycreatorreview @mikusamsan @strwberryglass @hebaoffside @kawaiimusiccollection @bunniotomia @wishiwaswritingrn @epicy0n @cristy-101 @timebomb1101 @st4rg1rln @lithiumval @fortunatelydifferentqueen @welpthisisboring @cobwebinacorner @eyeless-kun @the-dumber-scaramouche @moss-in-the-corner @nisarelle @cssammyyarts @ratterpatter @shinning-stars

[darklordofthesimp]

Anything VII (König x Reader)

The 7th instalment in the Anything-Verse

Main Masterlist

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - 7 - Part 8

Like the characters? Read their fics below!

Sunshine Masterlist || Saint Masterlist

Series Summary:  A lack of information from the chain of command results in König mistaking you for an enemy sniper.

A/N: I’ve already got the next chapter mapped out hee hee

Category: Angst || Hurt/Comfort || Unrequited Pining || Tension

Warning: Graphic Language

You’d barely slept, how could you?

Though you supposed that you should have been used to broken rest, this time it wasn’t for the usual reasons. There were no nightmares that clawed at your mind, no anger that made you sweat- but, there was paranoia. 

There was crippling anxiety that had you wanting to hide beneath the covers, there was fear that gripped you by the throat. The sensation of being stunned was overwhelming, your thoughts were scattered and your world was tipped upside down.

Everything that you believed, everything that you had come to terms with, it was all a lie. 

You risked a glance at the clock, groaning as you realised that you’d have to get up. It was a mission, more so than usual. Dragging your sorry ass from the safety of your sheets was proving difficult, but the knowledge that you’d have to go train with König made it all the more impossible. 

You took a deep breath in as you pulled your top over your head. It was different now, the lines were blurred and König might not be the enemy that you imagined him to be. If there was anyone that was going to help you unravel this with the same urgency that you felt, it was going to be him. 

He’d do anything to prove himself, anything to stay as a sniper.

He wanted to keep the life he’d stolen from you. 

Your stomach turned at the thought, the words weren’t sitting as right as they used to. The anger that occupied your chest with relentless heat has begun to cool as of late. If König was truly misinformed, it would mean that he really was just trying to do his job. 

It meant that he was paying the consequences for someone else's misdeeds. 

It meant that he was also a victim. 

A chill ran down your spine and the fire in your chest reignited. Maybe he was a victim, but he sure as fuck didn’t look like one- he didn’t look like you. 

You groaned as you stepped through your broken doorway, the reminder of how unhinged König could truly be was unwelcome as always. You thought that the Austrian kicking the door down would terrify you, it told you that you were never safe no matter where you locked yourself up. Instead, the fact that he’d done it to ensure your safety confused you. 

You mulled over it as you walked towards the gym, mindlessly stepping one foot in front of the other. 

A couple of minutes spent trying to decipher how you felt towards König felt like hours, any small bead of energy expended suddenly blew out to exhaustion. The man was an enigma who left you stranded in your own thoughts, flailing to find land.

“Good morning, Birdy.” 

You forced yourself not to flinch away from König’s voice as you stood deathly still in the doorway. The man offered you a small wave from inside the gym, his arm stretched over his head as he loosened his muscles. 

You didn’t want to gawk at him, honestly. It was just kind of hard not to. 

He was larger than life, something that would never fail to amaze you. The sheer size of him was one thing, but his presence took up the rest of the space in the room. The breath in your lungs dissipated into nothing as you took in his visage. 

“Good morning, König,” you managed to say softly. 

You both froze for a moment, the gentle return of his greeting had caught the pair of you off guard. You supposed that there had been a shift between the two of you over the past few weeks. 

But the way you felt about the man before you gave you whiplash.

Torn between hatred, fear, familiarity and comfort, you wished you could just chalk him down to a psychotic beast that wished you harm. 

But he wasn’t and he didn’t. 

The path your mind had begun to wander reminded you of the revelation you’d come to. 

König cleared his throat, slowly standing upright as if he didn’t want to shatter the fragile friendliness between you both. Finally, you stepped into the room, one heavy foot after the other and your heart in your throat. You wanted to break the silence between you before that unnamed tension could grow, feeding on the quiet and everything that went unsaid. 

“What did you have planned today?” You questioned with a raised brow, “anything torturous and terrifying?” 

The Austrian snorted softly through his nose, crossing his arms over his chest. The slight smirk that pulled his lips upward had your breath catching in your throat. He cast his eyes downward before flicking that jade gaze back up to meet yours.  

“Isn’t everything I do “torturous” and “terrifying” according to you?” König said, the playful tone was obvious but tentative.

You took a deep breath. He wasn’t diminishing the incident, he was finding some semblance of humour between the both of you. You swallowed the small drops of rage that threatened to open the floodgates. 

“No,” you said, pushing your hands into the pockets of your hoodie. “That’s just you, I meant the training this time.” 

You watched the shift in König’s features, the way his shoulders relaxed and his eyes softened. The olive branch had been extended, received and the see-saw of emotions between you had finally tipped to fall on the opposite end. 

“Well,” König offered a small smile, “I promise that the training today will not be as scary as I am.” 

You tried to ignore the genuine relief that flooded through your chest, tried to maintain the easy-going air that had settled in the space between you. Despite your best efforts, anxiety threaded itself across your throat as you stepped closer to the looming figure before you. 

König slowly uncrossed his arms, sensing the shift in your attitude. It seemed like he always knew, even when you said nothing and your face didn’t change, he knew. Sometimes it irked you, but at times like these when he could read you and adjust, you appreciated it. 

“I promise,” he reiterated, that jade gaze as soft as ever. 

You took in a shaky breath, then released. “Okay.”

“Okay?” König repeated, taking a step toward you. 

“Okay.” 

And right there and then was the first time you’d seen him smile. 

It was brief, barely a flash of his teeth as he quickly regained control of himself, but it was enough. You knew that you’d never be able to dispel that image from your mind, you knew that you’d be thinking about it as you went through the never ending cycle of wondering whether you hated him or not. 

You knew that you’d want to see it again. 

A shiver ran along the length of your spine and an unfamiliar heat spread across your neck. You cleared your throat in an attempt to clear your thoughts. It might have been unsuccessful in that regard but it did get König to step into action.

“Right,” he said with a sigh, scanning the space around him. “The sooner we get started the sooner you can escape the torture.” 

Now it was your turn to snort as you took your sneakers off. “If only it were that easy.” 

König rolled his eyes, approaching you with slow and lazy steps that had your heart racing. You straightened up, letting him move closer until he was barely a breath away. The moment that you had both shared in the kitchen raced across your mind, the scene beginning to look dangerously similar- hopefully Graves wouldn’t appear around the corner to trigger your fight or flight reflex this time.  

“Can I help you?” You managed to choke out, dropping your gaze from his. 

“Uh, no.” There was mirth in his voice. The man took a step backward, his hands raised with his palms facing outward. “Are you not ready?” 

You tried to not look at the size of his fingers, you tried not to remember how they felt wrapped around your throat. 

“Ready?” You stammered. 

You couldn’t bring yourself to make eye contact, frozen as you stared at those fucking hands. They’d done so much damage, so much. 

You tried not to remember. 

Saint had always told you to replace a negative interaction with a positive interaction whenever you’d begun to spiral. When you remembered how hard his eyes had been when you'd been on that roof, you tried to remember how soft they were when he spoke to you now. 

Your mind fell back to the moment in the kitchen. 

“I’m ready.” You nodded, taking in a deep breath as he moved in close again. The scent of him flooded your senses, the faint recollection of his deodorant, something sweet and woodsy. 

Those hands slowly lowered and you watched as they fell to rest on your forearms. 

You remembered them holding you down, pinning you to the concrete as the weight of him pressed into your stomach. But, you also remembered those same fingers holding you ever so softly as he inspected you for burns. 

You let loose a soft breath, forcing your gaze upward. He was already watching your face, his eyes scanning your features for any sign of serious distress. 

“Well,” König murmured, his words tasting of the caramel latte he’d been sipping on earlier. “You going to take me down or not, kleine vogel?” 

You raised a brow, “you don’t need to cuss me out, I’m getting there.” 

The man frowned for a short moment, mouth opening and closing as he fought to find the appropriate response. “I did not swear at you?” 

The sentence was more of a question than a statement and while he was stuck in his confusion, you saw opportunity. 

You swung your hands around the grip that he had on your forearms, digging your fingers into his skin instead. You dragged him towards you with a sudden jerk that took every ounce of strength that you had. 

For a moment, you were worried that the giant wouldn’t budge. However, his whole body fell forward as you dropped onto your back with him above you. Both your feet came up to rest on his pelvic bone, bracing as the entirety of his weight fell onto your legs. The momentum was your best friend with this movement, pulling his hands to your chest as you kicked him over your head. 

The sound of 300 pounds hitting the ground hard behind you had your heart soaring. Adrenaline was pumping through your system, propelling you to your feet as you spun to mount your victim. 

König’s face was contorted, teeth bared as he gritted them hard. His hands were above his shoulders, fists clenched and you could tell that you’d stunned him. 

Satisfaction flooded your being. 

You scrambled up the length of his body, pressing your weight onto him as you clenched your knees hard onto either side of his hips. Your hands came down to push against his wrists, pinning his body as best as you could. 

The silence between you both was only broken by the sounds of panting. König’s chest heaved beneath, shallow and quick breaths as his eyes slowly fluttered open to glare up at you. 

“That was rude,” he groaned. “Smart. But rude.” 

“Yeah, well,” you replied with a shrug, taking a moment to try and wet the dryness in your throat. “Fights are often unfair.” 

König’s eyes narrowed for a moment before conceding your point. “Yes. Yes, they are.” 

You’d seen the signs too late, the way his lips quirked upward before he ripped his hands from yours. You’d felt his fingers grip your waist but you were unable to react before the world tipped from beneath you. The floor met your back hard enough to banish the air from your chest and your body froze as you were spun right back into the disadvantage. 

A gasp ripped from your throat, eyes wide as you stared at the man now above you. His hair fell across his forehead, resting atop his lashes as he watched you through a hooded gaze. Neither of you said a word and you didn’t bother trying to fight him off. König made a show of slowly moving to grip your biceps, your fingers scrabbling uselessly against his forearms as he pressed you into the ground.

His body was tucked between your thighs, spreading your legs far enough apart that they were rendered useless from beneath him. You swallowed hard, struggling to catch your breath. 

“Very unfair,” he confirmed with a husky murmur. 

“It’s always unfair with you,” you rasped, your fingers gripping his skin tightly. “Always, König.”

König’s face fell, any trace of satisfaction turning into something akin to sorrow. He cast his gaze aside. 

“Perhaps,” he said. “ But, perhaps if you were prepared it wouldn’t have been so unfair.” 

You watched him carefully. 

“Wrong place, wrong time.” You whispered. 

König met your gaze again, observing you for a long moment before offering a hesitant nod. “Yes.” 

Maybe, this was your chance. This was the opportunity to talk to him about what you suspected, to hear his side of the story entirely. Maybe, if you could sift through the discrepancies between your stories and what his chain-of-command had told him, you could both unravel the mystery. 

Either someone was trying to kill you and used him as the weapon to do so or something bigger was at play. 

Maybe, both? 

“Speaking of,” you began shakily, your fingers nervously tapping against his skin. There was no real way to gently ease into the topic, you’d just have to drop the bomb. “Do you think that maybe the whole incident was a little too… convenient?” 

König fell completely still, his eyes baring into yours. 

You supposed that maybe you could have been a little more tactful. 

You swallowed nervously when his chest didn’t move to breathe, he was as still as a sniper watching for their target. He reminded you of a snake lying in wait, preparing to strike out at any given moment. Suddenly, you didn’t feel so confident that he was the one that you should have spoken to about it. 

The man said nothing and you’d begun to realise that he didn’t plan to. 

“I just mean that,” you scrambled for words, anxiety clawing at your throat when he only stared. “I just mean that maybe it wasn’t just an accident or a miscommunication, maybe they were using you as a way to get what they want.” 

König’s face didn’t change when he spoke. “And what would that be?” 

You hated how perfectly still he was. 

“To take me out.” You could barely spit out the sentence.

The mans grip tightened against your arms and the small amount of trust that you’d built between each other teetered on the edge of a proverbial cliff. Adrenaline dumped into your system when he took in a deep breath, clenching his jaw. His eyes never left yours, holding you captive not just physically but mentally. You were scrambling for air. 

“I think that you are overthinking,” he finally said, relaxing his grip and releasing the tension from his lungs. 

Your heart dropped. 

Overthinking? 

Why wouldn’t he want to investigate this further? It would exonerate him, it would relieve him of the guilt, it would make him innocent. 

“What?” You rasped, blinking as though it would clear your confusion. “How can you say that?” 

“Easily,” König said, sitting up. His demeanour was suddenly so cold. He let go of your arms, shooting you one last look before he attempted to stand up. “You’ve been through a traumatic event. Overthinking is normal.” 

Desperation clawed at your chest. Before you could stop yourself, you reached upward to snatch his hands. König’s fingers interlocked with yours and his eyes widened when you pulled him back toward you. Your hands were trapped between his and the floor once more, his face only a breath away. 

But you couldn’t even think about the proximity and, for once, you didn’t even care. 

How could he just dismiss you like that? 

How could he just try to leave without even hearing you out? 

“König,” you whispered pleadingly. “Please, just listen.” 

The man shook his head immediately, trying to pull his hands from your grip. You held on as tight as you can manage, his name falling from your lips over and over as you begged him to stay. You needed him to hear it, you needed him to help you. 

“Let go, Birdy,” his voice was firmer than you’d heard in months, the sound of it a shock to your system. How the tables had turned, this time you were not the one trying to escape. Regardless, you disobeyed, only tightening your hold on him. 

“Just tell me what happened, maybe we can work it out,” the words sounded desperate, even to you. You sounded like a lover pleading for a second chance to make the relationship work. You sounded like you were holding to your last tether of sanity. You sounded crazy. 

König’s face was hard when he tugged back again. “We already know what happened, Birdy.” 

“Listen to me-” 

“Let it go, Birdy.” 

“But if you just-” 

“Enough!” 

You recoiled, flinching as he yanked his hands from yours, breaking your grip as easily as tearing a cobweb. König’s fingers wrapped around your biceps, pushing you back against the floor, restraining you from getting a steady hold on him.

The man leaned down, jade eyes alight with something you’d never seen. He burned, the thunderous expression painted across his features warned you that his blood was simmering beneath his skin. 

“Enough,” König seethed, his voice dangerously quiet. 

Fear trickled down your spine. 

Your heart dropped. 

As you watched the Austrian soldier lean over you with a ferocity that rivalled that godforsaken night, you realised that in your desperation you had been so stupid. So, so, so fucking stupid. 

König wasn’t going to help you. 

König was in on it.

[chimera-dreams]

This Tiny Thing Called Entropy

As rain patters at the walls of the enclosed space you find safety and solace within, a knock echoes on your door. Upon opening it, you find the face of a familiar man, who's come to ask for your help.

Task Force 141 Ensemble x reader

tags: tags and warnings to be added by chapter | violence, reader has a nickname/callsign, slow burn, weird mix between modern and future, dystopian, androids, eventual smut, see full list on (Ao3) (registered users)

wc: 6.3k

Chap 1 | chap 2 | chap 3 | chap 4 | chap 5 | chap 6

You had mixed feelings about your workshop.

On one hand, it was a space wholly your own. The walls were decorated with entire ranges of tools, each drawer and cabinet always had at least two pencils inside them (because you seemed to be constantly losing them when you needed one most, and got sick of looking for one). The tables and benches were covered with various objects, the floor littered with scraps from projects you devoted yourself to.

Everything you had, you sourced yourself. Whether easily or painstakingly, every single item filling any available expanse belonged to you. Bits and bobs you worked your ass off to get your hands on, supplies that made your life immensely easier, whatever it was, it was yours.

Nobody was allowed into what amounted to your sanctuary of sorts. You kept your secrets tucked away here, hidden in plain sight, a purposefully messy space to keep your own paranoia in check. Not that you’d ever let anybody see it all to begin with, but on the off chance someone did happen to chance a peek, all they would see was a hobbyist’s devoted disaster zone and nothing more.

The area was alive, the same way you were, and different all the same. Ticking toys sat on shelves, both worn and new, awake and asleep. Clockwork contraptions that could fit in the palm of your hand, carved wooden figurines, trinkets – your workshop was a time capsule of sorts, a hodgepodge of a person’s fascinatingly old interests. 

You had favorites, the ones you hated with all your soul and wouldn’t trade for the world, the ones you held begrudging respect for.

Most important to you was the little music box you had.

It was hidden more than everything else already was. This place could get burned to the ground and it would mean nothing to you as long as the music box was safe, unharmed. It was a gift from someone long gone, now. Someone you missed dearly.

There was a tiny safe you personally installed under the floorboards, air and watertight, a preservationist’s dream for the object they were most greedy for. Most desperate to protect. That is where you kept the music box.

This was your home; you treated it as such, and loved it as much.

On the other hand, this was where you saw the most pain. This was where you spent countless days and nights banging together new parts, carving wood, stressing over bills and the prices of materials, waiting to be hired for your next gig. Not many were hiring mercenaries at this time of year. It didn’t help that your prices were fairly high, compared to the next person, but that’s only because you worked hard to build a reliable reputation. You got shit done, and you got it done cleanly.

You prided yourself on your work. Not just the toys you fidgeted with, microscopic details taken apart and put back together with painstaking caution and heedfulness, but the things you did for whoever happened to be employing you. It was what you had to do to survive, and you weren’t about to half-ass your own life. Not after all you’d gone through, been through, and would have to endure.

Compared to the ordered disarray of your home, you were clean and quick with jobs. You got in, nabbed what you needed, snipped loose ties, and got out. The wage you charged was well deserved, earned through years of assiduous effort and exhaustive toil. You had a solid reputation for good reason, obtained through blood, sweat, and tears – rarely your own, of course. You’d gotten better at spilling less of your own, never leaving a trace that you were ever present.

Unfortunately, it was looking like you’d have to lower your service fees. You were in a bit of a pinch, having to choose between necessities to make ends meet. 

Electricity, gas…can live without food for a bit…maybe water, too. Need electricity, though. Can live without heating…

Rain pitter-pattered against the window in the other room as you tinkered with a small toy in your hands, something to entertain yourself with. A bit of company. 

The worst of the storm had already passed, leaving behind soothing relief that washed the world of its sin. As much as you would have loved a window in your workshop to ponder the weather and get some natural light into the room, it’d unfortunately bring too much attention to your…pastimes. The things you did weren’t favorable to all, whether innocent or not. In their eyes, it was all the same, all done for the same purpose.

In a world like this one, you had to be vigilant and careful of who you trusted.

The less people who knew about you, the better.

So, you kept yourself and all you knew secret.

A couple more twists of your screwdriver was all it took for the little clockwork bird in your palm to come to life. Its wings twitched, stuttering at first, struggling to grind open and closed, too sleepy to wake. Its beak clicked, its tiny legs shuddered, and then, it took a breath.

Beady eyes found yours, and you grinned down at the creature, watching it flutter its wings before settling comfortably in the cup of your hand.

The wee thing must have belonged to a child, a once well-loved toy that was left to rust on the street. You spotted it tucked into the crook between a storefront and the cracked cement sidewalk, and took it in a split-second decision. It took a fair amount of disassembling and scrubbing to get all its components cleaned up and functioning again, but it was worth it in the end. Now, you had a companion to sit by you when you worked late nights.

Rising from your seat, you swept your hand around you, giving it a provisional tour of your workspace. It wasn’t much, really, but it’s the one thing you could distinctly call home.

“You’re lucky I found you,” you said, showing off the number of boxes containing various clockwork pieces. Gears, nuts, hinges, chains, whatever you could possibly need to fix something old, make something new. “I had everything I needed to get you all better. Couldn’t let you go to waste.”

It hopped, looking over all your tools and equipment judgmentally, like its tiny head could comprehend anything, then looked up at you, appraising.

Your lips curled upwards. “Not a thought behind those eyes, huh?”

You were both startled by the sound of a fist knocking against your front door. Firm, assertive, confident. The bird – a chickadee, you believed; you chose to name her Chicken on a whim – flew up from your hand and zipped out of your workshop, wings beating as fast as they could to carry her up to the space between the cupboards in the kitchen and the ceiling. 

Heart pounding in your chest and sinking low, you slowly slinked out of the room, walking on the tips of your toes. You slid your inner wrist across a hidden panel on the wall inside of it as you went, triggering a mechanism that whirred quietly. A pocket door closed shut behind you, sealing until it was flush with the wall and completely invisible, hiding your secrets. To anyone who didn’t know, they’d simply believe that no room existed behind that particular wall to begin with.

You weren’t expecting any guests. Nobody had messaged you regarding work, you lived in a low-contact, low-population area, and never gave your address out. Most likely, it was someone you knew, but you always had to be cautious. Anybody could come stalking up to your home, weasel their way through the gaps of your teeth, choke you from the inside out until you turned blue. You had to be careful, because any mistake could get you in deep shit.

Any mistake could spell your doom. 

Permanently.

You stalked across the floor, wanting to give the illusion that nobody was home unless you proved you could allow entry to whoever was seeking refuge within your walls. Options for if they weren’t friendly flashed in your mind; the blade on the small table beside the door, the pistol in its drawer, the fire escape. Worst case scenario, you could either fight, or climb out the window in your bathroom.

Leaning against the door ever so gently, you stood higher on your toes to peek out the peephole, adjusting until you could see who was on the other side, and almost melted in relief. Safe.

Letting a cheeky smirk tilt your lips, you undid the range of locks on your door and pried it open, taking in the familiar face on the other side. You hadn’t realized how much you missed the man until you were face-to-face again. What was that saying – distance makes the heart grow fonder?

“Well, I’ll be,” you crooned, saccharine sweet. “If it isn’t one Mr. John Price.”

“Good to see you, too, doll,” he responded lazily, tipping his head in greeting, his voice as rough and drawling as you remembered. He still wore that silly boonie hat of his, still had that odd excuse of a beard, and still looked at you with those knowing, icy orbs. He grunted out a small ‘thanks’ when you stepped aside to let him in, taking no offense at your habit of opening the door only enough for him to fit through before it was closed behind him once more. Locked tight. Just in case.

Raindrops clung to his shoulders and the brim of his hat, dotting them like silver crystals, gems held together by surface tension, not yet ready to burst and seep into the fibers of his woolen jacket.

You motioned towards the tiny, two-seater table you had situated beside the end of the kitchen counter and moved to fill your kettle with water and plant it on the stove. Behind you, a chair scraped out from under the table, and John groaned lowly as he esconced into it, joints cracking.

“Sure you aren’t ready to retire yet, old man?” You teased, dropping sugar cubes into one of the two mugs you pulled from the cupboard above you. A tea bag went into each one – black tea, and butterfly pea tea. A rare taste of color in such a bleak, copper world. You knew he wasn’t particular to it, though.

“Maybe, I should,” he said. He sounded tired, worn down, taking your jest a bit too seriously for your liking.

Troubled, you looked over your shoulder, and found him staring at the wood grain beneath his clutched hands, unseeing. Distracted and distant – nothing like the man you knew. Granted, it’d been a while since you last met up, but you were confident enough to say that this behavior was very unlike him.

Sensing he needed some time to gather his thoughts, you kept busy with pouring the boiled water into the mugs, adding a spot of cream into both, and bringing them over to the table. Black tea for him, sweetened butterfly pea tea for you. Same as it had always been between you.

Your new friend must have decided John was safe, if you were treating him as a companion. She hopped down from the cabinets and flew over to him, landing on his shoulder.

That broke him out of his shaky trance. 

He turned his head to eye her curiously, and she tilted hers in return, beady pupils taking in his features; scraggly, rugged, and something distinctly him.

“New project?” He voiced, drawing his mug towards himself.

“Found her on the street a few blocks from here. Figured it’d be alright to patch her up.”

“She looks brilliant. Haven’t lost your touch, have you?”

Warmth spread through your chest, and not just from the tea you sipped down.

Silence with him was comfortable, but he was restless, needing to fill the quiet; you could sense it from your seat. Unusual. 

“How are you holding up?” He queried.

You smiled placatingly. “All’s in working order. Don’t worry ‘bout me, Cap. How about you? How’re your boys?”

He sighed, weary and crushed by the unimaginable weight of responsibility on his shoulders. 

“Could be better,” the man admitted. His vulnerability unsettled you.

The edge of your ceramic cup clinked dully on the table. “Your job starting to catch up with you?”

“Something like that.”

The quiet dragged on a beat too long for your liking. You’d seen him in all sorts of states before, but dejected was not one of them. It made you uneasy, restive. Nervous, which was never good.

John Price was many things. Strong, certainly, anybody could see that. A capable leader, older and wiser than his visible age would leave you to believe. Smart, thoughtful, he planned everything in advance and never did things on a whim. His visit to you was deliberate, organized. Why?

“Heard a silo blew up a couple miles outside the city. That you?” You propped your chin up on the heel of your hand, fingers curled against your cheek, filling the empty air between you with something.

A muscle in his jaw fluttered. “Failed mission. Got bad intel. They had the whole place rigged. By the time we cleared the building, it was too late.”

Rage flickered to life beneath your ribs, your nose wrinkling along the bridge. The joints of your knuckles clicked, nails digging into your palm.

Gangsters, packs, cliques, whatever you wanted to call them, they were a pestilence. Rotten, parasitic cretins that leeched off the backs of the poor, taking the little money and land they owned. If you could, you’d burn them yourself, strip them of their flesh, their dignity, their pride, reveal the poison that spoiled the gums lining their necrotizing teeth and corroded their innards into melted puddles of decaying goop; once organs, now unrecognizable viscera.

It was people like them that would execute men who weren’t able to cough up protection money from their starved gullets and take their wives and daughters. 

It was people like them that triggered the downfall of technology, all because they felt inferior to a different form of being, too slow to keep up with the quickening times.

They missed their train, and decided to blow out the entire railroad in the name of unjust revenge.

“Damn savages,” you grit out. “They’re trying to scare us out of the city.”

It was a war that never ended. There was always at least one power-hungry group that attempted to gain stance by eradicating communities, usually those of the lower class. They believed owning more property gave them more control, but all it did was harm the innocent and aid the powerful, who hated those they viewed as lesser. All it did was show off their insecurities, the knowledge that they were utterly, completely, entirely useless. Wastes of breath, of space. 

Oh, how you hated them. They were the reason you were here, playing the part of faceless aide to those who offered the right price and hired for the right reason. Whether directly or indirectly, it made no difference to you.

“That’s what we’re tryin’ to stop,” John said.

Chicken chirped idly, hopping across the broad expanse of his shoulder.

