#didn't plan it out exactly but it turned out this way

[arcadia-of-pluto]

Casually calling him daddy; Caleb

Word count; 922

Warnings; "daddy" ofc, fluff

Notes; Hope yall enjoy these updated drabbles!! <3

☆☆☆☆☆

You and Caleb weren't…well, technically, you weren't dating, but you weren't exactly sure what to call it. Your relationship is the same it's always been.

The usual cuddling, hand-holding, pretending to date to thwart love confessions…

And you were trying to figure out how exactly to push the envelope just a step further.

As you were scrolling through decade old apps, you found a TikTok compilation.

Now, you weren't exactly sure what TikTok was since it was, at least, 20-years old, but you decided to watch the video anyways since you were doom scrolling in bed at Caleb's home.

As you were watching, one trend caught your eye.

It was the aptly named “calling your boyfriend daddy” trend and while you didn't have a boyfriend…you did have Caleb.

You weren't exactly sure what kinks Caleb had, but whether his reaction was sexual, disgust, or whatever it may be, you wanted to see. So, with that thought in mind, you get up and call your OTTO into the room.

“Hello, master, what do you need help with today? Do you need breakfast? Master Caleb left two hours, thirty-five minutes, and 40 seconds ago to go to work. He won't be home until–”

“Thank you so much for that, OTTO, but I needed something else.” You quickly cut the circular robot off, feeling a bit bad for doing so, but you doubt its feelings would be hurt. “Whenever Caleb gets home and we start cooking, can you switch to your recording mode?”

“I can do that. Any video saved will go straight to Master Caleb's phone.” The bot says as it flies around your head and you shrug, “That's fine with me. Let me know when he gets home!”

Now, you just need to figure out how you'll seamlessly bring the word up in conversation with Caleb…

“He's home! He's home!” OTTO shouts, almost excitedly, as it speeds around the house similarly to an overexcited dog. Though, its warning was a tad too late as Caleb steps in the door while the bot is excitedly yelling.

“You missed me so much, you got OTTO to tell ya when I get home?” He laughs as he takes his Colonel hat off, setting it on the coffee table.

“Maybe…” you grab his hat, putting it on as you shove him toward his room. “Go get changed, I'm hungry.”

“Alright, alright. Geez, no need to be in such a hurry, pipsqueak.” He holds his hands up, allowing you to push him.

After he's changed, he joins you in the kitchen with OTTO flying steadily around the room.

“Did you tell OTTO to do something? It's acting realllly strange.” Caleb's eyes narrow as he shuts the rice cooker. “Nope, maybe it's broken.” You shrug, continuing to peel an apple.

You decided to make an apple smoothie for both you and Caleb, almost completely forgetting about your earlier plan. “Oh right…” you murmur under your breath.

How were you going to bring it up…

“What're you thinking about, pipsqueak?” Caleb rests an arm on your shoulder as he pokes the skin between your eyebrows. “What's got you furrowing your brows?”

“Well da– I mean, hmm…” you're honestly feeling a bit frustrated, but also embarrassed that you can't find a way to naturally insert this word into the conversation.

How come he can do it so easily when calling you pipsqueak?

Caleb raises a brow, leaning more into your view. “What did you say?”

“Ah, it's nothing.” You shove at his chest with a small laugh. “Give me some space, Caleb. You know I'm holding a knife, right?”

But as soon as you say this, you feel an odd pressure on your wrist. Your hand lets go of the knife and it clatters on the marble countertop.

“Caleb– ?”

He turns your body to face him, your back against the counter as he tilts his head to the side.

“Go on.”

“I wasn't going to say anything, seriously!” You can't help but laugh, turning your head to look away from him.

He didn't know exactly what you were going to say from just a few letters…right?

He grabs your chin, turning your head to face him. “Don't look away from me.” He jerks his chin up as he looks down at you. “Go ahead, say what you were going to say. I'm waiting.”

Embarrassment along with…something else was boiling in the pit of your stomach and you let out a low, panicked whine, lightly stomping your foot.

Suddenly, you felt like you couldn't say anything. So tongued that you just kept your mouth shut.

A sharp laugh escapes Caleb and his grip tightens around your chin. “Alright, brat. You really don't want to say it?” He hums, eyes flitting from yours to your lips. “Then I guess that means…no braised chicken tonight?”

“Huh–” you owlishly blink at him, before finally coming back to life. “That's not fair–!”

“Then…Say. It.” Caleb clicks his tongue, slowly leaning forward so his forehead rests against yours.

“I…ugh.” You sigh, feeling heat rush to your cheeks. “I'm sorry…daddy.”

“Good girl.” He hums with a content smile, dipping his head down to lightly peck your lips before suddenly, he's gone. “Now get back to your smoothie.”

Your face was red as you stared at his back. How the hell was he so unphased!?

That's so unfair.

But as you puff out your cheeks in annoyance, you notice how one of his hands is balled up into a fist and his ears are a pretty shade of red.

Casually calling them "daddy" LADS

Word count; 1,913

Themes; slightly barely there suggestive content, fluff, established relationship

Warnings; mention of "daddy" ofc, fluff

Notes; So these turned out more fluffy than I originally intended...honestly, thought they'd be more smutty, but I've learnt that it's really difficult for me to write smut. Or at least, smut with little to no context before it all goes down. I might eventually write some smuttier drabbles, but regardless of smut, I hope you enjoy this little thing I wrote!