You observed her, subconsciously fidgeting with the handle of your cup. Your finger rubbed at the chip imprinted on the material after you’d dropped it some ageless time ago, a habit, wired twiddling.

Small talk wasn’t your strong suit, neither was patience. It was time to address the dead elephant in the room.

“Why did you come here, John?”

“...Callin’ in a favor,” he confessed, hands holding his tea like a lifeline, absorbing its warmth until his knuckles paled to the bone. “I’ll pay you triple for your services, as well. Up front.”

Fuck. 

Triple was a lot. You needed the money desperately, and that would be more than enough and then some to last you at least half a year if you were prodigal, a year if you were frugal. 

More importantly, though, John Price was an old friend to you. You both owed a lot to each other, and a man such as him wasn’t exceptionally keen on calling for aid; so, if he was consulting you, you knew it was deeply serious, and felt compelled to support him.

Exhaling, you mulled over his offer. “Must be dire, if you want a favor.”

“We need as many hands as we can get.”

“Is Kate aware you’re hiring…let’s say, assistance?”

He huffed sardonically, the corner of his lip twitching upwards. “She was the one that sent me here.”

You snorted. “Of course. Men are never good at knowing when to ask for help.”

“Well aware, unfortunately.”

The captain paid no mind to the toy chickadee that had taken to pecking at his beard. Pointless, really, but you couldn’t blame her. She didn’t know any better. She didn’t know she was nothing but a toy in the opinion of most.

Something you could relate to.

“What’s the job?”

He subtly looked around your small flat, ever-vigilant of his surroundings, even in your hideout. You didn't judge him. While you had made sure there were no forms of surveillance, checking your space frequently, the walls always had ears for those nosy enough.

“Not safe to talk here,” he decided. “Got a place not far from here. Will you come with me?”

You considered what you had to do. Cleaning up your workshop (that’s been on the checklist since forever. You were confident you’d get to it, someday), settling on which bills you were going to pay, wallowing in the anxiety of your spiraling thoughts, rewatching your favorite show for the nth time until you passed out on the couch again…

“Sure, why not.”

John waited patiently while you poured out the tea you hardly drank down the drain and filled the cups with water, stuffed a backpack with a few necessities. Kindly, he looked away when you hesitated in front of your workshop entrance, allowing you the privacy of grabbing a few belongings from there. All that time, short minutes that they were, Chicken perched atop the table, watching you scurry around.

You threw on a jacket afterwards, grabbed her, stuffed her into your pocket, and spent a couple minutes meticulously twisting every lock on your door and pushing against it to ensure it held. Paranoia and old habits were hard things to shake – not that you had any interest in doing so. Letting your guard down was the fastest way to getting yourself ripped to shreds.

The rain had slowed into a drizzle, the kind that fogged glasses and stuck to hair, but didn’t soak the clothes. Chicken remained tucked away regardless, your little stowaway, curled in your hand. 

The neighborhood you’d taken to was eerily silent, the lack of noise only interrupted by the flecks of water that landed on worn, moth-eaten awnings and overfilled trash bins. It wasn’t an ideal choice, it kind of sucked, actually, which is why you chose it. It was an ugly thing, though not outright dangerous, and scared away potential straying eyes. Everyone minded their business, for the most part. 

More importantly, it meant that you were safe, in a backwards sort of way.

Less people meant less risk of being found out. Your neighborhood held no interest for the greedy.

You let him guide the way down twisting streets and through narrow alleyways, keeping pace by sheer force of will alone (fuck him and his long-ass strides), until the spaces between businesses and housing grew further and further apart.

Cracks in cement sidewalks made way for flora – grass, flowers, spurge euphorbia. Fragile, pintsized life, seen as so wholly meaningless to most. Unnoticeable, unnoteworthy.

You saw them, anyway. You paid attention to the yellow-green leaves with dried tips that housed a poisonous, milky lifeblood. You took note of the few bees that found their way to this sad part of town, feeding on weak, pitiful blooms of miniscule white and gold. Sometimes, you stopped to observe, to track a dewdrop of water as it raced its way down a stem, or decorate the delicate petals of roses that survived in the rough, somehow.

You’d thought to smell them from time to time, to give in to the idiom, but the smell of roses only made you feel sick in the base of your throat. Flowers weren’t your favorite. Pretty to look at, nothing more. The thought of cutting them from their source of vitality for the sole purpose of letting them wilt in your homestead and flood the space with their decaying scent made you morose. It was a low form of flattery. You preferred them alive and thriving, blessing the world as much as they could.

That way, you could admire from a distance, draw inspiration from their brilliant colors and intricate weaving, and not be suffocated by their overpowering presence.

You were a witness to this world as much as you were a conscious actuality within it.

You preferred to keep it that way, when possible.

No words passed between you, save for the scuffle of soles on solid ground. You doubted he walked the whole way to your flat, he wasn’t soaked to the muscle from the rain, but walking back made sense. It was easier to cover where you were going by twisting and turning every which way.

John seemed satisfied by the time he trotted down a set of stairs that led to a cellar door beneath a store in a mixed use building. A front, presumably, a farce to keep attention away. Respecting that, you kept your sights on the back of his head as he punched in a keycode into the door. A lock hummed audibly, then clicked, allowing him to push open the door.

He jerked his head towards it and you slipped in past him, waiting patiently for him to step inside, too, and close the entrance, sealing you inside the makeshift safehouse.

It was lit up brightly, initially causing you to squint in discomfort before you adjusted. A table, some chairs, a kitchenette, what looked to be a simple bathroom off to the side. Blank, cement walls, a painfully sterile yet somehow mangy feel. All the basic necessities that a safehouse should have.

Which, yes, included two other guys and a few guns set on the table, alongside scattered pieces of paper and various other objects you didn’t bother paying too much attention to.

You stared at the two men, who had stopped whatever it was they were doing (one looked to have been cleaning a gun while the other was…sketching?), and they stared right back, not necessarily hostile, but certainly alert.

John stepped up beside you and planted a firm hand on your shoulder, reassuring. He always was far more perceptive than he let on.

“Boys, this is the mercenary that’ll be joining us for the foreseeable future. Kate and I can vouch for her,” he introduced you, then went from left to right, pointing out each man as he went. “Kyle Garrick and John MacTavish, my sergeants.”

The former nodded his head in greeting. placing the gun down to give you his full attention. Kyle Garrick was the picture of masculine beauty. Plush, slightly rosy, full lips were complimented by neatly trimmed and maintained facial hair along the line of his jaw and upper lip. His dark skin looked smooth and clean, well-nourished; you imagined it might have felt like firm pottery clay. Beneath long, thick lashes were a pair of glossy orbs, a surprising shade of hazel that suited him perfectly. 

“Pleasure to meet you,” he said, polite as can be.

MacTavish, on the other hand, wolf-whistled, shameless in the way he looked you up and down. “Aren’t ye a bonnie thing?”

The first thing you clocked was his accent, distinctly Scottish, maybe from somewhere in the Highlands. The next was that he had a rough sort of handsomeness to him, with high cheekbones, a sharply angled jaw, straight brows, and a strong chin. Cerulean orbs took you in, glinting with mischief and interest alike, such a striking splash of ocean capri that it caught you off guard. Finally, you noticed his mohawk, and you had to hold back a snort.

It was boyish, yet you couldn’t imagine any other style on him, despite having known him for all of ten seconds.

“Johnny,” a voice came from across the room, heavy on the warning tone, and you squeaked, startled out of your skin.

You looked up at the man you hadn’t noticed before, balking at his sheer bulk and, more importantly, how he managed to hide said bulk so well, like a ghost. He easily breached over 6 feet tall and donned a balaclava painted in the image of a skull, dark and brooding from where he was leaning against the wall with his arms folded over his, frankly, greatly oversized chest. It almost made you feel self conscious.

You resisted the urge to squeeze your own tits to compare.

It was his eyes that creeped you out the most, though. 

Chestnut irises bored into you, appearing nearly pitch black from the way his brows shaded his sockets, except for the sliver of amber at the very bottom, ringed by inked lines, a stunning tattoo. It was like he was peering straight through you, carving into your being, flaying your chest open to bare your raw lungs and heart to him.

Price chuckled at your reaction, and you shot him a glare. “And, that would be Ghost, my lieutenant.”

Oh. You hit the nail right on the head with that one.

“Och, c’mon, LT,” Johnny whined. Honest to god, whined. “Jus’ sayin’ hallo tae the lass. Ye dinnae mind, do ye, hen?”

You pulled your lips back and shrugged. You weren’t opposed to compliments. “Not a bit.”

A stellar, blindingly white grin split across his face, cheeks pushing his aquamarine orbs into pretty little crescents. Somehow, it made your stomach flutter. “Knew you wouldnae.”

Kyle sighed, albeit fondly. “Ignore him, Tav’s an incorrigible flirt.”

“Am no’!”

“You’ll bat your lashes at any girl you see.”

Pouting, Johnny folded his arms over his chest. “Tha’s only ‘cos ye dinnae even have tae try. Ye’re such a pretty boy tha’ all ye have tae do is smile an’ the skirts come flyin’ off. Isnae fair.”

Taking the route of ignoring the brooding man, Kyle smiled disarmingly at you (oh, Johnny was right, that smile could win him millions). “So, you’re a mercenary?”

“Yep,” you confirmed, popping the ‘p’. MacTavish’s indignant outrage at being brushed off amused you greatly.

Only for Ghost to scare the fuck out of you a second time by speaking up again, reminding you of his existence. His voice was heavy, gruff, laced with a thick Manchester accent. It fit the image he cultivated, if it was worth making your heart shoot out of your ass. “What’s your experience?”

He’s vetting you.

Best thing you could do was entertain him. Building trust was all about answering questions when asked.

“Mostly infiltration, data gathering, tracking folks down via digital footprint, that kind of stuff,” you said.

His eyes narrowed microscopically. You picked up on the detail, and knew he was trying to pick apart your answer. He wanted more information, proof you were an ally, someone that could be relied on.

Someone who was capable of getting her hands dirty.

“She’s worked with Laswell before,” John tacked on. 

He wasn’t wrong, you and Kate Laswell were familiar with each other, and had partnered up on a couple occasions. Mutually beneficial, of course. You gave her eyes on the ground, got your hands on slippery intel, and she sent you rare and difficult to find parts, items that money couldn’t buy, not easily. With her, it wasn’t about the cash – she did still pay her fair share, mind you – but a deeper sense of sympathy, of understanding.

She knew what it was like for you, to live in this world, this hellscape that did everything it could to tear you down. She knew, so she took care of you in little ways when she could. You never said no. You couldn’t afford to, regardless of how much you wanted to bristle and proclaim total indepence.

Sadly, it just didn’t work like that.

You’ve had time to come to terms with it. The fact that you couldn’t exist solely on your own terms, that you needed people, as few as you could get away with.

Which ended up being two: John Price and Kate Laswell.

You had every intention of keeping it that way, no matter how much time you were going to spend working with this motley crew, how close you’d have to stand beside them. 

It’s fine. You had plenty of familiarity with keeping people at arm’s length. 

“What kind o’ data?” Johnny questioned, having turned a chair around to sit in it backwards, beefy forearms (wow) propped up on the backrest. 

“Money wires, shady activity, locations at given dates and times. Honestly, most of it is pretty boring and mundane. I don’t go out on the field super often.”

“An’, when ye do?”

You hesitated, shifting your weight from one leg to the other. You hated the attention, hated how it made you break out into a nervous sweat, antsy and jittery. It made you look suspicious, especially with a crowd like this. The limelight was never meant for you, and you respected that wholeheartedly. 

“I do what I have to do to finish a job,” you eventually muttered, less than satisfactory, but at least it was something.

It appeased three of the four men present. John by fact that he already knew what your job entailed, had worked with you before, and Johnny and Kyle for reasons beyond you.

Ghost?

Earning his trust would be difficult, if possible at all. Something that had to be forged in battle, in the heat, drenched in blood next to one another.

You’ll never earn their full trust, a voice whispered in your head. You’ll always be a lying bastard, and nobody likes a lying bastard.

If you won’t let them in, what makes you think they’ll let you in?

Because, your life depended on it.

That was always your justification, and it worked well for you every time you had to use it. Every day of your life was lived on the edge, constantly on your toes. You were cogent in keeping everyone three paces ahead of you, maintaining distance. 

For your sake, and theirs.

It’s just temporary, anyway, you mused. I’ll get this job done, and we’ll all go our separate ways.

That was the plan you had set up for yourself. You were good at honoring plans. It was practically coded into you, an instinctive habit to heed a set path from point A to point B. Get the job done, get out, get paid. Well, that last one was going to happen first, if John was to be believed about paying you up front, but the concept remained the same.

The only trust you needed was confidence that they’d cover your back in the field, and you’d cover theirs.

You knew John had yours and, if the praise you’d heard from him about his boys was to be believed, they would have yours by proxy, too.

They’re good men, those mutts. Maybe not good people, but none of us really are at the end of the day, huh? Not in this line of work. Least of all an old rag like me. We get our hands dirty so the world can stay clean.

So, in return, you’d have theirs. It was simultaneously the least and most you could do.

For the sake of keeping the world clean.

Each man tensed when a squawk sounded from your jacket pocket, and you watched as Chicken climbed her way out, determined to escape her warm, fluffy prison. Without a lick of hesitation, she jumped up and immediately flew over to Kyle, circling his head a few times before she dropped onto his shoulder and promptly began nuzzling into his neck.

“Uhh…” He was frozen in place, taken aback.

You smirked, bemused that your partner-in-crime’s loyalty lied in who she considered prettiest. “Looks like she likes you.”

Johnny cooed, radiating golden retriever energy, invisible tail wagging as he checked out the clockwork contraption. “Who’s this wee thing?”

“That’s Chicken. Found her and fixed her up. Seems she’s whipped for Garrick over here.”

“Ye named ‘er ‘Chicken’?”

“It’s because she’s a chickadee. Couldn’t think of anything more fitting.”

Kyle laughed softly, raising a finger to lightly brush against her belly. “Hello, Chicky. You’re a sweet thing, aren’t you?”

“She’s a little dumb,” you shrugged. “Curious creature. I think that’s how she got lost the first time, having flown off from her owner. Ended up in a ditch for me to find.”

John rubbed a hand over his chin. “She was pecking at my beard earlier.”

“I do believe she was trying to preen you.”

“Preen me?”

“That,” you cocked your head to the side, “or find bugs to eat.”

Kyle and Johnny burst into laughter at their captain’s perturbed expression, to which Chicken joined in with little chirps of her own.

Velvet and warm, that’s how it felt, seeing how the boys interacted with one another. Playful jabs and ribbing, continued cackles, Johnny’s harmless attempts to snatch the bird away from Kyle. It was painfully obvious how much they cared for each other. To be able to act like boys, the brothers-in-arms that they were, was a rare and precious thing. If nothing else, you hoped you could come away from this experience with the memory of happiness, however small it may be.

“What about her original owner?” Kyle asked as they calmed down, admiring the small chickadee’s bronze sheen.

The smile you wore fell away, replaced by a deep, harsh seriousness.

“If people are going to treat her like she’s nothing more than a toy, then they won’t miss her when she’s gone,” you grit out slowly.

“Seems like it’s an important topic to you,” he murmured. Gently repositioning Chicken in his hold, he stretched out his hand to you, offering her back – much to Chicken’s displeasure. The angry series of squawks let you know exactly how she felt about leaving her Prince Charming “Here.”

You shook your head. “Keep her. She likes you more than me, anyway. Just make sure to take good care of her, or I’ll hunt you down and turn you into a clock.”

He snorted, but accepted the gift, lifting his other hand to scritch at Chicken’s tiny little forehead. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

The puffed chickadee appeared more than delighted to learn Kyle would be keeping her, leaning into his touch and chirping up a mechanical storm. You laughed under your breath, relieved to know he’d treat her well. You could see it in the way he cradled her, in how he pet her with only one digit. They were smitten at first sight, who were you to take that away from them?

“If she ever starts getting faulty or breaks, let me know, and I’ll repair her again.”

“I will,” he promised.

It brought you joy, knowing how much they loved each other already. A small fragment of light born from a new love in a dull, muted, dark world. If you could only do one thing, it would be this; adding as many spots of color to each and every day as you could. There was cheer to be found in even the weest of lifeforms, if one knew where to look. Sometimes, all they needed was a guiding hand.

If that was all you could be in this world, you’d happily take up the mantle.

You felt John fill the empty space to your left, unhurriedly, purposeful. Effortlessly, he pulled you into a different place, a different existence, present yet far away from the others. 

“Do they know?” You spoke in a muted tone, a conversation meant only for you and the captain.

John hummed his dissent. “I didn't tell them.”

You weren’t able to turn away from the sight of Kyle and Johnny playing with the former’s new companion and partner in (legal) (ish) crime. Greedy, that’s what you were. Greedy for any scrap of mirth you could find, whether yours or someone else’s “Won't that come back to bite you in the ass? What with trust and all.”

He gazed at you for a long, drawn out moment of time. Then, his hand eclipsed your upper back, comforting and reassuring in its weight, in the warmth that seeped through your clothing.

“I'd rather deal with a few angry soldiers to protect you. I know my boys, they're loyal, they don’t hate your kind, nor would they turn you in. I just don't want them to treat you differently. You're one of us, now.”

How true were his words? He knew his team better than anybody else, you knew that, but even the most open of people kept secrets. Was there really no judgement to be had in this circle, or was it a matter of distance? 

From afar, caring was difficult, but once brought together, prejudices came to light.

So, how long could precarious balance last?

Your attention shifted from the pair of sergeants to the geist that lingered in the shadows, and a chill ran down the length of your back when you saw him, looming as he always had. It wasn’t his size, nor the way the light seemed to avoid him, no.

It was the fact that he was already staring at you.

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[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I'm confused, are there new chapters of the Scarabia manga out? On the Japanese manga up website it looks like there are new chapters of the manga, but while I can't read it, I don't see anyone commenting on it, I don't see any Japanese people talking about new chapters, as if no one knew about it, that they just put it on the website? Does this mean that the Scarabia manga will be an online manga?

Yes, there are technically new chapters (5 and 6) of the Episode of Scarabia manga out. It seems to leave off on Yuuna and Grim crashing into Octavinelle and soliciting them for help.

Typically, new chapters of the Twst manga are published in issues of GFantasy, which releases on the 17/18th each month. This was true for Heartslabyul, Savanaclaw, and Octavinelle. However, Scarabia’s publication did NOT do this; previously, it dropped an entire manga volume (chapters 1-4) at once. Both preorders for a physical volume and a digital volume opened up at this time. It looks like Scarabia might be going at a different pace and/or publication route than the other dorms thus far…?

You probably do not see comments on MangaUP! because people seem to be used to getting their updates from GFantasy and not MangaUP!; maybe people just weren’t aware of the updates being elsewhere.

Additionally, the updates appear to have gone live late at night + early in the morning in Japan. Because the JP demographic is predominantly older working women, they would most likely be sleeping at the time (like, it’s currently ~5:45 am in JST) and would not have time to read + comment until their morning commute or after work.

It also looks like you need to pay a premium currency to read the latest chapters so there’s a paywall in place. Maybe people are waiting for the price to go down first or have cheaper ways to view the chapters. (I believe GFantasy works on a subscription model so it could theoretically be cheaper than paying per chapter, but it depends on the individual case.)

The Episode of Scarabia is NOT going to be exclusively online. Let’s not jump to conclusions here. They printed a physical volume 1 for the first 1-4 chapters (and also offered a digital version), and there is NO reason why they wouldn’t print the rest of the volumes eventually.

I’m not sure why MangaUP! seems to have gotten early access to the next few chapters though?? It seems to be a website affiliated with Square Enix (which I think handles the Twst manga distribution??). At a quick glance, the site seems to split up whole chapters into multiple installments in order to get you to pay multiple times to read them, but I believe there are ways to earn enough coins through “missions” to read it for free. The latest chapters (5 and 6), however, can ONLY be unlocked via payments of real money. These will be transitioned into easier to unlock versions (ie you can use the “free” currency to read) on the 16th.

[melancholy-of-nadia]

heart on the window – special chapter | ksj

special chapter title: don't say you love me pairing: ksj x reader(f) rating/genre: m (18+) ; smut ; roommates au / streamer/cam boy au / office worker au, childhood rivals to awkward roommates to lovers? au summary: a special chapter depicting a trip to singapore that happened sometime in between chapter 5 and 6 warnings: chaotic. maybe even cacophonous. maybe some angst? maybe some fluff? inspired by jin's "don't say you love me" mv, jin POV with some reader POV sprinkled in drop date: May 17th, 2025, 11:00am pst word count: 3.9k please check out the full series here - -

The trip wasn’t supposed to be like this.

It was meant to be a reunion with friends from elementary school that you and Jin decided to reach out and reconnect with. Loud, chaotic, full of half-drunken memories and spontaneous laughter between old friends. A trip born out of a group chat fantasy: “What if we all just disappeared to Singapore for a week?” Moonbyul had the idea. You were the first to actually look up flights to see if it could even be possible. It seemed like a cool idea, but also sounded pretty expensive. Jin was the one who booked the flights and hotel for you both. Everyone else just talked and said they booked their stuff too.

But life happened. One had a family emergency. Another got hit with a last-minute deadline. One had a commitment they forgot about. One just ghosted. And then it was just the two of you.

You told him the night before the flight, guilt-ridden and frustrated, saying you think it’d be a good idea to cancel the trip. Said it didn’t feel right anymore, not with everyone bailing. Said it wasn’t worth it. You didn’t even have the money to pay Jin back for everything. The camming makes money, but you really should save up for when you move out, not for a trip. It’s expensive living anywhere in this area.

But Jin still persisted, which you found hard to turn down.

“I’m paying. Just come. You need the break, and so do I.”

You nodded, going back to your room to finish packing. You sighed.  And then you both took off to Singapore, doing your best to enjoy this trip.

Now it’s day three, and something’s shifted. Jin can feel it. You smile at the right times. You laugh when you’re supposed to. But something’s... off.

You both are at the Singapore Art Museum (SAM). You're looking at a painting, blanking out. Something seems to be on your mind since you got to Singapore, but Seokjin can't pinpoint it out.

"Something wrong, Y/N?"

"Huh?" You go back to reality, turning to him. "Oh, it's nothing. It's just the jet lag."

"Then let's get your blood flowing and keep it moving, alright?" He playfully grabs your wrist and gently drags you along the hall.

You don’t pull away, but you don’t laugh either. Well, not the way you usually do. Not like before. He notes the delay in your steps, the way your fingers rest limp in his grip instead of curling around his like they used to when you were just being playful.

It’s not jet lag. He knows it.

As you walk through the wide, echoing corridor, surrounded by soft lights and experimental installations, Jin sneaks a glance at you. You’re here—physically—but your thoughts are clearly somewhere else.

And maybe he’s being dramatic, but he kind of misses you.

Not the version of you standing beside him, quiet and tense, but the you that used to shove your camera in his face mid-bite at a food market. The you that would elbow him in the ribs when he made a stupid pun. The you who, a few nights ago back home, rode him like you had something to prove, then passed out in his bed like you genuinely live there and not temporarily.

Maybe that’s the problem.

You’re not just friends anymore. You’re not dating either. You’re in this in-between place—sharing beds, sharing skin, but never talking about what that means. And now here you are, in a foreign country, staying in the same hotel room, eating at the same table, doing everything together like a couple… but you’re not.

And it’s eating at you.

He knows because you’ve stopped meeting his eyes when he offers to pay for something. Because you barely touched your laksa yesterday even though you’d been excited to try it for weeks. Because last night, you showered and pretended to sleep early before he even got out of the bathroom.

You don’t want to owe him.

He gets it. But it doesn’t make it easier to watch.

“So…” he says, voice light as he tugs you into another exhibit. “What’s your honest opinion of this one?”

You blink up at the installation in front of you—a large digital screen looping a surreal, color-shifting animation. “It’s… trippy,” you murmur.

He chuckles. “Very insightful. You’ve got a future in art critique.”

You give him a small smile, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

Still, it’s something.

He lets go of your wrist and steps a bit closer to the piece, arms crossed. “You know, if our friends were here, they’d have made us pose in front of this thing and made it a whole bit. Probably pretended we were in a music video or something ridiculous.”

You let out a soft laugh. “Yeah. They would’ve.”

There’s a pause. A quiet kind of ache settles in the space between you.

By day four, Jin has stopped trying to make you laugh.

Not because he doesn't want to. But because every smile you offer him is painfully polite. Controlled. Pretty on the outside and hollow underneath. He knows the difference—he's known you long enough to see through the cracks.

You pay for your iced coffee before he gets the chance to tap his card. You walk beside him like everything’s fine, but it’s all surface.

And it’s eating at him.

You both have dinner at a tucked-away café on a quiet street corner. The food is warm and good and the ambience cozy, but you're barely touching your plate. You nod at his stories, sip your drink slowly, but your eyes drift past him to somewhere he can’t reach.

You walk slower on the way out. He doesn’t ask where you’re going, just follows. You wind up at a multilevel parking garage with a view of the skyline. The city glows in the night, sharp against the dark, and for a few minutes, neither of you say anything.

Then it breaks.

He doesn’t remember what sets it off. A comment, maybe. Something small. Something that hits a nerve.

“You’ve been acting weird this whole trip.”

You don’t look at him, but respond with an annoyed twinge in your words. “Have I?”

“You have. You’ve barely looked at me.”

You push off the ledge, finally turning toward him, brows furrowed. “Maybe I’m just tired.”

“Tired doesn’t make you shut me out.”

That’s when your face changes. Like something inside you snaps.

“Well this is your fault, Seokjin!”

The words slice through the quiet like a blade. Jin flinches. You keep going.

“I didn’t want you to pay this trip for me. I was supposed to pay—even though I barely have the damn money—I was still willing to go through with this. I wanted to hang out and see everyone. Our old friends. That’s what this was supposed to be.”

Your eyes are shining, your voice trembling.

“But it’s just us now. And instead of canceling, you threw money at it and acted like it was no big deal. And now I’m here…feeling like your stupid sugar baby.”

Jin’s mouth opens, then shuts. You don’t stop.

“You don’t even see it, do you? How humiliating it is to feel like I owe you. How fucking small it makes me feel.”

His heart is pounding. “Y/N… I didn’t mean for it to feel like that.”

You don’t even know, he thinks.

You don’t know that he booked this trip not just to get away, but because he couldn’t stand seeing you so burned out every day. He’d watched you stay up night after night, rereading the same job descriptions, rehearsing for interviews that went nowhere, rewriting resumes that got tossed aside without a second glance. He saw how it was breaking you down. The apartment had started to feel like a trap, quietly suffocating you. He knew you wouldn’t say it, wouldn’t admit it, but Jin saw it in the slump of your shoulders, the way you didn’t bother turning the lights on when you came home.

He paid for the flights because he wanted to see your smile again, your real one. The one where your nose crinkles and your eyes disappear and you forget for five seconds that the world has been unfair to you.

And maybe—just maybe—he hoped being away together like this would open a door. Maybe in another version of this trip, where you weren’t upset and pushing him away, he might’ve told you everything. That you mean more to him than you probably realize. That this isn’t just about friendship or sex or convenience. That he’s scared shitless of ruining what you already have, but even more scared of watching you drift away into someone else’s life someday.

“I know you didn’t,” you spit. “But it does feel like that.”

Your voice wobbles. “I’ve always been an independent person. I’ve always figured things out on my own. And now I’m living in your place. Now going on a trip you paid for. And no matter how many times you say it’s fine, it’s not fine for me.”

Jin steps forward instinctively, reaching for you. “Y/N, God, don’t do this—”

You shove him. “Just leave me alone, Seokjin’

It’s not hard enough to hurt, but the rejection using his full name stings more than a slap.

He grabs your wrists on instinct, not to restrain you—but to stop you from slipping further away.

“Y/N. Stop.” His voice drops. “Just—breathe. Please.”

But you’re shaking your head, furious tears welling.

“You don’t get it. You’ve always had your shit together, Jin. You’re successful, stable, rich, hot, loved. And I’m just… struggling. All the time. And being around you like this—it makes me feel pathetic.”

He stares at you. Words rise up in his throat, thick and real.

He wants to tell you he understands more than you think.

That his ex left him because she didn’t believe in him at the time.

That the world sees his achievements, but not the loneliness he carries like a second skin.

That when he looks at you, it’s not pity he feels. It’s awe. It’s what he’s felt ever since he met you in elementary school. The amusement he had bickering with you and being competitive against one another. And the budding feelings that he didn’t realize until he left.

He swallows hard. He could tell you all of that. He could tell you everything.

“Y/N, I—” His voice is raw.

But he chokes.

“…I just thought you needed a break,” he says instead. “That we both did.”

Your face crumples, just slightly.

You yank your wrists free.

“I’m going back to the hotel alone.”

“Y/N—”

“I need space. I’ll take a cab.”

And then you’re walking away.

Jin watches you go, his arms falling uselessly to his sides. His chest is hollow, chest tightening with every footstep that takes you further from him.

This is why he’s scared to feel.

This is why he’s terrified to hope.

Because even when he gives the best of himself, it never feels like enough.

Maybe he really is too much of a provider and not enough of a partner. Maybe no amount of success can fix what’s always been broken inside him.

Maybe—

He watches the cab door close behind you.

Maybe this is what being close to you means:

Knowing when to let you walk away.

Before the cab pulls away, Jin suddenly moves.

His legs act before his mind can catch up. He darts forward and yanks the door back open, sliding in beside you.

“You’re not going alone,” he says, out of breath but firm. “I don’t care if you’re mad at me. I’m not letting you go back by yourself in a country we barely know.”

You stare at him, wide-eyed, lips parted in surprise—but you don’t push him out. You don’t say anything at all.

So he shuts the door behind him.

The driver nods and merges into the road, unaware of the hurricane churning inside the cab.

Silence fills the space between you. Not awkward, not hostile. Just heavy.

You glance at him—just once—and Jin feels it. The air shifts.

You don’t know what you were expecting when you lashed out at him. Maybe for him to get angry. Maybe for him to throw his hands up and let you spiral alone. But instead, he followed you. He always does. And now he’s here, quiet and steady beside you, while your chest aches from too many emotions you don’t know how to carry anymore.

You turn your face back to the window on your right, your fingers tightening slightly on your thigh.

Jin catches your reflection in the glass. He looks away toward the left, but the image of your expression—tired, vulnerable, guarded—sticks in his mind.

He gets it now. It wasn’t just about money. It wasn’t even about pride, really. You’ve always fought for your independence, and the fact that things still haven’t gone your way lately has made you feel like you’re failing. And him stepping in—offering help, offering ease—it must have felt like another reminder that you couldn’t stand on your own two feet. That he could always do the saving, but you couldn’t.

He swallows hard. His voice is gentle when it finally breaks the silence.

“I didn’t bring you here to make you feel small, Y/N.”

You stay quiet, but he continues.

“I just… I’ve been watching you fall apart back home. The way you pretend you’re okay when you’re not. You didn’t think I noticed, did you?”

You blink once, still looking out the window.

“I didn’t want to take something away from you,” he says, “I wanted to give you something. Peace. Air. A few days without expectations. And I’d do it again. Not because you owe me, and not because I want anything from you—but because I care about you.”

That lands between you. Heavy and real.

“I care about you so fucking much,” he admits softly, eyes flickering down to his hands, “that sometimes I don’t know what to do.”

You finally turn to face him.

Your voice is quiet. “Why didn’t you just say that?”

He breathes out a shaky laugh. “Because the last time I told someone how I felt about something, shit hit the fan?" He doesn't want to mention that someone. It's irrelevant and off-topic anyways. This is about you. "And this friendship… between us… it’s been good. Simple. I didn’t want to mess that up.”

You stare at him for a long moment. Then you reach over and thread your fingers through his.

“Simple’s overrated,” you murmur. “And for the record… I care about you too. You’re one of the closest friends I got right now. A little too close if you ask me.”

Jin chuckles, squeezing your hand gently. The cab glides down the road, the glow of the city lights painting golden reflections across your faces.

Neither of you says anything more. You don’t need to.

By the time you reach the hotel, you’re still holding hands.

And for once, it feels like everything complicated between you two is starting to slowly make sense.

The morning sun filters through the hotel curtains, casting soft light over your sleeping face.

You're curled into the comforter, breath steady, no longer weighed down by yesterday's storm.

Jin watches you quietly, eyes tracing the slow rise and fall of your chest.

He never slept that well, even after you reached out for his hand last night. Even after that quiet, fragile peace settled between you. His body had been still, but his heart was loud. Because you said you cared. And that should’ve been enough. Should’ve felt like winning. But it’s never that simple with you. Not when he wants more. Always more.

You stir a little, your eyes fluttering open. “What?” you murmur sleepily.

He smiles softly. “Nothing. You snore.”

You shoot him a look through mussed hair, then throw a pillow at him.

It’s the start of a better day.

Later that afternoon, you arrive at Gardens by the Bay, surrounded by tourists and locals milling about for some kind of seasonal couples event. The air is humid but fresh, the sound of chirping birds mixing with the chatter around you.

The line at the ticket booth is long, but it moves fast. You both finally reach the front—and the person at the counter explains there’s a couple’s discount.

Jin doesn’t hesitate.

“We’re together,” he says, flashing his charming, public-friendly smile.

You turn to him, wide-eyed, half a breath away from denying it.

But his hand slides into yours, fingers intertwining.

It’s not just for show. He could’ve left it at the words. But he doesn’t. He holds you like he means it. Because he does.

Your hand twitches in his, caught between pulling away and holding tighter. You glance down, a little dazed.

“…Guess we’re a couple now,” you mutter under your breath.

He grins. “Just for the discount.”

He doesn’t let go.

You start with the OCBC Skyway, a narrow walkway suspended high between the Supertree structures, giving a sweeping view of the gardens and city skyline beyond.

The wind flutters against your clothes. You grip the railing with one hand, his with the other.

You’re still flustered, pretending like the height has you distracted, but he catches the way you glance down at your joined hands. Not pulling away.

“You afraid of heights?” he teases.

“I’m afraid of losing balance and accidentally launching both of us off this thing,” you mutter.

He laughs. “Noted. I’ll hold on tighter.”

He does.

Next stop: The Flower Dome

Cooler, calmer. A burst of color at every turn. Orchids, tulips, lavender, desert plants.

You take your time here, pausing at every odd flower, reading placards aloud with exaggerated voices. Jin pretends to be annoyed but listens to every word.

You’re cute when you talk to plants. He won’t say it out loud, but the way you squat beside a cactus and go, “He looks like a grumpy uncle,” nearly makes him choke on laughter.

He sneaks a few photos of you from behind when you’re not looking. Later, he’ll pretend he was testing the lighting.

And finally, The Cloud Forest.

Misty, cool, and otherworldly. The towering indoor waterfall roars from the center of the space, mist curling around the edges of your clothes.

You both stand in awe at the base of the mountain-like structure wrapped in plant life.

You glance at Jin. “It’s like something out of a fairytale.”

He tilts his head. “Yeah.”

But he’s not looking at the waterfall.

He’s looking at you.

You, cheeks flushed from humidity, hair a little frizzy at the ends. You, who cried in a parking garage last night and still let him stay beside you. You, who always pretends to be fine until the cracks show. He’d give you the world if you’d let him. He’d build a waterfall higher than this one just to see you smile.

“I think we should get married here,” he says suddenly.

You blink. “I—what?”

He smirks. “If we’re still single by the time we’re 42...let’s just do it. Save ourselves the trouble. This place is good for it too.”

You burst out laughing. “That’s oddly specific.”

“I mean it,” he grins, “We’d make a great tax bracket. And we get along, I think.”

You nudge his arm. “Wow... well..." You're kind of at a loss of words. Like what can you even say to some suggested marriage proposal?It's not that serious, that's for sure, right? "It's… kind of like a lavender marriage? We get with each other for the benefits and see other people if we're able to.”

His heart stutters. You’re joking, of course. You don’t see it. Not the way he does. Not the way he looks at you and sees late mornings, shared coffee mugs, and dancing in the kitchen. Not the way he wonders what your kids might look like. Or what your name would sound like with his.

“Sure,” he says with a tight smile. “Like a lavender marriage.”

You turn back to the waterfall, cheeks sore from smiling.

He watches you.

42 sounds too far away. But if it meant waking up next to you, even once, he’d wait.

He’s caught in the afterglow of your laughter, a little stunned that you actually found his marriage joke funny.

You turn to grin at him, nudging his shoulder. “You’re so silly sometimes, you know that? But... if I was stuck with you forever, it wouldn’t be the worst idea.”

Jin raises an eyebrow, smirking. “Stuck with me? Wow, thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“Oh, come on,” you tease, “better stuck with you than some boring guy who doesn’t make me laugh or even make good food or have a good dick!”

He laughs softly, shaking his head. “God, I can’t believe you’re saying this out in public!” “Nobody knows who we are here! Plus, did I lie?”

“Jeez, flattery will get you everywhere, huh?”

Before he can say more, like a sexual innuendo aimed towards you, you tug at his hand.

“But hey! Come on. I wanna show you something,”

He stumbles forward a little, caught off guard, but doesn’t resist. Never resists you.

Your palm is warm in his, fingers curled loosely around his.

You pull him toward a level near the top of the Cloud Mountain. The air gets cooler as you ascend in the elevator, and when the doors open, it feels like you’ve stepped onto a different planet.

Clouds of mist curl around your ankles. Vines dangle from high archways. There’s a little footbridge up ahead, overlooking the whole space.

You don’t say much—just lead him forward, step by step, until you reach the edge. From here, you can see nearly the whole Cloud Forest below, thick with cascading greenery, wet with dew and mist. People move far beneath you like tiny toy figures.

“It’s so nice and quiet up here,” you murmur, leaning forward just slightly. “I like it.”

Jin stands beside you, too aware of how close your shoulders are. He can smell the faint trace of your shampoo and something light and citrusy from the hotel lotion you complained about, but still wear.

You look peaceful. Maybe the most peaceful he’s seen you in weeks.

And suddenly, he’s not thinking about forty-two anymore. He’s not thinking about jokes or what-ifs. He’s just thinking: I wish this could be ours. Not just a moment. But a life. A forever. A reality where you weren’t only his friend, or his escape. A reality where your hand in his was normal, not borrowed. Where he didn’t have to play pretend with strangers at a ticket counter just to feel like you were his.

You turn to him with a faint smile, a quiet ease in your eyes. “Cool, right?”

He nods, swallowing. “Yeah.”

He wants to say: you’re the most beautiful thing here. He wants to say: I brought you here because I thought maybe, just maybe, I’d have the guts to tell you everything. He wants to say: if I gave you my heart, would you keep it safe this time?

Instead, he says, “We should take a photo.”

You blink, then grin. “Yeah. Definitely. Give the people what they want! Two people pretending to be a couple for the discount.”

He lifts his phone with a faint chuckle. You lean into his side, resting your head briefly on his shoulder, your hand still in his. The timer clicks down.

Three... two...

One day, he thinks, he’ll look at this photo and wonder why he didn’t just tell you the truth right then. Maybe he’ll say it next week. Or next year. Or maybe never. Because loving you quietly is safer than losing you loudly. And some things, he’s learned, are better left unsaid.

Click.

The photo snaps.

You pull away gently and keep walking toward the next part of the path, talking about the waterfalls again, something about how the plants are real and not artificial like you thought.

Jin grins and teases, “So what, I’m not real enough for you?”

You punch his arm lightly. “Shut up, go enjoy being a fake boyfriend for the day.”

He laughs. “Fake boyfriend, huh? I’m way too good at this.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help smiling.

He follows. He always does.

Because maybe he can’t have all of you.

But for now, this moment is enough.

And maybe… that’s love too.

a/n: I spent yesterday and today cooking this up and was debating to even drop it since it's just a mess. but enjoy! keep streaming jin's new album as well!!

[disgruntled-welshgirl]

It's the moment you might have been waiting for! The next installment of the:

TOP 100 RONANCE FICS

As voted by the community. And as of now we have officially broken fifty fics nominated, we are halfway to a full list and we've certainly had some shake ups since the last entry. If you'd like to contribute, then go ahead and vote to make your voice heard.

As always, the list itself is under the cut

1:

This story we found ourselves in by EskaWrites

Votes: 6

Ranking: 4.5

Rating: Mature

Word count: 164,289

Chapters: 28

Complete?: Yes

A slow burn fic where Robin and Steve are celebrities who are fake dating while Robin and Nancy figure things out between them. Angst is in plentiful supply with depictions of homophobia (Internalised and external), and substance abuse.

2:

Make my Menace Into Someone You’d Adore by Moonflowery 

Votes: 5

Ranking: 4.8

Rating: Teen and up

Word count: 92,605

Chapters: 12

Complete?: Yes

A slow burn enemies to lovers AU where Nancy starts working at Scoops Ahoy alongside Robin and they cannot stand each other. Set during season 3 but without the russians, the biggest enemy is the girls’ chronic inability to talk about their feelings.

3:

A Never Ending Story by Summersociety

Votes: 3

Ranking: 2

Rating: Mature

Word count: 48,815

Chapters: 13

Complete?: Yes

Robin and Nancy fall in love through the magical medium of DnD in this hurt/comfort fic. Steve and Eddie are also there to watch as the lines between the girls and their characters becomes ever more unclear.

4:

8 Feet Apart by Camaroo

Votes: 3

Ranking: 2.3

Rating: Mature

Word count: 59,869

Chapters: 10

Complete?: No

Nancy is a vampire, newly made in a Russian lab and confined to a house. Outside her window, just 8 feet away, is the home of Robin, physics nerd and radio enthusiast. This slow burn fic has a healthy dose of angst and mutual pining.

5:

When It’s Cold I’d Like To Die by Notesfromthechamber

Votes: 3

Ranking: 2.5

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 159,811

Chapters: 29

Complete?: No

An exploration of the trauma the upside down inflicts and how that brings Robin and Nancy closer than they thought possible. As you might expect, angst, hurt/comfort, and heavy themes of all kinds are prevalent in this character study fic.

6:

The Devil’s After Both of Us by Eskawrites

Votes: 3

Ranking: 5

Rating: Mature

Word count: 35,421

Chapters: 5

Complete?: Yes

Set post season 4, Robin gets possessed by Vecna and it’s up to the party to save her. What better time could there be for Nancy to work through her internalised homophobia? 

7:

A Love That Came And Left With This Train by Melodicchaos 

Votes: 3

Ranking: 4.3

Rating: Mature

Word count: 78,311

Chapters: 15

Complete?: Yes

A ronance AU of the book One Last Stop by Casey McQuiston. Nancy is a college student who runs into Robin on the Boston metro; she soon discovers there’s far more to ‘The MBTA Angel’ than she could have ever imagined. Very fluffy with some tense moments.

8:

Accidentally In Love by Angelranger 

Votes: 3

Ranking: 5.3

Rating: Teen and Up

Word count: 33,484

Chapters: 11

Complete?: Yes

Nancy decides she wants to get to know Robin better and uses a set of questions designed to make people fall in love. What could go wrong? Mutual pining and some angst that’s what.

9:

In Her Hips There’s Revolution by Monstrous_Femme 

Votes: 2

Ranking: 3

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 70,550

Chapters: 11

Complete?: Yes

The author describes this fic as “Jane Austen with more alleyway head” and features Nancy wheeler deep in the Riot grrl movement of 1995 Washington. Drug use, trauma, and sexual 

content abound.

10:

Our Hearts Know Deeper Seasons Than Our Memories by EskaWrites

Votes: 2

Ranking: 3.5

Rating: Mature

Word count: 167,512

Chapters: 35

Complete?: Yes

An alternative POV for This Story We Found Ourselves in, everything said there applies here.

11:

Entirely on Purpose and According To Plan by Titface

Votes: 2

Ranking: 4

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 14,090

Chapters: 3

Complete?: Yes

A secret agent catches Nancy’s eye and it spirals into her and Robin spying. The spying is definitely not foreplay, what would make you think that?

12:

Like a Damaged Nerve Like a Dark Bird by Monstrous_Femme

Votes: 2

Ranking: 5

Rating: Teen and Up

Word count: 86,970

Chapters: 16

Complete?: Yes

A fix-it fic of sorts, where the problems of the upside down have rendered Hawkins a barren wasteland by 1993 when Nancy falls asleep on Barb’s grave only to wake up back in 1985. Will Nancy be able to stop the apocalypse with the help of Robin and Chrissy? This slow burn fic will tell all.

13:

All Strung Out by Polterjap 

Votes: 2

Ranking: 5.5

Rating: Unrated

Word count: 20,228

Chapters: 1

Complete?: Yes

The ever-prevalent spider-man AU, in which Nancy is a journalist who seeks to unmask Spider-woman, all while getting closer to college student Robin Buckley.

14:

No Sweeter Drug (Than Just Giving You My Love) by IL46

Votes: 2

Ranking: 5.5

Rating: Teen and Up

Word count: 60,110

Chapters: 12

Complete?: Yes

Yet again we see comphet Nancy, this time pining for a relationship with Robin she broke off after a summer romance. Feature Nancy and Eddie being best friends and a healthy balance of fluff and angst.

15:

My Piece of Land by Titface

Votes:2

Ranking: 6.5

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 24,250

Chapters: 1

Complete?: Yes

Nancy Wheeler is a doomsday prepper, and then doomsday happens; after a few years alone she welcomes a strange woman falling into one of her traps. If you’ve seen the TLOU tv show, it’s Bill and Frank but with Ronance.

16:

The Way You Make Me Feel by Gwenstrikesagain

Votes: 2

Ranking: 7

Rating: Mature

Word count: 93,110

Chapters: 47

Complete?: Yes

A ballet AU in which the party is accepted into a ballet academy and Nancy does not get along with her new roommate, Robin. Angsty, enemies to lovers, slow burn is the name of the game. Heavy themes of eating disorders, depression, and anxiety are featured.

17:

I Buried a Hatchet (It’s Coming Up Lavender) by Poorlittlegreenie

Votes: 2

Ranking: 8

Rating: Mature

Word count: 59,249

Chapters: 9

Complete?: Yes

Vecna almost takes Robin out so Nancy has to nurse her back to health, a job made more complicated by having to deal with her comphet at the same time. This fic touches on the extremes of tooth-rotting fluff and graphic depictions of violence to bring a slow burn hurt/comfort fic.

18:

Shining Trinkets of Grief by fastcardotmp3

Votes: 1

Ranking: 1

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 15,505

Chapters: 1

Complete?: Yes

The party try and navigate the post apocalypse with varying levels of success. Can it get worse? Of course it can, when Nancy and Robin also have to navigate grief and love together.

19:

Crooked Love in a straight line down by Pineappleking

Votes: 1

Ranking: 2

Rating: Mature

Word count: 75,644

Chapters: 28

Complete?: Yes

Nancy Wheeler is a reporter assigned to cover the meteoric rise to fame of the band Hellfire, in doing so she meets and forms a relationship with the band’s lead singer, Robin Buckley. Sex, drugs, rock and roll; add in some hurt/comfort and you’ve got yourself this band AU.

20:

Dream a Little Dream Of Me by Culpabilities

Votes: 1

Ranking: 2

Rating: General Audiences

Word count: 2,956

Chapters: 1

Complete?: Yes

Short and sweet, Robin comes out to Nancy who takes four days to think through how she feels about it. 

21:

Monster of the Week by freezeveganpolice

Votes: 1

Ranking: 2

Rating: Teen and Up

Word count: 225,020

Chapters: 43

Complete?: Yes

Did you ever watch X-files and wish it was gayer? Well in this Ronance X-files AU, your wish comes true! As the word count implies, this is a slow burn.

22:

Orange Crush by Titface

Votes: 1

Ranking: 2

Rating: Teen and Up

Word count: 7,152

Chapters: 1

Complete?: Yes

Nancy has trouble sleeping and has taken to calling or visiting Robin when insomnia strikes. This time, Robin has promised she’ll tell Nancy how she really feels during her midnight visis. Unfortunately they run into some people, one person in particular.

23:

Starcrossed by Iappreciateenjolras

Votes: 1

Ranking: 2

Rating: Mature

Word count: 13,296

Chapters: 1

Complete?: Yes

An exploration into Nancy’s grief over Barb’s death and the resulting Trauma, a hurt/comfort fic with a lot of hurt and comfort in the form of Robin Buckley. Heavy themes of grief, trauma, and implied self-harm

24:

Unlikely, But Likely by Pocket_Sand

Votes: 1

Ranking: 2

Rating: General Audiences

Word Count: 136,769

Chapters: 51

Complete? Yes

A collection of one shots centred around ronance, each chapter comes with the appropriate content warnings for that story. Many genres, many tones, the same love.

25:

Getting Off by Meghan Page

Votes: 1

Ranking: 3

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 4,682

Chapters: 1

Complete?: Yes

Nancy and Robin get stuck in a rickety dorm elevator and talk about their feelings. I’m sure you what comes after. (Elevator sex)

26:

Robin Buckley's Expert Field Guide to Catching Fireflies (and Other Childhood Favourties) by Smileweakandwrong

Votes:1

Ranking: 3

Rating: Teen and Up

Word Count: 18,437

Chapters: 5

Complete?: Yes

Picture the fluffiest thing you’ve ever read, double it. That’s what to expect in this fic where Robin works through an old book she wrote all about catching fireflies, turtles, and snakes oh my! Nancy is there because she is in love and hasn’t realised it yet, but she will.

27:

Some That Fall Don’t Land In Bubbles by Moonflowery

Votes: 1

Ranking: 3

Rating: Teen and Up

Word count: 56,239

Chapters: 13

Complete?: Yes

One of the heaviest fics on this list, a hurt/comfort mermaid AU slow burn. Robin gets turned into a Mermaid after a traumatic event and Nancy, another mermaid, has to help her adjust to her new life underwater. This one touches on a lot of serious topics including suicide, substance abuse, and homophobia, read the tags and the authors note for a detailed breakdown.

28:

Blue Nights, Red Mornings by Cityseeker

Votes: 1

Ranking: 4

Rating: Teen and up

Word Count: 4,501

Chapters: 1

Complete?: Yes

Nancy feels safe while holding Robin’s hand, and she starts to wonder why that might be. What she does know, is that being around Robin helps in the aftermath of Vecna.

29:

Feels Like I’ve Been Gettin’ Anointed (Ever Since The Day That I Met You) by Khalasaar 

Votes: 1

Ranking: 4

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 10,782

Chapters: 1

Complete?: Yes

Catholic school AU where Robin and Nancy are put to work together on a project, they’re both very normal about it. Some light angst but mostly a lot of tension between the girls.

30:

Meet Ugly by ItCanBePalped

Votes: 1

Ranking: 4

Rating: Teen and Up

Word Count: 7,777

Chapters: 1

Complete?: Yes

During a walk of shame, Robin bumps into Nancy and makes a… less than ideal first impression. She pulls it back though, eventually.

31:

Red lips, Blue eyes by Iiruwu

Votes: 1

Ranking: 4

Rating: Teen and Up

Word count: 44,231

Chapters: 5

Complete?: Yes

What if instead of Jonathan, Robin is the one who’d found Nancy after the halloween party? Mutual pining slow burn that’s what’s in store as an unlikely relationship forms. Some fluff, some angst, all hurt/comfort.

32:

Robin Buckley’s Mother by Wynhaught_trash

Votes: 1

Ranking: 4

Rating: Mature

Word count: 158,885

Chapters: 44

Complete?: Yes

Another heavy one, in which Steve and Nancy help Robin deal with her trauma after being abused by her mother. A lot of angst, but also healing with graphic depictions of violence. Set after season 3 leading into an alternate season 4.

33:

Stars and Sand and and Leaves by Ghosttotheparty

Votes: 1

Ranking: 4

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 22,427

Chapters: 3

Complete?: Yes

A ronance and byler double feature! Nancy and Mike help each other work through their feelings about being queer. Some light angst mixed in with a bit of smut

34:

To Be Near You (Is To Be Unable To Hear You) by TotalForgiveness

Votes: 1

Ranking: 4

Rating: General Audiences

Word count: 54,545

Chapters:15

Complete?: No

Robin is the new kid in Hawkins and is astounded to find her favourite youtuber sitting in the back of her english class. It just so happens that youtuber is Nancy Wheeler.

35:

A Girl In Need of a Tourniquet by loudsnapdradon

Votes: 1

Ranking: 5

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 17,760

Chapters: 2

Complete?: Yes

Following a string of bad luck and a gamut of problems, Nancy becomes an escort to pay for college.And then she doesn’t stop. And then she meets Robin in a random Hotel.

36:

Bathroom Of a Party by Cottagewerewolf

Votes: 1

Ranking: 5

Rating: Teen and Up

Word count: 1,112

Chapters: 1

Complete?: Yes

Nancy and Robin get high in the bathroom of a party. Not really much else to say about this one.

37:

Now the Halftime Air Was Sweet Perfume (While Sergeants Played a Marching Tune) by Red_Banner

Votes: 1

Ranking: 5

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 142,150

Chapters: 15

Complete?: No

This fic (with easily the longest title on this list) follows the party three years after season 4 dealing with the apocalypse while Nancy and Robin are hopelessly in love. Be warned, the fluffy start of this story belies the angst it contains.

38:

The Universe Isn’t Always Helpful (But It Can Be Kind) by LaceyBarbedWire

Votes: 1

Ranking: 6

Rating: Teen and Up

Word Count: 1,373

Chapters: 1

Complete?: Yes

A soulmark AU in which the first words your soulmate will say to you are written on your body. It just so happens that Nancy’s is in French.

39:

It’s Nice to Have a Friend by Judasofsuburbia

Votes: 1

Ranking: 6

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 18,057

Chapters: 3

Complete?: Yes

Nancy and Steve ar so far in the closet that they’re getting married, but is Nancy kissing Robin on her wedding day an indicator of trouble ahead? Whatever happens, it takes at least five years of marriage to play out. There is a depiction of serious illness in this fic alongside the angst you’d expect.

40:

Picture This by Scarletperfume

Votes: 1

Ranking: 6

Rating: Teen and Up

Word count: 15,333

Chapters: 9

Complete?: No

Nancy is a photographer who runs into famous model Robin Buckley while taking photos one day. The two of them become ride or die in record time and cuteness ensues.

41:

Scar Tissue by Titface

Votes: 1

Ranking: 6

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 10,245

Chapters: 1

Complete?: Yes

Nancy and Robin compare their scars and things get heated; stories are swapped alongside spit.

42:

Crimes Against Decency in a Family Establishment by Titface

Votes: 1

Ranking: 7

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 10,849

Chapters: 1

Complete?: Yes

Nancy and Robin decide to duck out of school to go to family video.

43:

Does He Know You’re out (And I Want You So Bad?) by Melodicchaos

Votes: 1

Ranking: 7

Rating: Teen and Up

Word count: 36,315

Chapters: 11

Complete?: Yes

Fake dating, but beards! Robin and Steve decide to fake date to get Robin’s family off her back, what they didn’t expect was that Nancy and Eddie would get very jealous.

44:

Friends Don’t Yearn Like We Do by Oaseas

Votes: 1

Ranking: 7

Rating: Teen and Up

Word Count: 5,889

Chapters: 1

Complete?: Yes

Nancy reveals to Steve that she has feelings for Robin and so he decided to be the best wingman he can. A sleepover and some babycham leads to a game of truth or dare with a result all parties are happy with.

45:

Girl in New York by Midorino

Votes: 1

Ranking: 7

Rating: Teen and Up

Word count: 20,302

Chapters: 7

Complete?: Yes

Nancy has a run in with Robin while tanning topless on her apartment’s balcony and vows to get to know her hot next door neighbour. Very fluffy, very cute, but the name is a misnomer; this is not set in New York.

46:

Respectability by Titface

Votes: 1

Ranking: 8

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 20,302

Chapters: 1

Complete?: Yes

Robin is very invested in what clothes Nancy wears, like more than is usual.

47:

Warm My Bones and Fill My Glass by EskaWrites

Votes: 1

Ranking: 7

Rating: Teen and Up

Word count:10,867

Chapters: 1

Complete?: Yes

Nancy keeps pushing people away as a coping mechanism, Robin refuses to be pushed. Hurt/comfort but for emotions and PTSD.

48:

All I Want For Christmas (Is Queen Elizabeth’s Engagement Ring) by eyeseeun

Votes: 1

Ranking: 8

Rating: General Audiences

Word Count: 18,965

Chapters: 1

Complete?: Yes

The party discovers that their teachers, Nancy and Robin, are dating. This fact is then used for all manner of shenanigans.

49:

Make Me Tremble by Lumism

Votes: 1

Ranking: 8

Rating: Teen and Up

Word count: 4,013

Chapters: 1

Complete?: Yes

A five plus one fic of five things Nancy finds infuriating (cute) about Robin and one reason she wants her around anyway. Sleepovers, clothes sharing, jealousy, this textual romcom has them all.

50:

Take the Money and Run by thegoodthebadandthenerdy

Votes: 1

Ranking: 8

Rating: Teen and Up

Word Count: 6,687

Chapters: 1

Complete?: Yes

Nancy and Eddie get high and talk about their respective feelings. There’s no actual interaction with either Robin or Steve but lots of talking about both

51:

Which One Is Worse (Living or Dying First) by BeNotAfeard

Votes: 1

Ranking: 8

Rating: Teen and Up

Word count: 54,556

Chapters: 6

Complete?: Yes

The best description of this comes from the fic summary itself; “Nancy Wheeler has a prolonged sexuality crisis and Robin, Eddie, and Steve are there too.”

52:

You Know There’s Not Another Moment to Waste by BluejayBoi

Votes: 1

Ranking: 8

Rating: Teen and Up

Word Count: 4,421

Chapters: 1

Complete?: Yes

Robin and Nancy are going on a lot of not-dates that are definitely dates, but surely that doesn’t mean anything. Right?

53:

Darling, Are You Ready For More? by fellintotartarus

Votes: 1

Ranking 9

Rating: Teen and Up

Word Count: 4,902

Chapters: 1

Complete?: Yes

The makeover scene we missed out on before Pennhurst. If you’ve ever seen that picture of the girl straddling someone to do her makeup, it’s that.

54:

Forgot to Be a Lover (Have Mercy) by Summersociety

Votes: 1

Ranking: 9

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 4,318

Chapters: 1

Complete?: Yes

Robin comes to visit Nancy in Boston and gets an exclusive tour of the city, shortly after she gives Nancy a tour of her own. (The tour is sex and maybe something more?)

55:

Honesuckle by Oaseas

Votes: 1

Ranking: 9

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 9,007

Chapters: 1

Complete?: Yes

This is just smut, there’s literally nothing else I can say about this. Enjoy!

56:

Chasing the Rabbit by freezeveganpolice

Votes:1

Ranking: 10

Rating: Unrated

Word Count: 13,189

Chapters: 1

Complete? Yes

It’s a Pacific Rim AU! I don’t know anything about Pacific Rim beside giant robots so that’s all I can tell you on that front. What I can say is that this is all about grief.

57:

Tits Out For Annie Oakley by Titface

Votes: 1

Ranking: 10

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 9,039

Chapters: 1

Complete?: Yes

Mostly smut with a side of hurt/comfort. Robin gets a surprise midnight visit from Nancy and they get to dealing with their feelings.

58:

With a Comma After Dearest by Morganski_19

Votes: 1

Ranking: 10

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 46,819

Chapters: 9

Complete?: Yes

Robin is…. not doing good after what happened at Starcourt. Nancy notices and leaves a note in her locker hoping that Robin might respond. These notes are they key to a slowly developing relationship between the girls in this hurt/comfort fic.

[daydreams-after-dark]

Free Use Jail Cell, Extra

Dinner date with Minho

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 (final) | extra: Police Reports | Dinner date with Minho

full master list for additional installments

Police Officer Skz ot8 x female reader

Premise: A continuation of the free use jail cell series.

Word Count: this installment 4.3k approx.

Chapter Summary: You are free from the ot8 free use jail, Minho helps you out and then asks you over for dinner.

CW below the cut.

This is also in response to this ask here.

CW: masturbation with sex toys, video sex, spanking, vaginal penetration with an object, oral sex (m rec), vaginal sex (unprotected), restraints, stretch kink (because I'm obsessed).

After he’s finished kissing you and watching you drive away, Minho heads back into the police station. He feels giddy, like a school boy who’s just had his first kiss. It's a feeling he hasn’t felt in a long time and he is both excited and fearful of it. Usually, when things start off this good, they inevitably end in disaster. But you know what he’s like when it comes to sex, and you weren’t scared off. That’s one fundamental difference from his past partners.

“Why the fuck are you smirking like that?” Says Jeongin looking up from his seat in the Chief’s office. 

Everyone is sitting around the coffee table as Chan had gathered everyone for a meeting before going home.

“Not sure what you’re talking about?” Minho grunts, taking a seat next to Jisung, and trying to act like he didn’t just have the most delicious kiss of his life.

 Chan looks at him suspiciously.

“Yeah, you’ve been a little weird ever since you and Seungmin ‘interrogated’ her.” Hyunjin adds.

“Yeah, man. And what was that back in the gang bang?” Changbin joins in.

“The fuck you talking about?” Growls Minho.

“Gees, someone’s sensitive.” Hyunjin mumbles.

“I’m talking about how soft you were with her. You barely said a fucking word, then you fucked her so… so gently. That wasn’t in her request list.” Changbin replies.

Everyone turns to MInho and he feels the cogs in their heads turning. 

“Well, Minho is good at picking up what people need, especially without them saying anything.” Offers Felix.

“That’s right.” Reiterates Chan sternly, staring directly at Minho.

Minho shifts awkwardly in his seat, feeling caught out.

“Fine. I just think he was a little too soft, that's all.” Changbin grumbles, settling back into his seat.

“Okay, boys.” Chan claps, signaling it’s time to move on. “I know we’ve only just finished our contract with Y/n, but I wanted to take the opportunity to discuss our next client and their requests.” 

But Minho is barely listening. His mind keeps going back to you. Back to the way your lips felt against his own. The way your tongue sought his. The way you hooked a leg over his arm, seeking friction against your sweet little pussy. Fuck. Focus.

“So we have several women requesting two of us at once, and a couple are just after one. I thought we could divvy up the contracts and conduct them over the same few days.”

Everyone nods in agreement. It makes sense, that way if another client seeks five or six of them then they will have availability. 

“Okay. The first is a request for two doctors. I think Seungmin and Jeongin would be good for that, yes?” He looks up at the pair and they both nod. Neither of them are new to that role. “Then a request for a fae themed scenario. I’m thinking we could use that cabin in the woods, the one we used for the kidnapping one, yeah? Felix, I think you’d be perfect.”

”No worries. I’ll get the place ready, and I’m pretty sure I saw the perfect costume online.” He makes a note on his phone to follow up.

“Good, make sure it can be sent express post. Um, a vampire request. Hyunjin?” he looks up at him and Hyunjin nods in acceptance. 

“Then there’s this one I quote ‘threesome where one guy is in me and another guy in him.’”

“Ooo ooo me!” Jisung raises his hand enthusiastically, almost jumping out of his seat.

“Alright, Jisung. Who else is happy to assist?”

Jisung turns to Minho. “Please, hyung!!! Be my partner!” He bats his eyelids at him.

“Fine.” Minho rolls his eyes. Actually he is secretly glad he does’t have to directly fuck another woman so soon after you.

“Yes!” Jisung fist pumps the air.

“Lastly, a personal trainer fantasy. Bin, you and I can take that one. Okay, everyone will receive emails with the full details, so make sure you read them thoroughly, and converse with your partner if you have one. Good job, boys. Enjoy your time off, and see you soon.”

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

I wonder if she likes cats? Minho is still thinking about you when he lets himself into his apartment and is greeted by his fur baby. “Hey, Soonie,” he says, squatting down and patting his cat. “You miss me, huh? It’s okay, Daddy’s home now.” 

He potters around his apartment, putting on a load of clothes washing, vacuuming, and then cooking himself a meal. All while trying not to look at his phone where he now has your phone number he stole from your file. 

At some point while he’s cooking, he finds his phone in his hand and is staring at the number.

Is it too soon to call you? Of course it is. What kind of desperate fool are you?

He sighs and locks his phone, setting it back on the countertop and resumes stirring his pot of sauce. Maybe he could ask you over for a meal? His eyes drift back to his phone. Stop. No. Fuck. You are driving him crazy. He shuts his phone away in a kitchen drawer and goes to eat his dinner.

After successfully ignoring the strong pull coming from the kitchen drawer, Minho takes a shower, rubs one out to the thought of you on the interrogation table, then settles down on his couch to open his laptop.

He sighs and rubs his eyes, willing himself to focus, while Soonie decides it's the perfect time for pats. “What a cute little pussy, hmm.” Minho coos as it tries to climb onto his laptop as he reads the notes for his upcoming threesome. But it’s not long until his eyes drift towards his kitchen, to where his phone is still sitting in the drawer.

“Fuck it”. He says, sliding out from under his cat. He can’t think of anything else but messaging or calling you. He can’t focus on this next assignment. Fuck, he could barely think about his dinner without his mind drifting off to wondering how your sweet cunt would taste.

He doesn’t care if he looks desperate. Fuck, he is desperate. He opens the drawer and pulls out his phone, and after taking a deep, grounding breath, he dials your number.

>>>>>>>>>>>>

‘Resisted arrest. Force required to detain the suspect. However, once handcuffed she was extremely enthusiastic to obey. Her mouth was very skilled and cunt was cooperative.’ - Changbin

‘I will be keeping an eye on her to ensure she is arrested and questioned for any criminal activity she becomes involved in.’ - Minho

‘The suspect was easily coerced into double penetration, climaxing multiple times. She was displeased when we removed our penises from her to restrain her to the ceiling chains, but settled once we were back inside her.

The suspect is the most responsive we have encountered so far, and is definitely a favorite.’ - Hyunjin

‘How we ended up with the prettiest suspect in the world I will never know! Her pussy is the most perfect I have ever felt. So tight, warm and soaking wet.’ Han

‘CONCERNS: Detective Lee Minho.’ - Chan

“Fucking hell.” You whistle low, closing the police report. “Chief Chan is concerned with Minho?” you mumble to yourself. Was he not acting his usual self with you? Did the Chi-, Chan, know about the kiss?

You have done absolutely nothing since arriving home from the police station several hours ago. Except for looking through your file and reliving all those beautiful cocks that filled you up perfectly. You’re still buzzing from the entire experience, and you’re not quite ready to come back to reality. 

You flick to the photos Felix took of you. He was right, they are beautiful. Erotic even. You bite your lip as your eyes run over your bruises, bites marks, and injuries. You feel a pulsing sensation in your core. You need to touch yourself. Already? You say to your pussy, looking down in disbelief.

You gather all the items you need - a vibrating anal plug, lube, and your thickest dildo, and climb into bed. You moan when you press a lubed finger to your ass. As usual, it doesn’t take long until you’ve slipped a finger inside, preparing yourself to take the plug. Once you deem yourself ready, you push the plug inside and turn on the vibrator. Your breath quickens as the stretch, fullness and vibrations combined begin to send you feral.

You play with your clit. Rough, fast motions, all while your mind visualizes the photographs Felix took. You’re going to come hard and fast, but you want to prolong it. You slow your fingers right down to rubbing lazy circles on your clit, allowing your body to calm down.

You reach for the dildo and drench it in lube. Not that you need it, your pussy is absolutely dripping in arousal. You open your legs wider and push the dildo deep into your vagina. You cry out at the intrusion, your walls barely having time to adjust before you’re pulling it out and ramming it back inside you. Again, harder. You whimper from the pleasure-pain. You reach behind you and increase the speed of the anal vibrator, then you start to tug on it, stretching your anus slightly.

“Fuck!” You moan, feeling yourself about to climax. “Close. So fucking close.” You babble to yourself. You’re almost there. The point of no return. Your body tenses, your legs shake.

Your phone rings.

Your eyes shoot open and you grab your phone. Minho! A video call? Fuck. You scramble to sit up, fix your hair, and forgetting you are naked, you answer the phone.

Minho’s eyes almost pop out of his head, but he recovers quickly. “Nice tits, kitten.” He smirks.

Your arm quickly comes to cover yourself. 

“Hey, it’s not like I haven’t seen absolutely everything.” He teases. “Anyway, I hope I didn’t catch you at a bad time - actually, what are you doing? You’re all flushed.” His eyes narrow.

“Nothing!” You squeak. 

“I don’t believe you.” he quips.

“Okay, fine I was masturbating.” You roll your eyes.

“Really? Already? Aren’t you sore?” 

“Nope. I'm fine.”

“Show me.”

“What?” You say shocked.

“I said show me.” He repeats seriously.

Nervously, You position the camera so he can see how wet you are.

“Fuck! You’ve got a plug in. Have you come yet?” He says in disbelief.

“Nope. Was almost there when you called. It’s like you knew.” You pouted.

“Oh kitten. Fuck. Such a good girl waiting for me before coming. Or is it you can’t come without me, hmm?”

“S’hard to come without someone watching.” You sulk, playing along.

“Fuck! Lucky I called. Go on. Play with yourself.”

You start to rub your clit again. Every so often you dip your fingers inside you to gather some wetness then bring it up to your clit.

“Have you got something you can fuck yourself with?” Minho says in a deep voice. 

You reach for your thick dildo and resume fucking yourself like you were doing earlier.

“Deeper. Wanna see you take it deeper.” Minho instructs. 

You want to obey, be a good girl for him, so you push the dildo in further so it hits your cervix on every thrust. “Need to come, Minho. Need to come.” You cry, thrusting into yourself frantically. “S’close..”

“I can hear how wet you are, kitten. That’s it, rub your clit. Good girl. I want you to imagine that’s me inside you.”

“Oh, God. Oh, fuck!” You whimper. “Let me come.”

“Scream for me, y/n.”

You explode into a million pieces, screaming, just as Minho demanded. Your body shakes for what feels like an eternity as waves upon waves of pleasure wash over you.

Eventually, you collapse on your mattress in exhaustion, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you try and catch your breath.

“Fuck. You alright?” Minho laughs softly.

“No.” You choke. “So intense.”

“Well, glad I got to see that. Luckily I called when I did.”

“Why did you call?” You pick up your phone so you can look at him.

He runs his hands through his hair. “Oh yeah. So, um, the reason I actually called was to see if you maybe wanted to come over for dinner one night?”

You’re taken by surprise. Minho wants to have dinner with you?

“I mean, it’s okay if you don’t. It’s probably not wh-”

“I’d love to.” You smile.

“Yeah?” He says in disbelief.

“Yeah.”

>>>>>>

“This looks delicious, Minho. You have lots of skills it seems.” You say grinning at the plate of pasta and bolognese in front of you. Your eyes almost roll back into your head when you take a bite. “Oh my god. This is fucking amazing!” you say with a mouthful of food. “Did you make the pasta from scratch?”

Minho smiles triumphantly. “Yes. The sauce too. Glad you like it.”

“It’s delicious.”  You grin and try your best to not scoff the entire plate down in one mouthful. 

“You look beautiful tonight.” He says gazing at you. You feel a heat flush over you. You aren’t particularly dressed up, opting for a nice top and denim shorts. You hoped it would be suitable enough for the occasion.

“Thank you. I think it’s the first time you’ve seen me in clothing?” You laugh. “You look good too.” You notice his cheeks flush a little.

“So,” You put your fork down. “How is it you came to be in your…um…profession?” You ask curiously.

Minho sits back in his chair, and pauses in thought. “Well, Chan started the business with Jisung - Han - and Changbin. Business grew quicker than they expected and so they needed to hire more staff.”

“Interesting. But what made you join?” You lean your elbows on the table, resting your chin in your hands. You’re curious to know more.

“Hmm. I suppose I thought it would make life easier, sexually speaking. It’s hard to find a partner that wants both a sex life like mine and also a sickly sweet romantic dynamic. It was too confusing for my previous partners. The ones I could see myself having a future with were put off by my tendencies. So I joined the group and got my satisfaction there. And it’s thrilling to please client’s who share similar desires. It really is.”

“But what about the sickly sweet romance? You don’t get that in the job.”

Minho shrugs. “I guess not. But at least I don’t keep being rejected by women this way.”

You can’t believe how anyone could reject Minho. He is kind and thoughtful. Very domesticated. You look around at his tidy home and then at the meal on your plate. But you get what he means. You know it too well.

“So have you got your next contract?” You ask, wiggling your eyebrows.

He cracks a huge grin. “Yeah. I do.”

“Well? What is it? What do you have to do?” Your eyes widen with enthusiasm.

“Hey, hey, Kitten.” He holds his hands up in a bid to calm you down. “That’s confidential.”

“Oh come on, it’s not like I know them. Please.” You bat your eyelids.

“Okay, fine. It’s a threesome.” he concedes.

“A threesome? Yes, go ahead. Tell me more..” You gesture for him to continue.

“The exact wording of the brief is ‘I want someone in me, and someone inside him.’ Okay maybe that wasn’t the exact wording, but you get the gist.”

Your mouth hangs open in excitement. “So you’re telling me—”

“Jisung’s going to be in the client’s vagina, and I am going to be in Jisung’s ass.” He states.

“Woah! So you guys fuck each other too?” You shriek.

“Sometimes.” 

“Wait! I could’ve asked for you to fuck each other? Oh man, no one told me that.” You sit back and scowl.

“Well, you’ll have to book us again.” He teases.

“I just might. So who have you fucked in the group?” You ask excitedly, taking another mouthful of pasta.

“Jisung, a few times. Chan too.” He says matter of fact.

“Chan?! No way! Has anyone fucked you?” You say with your mouth full.

“Chan. Seungmin.”

“Seungmin?” You almost choke.

“It was an experience. Although you know perfectly well how he likes to fuck an ass.”

You nod laughing, then falling quiet as the image of Seungmin inside Minho flashes through your mind. Jisung too. He’d look so pretty being ruined by Minho.

“Are you okay?” He asks, trying to meet your gaze.

“Yeah. Just trying to work out my next fantasy request for you guys. I quite like the idea of someone in me, someone in them, another in my mouth, then everyone else inside each other.”

“Do you now? I might have to keep a mental note of that.” Minho’s eyes sparkle deviously.

>>>>

“That really was a delicious meal, Minho. Thank you for cooking.” You say placing your empty plate by the sink. “Would you like me to lend a hand washing up?” You start looking for dishwashing detergent and sponges.

Minho’s arms wrap around you from behind and he nuzzles his mouth into your neck. You smile at the warm gesture. 

“I’d like you to lend a hand with something else.” He whispers against your ear. “But first.” He spins you around and presses your back against the bench. “I’ve been dying to kiss these lips all night.” he smashes down on you in a heated kiss, setting your insides on fire.

He pulls back to peel your top off over your head and throws it to the side. Then he’s unclasping your bra with skilled fingers, and that’s gone from your body in a matter of moments.

You suck in a breath as he leans down to take a nipple in his mouth, nipping at it rough and urgently. Your head lolls back and you sigh. Your hands find the top of his head, weaving your fingers through his hair and pulling him closer. He bites down hard on your nipple and you whimper. Your core throbs for more of his roughness.

He comes up for air, a smear of blood across his lip, and kisses you wildly. “Turn around.” He growls, turning you so you’re facing away from him. Reaching into a drawer, he pulls out a pair of handcuffs and tugs on your arms so they are above your head. He threads the cuffs through the overhead cupboard handle and attaches them to your wrists. You tug on the restraints, but they are extremely secure, and now you are at the mercy of Detective Minho.

“Look at you.” He whispers as he cups a breast and squeezes it. “Looks like you need questioning again, hmm?” he snarls and your cunt squeezes.

Silently, he moves to the pantry, scanning the shelves. He nods when he finds what he’s looking for, a bottle of fractionated coconut oil. He takes it from the shelf and returns to resume his interrogation.

He sets the bottle of oil on the countertop and crouches behind you to yank your shorts and panties down your legs. He guides you step out of them. Leaving you naked and chained to his kitchen cupboard. 

You poke your ass out as he slides his palms up the backs of your thighs, finding their grip on your cheeks and spreading you wide. You’re dripping wet. You know it. You can feel it, and the grunt that Minho emits tells you he knows you're soaking. The need for him to touch you is too great and you make some pathetic noise. But he simply stands back up, leaving your deprived pussy untouched.

He reaches into the kitchen drawer again, pulling out a silicone spatula and places that next to the oil. Then to your delight he strips off his own clothes so he is naked too. You lick your lips and take in the magnificent form that is Lee Minho.

“Oh you like that, hmm? Too bad you’re unable to touch me.” He smirks as he unscrews the bottle of coconut oil and applies some to his hands.

You moan as he runs his oiled hands down your back and over your ass, then whimper as he kneads the skin near your hips. He repeats the motion, slicking up your body with the oil and massaging your breasts and eventually your pussy. 

“Fuck! Yes. Min. God.” You choke when he slides a finger inside you. You grind back against him, only for him to remove his hand and leave you empty. Your eyes follow his hand as it grasps the handle of the spatula, then you feel him dragging it down your spine.

Slap!

He hits you hard on your ass. You moan, digging your teeth into your lip. 

He gently strokes you with the spatula to sooth the skin, then he pulls it back.

Slap!

He massages the red skin with his free hand. 

“God, so fucking red. So pretty.”

Slap!

You cry out louder, the sting so much more harsh than the last.

And again. Slap! 

You whimper, your legs feeling like jelly.

Minho is about to land another blow when a voice from the living room interrupts you.

You both freeze.

“Hey, Hyung? I had an idea for our — Woah!” Jisung stops in his tracks as he rounds the corner into the kitchen. “Oh fuck I’m sorry! I didn’t realize…wait… Y/n? Is that you?” His eyes narrow as you turn your head sheepishly. 

“Hi Han, Jisung? Can I call you that?” You smile, like nothing is happening.

Jusung blinks rapidly. Then he looks at Minho who is standing in the middle of the kitchen naked and outraged, and then back at you. Finally his gaze settles on your bright red bottom.

“Yah!” Yells Minho, throwing a tea towel over your rear end to try to offer some sort of coverage.

“Hyung, Man, it’s not like I haven’t seen all of her before. Hey! Actually, what is she doing here?” Jisung’s tone turns accusatory.

Minho glares at him. It’s all it takes for Jisung to concede. He throws his hands up “Okay, I’m leaving. Even though it looks like a lot of fun and… you know I could sit on the floor underneath her… suck her clit while you continue doing your dominant thing… No? Okay. Well. I’ll go. Bye Y/n.” He waves at you. 

“Bye, Jisung. Lovely to see you again.” You wink at him and the tea towel slips off, giving the stunned man a last view of you before Minho is ushering him out.

“You did that on purpose, kitten.” He growls, returning to the kitchen and pulling your head back by your hair. “Bet you wanted me to let him stay, huh?” 

“No…of course not. Just want you.” You whine. The reality though, is that you would have loved to feel Jisung’s mouth against your pussy. You close your eyes at the thought and squeeze your legs together.

Minho notices it and scoffs. “I know you’re lying. Which means… punishment.”

Once again he goes to the kitchen draw, this time taking out a wooden spoon and silicone coated tongs. Your eyes widen. 

“Five. You’ll receive five strikes with the wooden spoon. If you say orange or red, I stop immediately.” He gives his hand an experimental slap with the item. “Then,” he picks up the tongs, holding them in the air and letting them spring open.

You cunt clenches. The fact that Minho remembers you have a stretch kink makes your heart beat faster.  

He makes his way behind you and you prepare yourself for the wooden spoon.

“You have to count for me.” He states.

He brings the wooden spoon down onto your already sore ass with a hard slap. Your legs almost give way. “One.” you cry.

He strikes you again and again. A loud slap fills the room each time the wood makes contact with your skin. Tears stream down your face and you can barely count, each number coming out like a choked sob. 

“F-five.” You cry out the final number.

Minho returns the wooden spoon to the bench, then holds you in his arms. His hard, naked body against yours is comforting, his words of praise are soothing.

“Good girl. You took that so well.” He whispers, kissing your shoulder and massaging where he’d spanked you. “How was it? Not too much?” he checks in with you. “How are you feeling?”

“S’good..S’wet…Aching…p-pussy needs filling up. Need to come.” you babble.

Minho chuckles, his eyes smiling with admiration. “I’ll make sure you’re taken care of. One last thing before I fuck you. I know you can take it.”

He drizzles the end of the tongs with oil, then crouches down behind you. He holds the tongs closed and runs them through your glistening labia. You let out a moan. Then he catches your clit. He allows the tongs to open just enough so can capture it, pinching it hard. 

Jolts of arousal shoot through you and you cry out.

Then you feel the tongs at your entrance and you automatically push your ass out further, giving Minho more access. Keeping the tongs closed, he slides them inside you. You must look so filthy with a pair of kitchen utensils shoved up your vagina. 

He’s not gentle when he fucks you with them. He’s messy, sloppy, rough, but he manages to find your g-spot every time. You’re surely about to come, but he slows down, bringing the tongs to a standstill. You whimper, frustrated from having your orgasm stolen from you. Then you feel it. The tongs opening inside you. 

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” You cry.

“Color?”

“Green. Fucking green.” You scream.

He chuckles as he scissors you open. 

“Fuck.” He hisses. His free hand spreads your cheek wide. “Pussy’s so good when it’s stretched like this.”

“Maybe you should’ve been a doctor.” You pant.

“Sometimes I am darlin’. You wait till I use a real speculum on this pretty cunt. Open you right up so I can see inside.”

His fingers land on your clit. The added sensation has you on the verge of release. “Minho… please. Need to come.” You beg.

“Yeah? Pussy needs to come, huh? Do it.” He starts an onslaught of scissoring then thrusting, while his deft fingers on your clit tighten that coil inside you.

You're perspiring, shaking, sobbing as you’re thrown off the precipice in an earth shattering orgasm.

“That’s it. Making a mess for me. Mmm… can hardly move these tongs you’re gripping so tight.”

You can’t even respond, your panting and shivering so hard, barely able to stand.

He eases the utensil out of you, tossing them into the kitchen sink, along with the items he used to cook for you earlier, then he’s lining himself up to your entrance.

“Just relax for me. Yes… fuck yes… that’s my girl… let me in…” he pushes himself all the way inside you. You welcome the smooth silky hardness against your walls, and he slides in and out with ease, despite your tight grip on him. 

Holding onto your hips he fucks into you harder until he’s built up a brutal pace that reminds you of when you were in the interrogation room. Except this time, he leans his body against your back and massages your breasts, caresses your stomach, and plants hot wet kisses anywhere his mouth can reach.

The roughness and the softness combined sends all sorts of unfamiliar feelings through your body. You like it, it feels good, and you feel tears pricking your eyes. You’re going to come again. Any second now the tension is going to snap.

“You take me so well, Kitten. It's like you were made for me.”

That does it. You come hard around his cock with a loud wailing sound. He fucks you through it, chasing his own orgasm. “Gonna fill you. Gonna fill this perfect little cunt. My cunt.” He slams into you, almost knocking you off your feet then pulls out. He quickly works on freeing your wrists, turning you and lifting you up. Your legs wrap around his waist as he impales you on his cock, fucking you whilst he makes his way to the dining table.

He lays you down on the table, and starts to slam into you hard again. His rhythm is hard, fast, and so so deep. “Gonna fill you..” he growls as he throws his head back and empties himself inside you. He stills, but you can still feel him pulsing and filling you to the brim.

He leans over you, collapsing on your chest, and you bring your arms around him, holding him silently for a few minutes.

“Let’s go wash you.” He says eventually, pulling himself out, picking you up and carrying you to the bathroom.

Once the temperature of the water is comfortable, he helps you climb in with him and proceeds to wash your body.

It isn’t long until you’ve regained your composure and are able to stand steady on your feet. It’s only now that you can take in the man before you. You take the sponge from him, lather it up with body wash and start to wash his body. With a look of surprise and a hint of hesitation, he lets out an exhale and allows you to wash him.

He watches you as you run the sponge over his chest, down his torso, and drop to your knees in front of him. You swear you hear him whimper when your eyes land on his cock.

You drop the sponge and place your hands on his strong thighs. You need him in your mouth. He cups your cheek, tilting your head up to meet his gaze, and through hooded eyelids you silently seek permission to take care of him. He releases your chin and lets out a shaky breath when you wrap your hand around the base of his semi erect cock. Slowly, you lick the length of the underside. Then swirl your tongue around the tip. He grows rapidly, and it has you dying to choke on it.

Minho simply stands still while you work his cock, providing absolutely no help. But that doesn’t deter you. Or slow you down. You decide you’re going to choke on him all by yourself. You pop off with a plop, fill your lungs with air, then take him fully into your mouth. Cupping his delicious ass cheeks with your hands, you pull him towards you while you bob your head up and down his shaft. 

You hear his breath become heavier, and a hand wraps around your wet hair, his other he rests against the tiled wall behind you. 

“Look at you. So hungry for cock, you’re choking yourself.” He purrs. “I’m close… fuck, im so close.” His hips begin to press forwards, pushing his dick further into your throat. He cums quickly, spurting thick ropes cum into your mouth. “Holy shit!” He chokes as he empties himself.

After you’ve milked him of every drop and swallowed him down, he pulls you back to your feet. He looks almost bewildered when he looks into your eyes. “Y/n. How are you so perfect for me?” He whispers. 

You swallow hard. You’re thinking something similar about him. Instead, you shrug. “Well I’m not sure detective. Maybe you’ll have to investigate further?” you quip.

He chuckles. “Maybe it's better to just go with it and not question it.”

You nod in agreement. “Let’s not overthink it, then.”

You both dry off, and Minho leads you to his bed, a big King size bed with black sheets and a black quilt. 

“Oh, you’re not sending me on my way?” You tease.

”Fuck no. I need…need to hold you.” He says softly, pulling you onto the bed with him.

He falls asleep quickly with his arms around you and your head on his chest. His steady breath is soothing as his chest rises and falls. You’re not sure what is happening, how this man seems to be able to fill so many of your needs, or how easy he is to be around. Yet here you are, and you’re thankful you took a chance with the sex fantasy agency. 

Your thoughts shift to Minho’s next assignment. Jisung in some woman’s cunt, and Minho in Jisung. Fuck, that sounds like a dream. Then your mind goes to Jisung walking in on you and Minho earlier. What would have happened if Minho asked him to stay?

You sigh, feeling confused. You've got strong feelings for Minho, yet you feel yourself grow wet at the thought of Jisung, and the rest of them.

You find Minho’s hand and thread your fingers through his. That’ll be a problem for future you. Right now you’re ready to fall asleep in the arms of someone that finally accepts you for who you are.

>>>>>>

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[gasolinerainbowpuddles]

𝙲𝚑𝚛𝚢𝚜𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚖 · · · · 𝚇𝙸. 𝙹𝚞𝚗𝚎 ║ ⓒⓗⓐⓟⓣⓔⓡⓔⓓ

𝙲𝚑𝚛𝚢𝚜𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚖 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 || 𝚗 𝚊 𝚟 𝚒 𝚐 𝚊 𝚝 𝚒 𝚘 𝚗 || 𝚏𝚒𝚌 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 | PAIRING(s): Joel Miller x fem!OC/reader

| RATING: explicit material | 18+ | CHAPTER CONTENT: POV switching, toxic family dynamics, parental abuse, alcoholism/disordered alcohol use, protective!Joel, domestic fluff, hurt/comfort, beauty in the mundane, learning to be peaceful in the stillness WORD COUNT: 6.8k

| CHAPTER SUMMARY: How odd it is to be haunted by someone who is still alive.

“But what if I miss a payment?”

“You’re not gonna miss a payment,” he assures you for the millionth time.

“And the interest is, like, 27%, so if I miss a payment it’s gonna be so much extra on top of the bill,” you stress.

“Your interest is only that high because you don’t have any credit in your name, baby. It’ll get knocked down eventually – once you build up a good history – but that’s just how it starts out most of the time.”

You can tell he’s about to launch into his comforting finance dialogue yet again, but you don’t stop him. You still need to hear him say it, even if it feels like he’s beating a dead horse at this point. You need the comfort in his assurances, and for once you don’t get down on yourself for needing it and seeking it out.

“And you’re not gonna make huge purchases to start, right? You’re gonna put small, consistent charges on there every month and pay it in full every month. After 6 months to a year, you’ll get a low credit utilization ratio, and you might be able to increase your credit limit. It sounds scary, but it’s really simple. I promise. And I can go over it as many times as you need to feel comfortable with it.”

You gnaw your bottom lip and review the little pamphlets and flyers Joel collected for you. He was insistent about having you use your money not for helping with the mortgage or grocery bill or utilities but rather to open your own bank account and then a line of credit so that you could start building credit in your name and your name solely.

Now you were on a Joel Miller crash course about interest rates, utilization ratios, FICO scoring, and all sorts of other financial planning topics that were meant to help you build a firm foundation for lifelong financial independence and security. You constantly doubted yourself and felt overwhelmed with the volume of information, but Joel was adamant about it. After a while, some of it was finally sticking, and you could only pray that you’d pick up more and more of it each time.

Your payments were scheduled automatically now through your online banking, which he also helped you set up, and he helped you get into the habit of keeping track of things on the phone app. “If it’s easy enough for me to do it, I know you won’t have any issue with it” he’d laughed when he first installed it. He was honest to god excited about how much you’d be able to put into savings over the course of the next five years. 

The concept of five years into the future felt hard to conceptualize. You were still getting used to staying on your feet most days and taking more onto your plate when possible. But to Joel, it was something just around the corner. He talked about it as though it was clear as day in his mind’s eye. He saw that future for you – for the both of you – so easily.

The thrum of your pulse felt sticky every time at the casual insinuation that he’d be there to see it, that you and him would still be together and happy and in love, but your stomach lurched at the thought of it. 

He cared an awful lot about you. That much was clear. It was the whole acknowledging the whole being in love thing that made it harder to fathom. It felt dangerously hopeful. It was hard enough to admit to yourself that you loved him, even though there was really no denying it at this point. But that awful, nagging worry still nipped at your heels: would he grow tired of it all one of these days? The mollycoddling and constant instruction for shit you should’ve had all figured out by now?

There was no real concept of losing him in your head because that was even harder to envision than anything else. Your thoughts flipped over to a blank slide when you even tried to imagine what it would feel like to not have him in your life. When the nerves of it all started to prick and sting and make you nauseous, those were the moments you held him a little closer to you until the fear subsided.

Joel doesn’t even try to hide the fact that he’s watching you, all bent over the edge of the deck with your little stack of porcelain plates that you carefully arrange in a neat line along the step.

“Madeline and Helen, you’re over here,” you call over your shoulder to the two grungy “frenemy” cats, as you’d dubbed them.

He snorts and shakes his head, but you just ignore him and continue with your task. All the plates are dispersed, and your usual hoard of neighborhood cats have come meowing and pawing for the “good brand wet food” you insisted on buying for them. When you first started this habit of spoiling the “cat collective,” Joel had been surprised to learn that so many stray cats roamed the neighborhood. That was, until he noticed that many of them had collars and tags. Despite belonging to a nearby family and having perfectly good homes, they regularly showed up like the greedy, indulgent creatures they were.

You didn’t mind, though. You were delighted to greet them all every night like the informal mayor of some feline city. You gave them names despite some tags displaying an entirely different moniker. They responded to whatever you called them, though, so he really had no room to say anything about that. The corner of his mouth twitched up as he watched you slip into your little routine. You’d taken to giving them all nicknames or new names, mostly from movies you’ve watched together.

When the two “frenemy cats” had gotten into a little brawl on the stairs a few weeks back, you broke up their fight and giggled to yourself when you came up with the grand idea of naming them after characters from Death Becomes Her. He shared in a laugh at the fitting names you chose, and you flashed him a million kilowatt smile that made his knees weak.

He watches in open amusement as you chide Walter –  the rotund, irritable tabby that struggles to play nice with others once he’s gobbled up his own dish and is unable to bully others for theirs. You’d quoted “you’re outta your element, Donny!” to Walter about a half dozen times by now, but he never seemed to find your references to The Big Lebowski as hilarious as you did. The grumpy furball looks up at you, annoyed but put in his place, and allows you to scratch his head.

While you made your nightly circuit, Joel scanned the back deck, surveying a potential spot for a small safehouse unit. Might as well start looking into building a heated, insulated area for all these cats since you’ll probably worry yourself sick over how cold they could get in the winter without proper shelter. They could always carry their asses back to their own houses in the neighborhood, but, knowing you, the thought of “what if?” would make you fret enough that he wants to have a plan and build ready to go when it’s time. He tucks it into his mind for later, just like so many other ideas and dreams and possible futures with you.

For now he enjoys giving you the space to indulge in the things that make you happy, a freedom to do something not because there’s an end goal in mind but because it makes you feel radiant in the moment. He loves to see what you latch onto without the angry voice of a controlling dirtbag berating you and making you feel insignificant and frivolous just for finding joy in things.

Watching you shift from constantly on edge to relaxed was a reward all in itself. It was most noticeable at night. You’d stir so frequently in bed those first few weeks after moving in. It might’ve been the new house noises, sure, but there’s no doubt the learned vigilance was a big part of your tendency to be a light sleeper. When you’d startle awake, he’d wake, too. You’d be apologetic and sometimes even a little embarrassed at being so jumpy “over nothing.” He’d just pull you closer and tell you it was okay and to try to go back to sleep. It took a while before it really sunk in, but eventually falling asleep and staying asleep came easier to you.

He was constantly discovering new ways your upbringing and home life had carved these jagged neural pathways in your mind. He didn’t know what the answer was for some of them, other than time, but for the simpler things, like letting you freely explore hobbies and whims, he’d jump at the opportunity to give you that sort of life.

“Do you think I could just… wear some shorts and a shirt? I mean….”

Your words taper off as you stare down at the dress Sarah had ordered online along with the pretty blue one you wore to Kenzie’s graduation ceremony. You didn’t want to repeat the blue dress when you’d just worn it so recently, but you really didn’t want to be up moving around and socializing in a dress all day anyway. Plus, the temperature had crept up steadily now that Memorial Day had just come and gone. Ideally it was denim cutoffs and tank top weather, but you could deal with some linen type shorts and a t-shirt for the sake of a party.

“I’ll match with whatever you put on, so just go with somethin’ comfortable,” he suggests. “There’s worse things than being underdressed for a college graduation party. I doubt anybody’ll even care, honey.”

He was probably right, but you didn’t want to embarrass yourself and drag Joel down with you. Attending parties and looking the part of a well put-together couple was new for you, and there was only so much “fake it ‘til you make it” bravado that could pull you through these sorts of settings. Joel dons a pair of darkwash, neat jeans with a short-sleeved button up, and you huff loudly at how easy he makes things look. 

He catches your toothless irritation and shoots you a wink before grabbing the dress and hanging it up in your shared closet.

“C’mon, let’s look at the shirt options ya got,” he encourages.

The lack of options ended up being a bit of a blessing because it meant you weren’t overwhelmed with choices.  You wind up settling on a spaghetti strap top that’s nice and flowy with a small bow detail in the back. It wasn’t the fanciest thing, but it was dressier than a plain t-shirt. A once over in the mirror reflected a pretty well put together outfit, and your shoulders relaxed with the crisis having been avoided thanks to Joel. He, of course, looked effortlessly handsome and casual.

The drive to Kenzie’s house for the party is uneventful, as are most of your driving excursions these days. Pretty soon you’ll accrue enough hours of road time to take the test to be an actual, bonafide licensed driver. Joel is in his usual spot in the passenger seat with a hand resting on your thigh, calming and a reminder that you’ve got help if you need it. 

The half-circle drive is full of cars with brands you’re sure you could never pronounce correctly. The front of the house and down the street is lined with more of the same, and Joel takes mercy on you when it’s time to parallel park, swapping seats with you and taking over. You watch the confident stretch of his arm along the back of your seat as he reverses neatly into a spot. He hops out to get the door for you, and you both comment on the lavish decorations as you walk into the party.

There’s way more people in attendance than you anticipated, and you just hope you won’t have to socialize too much with people you’re probably never going to see again. Kenzie’s dad spots you and makes his way over to extend a firm handshake to Joel and a warm side hug to you. He doesn’t stick around for long as he returns to his hosting duties, but he flags down a member of the waitstaff for beverages before politely excusing himself to continue on his rounds.

Joel whistles low and cocks a brow as he takes in all of the setup. “Nice lookin’ party.”

You laugh under your breath at the understatement of the century. “It’s insane. This could be somebody’s wedding! It’s freaking gorgeous,” you gush.

He agrees silently, sipping on his cocktail and wrapping his free hand around your lower back and waist. He points out that most people seem to be either wearing business casual adjacent looks or something more formal, which places you both a little underdressed but not so much that you stick out. You also observe that he was right about people not really seeming to notice or care what you had on. It made you feel a bit more relaxed as you sought out Kenzie.

So far you hadn’t come across anyone you knew, but it wasn’t awkward with Joel by your side. He had that poised, assured air about him like always, and it made everything feel manageable. Under control. Free of chaos.

“Ooohhh, hey!” a high pitched squeal sounds across an open path of people. You turn to see someone you recognize but can’t remember her name. You refresh Joel’s memory that this is Kenzie’s friend who had asked him at the graduation about any single brothers, cousins, or nephews that he might have. She shimmies up to you and waves excitedly.

“There’s my little matchmakers!”

Joel laughs awkwardly and shakes his head. “Sorry to tell you, er….” he trails off, her name clearly not springing to his mind either.

Thankfully she doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest, and you're not entirely convinced she’s aware of much at all. “Sel,” she supplies with a bright smile.

“Sel, right,” he amends. “Sorry to tell you, Sel, but we are unfortunately here sans eligible bachelors.”

She makes an exaggerated pouty face before busting into a fit of giggles and shrugging. “Aw, dammit. Can’t win ‘em all, I guess. Well, it was good seeing you!”

She struts away without another word, and you and Joel exchange an amused look.

“Wonder how many of these she’s had,” Joel chuckles, shaking his half empty cocktail glass.

You giggle and playfully slap his side. “Oh, shush. She’s entitled to celebrate a little bit. It’s gotta feel good getting that degree after being in school for four years,” you contend.

He bobs his head in passive agreement. “Now remind me again why your friend was workin’ with you in a grocery store when she’s got all this waiting for her back home? Coulda just focused on her studies, couldn’t she’ve?”

It was a fair question. Why on earth would someone work a minimum wage, public facing job if their family could afford this sort of lifestyle? 

“She told me before that her dad wanted her to know what the ‘real world’ was like. I’m pretty sure he didn’t grow up with a whole lot, and I guess he didn’t want his kids to end up spoiled or whatever.”

Joel nods his head like that makes perfect sense to him. “Explains why her dad seems like a decent guy. Doesn’t have that ‘daddy’s money’ attitude. Your friend doesn’t either for that matter, so I guess he’s done a pretty good job keepin’ her level headed.”

When you finally do come across Kenzie, she seems a bit frazzled. You don’t think you’ve ever seen her so uptight and serious. She hastily explains that she’s spent the entire party schmoozing with all her dad’s “dumb important friends” and hasn’t had a chance to relax at all. You feel a bit sorry for her, but you know she’ll probably end up with extravagant gifts from said family friends in exchange for a few social niceties. 

Your eye lands on a familiar looking man whose identity isn’t readily placed. Was he at the graduation ceremony, too? Was he the dad to one of Kenzie’s friends? He looks at you for a split second like he recognizes you as well, before he looks away, disinterested. You shrug it off. Maybe he’s just got one of those faces.

Kenzie’s dad comes back around and asks if he can “borrow Joel for a minute,” to which you assure Joel you’re fine without his company for a little while. He shoots you one last worried glance over his shoulder as Kenzie’s dad claps a hand against his back and starts up the construction conversation they’d been having at the ceremony. You watch Joel’s reluctant figure weave through the crowd until he’s following Kenzie’s dad inside the house through a large side door. 

The sea of attendees around you make for good people watching. You wouldn’t admit it to Joel, but not having him by your side feels strange and a bit vulnerable, especially now that you spend practically every waking moment together. It was something you’d become rather accustomed to, and with your nerves starting to pick up again you remind yourself that it’s healthy to do things on your own every once in a while. You’d done it plenty in your life, and being subjected to it now wouldn’t kill you. 

A solid twenty minutes have passed, and you distract yourself with the abundance of ornate decorations.

Deeper into the backyard is a small bunching of rose bushes. The delicate folds of pink petals have you considering asking Joel if he could plant this sort of thing in your backyard. You smile gently to yourself, running a fingertip along the velvet furl of the rosette. Your backyard. Together. A little garden of eden right smack dab in the middle of Texas.

Sentimental musings are cut short with the announcement of a “few words shared on the eastern lawn” in about five minutes. Throngs of guests begin making their way toward the tabled section that you assume is the “eastern lawn,” and Joel is still nowhere in sight.

You hang back and check your phone. No texts or missed calls. You call him, but it rings until it goes through to voicemail. He’d probably muted it for the party. You decide to just go look for him in the house, letting yourself into the same side door they’d used when they went inside almost 30 minutes ago. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d gotten carried away talking business.

A welcomed cool breeze butts against your bare skin when you slip inside, the indoor AC a stark difference to the looming summer heat outside. A pristine and stately kitchen filled with stock for the party greets you: ice filled coolers, wrapped trays of hor d’oeuvres lining the countertops, napkins and utensils and glassware all stacked to the side and ready to go when toasts are made. The smooth marble counters give an air of quiet opulence, made all the more silent with no noise coming from anywhere in the house.

A sliver of a stairwell is visible just around the corner. A separate hallway stretches door after door, no light glowing from any of the rooms behind them. A dull babble of laughter and conversation outside at the opposite end of the house is practically a white noise in this massive, empty space. Joel’s deep timbre is absent. No creaking footsteps from upstairs. No friendly hum of conversation.

It felt a bit intrusive to just waltz upstairs to look for him, but it’s not like you didn’t have a good reason to be looking around. Surely at the very least Kenzie’s dad wouldn’t want to miss whatever was about to happen on the eastern lawn.

“Can’t say I’m surprised to find you hiding out in here.”

The familiar voice cuts through your chest, your heart clenching sharply as you turn to find your dad wearing a nasty, callous expression. He looks more exhausted than you remember, somehow more dead in the eyes. It’s only been a few weeks since you’ve last seen him, but he stands before you more gnarled and sickly than memory serves. His skin shines with a thin layer of perspiration, and his lips are so dry and chapped it’s as if all the moisture in his body is steadily exiting through the gathering beads of sweat along his brow. His eyes are sluggish but malevolent, darting all along your face and body as though he’s taking inventory of your present state.

The words you wish to scream, for him to get away from you, get twisted and caught in your throat. You stand there, infuriatingly mute, and await whatever venom he’s here to deliver. He makes no rush as he walks fully into the room and slides the door shut. He looks so out of place here, in your world. In your life. A living ghost here to haunt you once more.

“Takes guts to be at somebody’s party celebrating everything you’ll never be.” He pauses to let the barb cleave and carve, laughing to himself as he continues, “ I mean, imagine you a college graduate. Barely fucking graduated high school.”

His line of sight wanders around the room as he picks you apart. Although his air is indifferent and unrushed, you have an odd, sneaking feeling that he doesn’t want to look you in the eye again until he’s established a rhythm of cutting you down, as though your absence has left him feeling out of sorts and unpracticed in destruction.

“Some hell of a fluke that the driven, successful young ladies here at this party see anything in common with a loser like you.”

His eyes slip over to yours again, narrowing with palpable hatred. “Can’t imagine any of them are a complete embarrassment to their families.”

“What are you doing here?” you finally manage to spit out.

He bobs on the balls of his feet, stepping around airily with his hands in his pockets like he doesn’t have a care in the world. Like he found all of this an amusing way to pass the time. Like he hadn’t just cannonballed himself into your life again.

“Got a funny text from an, uh, acquaintance of mine. A picture of you, sticking out like a sore thumb. Surrounded by better dressed people. Way outta your social class.”

Embarrassment warms the back of your neck and the tips of your ears at his astute, cutting words.

“Had my friend wondering if he was imagining it was you - misremembering your face, maybe – especially since he didn’t see me anywhere nearby. Told him he was right and that I’d be sure to come say hello when I dropped in.  He was nice enough to remind me of the address. What a guy,” he finishes in a dry tone.

He laughs, a hollow and mirthless sound, and takes a step forward, hands shoved in his pockets that you now realize are balled into fists. His voice was steady enough, but the fury bubbling beneath the surface was quickly rising to the tipping point. There was no doubt he’d been drinking heavily – that dangerous teetering between being dampened by the alcohol and being livid that it still didn’t make all his problems fade away into a muted, ignorable thing.

“How much have you had today?” you lob at him. “Or has it just carried over from last night?”

He laughs again, just as empty and forced as the first. “It’s funny because, the thing is, I can promise you there’s no amount of whiskey that could make me as delusional as you are. I mean, parading around this party in what? Backyard barbecue clothes? Can’t even put together a decent outfit for one day, but you expect to keep up with these people? College graduates getting real jobs, not just some entry level bullshit you sucked off some old jackass for.”

Heat rises on your chest and neck at the insinuation that Joel only offered you the job in return for sexual favors. You jut your chin out defiantly but can’t find the words to say. Can’t find the words that will defend yourself. Defend Joel. Make your dad leave with his tail between his legs. He takes your silence as another opportunity to tear you down.

“You think you got real friends here? How many times do you think they’re gonna cover your tab? Spot you $100? Invite you to weekend trips? Hm? How many times are they gonna get out their wallets before they see you for the leech that you are?” he hisses.

“I think you need to leave,” you warn with a tremble tacked to the last word.

“And don’t get me started on that middle aged perv you got brainwashed into giving a shit about you,” he continues, completely ignoring your reproval. “He might be giving you a little allowance for now, but I give it a few years max before he dumps you for the next young bimbo he can use to wet his dick. Of course you’re too fucking stupid to realize that. It would be funny if it weren’t so fucking pathetic.”

“Get the fuck out of here,” you snap, adrenaline rushing through you now and helping to supply the harsh words. 

His eyes crinkle with a malicious smirk, like he revels in finally having got to you. 

“Or what?” he sneers. “All you can ever manage to do when things get tough is run. So, what are you gonna do now? Run?”

You don’t miss the challenge in his tone, daring you to try to leave before he gives you permission to do so. 

“GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE NOW.”

The curve of his mouth is sickly sweet, a slip of red the only thing standing between you and his corrosive words. His gate is unhurried walking towards the door, leaning against it in a lazy show of provocation as he blocks it. The shrill tempo of your pulse in your ears grows louder while you stare each other down. It’s a dangerous game of calling the other’s bluff, and you know he’s banking on you fleeing. You know he wants to track you down and catch you this time before you can get away, just to prove that your actions wouldn’t go unpunished. Just to remind you of who’s in control. 

But something contrarian and fortified slinks between your ribcage and finds purchase there next to the hum of your heart. 

He doesn’t make the rules anymore. 

This is no longer his game that you’re forced to play just to survive. You don’t live in this nightmare anymore. This isn’t your life now. 

He doesn’t control you anymore.

“You’re a really sad person, dad.” 

The somatic buzz kindling and catching inside you yields a wave of goosebumps all over your body, the shake in your hands and voice just a timid thing that stays barely in check. You still your head and really look at the fractured shell of a man in front of you, and it’s more obvious than ever: he’s more lost than you’ve ever been and ever will be.

“You’re never gonna be happy,” you assert.

It all floods you now, a blurred picture coming into focus. That clarity you’d sought so long but never had with the mind muddling environment of abuse. But suddenly you aren’t searching for the words anymore. They’re all right on the tip of your tongue and ready to depart.

“You’re gonna die sad and miserable and probably alone, and I know that has to eat you up inside to finally realize it. That no matter how much you try to put your anger and your– and your pain onto others, it still doesn’t make it go away inside of you.”

His balled fists rest at his sides, heaving breaths moving his chest like the snap of a rubber band.

“You can’t hurt me anymore. You can’t hurt anybody I care about anymore. You don’t have the power like you used to. You’re just… you’re just nothing, dad. An empty person who’s trapped inside his own mind like a prison. And-And honestly? I feel bad for you.”

The flicker of surprise at your words graces his worn features before quickly being replaced with a deep scowl. For once it’s him cornered into a stunned silence, but you have no intention of letting up.

“I left, dad. Don’t you get it? I’m done. You don’t have power over me like that. Not anymore. The sooner you realize that, the less of your life you’ll waste trying to hurt me again because it’s not going to happen. You tried to break me down and take away everything, and it still didn’t work. I’m not broken like you. I’m gonna be okay, no matter how much you hate that. And you can call me a loser as many times as you want, but it won’t change the fact that it’s really you who’s lost out on everything in life.”

A heavy air lingers, but you feel lighter than you ever have. Your deep, centering inhale punctuates the finality of the meeting.

“I’m gonna go now, and I think you should leave the party before something bad happens.”

The urge to scurry away from the danger rises, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction. You refuse to let him see you run from him anymore. 

Of course, it was never likely that he’d just let it go so easily. 

Menacing stomps follow your measured stride towards the stairwell, your exit cut short by his piercing grip around your bicep and the sharp whip of your body as he yanks you sideways to face him. The smell of alcohol comes off him like a foggy wet cloud.

“You think you just get to leave in the middle of the night like a disgusting, slimy rat and not have to answer for it?” he fumes, his nose pressing against yours when he hauls you face to face.

He doesn’t control you anymore. 

He doesn’t control you anymore. 

He doesn’t control you anymore.

There’s no hesitation in your movements, wrenching your arm from his grasp and slamming the butt of your palm into his nose. As clumsy as the unfamiliar motion is, it affords a moment of frozen shock from your father, which you take as an opening to rear back and slap him with as much force as you can muster. Your hand immediately prickles and tingles from the impact.

The few feet of space apart that you gain is quickly closed when he charges at you with a raised, clenched hand ready to strike. The fact that you’ve never fought back before seems to be your saving grace in this moment, the disorientation of you actually resisting and challenging him making his approach unsteady and delayed.

Your hand still stings from the slap as you wad it up and swing it into his gut before he can make contact with you. He sputters and doubles over in shock at the unexpected blow, but the late retribution still comes sooner than you anticipated. He readies to ambush you, lip curled over his bared teeth, when something smashes and shatters into the wall beside his head.

“I was hoping you’d show up one of these days and make trouble just so I’d have the fucking excuse to beat you within an inch of your fucking life,” Joel growls.

It’s a blur of violence as he barrels into your dad, tackling him to the floor in one headlong motion, and lands two punches before it can even register. The clamor draws more people, one of them being Kenzie’s dad who you spot darting back out of the room with his phone to his head — you assume to call the police. A handful of waitstaff hang at the perimeter of the commotion, gawking at the all out brawl taking place in the middle of the kitchen. You aren’t much better, just standing there rooted to the spot in an adrenaline freeze, as your dad manages to topple Joel onto his back and land a punch to his jaw.

By the time they flip again, two men have been alerted to the fight and brought inside to intervene. They aren’t dressed like the other waitstaff, but it’s clear they’re here working the event in some other capacity. A frenzied

yelp pierces the air as Joel digs his knees into your dad’s elbows, pinning him to the ground. Joel yanks a chilled bottle of wine from a nearby bucket and smashes the neck of it against the edge of the counter. The light catches on all the jagged edges of broken glass when he raises it in the air and flips it over in a drive directly into your dad’s mouth, who instantly gurgles and gags at the influx of liquid and serrated opening.

“You look real thirsty,” Joel taunts. “Have a drink. This one’s on me.”

Pockets of liquid jet out from the side of your dad’s mouth as he chokes on it, Joel holding the bottle snug in place as the contents pour out. The two men in matching black uniform shout “break it up, fellas,” which falls on deaf ears. The liquid eventually empties, and the bottle cracks into several more pieces when Joel slams it against your dad’s temple. Blood spills and mixes with the choked out liquid, pooling and smearing across the floor.

The two men quickly lodge themselves between the two when a flurry of fists and kicks and jabs from Joel start right back up. He manages to get one last closed hand strike to your dad’s face and one crushing stomp to his thigh as the bigger of the two uniformed men finally drags him away. Your dad lies motionless on the floor as the man scolds Joel for taking “cheap shots” instead of heeding the calls to break the fight up like they’d asked.

Joel wears a flinty, unrepentant sneer that only deepens when his eyes cast down to your unmoving but groaning dad. He spits a bloody pool of saliva onto him as he’s ushered to the other side of the kitchen.

“Put your hands on her again, asshole. See if you walk away the next time.”

You can feel all the eyes in the room slip over to you, making the connection of what had started this entire mess. Some of the faces lose their look of pity for your dad, all crumpled and thrashed in a feeble sprawl on the floor. 

“You okay, baby? He hurt you?” Joel demands.

He doesn’t wait for you to respond, instead running impatient hands all along your body to assess for injury.

“I’m okay,” you answer, and it’s a relief to be able to offer that in truth. “I was holding him off long enough for you to get to me.”

His shoulders sag with the reassurance that you’ve not been harmed, hands roaming up to gently cup your jaw and search your face for any lingering distress. You don’t turn away, content to let him find the undercurrent of peace that swells within you, held in his arms. 

It’s the first Father’s Day since you severed contact. Calum had already gleefully sent you a picture of your dad’s mugshot, framed and hung on a wall in his apartment. Having the advantage of knowing you were safe and sound while he listened to the recap of Kenzie’s party meant he got to enjoy every last bit of comeuppance relayed. He’d cheered you on when you recalled how you’d defended yourself, verbally and physically, and he demanded to complement Joel directly on his part in all of it before he let you hang up.

Kenzie’s dad was the first to press charges, having absolutely no qualms about sending a message to the guy who almost ruined his daughter’s graduation party. It didn’t hurt that he had connections with some law enforcement higher ups, more than enough “fuck you money” to throw around, and a top notch lawyer on retainer ready to let the long arm of the law screw your dad over. With a neutral but supportive nudge from Joel, you also pressed charges.

When all was said and done, your dad was looking at: trespassing, assault, battery, menacing, criminal mischief, disorderly intoxication, disorderly conduct, false imprisonment, stalking, driving while intoxicated, open container in a motor vehicle, property damage, and a smattering of any other offense that the lawyer could manage to unearth, ready to assist his client in rubbing salt into your dad’s wound.

You weren’t sure how much of it was going to stick or what the outcome would be, but it sure as hell didn’t look good to have a pending imputation like that with a job like his. Hell, any employer would look sideways at a string of legal infractions that extensive and that damning. It wasn’t exactly something tenure and bullshitting could smooth over. And if Kenzie’s dad had any say in the proceedings, your dad wasn’t going to get off the hook easily.

“You’re just buttering your old man up now,” Joel chortles to the screen.

You smile to yourself as you listen to his and Sarah’s video chat. She couldn’t make it back home to celebrate in person, but she’d made sure to call and lay the sweet talk on thick.

“Yeah, but it’s obviously working, sssoooooooo….”

“Little shit,” he chuckles under his breath, walking aimlessly through the house and out onto the back deck.

You hear him laugh loudly a couple minutes later, and you can’t help but join in with your own giggle. Eventually the cadence of his voice changes into words of endearment and goodbyes. He tucks his phone into his pocket as he rounds the corner.

“You’re a really good dad,” you observe warmly.

The corner of his mouth ticks up softly at the compliment, but he takes his time walking over to where you’re sat comfortably on the couch before responding. “Ya think so, huh?”

“Yeah. I do.” 

Your voice is steady and pointed. You want him to know you mean it. You might not have a personal reference to defend your position, but you know without a doubt that Joel Miller is the best father and deserves to hear it every day of his life.

He pauses for a moment before asking, “You doin’ okay? Is the day botherin’ you at all?”

You assume he means the fact that it’s Father’s Day and you have a strong contender for worst dad on the planet.

“I actually– it might sound weird, but I actually feel really light. I feel good.”

“Not weird at all,” he assures you, plopping down next to you and scooping your legs to lay across his lap so he can rub your ankles and calves. “Dead weight is dead weight. Not bein’ weighed down by him’s gotta feel like you’re finally able to live the life you deserve. Deserve the damn moon on a string for all the shit he’s put you through.”

You exhale, an amused little sound. “You’re doing it again.”

“What? What am I doin’?”

“Gunning for Best Boyfriend in the World award.”

“Remind me again what put me in the running,” he teases and leans in for a kiss.

“A million things, but today it’s mostly just– seeing you be who you are. Getting to experience that and be a part of it.”

The air of levity dampens a bit when you reach for his hands and draw him closer, and he recognizes the shift from playful to earnest.

“I think sometimes people are just meant to… they’re made for showing love. They’re made to pour their love into special people, people they love. And they are the most happy when they get to do that. I think- I think that’s you. I think you pour your love into people, and that’s when you’re happiest. To see the people you love being filled with your love.”

“Goddamn, honey, Sarah already made me all mushy,” he grouses, suddenly blinking rapidly with glossy eyes. “Y’all are gonna have me a blubbering baby if y’all don’t quit.”

But you can’t stop. You can’t hold it in. You can’t keep yourself from gushing about this beautiful person you’ve been lucky enough to know and create this life with.

“I love you, Joel. I’m in love with you.” 

It comes out without thinking, but it’s meant for this moment. There’s no hesitation or regret in it. You want to say it again.

“I love you,” you repeat, drawing on the intoxication and freedom of it finally being spoken.

“I love you, too, honey,” he returns softly. “So damn much. Love you so damn much.”

tagging:

@copperhalfcent @guelyury @keylimebeag @magpiepills @bizarrelove-triangle

@missladym1981 @wand-erer5 @koshkaj-blog @bubble-pop-eclectic @lovelyladiess

@ellenmunn @lavema @confusedpuffin @getitoutofmymindwrites @getitoutofmymind

@fishingforpike @drunk-and-capable @sheepdogchick3 @pastelpinkflowerlife @bonezone44

@guiltyasdave @toomanystoriessolittletime

[bosbas]

Chapter 14: honestly, who are we to fight the alchemy

series masterlist previous part || epilogue

pairing: colin bridgerton x enemy!fem!reader WC: 2.7k words

Warnings: period-typical gender roles, healthy amounts of pining, idiots in love!!, slow burn burning a little quicker now, some smooching

Summary: It took precisely two days in England for you to utterly despise Colin Bridgerton. It took him approximately twelve hours after that to hate you right back. But he doesn't care that you're the only person in the ton who doesn't like him. You're set to marry someone else anyway, right?

A/N: soooo bittersweet nearing the end of their story </3 sorry for my absence!! but i hope these two getting their lives together is worth it

August 6, 1816 – And finally, this author would have been remiss not to notice a certain Bridgerton’s lovesick behavior at the Worthington ball yesterday evening. And though I’m certain no one who attended the ball would be remotely surprised by this information, the members of the ton who did not can rest knowing that Colin Bridgerton seems to remain utterly captivated by Y/N Montclair.

The pair danced together twice despite not officially courting. This would be highly unusual if the look in Mr. Bridgerton’s eyes whenever he was near Lady Y/N was not a very familiar one. It seems that this season might not be a complete disaster for Lady Y/N after all, given that one man is still fighting for her hand. Whether or not she knows that Mr. Bridgerton feels this way remains to be seen.

“On y va,” said Louis, grabbing you by the arm and dragging you out the front door (Let’s go).

You blinked, surprised that the rest of your family was already piling into a carriage headed toward Bridgerton house. Heavens, you really needed to start paying attention.

The past few days– ever since your father told you Colin would be a suitable match, to be exact– you had been so deep in thought you’d barely managed to function. The possibility of marrying Colin Bridgerton, if he even wanted you, was a daunting one, and you had opted to devote hours of thought to this very notion.

In fact, your pondering had been so extensive that you hadn’t even managed to read Lady Whistledown. After a summer of religiously reading the gossip sheet, you had somehow missed the last two installments without even remembering to look for it at the breakfast table.

Hopping into the carriage alongside Louis, you mulled over the previous night’s ball. Colin had asked you to dance twice, which was highly unusual for two people in polite society who weren't courting. However, you reasoned that he probably was trying to compensate for all the time he spent being a nuisance. Besides, he was a great dancer, and you really didn’t mind.

Especially now that you were friends, it was exceedingly easy to spend time with him.

But did you love him?

The question lingered in your mind, unmoving and unrelenting.

Wouldn’t you know for sure if you did? Was your uncertainty indicative of something deeper? A fundamental lack of romantic feelings for Colin, perhaps? Your sister, Isabelle, and her husband were completely in love with one another, and you weren’t quite sure you felt the same way about the third Bridgerton.

---

As soon as you stepped through the garden door, your eyes immediately scanned the garden, searching for Colin. Finding him engaged in some sort of competition with Gregory and Benedict involving three Pall Mall balls and a fencing sword, you giggled to yourself as you started toward them.

“Y/N,” a hand on your arm interrupted your purposeful walk.

You turned to see Eloise’s excited face, and you couldn’t help but return the smile.

“Hello!” you greeted, kissing both of her cheeks as she dragged you toward a shadier spot.

As she launched into a lengthy explanation about her latest read, you listened to your friend intently. Of course, it had only been a few days since you’d last seen her, but the two of you always found something or other to discuss, and you found yourself in deep conversation with Eloise before you knew it.

What felt like a few minutes later, but was probably closer to an hour, you felt a tap on your shoulder.

“I didn’t know you were here,” said Colin, not sounding entirely happy with you. “I thought you would have come by and said hello by now,” he mumbled, eyes downcast.

You smiled fondly at his pouting face, unable to help yourself as you looked at this grown man completely worked up over the fact that Eloise had gotten to you first.

“That would be my fault,” laughed Eloise. “You don’t have a monopoly over Y/N, you know. But I fear I’ve talked her ear off already, so I’ll leave you to it.”

Colin rolled his eyes but bent down to kiss both of your cheeks anyway.

“It’s lovely to see you,” you said softly, eyes fixated on his long eyelashes fanning over his face. He really was very handsome, when you thought about it.

You had to physically clasp your hands together to keep from reaching out to him once he pulled back, and you scolded yourself for forgetting your manners. This was certainly not an appropriate way to act as an unmarried lady!

“You’re not upset with me, then?” asked Colin, looking you up and down.

You laughed. “Why would I be?”

“I dunno,” he said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I suppose I was just used to it after so long, I don’t know what came over me.”

“Well, we’re friends now,” you reassured him. “So there’s no need to worry.”

“Right, friends,” Colin repeated after you, not entirely pleased with the way the words felt coming out of his mouth.

Suddenly, you heard a scream from across the garden, and a bright blue ball shooting in your direction. Turning around just in time to see Gregory’s horrified expression, you came face to face with what was certain to be a Pall Mall ball directly to the face.

But a strong pair of arms grabbed your waist and pulled you away. For a moment you couldn’t even comprehend what had just happened, and you were simply enjoying the feel of Colin’s arms around you as he hugged you tight to him.

Realizing that he had saved you from what would have most certainly been a black eye, you turned your head up to look at Colin. But he was already looking down at you, his grip still tight as he held you to his chest.

“Are you alright?” he asked, eyes not letting go of yours.

You nodded slowly, not trusting yourself to speak because you were so mesmerized by his eyes. He let out a sigh of relief, loosening his grip on you ever so slightly.

Hearing Gregory’s footsteps approaching, Colin quickly let go of you and cleared his throat awkwardly. But he couldn’t find it in himself to let you go completely, so he settled for leaving a hand on your waist, thumb rubbing up and down comfortingly.

Needing to keep feeling his touch, you raised one of your hands and reached across your waist, placing your hand softly over his and loosely interlocking your fingers.

“I’m so sorry!” yelled Gregory once he reached you. “I wasn’t looking and I swear I would have never hit you on purpose and-”

You laughed, cutting him off. “It’s quite alright, Gregory. Though I’m not certain your mother would agree,” you teased, nodding to where Violet was sitting, clearly furious at her son.

“Oh, no,” he groaned. “I’ve got to go save myself,” he said seriously, immediately taking off running across the garden and away from his mother.

You heard Colin laughing at Gregory’s antics next to you, and as you turned around to watch him with his head thrown back and a roguish smile on his face, you took in a sharp breath.

It might have been the sun shining through his hair, the mirth in his eyes, or the fact that he had just saved you from a very painful fate, but you felt like you were seeing him for the first time. You felt a tidal wave of realization so strong come over you that you had to take a step back.

“Oh,” you said softly, barely audible. Oh.

You loved Colin Bridgerton.

That’s what this feeling was. Feeling completely safe around him, so comfortable being yourself, and wanting more of him in any way possible. The need to feel his touch, the pull you felt toward him every time he was near you, and the desire to keep speaking with him for hours– it all made sense now.

You loved Colin Bridgerton.

Of course you did. It was frankly astounding that you hadn’t realized it sooner. But you couldn’t ruin the friendship you’d built with him over some silly feelings, could you?

Despite wanting to run into Colin’s arms, you knew you needed to get as far away from him as possible right then. So, you excused yourself to sit on a more secluded bench where you could think freely about the consequences of your realization.

---

It had been two hours since you had last spoken to Colin, and he was getting antsy.

Everything had been fine. Or at least that’s what he thought. Gregory had catapulted a ball directly at your head, and he had grabbed you and pulled you out of the way. And then refused to let go of you. All because he was too taken with you to remember how to act properly as a member of polite society.

Colin started pacing. You had probably figured out that he loved you. His behavior today had been a dead giveaway. There was simply no possibility of you still not knowing of his feelings for you, and Colin was three seconds away from losing his mind.

You had found out and now you were probably avoiding him, how dreadfully embarrassing. He needed to fix this now. Before your family went home and you never let him see you again.

Wringing his hands behind his back as he approached the bench you had been sitting on for the past two hours, Colin cleared his throat softly.

“Do you have a moment to speak?” he asked, overly formal as he navigated uncharted waters.

You nodded in response, gesturing toward the empty seat next to you. “I suppose we should,” you assented, the past few hours of nerves completely soothed by Colin’s presence.

“I very much appreciate our friendship as it is,” stated Colin. “And I really can’t apologize enough for my conduct earlier in the season.”

“Oh, Colin, that’s not-”

“No, no just let me finish. Otherwise, I won’t have the courage to get it out.”

Colin swallowed before continuing.

“I… I know that you want to marry a titled man and I know I don’t have a fortune. I am a third son with no talents and… and yet, I love you anyway. And I am so sorry. I promise I never meant for this to happen, but I love you. I do.”

You stared dumbly at him, butterflies erupting in your stomach as you realized that he had the same feelings for you as you did for him.

Admittedly, it was a bit entertaining watching him get all worked up over nothing, you mused. But it seemed like he was determined to keep speaking, so you only nodded as he continued.

“Y/N, you are all I think about, and all I picture as my future,” Colin said, eyes not quite reaching yours. “And I’ve never come across someone quite like you, who makes me feel the way you do. I know it’s horrible timing and it’s not at all my place to feel this way or to tell you. You must understand that I am so sorry, but I love you anyway.”

Then, lifting his worried eyes to meet yours, he started reaching for your hand, stopping himself before his fingers touched yours. “I hope you can forgive me because I would be more than happy to attend your wedding and see your dreams realized. But, believe me. I’ve tried, and I can’t help it. Not with you.”

“Colin,” you whispered, hand reaching out to touch his cheek.

He shook his head in response and closed his eyes, clearly pained by the thought of seeing you with anyone else.

“You can send me away if you like,” Colin assured you. “If you tell me to never speak to you again, I will. I’m so sorry. I just needed you to hear it from me.”

“Colin,” you repeated this time a bit more forcefully.

His eyes shot open, and he furrowed his brows at your smiling face. “Yes?”

You giggled. “I think I’d like to kiss you now.”

“What?” he said, dumbfounded.

“I’d like to kiss you now if that’s alright with you,” you said, biting your lip as you held back a laugh.

Colin took a second to process what you had just said. You nodded at him, confirming that you did, in fact, want to kiss him, and his face broke out into the biggest smile you’d ever seen on his face.

Placing a hand on your cheek, he fluttered his eyes closed and put his lips on yours. You brought a hand behind his neck and pulled him in closer, amazed at the feeling of finally kissing someone.

You rather suspected you had wanted this for a while, you thought, your lips moving in sync with Colin’s. How on earth you had managed to keep your hands to yourself before this you had no idea, but as the kiss deepened, you brought your hands to his shoulders and pulled Colin in, wanting to be as close to him as humanly possible.

Suddenly remembering why you were kissing in the first place, you pulled away from Colin, who whined softly as you leaned away from him, chasing your lips with his.

“I love you, too, you know,” you said, pecking Colin as he stared at you like you had personally hung every star in the sky.

Colin groaned under his breath, breathing deeply as he once again placed his lips on yours. “I love you,” he said between kisses, not ready to let you go long enough to say it properly. “So much.”

You smiled into the kiss, slipping your tongue into Colin’s mouth and tentatively exploring the new feeling. How you had ever lived without this was beyond you, but you supposed you had never really wanted this before you met him. Even at the beginning of the season, when you supposedly hated him, you could recall more than a few times you had felt this exact desire.

“I hope you don’t plan on defiling my daughter if you don’t intend to marry her,” came your father’s deep voice from behind you two.

Instantly separating from one another, you both coughed awkwardly and tried to disentangle yourselves.

“Marry her?” sputtered Colin, momentarily forgetting that your father had walked in on the two of you kissing a mere ten seconds ago. “I could do that? You would let me marry her?”

Your father laughed. “Even after that," he said, gesturing in Colin's general direction, "it would still be an honor to have you join our family.”

As you watched him walk away, Colin squeezed your hand, laughing gleefully. “Did you hear that? I get to marry you!”

“Were you not planning on marrying me after kissing me?” you scolded, tone only half accusatory.

“No, I mean– Well, I was just–” he rushed out, eyes searching yours frantically.

“It’s alright,” you laughed. “I was only joking.”

Colin let out a sigh of relief, kissing you firmly on the lips. “You never cease to vex me, woman.”

“Isn’t that what you like most about me?” you teased, biting down on his lip softly.

He groaned, unable to contain his desire for you. “We’d better get married tomorrow if you’re going to keep doing that.”

Then, separating himself from you slightly, Colin turned serious again. “You do want to marry me, don’t you? I know I obviously do, and your father said I have his permission, but do you want to?”

You bit your lip, full of affection for the boy who stole your heart. Even after kissing him and telling him you loved him, he still wanted to ensure that you wanted to marry him.

“I think we’d make a good pair, don’t you?” you said, nodding at him.

“I’ve thought that since the moment I saw you.”

“Well, we got there in the end didn’t we?”

“And I’d do it all again just to be able to marry you,” Colin assured you, kissing you on the nose.

—

previous part || next part || buy me a ko-fi!

I no longer have a taglist for this fic, but turn on post notifications for @bosbas-library to stay updated when I post!

[caprisunr]

Regardless if Tim has been meaning to do this on purpose, if it sort of became a thing somewhere along the way, or he didn't at all—there's a notable similarity in the way Maddie and Eddie are approached from a characterization standpoint in the show's writing room. Which has eventually led me to believe that if ‘Buddie’ does ever end up actually happening, it will come about paralleling ‘Madney’ in some capacity. 

I am not the first person to vocalise that these two characters [Eddie Diaz and Maddie Han (Buckley)] seem to parallel each other in more than the typical three-way patterning. 

But to talk about Eddie and Maddie and how they're constantly in equidistant loop to each other, I need to talk about how Chimney and Buck's essence is essentially each face of the same coin to support two very similar counterparts—they bear a subtle resemblance with the way their storylines align. If we hark back to season 1: Chim is stuck on Tatiana; to whom he poses for as this perfect all-rounder hero. With Tatiana, Chimney becomes the kid who in order to be somebody worth sticking around for [he] has to prove that he's of value — Buck is stuck on his sex rendezvouses (before Abby a few episodes later), stuck in this unhealthy whorl where he copes with people leaving and nobody wanting to stick around, by having short-lived affairs.

During season 1 their [Chim and Buck] storylines are pretty much a sum of poor choices that eventually help them, or deceive them into thinking for a while that they have found themselves. They constantly find reassurance in being valued for what they think makes them an indispensable part of their compeer’s life, to no avail, when they come face to face with the fact that neither [Tatiana or Abby] had plans of sticking around for them —Chim who was ready to take the next step by proposing, and Buck who was already deeply involved in Abby’s life and practically living in her house. They are both left at the altar with their vows in-hand with a run-away bride.

During season 2 we have Chim and Tatiana seeing each other again after 6-ish months since she fled. Tatiana is pregnant and engaged, a future she didn't see viable with him. And During season 3 we have Buck and Abby seeing each other again after two years approx. Abby is engaged to a man that has two daughters, a future that she never thought about with Buck — both episodes end with them re-linking to have one last conversation that'll allow them to cross-over the bridge. 

Chim and Buck both suffer similar deteriorating self-esteem issues when it comes to conceiving an honest relationship that doesn't only rely on the physical —until Maddie and Eddie are introduced, and Buck seems to break free from Abby’s curse a couple of episodes later (closing chapter completely when he has that last conversation that helps him understand where she was coming from), and Chimney has left Tatiana and his concerns about his life altering trauma long forgotten. 

Season 2 episode 1 ‘Under Pressure’; Buck meets Eddie through work introduced by Bobby who had just hired the latter. Three episodes later during ‘Help is not coming’ (the earth-quake finale from the two-parter), Buck drives Eddie to pick Christopher up in an emotionally umpt scene. Maddie mentions Buck having a boy crush on Eddie and if that meant he was ready to move out of Abby’s place during episode four, the same one where later Buck ‘steps in’ Eddie's life and introduces Carla Pierce to him [Eddie] so she can take care of Christopher (his son) while he works. And then in episode 17 of season two, Shannon (Eddie's estranged wife) dies. —  Chimney meets Maddie through Buck introducing them at her house-move-in during season 2 episode 6, where he helps her install camera devices so she is safe (not yet aware of Doug.) Maddie tells Buck ‘he is so cute’ (to which he thinks she's referring to Eddie) in that same scene. They become acquainted and start hanging out, and two episodes later Buck notes they're dating without actually knowing it. After denying it, Maddie and Chim have their first date in episode 11 (unsuccessfully as Doug kidnaps Maddie and stabs Chimney), that same episode Maddie kills Doug (her abusive ex-husband) in self-defense. 

Before misfortune knocks on their doors Chimney and Buck approach their respective relationships without any expectations. Buck starts by head-butting in a one-sided fight with Eddie where he feels overthrown by his competency and fears his place is in jeopardy, only to turn up for both of them to be complementary in the field and work together perfectly in unison. And Chim by going over to his co-worker’s sister house to help with some security system management, only to start hanging out with her exponentially until it becomes so easy to be with each other that they fall in to this lovely routine that leads to love. — Simultaneously, Eddie and Buck also start falling into the same routine, that leads to Buck co-parenting Christopher naturally.

In spite of whether you consider ‘Buddie’ romantically inclined or not by the narrative—Chimney and Buck's storylines align again, when after being done with their necessary-evil relationships they come to find a complimentary companion, at the same time. 

Not only do their storylines align, but so do the salient subtleness and self-centric cerberus when it comes to their surly temperament with their respective parents, vs. them having each a postiche family:

Chimney's father is notoriously an entrenched man who barely took notice or interest of little Howard or his wife when they lived under the same roof. He was difficult to impress (stoic), uninterested, neglectful—the latter worsening when Jee-Hyun Han (Chimney's mother) passed away from cancer. During his early years, as stated in the show, Chimney tried really hard to obtain his father's approval, futilely. His abortive tries ended up resulting in deception, so he gave up on building any further relationship with his care-taker [father]. They moved to the USA, and ultimately only his father went back to Korea after Chimney's mother stayed on her ground about staying there for the time forward. Unfortunately, as I said, his mother [Jee-Hyun Han] would end up dying years later when he is 14-15, and the Lee’s [Jee-Hyun Han's best friends who had a kid, Kevin, his age] took his tutelage — Buck was the youngest of 3 (unknown to him at that point.) Both of his parents were complex characters who were devoted to their own grief and catastrophic premonitions, that would turn into a repelling force of care-giving. Buck was nescient to the reasonings behind his birth, that he'd been purposefully tethered to higher responsibilities; conceived to be bed out to another body, to be the saviour of the brother he didn't know existed. Margaret Buckley is shown as highly depressed, cynically negging, a gaslighter, caught up in her vexation and showing signs of someone that is predestinarian. Philip Buckley is an enabler, repressedly angry, also a gaslighter, and conveniently demanding. They're both neglectful emotionally and physically, meeting Buck's demands momentarily to fulfill their guilty consciousness. Buck spends his childhood and teenage years trying to make himself visible, to the point of getting hurt on purpose for crumbs of their attention. He is unsuccessful to obtain their love at all, and leaves eventually after he's kicked out of college.

It is not surprising then, that Chimney and Buck, who have been abandoned by their primary care-givers and have fought to get their attention suffer from issues recognising their worth and don't step back from a fight to defend themselves when faced with the incognitas and comments from their parents. They're both reactive to stimuli, and use their fight mode to confront the world as seen multiple times. 

Before becoming a firefighter Chimney hustles. He works multiple jobs trying to find a way to make ends meet while simultaneously searching for something that calls to him. He ends up working sometimes at a bar under Kevin's management. Unfortunately the bar is at a loss. But he finds that throughout helping people exit the establishment calmly and effectively, most importantly, safely, he wants to be a firefighter. Chimney is 25-26 at this point, as it dates 2005. — Buck spends the rest of what's left of his twenties cross-country with his jeep. He tries many jobs, and strolls without a purpose all over the country. At some point he ends up in Perú. He's working at a beach-bar when Connor (friend of his) approaches him with a proposition of going to LA, where Buck eventually finds his way to the fire academy and the 118. Buck is 25-26 at this point, as stated in the show that he is 26 whilst being a probie in s1. 

There's a parallel in both age and situational that brings them to being firefighters at the end. 

Chimney unfortunately loses Kevin in an emergency, who also becomes a firefighter with him. He is also at risk of losing Albert (step-brother) when his car flips over in a drunk-driver accident while Maddie is giving birth. He also loses Maddie same instances as Buck. — Buck feels the secret of Daniel (older brother who lost his life to juvenile-leukemia) throughout his life like a curse. Almost loses Maddie the first time to Doug kidnapping her, and a second time to Amber (the serial killer) kidnapping her and slashing her throat while pregnant with her second child. He thinks he's lost Eddie during the well incident, then loses Eddie during the sniper arch when he gets shoot, and thinks he's almost lost him again when Christopher calls him about Eddie's breakdown where he destroys his own room.

Chimney finds parents who love him in the Lee’s — Buck finds parents that love him in Bobby and Athena. 

The subsequent likeness in their [Chim and Buck's] storylines is the quintessence of the matter that leads to Maddie and Eddie also being tantamount. They work as a mirage of their stories' intertextuality. Something that came about to me while watching 8x12 last night. The chance that we would get an episode centric on Eddie and Maddie were slim, but never none, and the way it was done so shows what I stated previously — Essentially the nature of their stories being paralleled. 

[voyagerweek]

VOYAGER WEEK PROMPTS

DAY 1 - JAN. 10: Favorite Episode | Away Missions

DAY 2 - JAN. 11: Favorite Character | Meet You in the Runabout

DAY 3 - JAN. 12: Favorite Relationship | Allies & Enemies

DAY 4 - JAN. 13: Favorite Season or Arc | Time Travel

DAY 5 - JAN. 14: Favorite Quote | Home Away From Home

DAY 6 - JAN. 15: Favorite Holodeck Program | Lost in the Holodeck

DAY 7 - JAN. 16: Caretaker (S1E01) 30th Anniversary | FREE SPACE

Fanwork originally made and posted on Tumblr for this event with the tag #voyager week will be reblogged by this blog. Racism, bigotry, harassment, or discrimination of any kind will not be tolerated. Be respectful of other fans and have fun! FAQs ↴

How do I participate? Make a new post on Tumblr with the tag "#voyager week" during the week of January 10-16, 2025. Crossposting to other sites such as AO3 is allowed, but please also make a new post on Tumblr so this blog can reblog it. If your post has not been reblogged within 48 hours of posting, please send a DM to @voyagerweek along with the post. Submissions will only be reblogged during the event week and for up to two weeks after the event. Please do not post a submission before January 10, 2025.

Why are there two prompts for each day? Do I have to use one or both? There are two prompts to cover multiple interpretations of the event. A prompt that is accessible for a writer may not be for a gifmaker, for example. You may choose to use one or both prompts for each day, or multiple prompts from different days combined in one post, or no prompt! These prompts are being provided 5 months in advance of the event so that there is plenty of time to consider them, but if none of them inspire you, feel free to make a fanwork about Voyager that does not incorporate any of the prompts. The prompts are meant to inspire but not constrain your creativity. You may also submit multiple posts in one day. Participate as much or as little as you would like!

Can I post X kind of fanwork? Yes! If it is made by you (or you have express permission from the original creator) for this event, it counts as a fanwork and will be accepted. The following list of types of fanwork is not meant to be restrictive but to provide examples: fanfic of any length, fanart/comics, gifs/edits/fanvids, playlists, moodboards, meta discussions/essays/headcanons, crafting/textiles, cosplay, and anything else made by fans to show appreciation for Voyager. **Please put long written works below a "read more" cut**

What if my fanwork is part of an ongoing work such as a multi-chapter fanfic or series? That's fine! As long as whatever you post is new and made for this event, whether you use one of the prompts or not, it will be reblogged (i.e. you may not make a post for a previously published chapter of your fic, but a new chapter or installment posted during the event is acceptable).

Can my work include other Star Trek shows/movies/books/etc? Yes, as long as Voyager or its characters are one of the main focuses of the fanwork, you are welcome to incorporate other media properties, Star Trek or otherwise.

Can my work be about an actor or the production/behind the scenes of Voyager? Yes, as long as the work's focus is still on Voyager (i.e. not a gifset solely of the actor in another show/movie).

Are OCs (original characters) allowed? Yes, if a Voyager setting or its characters are included in the fanwork as well.

Are AUs (alternate universes) allowed? Yes. Canon divergence and different settings (i.e. modern AUs) are allowed if the work still features Voyager characters or elements.

Is NSFW/adult content allowed? Yes, as long as you tag appropriately with trigger warnings and follow Tumblr's restrictions for explicit content. Reblogs of works that contain graphic violence, sexual content, strong profanity, or nudity will be tagged #nsfw for filtering.

Threshold Day is January 29 and already a recognized fan event on Tumblr, why are you having a Voyager event that doesn't include this day? The dates were chosen to coincide with the thirtieth anniversary of the original airdate of the first episode of the first season. This event is meant to share enthusiasm for the entirety of Voyager, and hopefully that will continue after the event week is finished.

**If you have any other questions not covered by this list, please send an ask to @voyagerweek.**

[lesmisshippingshowdown]

Introducing... Steal Off... 2!

That's right. We all love poll stealing, and although we've made the decision to discontinue it for the grand final of the Les Mis Shipping Showdown, we couldn't just let it go entirely. Which is why we're overjoyed to announce Steal Off 2, an absolute free for all to determine which ship from our original bracket is The most loved when it comes to dedicated creators of excellent fanworks.

You heard us, ALL 32 SHIPS entered into this tournament WILL be eligible for submissions, regardless of when they were eliminated. So here really is how [your OTP] can still win.

As a reminder, here's the original bracket (we'll also include a plain text list of ships under a Read More at the end of this post for anybody unable to see/read from the image.)

Did your favourite niche ship like Valjean/Fauchelevent or Fantine/Favourite not make the cut? No worries! As part of Steal Off 2 we will also be holding a separate Newcomers' Championship for those of you who want to show your love for the rarepairs, crackships, etc. that didn't make it to the bracket proper - and who knows, perhaps the steals we receive could be used as supporting evidence for their inclusion in future mini tournaments? 👀

Now onto the boring but vitally important part:

Da Rules

Submissions for Steal Off 2 will OPEN at 00:01 BST (UTC + 1) on Monday 21st April 2025, and close at 19:30 BST (UTC + 1) on Wednesday 30th April 2025.

Any works submitted late OR early will not be counted. Even if it's early or late by one (1) singular calendar minute. If you submit early we might be niceys and politely remind you to resubmit your fanwork once the submission window has opened, but as this rule is intended to avoid overloading the mods during a period where we are both very busy IRL, we might also just get annoyed with you and say you've wasted your chance and your fanwork doesn't count anymore. So don't take that risk!

The submission guidelines and scoring system remain exactly as they did for steal works submitted as part of the bracket, with one exception - ONLY brand new works (or brand new chapters/instalments of existing works) will count for this submission period, with the previous backdating clause now null and void.

As per our post from the other day, works deemed as egregiously low effort, designed to exploit loopholes in the scoring system, or which contribute to a pattern of spamming from a specific fanbase or creator may see their scores reduced or the offending works disqualified from the contest entirely. Part of the reason we have given you a) a nearly ten day submission window and b) almost three weeks' notice before submissions even open is to allow you to focus on creating quality fanworks with real time, effort, and love put in, as opposed to focusing purely on The Points of it all. Think of this as a fandom-wide fanworks fest that just so happens to have a winner at the end ;)

Finally, please note that points from previous rounds WILL be carried over and added into the overall total, so here's your current leaderboard by overall steal points:

1. Cosette/Éponine (168) 2. Enjolras/Combeferre (88.6) 3. Jehan/Montparnasse (76.1) 4. Valjean/Javert (70.3) 5. Turning Woman #3/Musichetta (19.1) 6. Courfeyrac/Marius (18) 7. Enjolras/Grantaire (15.6) 8. Combeferre/Courfeyrac (5.5) 9= Marius/Cosette (5.3) 9= Joly/Bossuet/Musichetta (5.3) 11. Éponine/Montparnasse (2.7) 12. Enjolras/Feuilly (2.2) 13. Combeferre/Grantaire (0.7)

Have fun and happy stealing!

List of ships from the original bracket for ease of reading:

Enjolras/Grantaire

Bahorel/Grantaire

Courfeyrac/Enjolras

Marius/Éponine

Jehan/Montparnasse

Fantine/Valjean

Bahorel/Feuilly

Jehan/Grantaire

Combeferre/Courfeyrac

Turning Woman #3/Musichetta

Courfeyrac/Marius

Feuilly/Jehan

Courfeyrac/Grantaire

Enjolras/Éponine

Joly/Bossuet/Musichetta

Bahorel/Éponine

Valjean/Javert

Feuilly/Éponine

Éponine/Montparnasse

Bahorel/Jehan

Combeferre/Eponine

Enjolras/Marius

Courfeyrac/Éponine

Cosette/Éponine

Azelma/Combeferre

Cosette/Marius

Combeferre/Grantaire

Enjolras/Feuilly

Combeferre/Enjolras

Combeferre/Joly

Courfeyrac/Jehan

Bahorel/Bahorel's Laughing Mistress

[eiirisworkshop]

Hellish Encounters is a series of interconnected Hazbin Hotel fanfictions, many of which can be read stand-alone without issue.

The series primarily focuses on Angel Dust as he develops relationships with Husk and Alastor, so you get HuskerDust, kinky queerplatonic RadioDust, and RadioHuskerDust/RadioDusK (especially in later installments). There's also a lot of general found-family goodness among the whole Hazbin crew, including Hotel game nights, and Angel & Cherri Bomb friendship.

If you like people growing through their interpersonal relationships, Angel dust getting to be both effeminate and a badass while he works his own way toward freedom from Valentino, Alastor being treated as a whole person and an adult without compromising his psychopathy or asexuality, the Hazbin crew as family-of-choice, polyamory and kink negotiations, and overall demonic shenanigans, then this is the series for you!

As of this posting in April 2025, the series sits at 52 installments, totaling 188k words, with ratings ranging from T to E, and at least 6 more installments planned.

Series highlight list with cover art and fic summaries below the cut.

A Gentlemen's Agreement in the Small Hours

Rated: E Length: 7k

Following a kink session of debatable wisdom with Alastor, Angel Dust has a late-night, vodka-fueled heart to heart with Husk that leads to, not a deal, but an agreement. An agreement that leads to more encounters with each other in the small hours of the night.

This is the first Hellish Encounters fic and the beginnings of Angel's relationships with both Husk and Alastor, though this particular fic has more of a HuskerDust focus to it.

Cards Against Hoteliers

Rated: M Length: 6k

The hotel residents play a round of Cards Against Humanity and the game, as it so often does, sparks many intriguing tangents of conversation.

(Collage board courtesy of @damadipicche)

To Be Treated Right

Rated: E Length: 5k

When Angel comes home in a bad state after a rough day at work with Valentino, his friends at the hotel all want to help however they can. The help he wants, only Husk, as his confidant and lover, can give him. With the right care—a shower, a smoke, some food made with love, some sex on his own terms—Angel ends the night in a better place than he started it.

This is about where the evolution of Angel and Husk's relationship from FWBs to partners really kicks into gear.

Radio, Kink, and the (Adult) Video Star

Rated: M Length: 5k

Angel enjoys his kinky, not-exactly-sexual relationship with Alastor. Husk is less than thrilled that Angel is playing with Alastor at all. Both relationships evolve a little.

This is where the polyamory starts getting sorted out.

Perché Non Entrambi? (Why Not Both?)

Rated: E Length: 5k

“Not a deal,” Husk clarified as he took Alastor’s hand. “An agreement,” Alastor nodded. Angel got up from his stool. “Shall we, gentlemen?” Alastor silently looped his arm through one of Angel’s as they headed for the stairs. Angel held an arm out on the other side for Husk, who ducked comfortably under it so it rested across his shoulders. “Well,” Angel mused, “this is about to be either fuckin’ incredible or a total disaster.” ~ After a rough day, Angel’s sure he wants one or the other of his partners to get his mind off of things, but he’s not sure which one. Turns out “both” is an option.

The much-beloved threesome fic, which has spawned some great art!

(Art by me, @damadipicche, and Roly_Poly_RoBoBoy)

Wilful Game

Rated: M Length: 3.7k

Angel comes to Alastor with an idea of how they can play with some of Alastor’s more violent fantasies, and things go oddly sweet.

(Collage boards courtesy of @damadipicche)

Paint the Town Red

Rated: E Length: 14.7k

Alastor takes Angel out dancing! How will their relationship change after this first—hopefully of many—date? (E rating is only for a part of chapter 3; fic is otherwise M)

A major turning point in Angel and Alastor's relationship.

(Collage board courtesy of @damadipicche)

Loopholes, or, Angel On Air

Rated: M Length: 3.4k

Alastor knows a thing or two about picking apart contracts—turns out Angel's contract to Valentino isn't quite air tight, and, long story short, that's why the Radio Demon has a porn star on his radio show.

We love rules lawyering a scheme to get Angel out of his contract with Valentino, even if it'll take a while to succeed.

The Griffon's Rule

Rated: E Length: 10k

Husk is free. Not only that, Husk is in charge of things again since winning his soul back, along with a block of territory. There's things to be figured out about what he's going to do with his newly acquired little fiefdom, and about how the change in power structure is going to affect his and Alastor's relationships with Angel and with each other.

Another major shift in the relationship dynamics, and some more threesome action to illustrate it

Renegotiation

Rated: M Length: 4.9k

Angel and Alastor have been playing together for a year now, and their limits and interests have evolved since that first session, so it's time to sit down and talk things through again, establish where the lines are now.

The most recent installment at the moment!

[siriusly-yoongi]

She wants to be saved chapter 6

Main Masterlist Series Masterlist

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Pairing: alpha BTS × omega reader

Chapter Warnings: I don't really know what to put for warnings, bad writing, mute reader, POV changes, bad eating habits, depression, self-harm (kind of descriptive, this is not a how to, do not replicate it),

Word count: 3587

As someone who struggles with depression and self-harm, these are just based off of my own experiences. I'm not the best writer but I did my best to represent it properly. A lot of this fic is and will be based off of my own experiences and its how I choose to cope with my trauma. As always I'm here if anyone needs to talk. Please don't replicate what's done in my writing, it's not sanitary and since its not a clean edge you can easily do way more damage than you intend to because you have to push a lot harder than you do with a blade (in my personal experience). Wax can cause second degree burns (learned this the hard way) you have very little control over it so please, do not try it.

"Hissing: A low “s” sound made if the Omega is provoked and thinks they or their pack are in an extremely dangerous situation. Hissing is a warning sound made to get others to back off or to alert others that they will attack if said provocation continues." ~ google.

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YOONGI

It's been 5 days since the beach incident, today is a Wednesday. Hoseok and Taehyung haven't made any more jabs and Y/n as far as we're aware, which is good. I installed that lock on her door as well. 2 days ago we took her shopping, we let her pick out clothes and blankets and whatever else she wanted. Well we picked up the things she looked at because she refused to let us buy anything for her and always put things back.

She's been waking up with nightmares more frequently now. Before it was once every few nights but now it seems to be every single night. Over the last few nights she's been bringing in more blankets. The first night, the same say as the incident, she brought 2 extra blankets. She rolled them both up and used them to make the border go all the way around her nest. On the second night she brought 2 more blankets to build up her walls. The third night she did the same thing. On the fourth night she brought in a couple blankets to make the middle more padded. And last night she brought in a few more blankets and a couple pillows. The pillows went into the walls but I'm not sure what she did with the blankets this time. She has a proper nest now. On the first night I also noticed my favorite hoodie mysteriously went missing.

I was at the studio later than usual today. I get home around 11 and head into my room. I pause for a minute when I see my favorite hoodie laid on my bed. I pick it up and it smells very strongly of cookie dough. I smile fondly, but it's quickly replaced with shock when I notice at least 5 of my shirts are missing, my favorite sweatpants, and 2 more of my hoodies. That little omega is definitely warming up to me, and I'm seeing pieces of her real personality poke through a little bit. I just shake my head and grab a change of clothes, heading to the bathroom to shower.

When I head back into my room this time she's just settling into her nest, her blue blanket wrapped around her, one of my shirts held to her chest like a teddy bear.

I sigh and smile "you're a little thief" I tease

She just smiles proudly up at me. The little shit is proud of herself. I'm both proud and slightly annoyed, but mostly proud.

I shake my head once more and climb into my bed, getting under the blankets

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Eating breakfast the next morning, Jin gave y/n some sliced mango and pineapple chunks. She ate one mango slice and a few chunks of pineapple before pushing her plate away. Usually she eats more than that, not much more, but definitely more.

"Baby why don't you take a few more bites, yeah?" Namjoon doesn't look over at her as he says this, clearly trying to keep it as casual as possible. This is the first time anyone had ever pushed her with her eating habits and no one knows how she's gonna react.

She looks up, wide-eyed. She states at Joon for a few seconds, then looks over at me like I'm gonna save her. I'm torn between wanting her to eat more and wanting her to continue to trust me.

"He's not forcing you, just recommending it" I whisper to her, choosing a more neutral response. She seems satisfied with that, but still she just stares at her plate in front of her.

Eventually she eats a few more mango slices, then looks up at Joon for approval. That's new, I've never seen her want any of our approval before. Maybe she's always wanted it but she was too afraid to ask for it. Namjoon looks just as surprised as I am to see her looking up at him like that.

He nods "good g- job" I bring a hand to cover my mouth to keep from laughing. I don't think she's quite ready for that level of praise yet. His cheeks flush a little and he coughs to cover it up "you did good" he mumbles.

She didn't seem to pick up on it, or if she did, she didn't make it obvious. She just smiles over at me. I nod and smile back.

I spend some time scrolling my phone, then napping for a couple hours. I know I'm gonna be home late tonight so I may as well sleep while I can.

When my alarm goes off around 1 I groan and get up. I take a quick shower then get dressed and head out.

The drive to the studio takes about 30 minutes and I stop for coffee on the way.

×××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××

I don't get done until around 1 in the morning. Almost 12 hours of bullshit. We had to re-record half of our stuff because it accidentally got deleted then the program kept crashing, one of the mics didn't work. It was a shit show today but we finally finished.

I get home and head inside, making sure to be quiet. I head to my room and immediately look down at her nest to see if she's there. I frown when she isn't. It settles my instincts when she sleeps in my room. She's close and I know she's safe. Its dark in my room and i don't bother turning on the light. I get changed into some sweatpants and a t-shirt and go to get in bed only to freeze.

A certain someone is curled up in my bed, cocooned in my blankets. I couldn't see her at first cause its dark and only her face is peeking out. I pull out my phone and take a picture, smiling like a damn fool.

Considering what she was like when she first got here, I'm proud to say I got her to warm up to me. I grab a spare blanket from my closet and lay on top of the covers on my bed, not wanting to make her uncomfortable. I make sure to stay on the opposite side of the bed, which feels really weird cause she's in my usual spot.

As I lay down, I must shake the bed because her eyes snap open, I freeze, hoping she won't panic. She does, but only briefly. She breathes heavily for a couple minutes, her eyes locked on me. I don't say anything, just wait to see what happens. If she's really uncomfortable I'll go lay in the den and let her keep my bed. I'm not evil, I wouldn't make her move like I would for literally anyone else. She continues to just look at me, her big eyes reflecting the moonlight that shines through the window.

After a few minutes of us just looking at each other, she snuggles into my blankets and goes back to sleep.

×××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××

YOU

You wake up early, images of living with your ex filling your mind. Your eyes immediately fall on the man asleep in front of you and you take a deep breath. You're not there anymore. You're here, with your mates. With Yoongi. You don't know when exactly you stopped being so afraid of him. When he'd promised to protect your nest is when you started to feel more comfortable with him. You're still cautious, but you're not afraid. It's a lot easier to focus on one of them instead of all of them. You want to get close to all of them, you like the feeling of safety you get when you're around Yoongi and you want to feel that way around all of them. You hate being scared all the time, it's exhausting.

You untangle yourself from the blankets and sit on the edge of the bed. When your feet touch the cold floor you hiss at the coldness of the hardwood. With a soft whine you make your way out of his room and upstairs. First you grab some socks, you choose some purple ones, only cause they're the first ones you saw and you're too lazy to look for anything else. The sun is just starting to peek over the horizon so you grab your blanket and head outside into the back yard. There's a grey porch swing that you sit on, rocking on it gently as you watch the sunrise.

You don't remember falling back asleep, but the next thing you know, you feel ice cold water being poured over your face. You jolt awake, coughing. You hear Taehyung laughing as the glass door slides shut and you hear the lock latch. You didn't have your phone so you're stuck with no way to tell them you're outside.

It only takes a few minutes for Jin to come into the kitchen and see you through the window, looking angry as you glared holes into the door. He comes over and unlocks the door, sliding it open and looking at you. You know you smelled like burnt cookies and you probably looked like a wet rat, your hair clinging to your face.

"Did Hoseok do this?"

You shake your head

"Taehyung?"

You nod, making a soft grumbling sound. Omegas can't fully growl, but they can sure as hell grumble. And grumble you do. You we're mad.

You walk past Jin and run to your room. It was harmless, you know it was. It didn't hurt you. And if it was someone you trusted you would've even laughed. But it wasn't, he was doing it from a place of malice not lighthearted fun.

His actions made your mood drop. Sometimes, something small was all it took to send you into that dark hole that you can never seem to get out of. You feel that heavy emptiness creeping into your chest and you sigh, sitting down on your bed. You wish you didn't have to deal with this, you swear you have more bad days than good ones.

That heaviness slowly grows stronger until all you can do is lay in bed. You feel like crying, but even that feels like it'll take more energy than you have. So you lay there.

By noon the house is quiet, last night at dinner everyone said they had work today, and you don't know about Yoongi since he wasn't home during dinner.

A thought crosses your mind. Thoughts you know you shouldn't be thinking, but it happens anyway. Your eyes flick over to the glass jars the boys bought for you the other day. There's various sizes, they're for storing little rocks and shells and things that you like to collect. Jungkook noticed your rocks just sitting on a shelf and decided you needed jars for them.

You get up and go check Yoongi's room, he's not there. You text him and ask if he's home and responds saying he's not. You're home alone. You know Jungkook only works for 4ish hours today since he only had a couple people to train with. But you have time.

You head back upstairs. The boys insisted you get a few candles when you went shopping. Ones that are made specifically for omegas. They're supposed to be calming or some shit. You're not sure, and you don't really care. You open the pack of lighters and take one, lighting one of the candles and setting it on your nightstand. You grab one of the large jars and take off the lid. You discard the metal ring that holds the lid on, but keep lid piece. You go downstairs into the kitchen and look through the drawers until you find Ziploc bags. You grab one and put the jar inside of it, then put that bag inside another one, just to be safe. You grab a towel from the closet then head down into the basement. You saw a toolbox down there when Namjoon showed you around on the first day. You look through the toolbox until you find a hammer and metal snips (basically scissors for sheet metal). You start with the lid, cutting off the rounded edges until you have a square of metal. You then cut that square in half, then half again, leaving you with 4 pieces of metal. You put the snips away and look through for a pair of pliers. You find some and use them to bend over one edge on each piece of metal so its only sharp on three of the sides.

You set them aside for now and pick up the bag with the jar in it. You wrap the towel around it and hit it with the hammer a few times until it breaks into smaller pieces. Once all the pieces are small enough to fit in the palm of your hand, you're satisfied. You put the pliers and hammer away, grab your things, and make your way back to your room.

You take one of the jars and dump the pieces of the broken jar into it. A jar in a jar, it looks kind of cool honestly.

You pick out one shard of glass that seems the sharpest, grab one of your pieces of metal, and the towel with one hand. In your other hand you grab your phone and the candle and head into the bathroom. You lock the door, set your stuff down, and pull your pants off, sitting on the floor in your underwear.

You sit with your legs out in front of you, you pick up your piece metal and press it into the skin on your thigh, quickly swiping it across a few times in different areas. It creates thin cuts, only a half a centimeter wide at most and you don't manage to go very far into the dermis layer, the skin is white before the blood starts to trickle out, slowly dripping down the side of your thigh. Your shoulders relax and your chest feels lighter. You should stop here. It did what you needed it to do. But you don't. It's not good enough, your brain tells you. So you continue.

You set the metal down and pick up the shard of glass. It's thick, the kind of glass you know will make wide cuts. Perfect.

You use your free hand to hold the skin taut, then press down hard, with thick glass it takes a lot of pressure. You swipe across quickly once. It goes deeper than the metal did, but you're still not satisfied, even as blood is running down your leg and making small puddles on the floor.

You take the glass and put it at the beginning of the wound you just created and press down, slowly sliding it across the same spot, watching as the skin splits apart. You hiss in pain, the air feeling like its being sucked out of your chest. You now have a gaping wound. It's almost an inch in width and you can see deep into the dermis. Hot trickles of blood roll down your thigh quicker now, and you just watch. You know if you went to the hospital you'd technically need stitches, but you also know from past experiences, it'll heal without if you care for it properly.

You create a couple more of these deep cuts, the same way you did the first. One time, you even went over the same spot 3 times, just to feel the sting. Once you're content with your work, you set the glass down and pick up the candle. It has about an inch of melted wax by this point, its been burning for a little over an hour now.

You take a deep breath and quickly dump the wax onto your other, uncut thigh. You can't help the yelp that falls from your lips as it burns your skin. You breathe heavily as it slowly solidifies, burning your skin as it does.

After a minute or so, the wax has hardened, but you still feel the burning underneath it. You start to pick the wax off, whimpering as hissing in pain as the wax pulls of the top layers of skin, leaving your thigh raw and an angry red. It takes 15 minutes to get all the wax off, and by then, you're in tears. You've cut plenty of times, but burning was still a relatively new method for you. You didn't expect it to hurt quite this bad. You still feel the sting and liquid is beginning to coat your skin over top of the burn. The burn covers your entire thigh and down the sides of it as well. You already regret your decision but it's too late now.

You're still bleeding so you grab the towel and hold pressure to the wounds until they stop, it takes longer than it should and you know healing these is gonna be a bitch.

Once they finally stop, you wipe up the blood from the floor and toss the towel into the shower. You pull your clothes off and get into the shower, turning on the water. Once it warms up, you step underneath the water and immediately cover your mouth to keep from crying out. It stings, so bad.

Once you collect yourself, you take a quick shower and rinse all the blood from the towel. Otherwise, someone would definitely notice a blood-soaked towel. You dry off and put your clothes back on, leaving the cuts and burn uncovered because that's how you've always done it. You clean up any remaining mess, then take everything back to your room. You hide the jar of glass and the metal pieces in your closet in the corner behind everything.

×××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××

Jungkook gets home first, as you suspected, around 4 pm. You're sitting on the couch, curled up with your blanket, watching some true crime show. He heads upstairs to shower. He's all sweaty you can smell him from all the way across the room. You feel better now, the heaviness in your chest mostly gone but now your thighs are burning and stinging with every little movement. You focus on the show, your eyes slowly closing.

Jin wakes you up around 5:30, he's still in his uniform, he must've just gotten home "C'mon lovey, you gotta wake up or you won't sleep tonight"

You rub your eyes with an annoyed huff. You go to turn over forgetting about your wounds and you move to quickly, causing pain to shoot through your body. You wince, inhaling sharply. Jin luckily already walked away to go change you assume.

By 6:30 everyone is home, you're still laid on the couch, curled up. Jimin is on the other end of the couch, Jin is in the kitchen cooking dinner, Namjoon is scrolling on his phone, sitting on the second couch with Taehyung's head in his lap. Yoongi is sat on the floor in front of you, you want to reach out and touch his hair but you think better of it. And you don't know where Hoseok is but he's here somewhere.

You all sit down for dinner later than normal and expect to be given fruit like usual. You can handle fruit. But Jin gives you some sort of spicy beef with rice and vegetables on the side. You look up at him wide-eyed. Your stomach churns, and your mind goes a mile a minute. You can't eat that, you won't eat that. You don't know how many calories are in that bur you know its a lot more than what's in fruit. You must look horrified because his expression softens and he almost looks like he feels bad.

"You can't live off of fruit, lovey. I'm sorry. Its been almost a month and you've eaten almost exclusively fruit, and not very much of it at that. You're eating something decent tonight." Jin's tone leaves no room for argument and you shrink in on yourself.

You look over at Namjoon, eyes pleading. His eyes flick down to the plate then back up to your face.

Before you even realize you're doing it, you hiss at him, eyes narrowed and scent more burnt than your scent has ever been.

They all look at you with wide eyes. You did not just hiss at the pack alpha. You don't do that. Nobody does that, but you especially don't do that.

"Did you just-" you don't hear the rest if Namjoon's sentence as you've already bolted. You're outside and gone into the woods before anyone can stop you. Namjoon sounded upset, and you cant blame him. But you didn't do it on purpose. You swear you didn't mean to, it just came out. You run until you trip over something in the low light, crying out as you hit the ground. You feel the cuts from earlier rip back open. The sun is setting, so you know its around 8 pm.

It takes all of 2 minutes for Jungkook to catch up to you. You cant see him very well but you can smell him. Of course he caught up to you, he's an alpha, he's faster and stronger. You don't know why you thought you could outrun them.

He can smell the blood, you know he can because he freezes, his silhouette going still. "You're hurt" you grab your phone

I'm fine

"Pup the smell of blood is strong, you're bleeding pretty badly for it to be that strong already."

Shit, shit, shit.

[neonacity]

ARCANE : INIZIO | CH.8 | NCT DREAM X READER

Summary: When human deviants granted with the abilities of the legendary Arcana cards find themselves racing against devious forces, they are left to make a choice that might change the fate of the world itself: be the victims of the game, or become the masters of it themselves.

But will this war end with a crowned hero?

Or will it just create another mad villain?

*****

Note: This is the second book of Arcane. The happenings in this story is a prequel to the first installment which you can check in my Masterlist.

Pairings: Dream 00’ Line + Mark x Reader

Trigger Warnings/Themes: romance, violence, torture, trauma, poly dynamics, suggestive themes, language, psychological, mystery, sci-fi. The concept of the tarot or Arcana cards will be loosely used throughout the series. This is a work of fiction, and the boys are just my muses. I do not post anywhere else but here on Tumblr.

© neonacity, 2024

CHAPTER SONG: Anywhere | Evanescence

Index of characters and lore: (x)

Previously > CH. 1 | CH.2 | CH.3 | CH.4 | CH.5 | CH.6 | CH.7

****

Cold fingers ghosted over your skin, teasing you to slowly wake from your slumber. His touch was gentle as they traced your spine but the roughness of his calouses made you shiver and melt even more against his touch. Jeno felt it and moved his head a little to brush his lips against your forehead. You sighed, the action warming his bare collarbones with your breath.

"Are you awake?"

"No..."

You felt him slightly smile against your hair. You didn't want to open your eyes, afraid that the moment you do, he will pull away from you again. It's been so long since you had him close like this, so open and raw, and you are willing to put in the line anything just so you could live off of this moment for as long as you can.

"Look at me..."

"Jen, it's past midnight. You can leave before daybreak. I don't think anyone will care at all—"

"Run away with me."

You froze in his arms. Slowly, you pulled away to look at him, wondering for a moment if you heard his words well and clear. He looked too beautiful in the shadows of your room to be saying lies he didn't mean. Desperately, you tried to look for a hint in his eyes of guilt, but instead he only met your gaze with an openness that made your throat catch.

"What...?"

Jeno slightly turned towards you and raised a hand to cradle your cheek. His thumb made gentle strokes on your lips for comfort.

"Run away with me. Let's leave everything behind and start somewhere. Anywhere."

You were speechless. Unconsciously, you held back his hand to stop him from distracting you with his touch. He let you do it, but the look he gave you did nothing to soften his determination.

"Jeno, we can't leave the family. You know that. We're both—"

"Masters of a system that we both didn't want nor wished for," he said, cutting you off before you could even finish the words he's heard from you countless of times. "Don't you see? We've always had a choice. Being born into this doesn't mean you have to carry this burden forever."

He sounded so vulnerable yet so held back in that moment that you just knew he had been thinking about this for so long. Is this why he had been avoiding you since you went back to Rosewood?

"Our lives has been set for us the moment the Arcanas chose us as their masters. To have these powers mean we have a role to play. All of us do," you answered back in a tone that almost sounded as if you were begging. You can't help it. Never in your life have you ever considered this, the freedom he is talking about.

"And I choose a life with YOU," he shot back as he finally pulled away from you to stand up from the bed. You sat up as well, your heart dropping at the distance he put between the two of you. The desperation and frustration in his voice was like a slap on raw skin. You watched as he paced and ran his hand through his hair, a gesture that told you it was costing him his everything to say these things now.

"You say there is a war coming, but you don't have to fight it. None of us do. Your father has always given you a choice to run away from this, but you've held back thinking you need to pay a debt you didn't even make in the first place," he paused, before finally facing you again.

"I've made my choice. And I only have ever wanted you."

Silence rang in the wake of his words. You looked at him lost, and he did the same but with an intensity you have never seen in him before. There are only a couple of things in your cursed life that you have always been sure of. One, that tragedy is in your horizon, no matter how much you try to run away from it.

Two, you want Jeno.

Just as desperately, foolishly, and madly he wants you.

Your gaze finally lowered as you let your thoughts consume you whole. Jeno, seeing that as a clear refusal, sadly softened his shoulders in defeat. He looked away and stepped back.

"Forget it."

"We leave at dawn."

This time, it was his turn to freeze. He looked back at you, stunned and silent. You met him head on, your gaze clear and also determined for the first time in years.

"Let's leave together... I want you. I'm not running away again."

*******

Betrayal has a distinct taste.

It’s metallic and sharp, like the bite of blood sitting at the back of your throat that you can never seem to wash.

It also has a distinct smell. One of burnt embers, tossing in the hearth as they melt into smoke.

Betrayal has a distinct color. Oftentimes, it comes in shades of blood and rust. But sometimes, it can also be of flowers…

Trying to cover the bite of poison under their deceiving bright colors.

The man standing in front of the dying fire tried his best to ignore the curve of the deep red lips that smiled at him from the shadows. He wanted nothing more but to get his current business in this cursed room done and over with, but the devil of a woman sitting across him seems to find joy from seeing him internally suffer.

He guessed her reaction was warranted if he were in her position.

Miyoung Lee, renowned doctor and scientist, and one half of Cypher—the leading research institute in this part of the world—was about to unlock what no other academic has done before. Access to powers way beyond the mundane world that govern the aether and the ether… and maybe even the ability to control them.

All because of him. Particularly, what he is about to do.

Junho Lee, a renowned member of the secret Arcana Family, born and destined to protect the celestial forces that were lent to chosen human descendants would probably be the last person anyone would suspect to betray the clan. As a direct son and current head of the main Lee branch, he holds pride in his roots. Before him, his ancestors have made history as Arcana masters themselves. And while he had not been granted the same powers as them, he is about to make his own mark by being the father of one yet to be the greatest of them all.

“Tomorrow, yes?”

“At the break of dawn.”

“And you can confirm that he has no suspicions? At all?”

Junho paused for a moment, watching the fire lick a turning ember on the hearth. The Headmaster of Rosewood Academy is a keen man and a powerful one, but he is also a person with unwavering trust in his circle. Unfortunately for him, he decided to put it on Junho. And now they both have to pay a fair price for it.

“He has none. I made sure the trail is clear.”

The slight creaking of a chair followed by the dull thud of heels against mahogany made him brace. It took him everything he had so as not to flinch at the feeling of long sharp nails running up his shoulders, before tapping the lapel of his coat almost mockingly.

“Good. I have trust in your word, Mr. Lee. After all, you know what it will cost you if you betray me.”

This time, he couldn’t stop himself from stiffly turning at the woman, his eyes cold as steel. Miyoung smiled back with the look of a feral goddess.

“You will not hurt my son.”

“I shall not hurt him if you keep your word. That is the arrangement.”

He balled his fists under the cover of his pockets at the way she said it so smoothly, as if she was talking about the weather rather than the fate of a whole secret society and the individual lives that make it. The first time Junho met the woman, he knew from the start that she was a different kind of evil. But then again, are they really much different? He who has chosen this path for the sake of revenge and glory?

“And the girl too. Don’t forget about her,” he replied. Miyoung took a step back and gave a wave of her hand as if it was just an afterthought she couldn’t care less about.

“Yes, of course. I do not understand the need to save a plain human but I have not forgotten.”

He took that as a signal to leave. He never particularly liked these clandestine meetings and he also didn’t need a reason to be suspected by anyone. Turning towards the door, he barely gave the woman a look as he passed her.

“Keep your word, and you might have the world.”

*******

You might as well have gone mad.

Yes. There is no doubt that you have finally lost your mind the moment you slipped out of the shadowy hallway, your eyes having long adjusted into the darkness by now. In front of you, Jeno’s back looked strong and determined as he led the way, his sharp eyes scanning the surroundings for anything and anyone. Even as he moved to guide you, he kept his hand locked with yours as you both traced the steps leading to your escape.

Escape. A heavy word to describe what you two are about to do, but a fitting one nonetheless. The irony, however, lies in the fact that you are not running away from anyone. Your father would be more than happy if you step away from this life and you doubt any of the others will try to hold you back. No, what you are escaping from is your own self. Your identity as a member of the Family and the life you've thought you'll have to see through until your very last breath. Jeno is doing the same, both of you deciding to leave behind parts of yourself that have been bound to your souls since the very beginning.

Yes, after today, you will no longer be IL Matto, and he, La Morte. You will live your life as normal people, and that will be more than enough.

“Are you sure you don’t want to do anything else before we leave?” Jeno spoke in a whisper and you noted how a slight flash of guilt took his gaze. “Maybe write a letter to your father?”

You hesitated briefly, and you knew Jeno felt it with the way he ran his thumb over your hand. A letter is a good idea… at least a word that can let your father know of your decision. However, the thought of doing something so actively as to say goodbye is already choking you up, as if it would make your actions all the more real. So instead, you slightly shook your head and motioned for him to continue walking.

“The sun will be up in less than an hour. We should go…”

He didn’t question you anymore, his answer coming in a gentle squeeze of your hand. The skies beyond the wide windows running through the hallways are already starting to stain with the faintest golden red and you both continued on, silent in agreement and purpose.

It was in the last hallway, just before you could both breakthrough the back exit of the academy that Jeno suddenly paused. Peering from around his back, you saw darker shadows moving against the darkness, as if the source of it sensed your presence.

“Keep back,” he whispered against you as another dark figure lengthened in front of him. He had called on his arcana to act as your shield.

“Jeno…”

“Jeno?”

You both stiffened at the sound of the voice. Just as soon as it appeared, Jeno’s shadow warrior dissipated, revealing a baffled looking Jaemin behind it.

The silence that followed was thick. Jaemin’s eyes looked at you both, before his gaze flickered towards your joined hands. The sight of it made a look of realization dawn on his face, and for the first time, you felt panic crawling up your throat.

“Jaemin–”

You were ready to go on a full-blown explanation when he suddenly nodded towards the exit behind him.

“You both better leave now if you don’t want the others seeing you.”

You blinked, shocked and confused. Meanwhile, Jeno was quiet in front of you, watching his best friend.

“What are you doing here?”

The silver haired boy shrugged off the other’s question with a slight smile.

“We’ve been stationed to go on rounds in guarding the castle. The other hyungs are at the front. Luck is really on your side for choosing this route. If you decided to have done this yesterday, you would have had Haechan catching you both.”

Your gaze moved from Jeno and then to the other boy. For some reason, you felt like they are both talking in codes you couldn’t understand.

“Hey, don’t look so startled, angel. I’m here to keep the bad guys out, not keep you both in here,” Jaemin said in his usual smooth fashion. He gave Jeno a quick look then. “Besides, everyone knows this will happen sooner or later.”

Something about his words triggered something in you, and without even realizing it, you found yourself letting go of Jeno’s hand and going over to Jaemin to wrap your arms around his neck. He didn’t hesitate to hug you back, pressing his lips against the top of your head. Despite his casual demeanor, he held you tightly as if he never wanted to let you go.

“Thank you…” you whispered against his chest.

“If he hurts you, I’ll know. I’ll go get you myself then, okay?”

You smiled and nodded, not even realizing that warmth has started rolling down your cheeks and staining his shirt. When he finally let you go, he gave your arm one last squeeze before looking over at Jeno.

“Take care of her.”

“You know I will.”

He slightly moved over to the side as Jeno joined both of you then. It was a quick moment, but for a few seconds, the three of you basked in that shared little space. You, Jeno, and him. You three who have always balanced each other out… You three who have always been there at the start.

“We’ll write. I promise,” was the only thing you found yourself capable of saying. He laughed softly and tucked a lock of hair behind your ear.

“And I promise to visit… Once all of this is over. Now go. You don’t want the others making a big fuss of you two eloping.”

A shade of red dusted your cheeks despite yourself at the word he used. Nodding, you stepped back as Jeno took your hand again.

“You’ll be safe until the grounds. Once you’ve passed the protective barrier of the school, you have to be more careful.”

Jeno nodded. Without another word, he gently tugged you to pass the boy, a look of thankfulness in his eyes.

“I’ll see you soon, Jaemin.”

“Yes, soon.”

*******

Mark couldn’t figure out the reason he bolted awake from the warmth of his own bed. His breaths came in short and fast as if he had been running, and there was a thin layer of cold sweat on his forehead. He couldn’t remember if he was dreaming or not before this, but when he trained his hearing to check if there was anything amiss, the stone dorms only echoed back silence to him. Shakily, he raised his hand to feel for his pulse, and within the next minute, tried his best to gather his bearings.

His breathing was still uneven when he felt it again, a pull that cannot be seen or heard, but can only be felt energetically deep in his core. Rosewood Academy has always been protected by glamour, an invisible shield that keeps it from catching too much attention from normal people and to protect its students from the outside world. The barrier is made of the same frequency as their arcanas, which means it is pulled from the vibrations of the masters. The stronger the control over your ability is, the most you contribute to it... which only means one thing at the moment.

The school is under attack.

The moment his feet touched the ground as he jumped out of bed, an explosion of noises came from all around him. There was shouting and what seemed like a loud bang from deep inside the castle, and when he tore his door open, he was met by a wild-looking Haechan and Renjun. Jisung and Chenle were on their heels, looking equally worried in their pajamas.

“Hyung!”

“What is happening?”

“Where is she?”

They all talked at the same time, but it was a new voice coming from the other end of the hallway that made them all turn their heads at the same time. Jaemin was running towards them, covered in what looked like dust.

“We’re under attack. Someone’s trying to break down the barrier from the outside!”

“Are you okay? And where is she? We have to–”

“She left. With Jeno. She’s out of the castle right now.”

Nobody spoke after that. Mark wondered for a moment if he heard it correctly, but the way Renjun’s face paled beside him told otherwise.

“What do you mean she and Jeno left?!” Haechan asked, his voice shaky. Jaemin trained a steady look at the other boy and said nothing else.

“We have to go after them,” Mark said, moving to pass the other boy before he even realized what he was doing. His stomach felt heavy, and his limbs felt numb while also wanting to grasp something. The same words screamed at his head again and again.

She’s in danger.

You have to get her.

She left.

I can’t lose her!

“Hyung!”

Renjun’s voice snapped him from his trance. Mark looked down to see Jaemin holding him back, while the other tried to block his way.

“We have to let them go. They’re better off away from the Academy.”

“What do you mean they are better off–”

“Right now, we’re the only ones who know they left. These people who are trying to get inside are after us masters. She is better off away from here with Jeno,” Haechan added, despite his expression looking equally torn. Mark stared the boy down, until finally gritting his teeth and taking a step back.

His action seemed to have made the others relax a little, especially Chenle and Jisung who looked like they are waiting for their older hyungs to give them directions. The sight of the two youngest put some sense in him and Mark looked around the rest of the group as he tried to focus on the more important things.

“We need to help the others. Jaemin, do you know where Johnny-hyung are?”

“Him and Jaehyun-hyung are guarding the north main entrance. Yuta-hyung and I think Mijeong are both stationed in the West and East. I was over there at the South exit but the headmaster came over and told me to look for you guys so we could evacuate.”

Mark frowned. There was a gnawing feeling that started creeping up on him at the mention of the man.

“The headmaster? Was he with Kun and Taeyong-hyung?”

“They weren’t when he came over.”

“He doesn’t know noona left with Jeno?”

Jaemin shook his head.

It only took a moment for him to make a decision.

“We should get to him now.”

The rest of the boys exchanged confused looks but started running after him as he jogged towards the South end of the academy. Mark didn’t know what got to him, but the pull towards the headmaster told him it was the right thing to do at the moment.

“Hyung, shouldn’t we be helping the others? I think the headmaster can handle things himself,” Chenle asked.

“He can. But the Rosewood shield is also held up by our Arcanas, meaning the strongest of the masters have the most influence on it. We’re already compromised without IL Matto and La Morte and he—”

“He doesn’t know it. If he gets hurt, there's a huge chance the rest of the shield will go down as well," Jisung finished his sentence, sounding breathless.

Mark didn’t say anything and continued rushing towards the exit. He could only hope their older brothers are holding up their own forts, but they are also a lot more experienced at them so the odds are a little bit more in their favor. As for you… Haechan is right. You would be better off as far away from the Academy as possible with Jeno. He only prays you two have made distance before the attacks started.

It took a few minutes before him and the rest finally retraced Jaemin’s post. His heart was beating hard against his chest, even as they turned the final corner which leads to the iron-clad gate of the academy. The rest of the boys slowed down as he did, and like a pack, started walking carefully down the hallway. Everything looked still… Dark…

Then, all of a sudden, there was light.

A huge gaping line, similar to a portal tear, rose up in front of them. It glowed on the edges, as if a ragged saw tried to reap a hole from thin air. Mark looked down on the floor in front of it, where a small rounded thing caught its light.

Lying on the spot where the headmaster should have been is a lone copper ring. Mark has seen it all the time, always in the finger of the very man who was the last and strongest protection of Rosewood.

Until now.

*******

It felt like being hit by lightning.

You stopped in your tracks as your insides felt as if they were suddenly set on fire. In front of you, Jeno also paused, looking at you over in worry for a bit before an odd expression also took over his face. As your eyes met, you both knew you felt the same pull—a feeling as if something binding you had been broken.

“Jeno,”

You weren’t able to finish what you were about to say as another flash of pain took over you. This time, it didn’t seem as if Jeno felt the same and he crouched to hold you before you could fully collapse. His face was pale in the slowly dawning light creeping up from above the tree line as he tried to support you on your feet.

“Are you okay?”

“Something has happened.”

His eyes trailed upward, back to the hilltop where the turrets of the Academy were still visible. You have made enough distance from the castle by now, but you could still see some of its looming towers from where you are.

“We have to keep going,” he said, his voice sounding like he was trying his best to calm himself. He helped you up to start pulling you again but you stopped, your eyes wide.

He looked back at you in confusion, but it didn’t last long as he saw the look on your face. His jaw tightened and the fingers holding your hand did the same.

“Don’t…”

“We can’t leave them, Jeno.”

“You can’t go back there. If something really did happen, you have to be as far away from that place!”

“My father! Something must have happened to him,”

He paused, confused at first. Tears were starting to sting behind your eyes, and not only because of the pain still gripping you.

“I felt it. I lost his connection. I can’t feel him anymore, Jeno.”

You knew it the moment the second stab of pain embedded itself on your chest. While all Arcana masters are interconnected, the Triad has a special kind of bond that only the last three can feel. Despite the distance, your father’s energy has always been with you as IL Giudizio to your IL Matto. Now, there is nothing of him that you could feel no matter how much you tried to reach for him. There is just… silence.

Jeno stared at you with a look that you cannot fathom before slowly letting go of your hand. When he moved to cup your face, you avoided his gaze as your tears finally started to fall.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry. I can’t do it right now.”

He gently shushed you before pulling you in and kissing your forehead. He was steady in his hold on you as always, but you could feel the sense of defeat when he pressed you closer against him. He held you just like that for a few more moments before his voice anchored you again.

“Let’s go. It’s time to go back.”

*******

Note: Hi, guess who is back.

I know this fic has been dead for so long, but for some reason, no matter how many times I tried to quit it, I just couldn't bring myself to say that I'm done. I'd like to thank the last anon who sent me a message about it. So many people might have forgotten that Arcane still exists, but you gave me the push for now to finish at least this chapter! I am a little rusty at the moment but here you go. <3

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