You saw that there was an old trend about calling your boyfriend “daddy” and videoing their reaction so, obviously, you wanted to give it a try…

Xavier 

It's been almost a year since you and Xavier started dating– and it was a wonderful eleven months! He told you everything about himself. What his future with you was like, all of his feelings throughout the centuries, and you listened. You wholeheartedly believed him, because it would be one hell of a lie if it wasn't true…and you didn't think Xavier had the time or energy to come up with a complex lie like that. 

But even if you now know, time moves on. There's not much you can do about your future self, so you can't really change the future in that way though…Xavier's here now, in the past, and that's all that matters to you. 

Anyway, today was just a normal day as any. 

You were sitting at the counter, keeping a close eye on Xavier– who was attempting to follow, yet another, cooking tutorial. The man was desperate to cook a decent meal for you. His heart dead set on making you something edible for your upcoming year anniversary…and while that was cute, you also wanted to mess with him. 

You push your cup just out of your reach and make a big show of trying to reach for it, before sighing loudly. 

“Daddy, can you pass me my drink please?” 

You can hear the clang of a spatula hitting the floor and you watch Xavier’s body comically whip around to face you. 

“What?” His head cocks to the side as his wide eyes were set on your face. “Say that again..”

“Hmm? I said ‘Xav, can you pass me my drink, please’.” You copy his head tilt and he quickly shakes his head.

 “No, no you didn't.” He takes a few steps toward you before grabbing your hand in-between both of his. “Say it again.” 

You couldn't resist his sweet puppy dog eyes, so you hold back a smile as you meet his eyes. “I...called you daddy.” 

“Really?” He seems unusually excited. “So are we…?” His gaze lowers to your stomach and you can’t help the giggle that slips from your lips. 

Gosh, he was so cute. 

“Baby– no, no. We're not pregnant.” You run your fingers through his hair with a smile on your lips. “Are...you disappointed?” 

“Mmh..” Xavier hums thoughtfully for a moment before he shakes his head. “No. We can just make it a reality later. No need to rush.” 

Zayne 

You and Zayne have only been dating for six months, but it felt like much longer. Having known each other since you were little, you both had always been close– well, your definition of close and his were probably different. You always thought of him as a friend while he tried to keep a distance and thought you hated him. But time brought you both back together with him as your primary care physician. 

The two of you had been flirting up until his birthday and finally made it official once he blew his candles out on the cake you made for him. It was a sweet time, but that was six months ago. 

Now, though, you really want to fluster the man. 

He always embarrasses you and makes you feel nervous, but you never get to see him that way. Sure, his ears will turn red and sometimes he won't meet your eyes when you get too intense with him, but you've never seen him absolutely shocked. And you just wanted to see one look of surprise from him. 

So, what did you decide to do? 

You decided to casually call him "daddy” as a joke.

That should definitely go over well. 

Zayne is seated behind his desk at the hospital, sorting through papers as you longue on his sofa. Your eyes continuously glancing toward the windows to make sure the door was shut and the blinds were closed. 

“If you keep staring at the door, you just might burn a hole through it.” Zayne says, though he didn't even look up from his paperwork. He was attentive like that and probably already knew you wanted something or you were ready to go home. And he was right. 

“When are we going home…daddy?” You ask as you kick your feet in the air behind you. You were on your stomach, resting your cheek against your arms as you watched his expression…which didn't change at all. 

"Just give me a few more minutes, angel, and I'll be done.” Zayne pushes his glasses up with his index finger and clicks his pen, jotting down a few notes. 

“I–” You puff your cheeks out with a small sigh and decide to keep going with it. “I want to go home now, daddy.”

“Didn't I just tell you to be patient?” Now Zayne finally looks up at you with one of his brows raised. “I'll deal with you when we get home.” 

Rafayel 

It's been four months since Rafayel asked you out. Four months since you tugged Rafayel down into the bath with you, which set off a chain reaction of a steamy night, followed by him asking you out the next morning; he also complained that you both went out of order, but he wasn’t too upset when you continued where you left off…

Now, though, you moved out of your apartment and to Rafayel's home, ‘Mo Art Studio’ at Whitesand Bay. 

It was definitely odd at first, but it was a good change of pace. Always being by the ocean, able to take your morning walks together on the beach and collect seashells. You had a whole collection on your desk at work. He'd always give you the most unique and prettiest shells, saying “only the best for his cutie”. 

He was also so easy to fluster. 

You immediately knew you had him wrapped around your finger every time his ears would turn red. That same crimson slowly made its way from his ears to his cheeks, all the way to his whole face. So you assumed your little ‘prank’ would also have the same effect. 

You were sitting on a beach towel in the sand with an umbrella blocking your eyes from the bright sun. In front of you was Rafayel, painting your visage, with an easel. His hand deftly moves across the canvas as he sketches the outline for his new painting. 

Lately, you are the only thing he can paint. Always asking you to stop what you're doing so he can run and get his sketch pad. You could be doing something so normal and mundane, but he'd be struck with the inspiration to record your very image. 

As much as you loved it and thought this was very sweet, after almost two weeks of this…You wanted some form of payback. 

“Hey, daddy, can we take a break for a second? It’s really hot out here.” You squint your eyes to try and see Rafayel's face, your hand fanning at your body because you, seriously, are hot out here. 

“Huh?” 

It's like Rafayel is frozen in time, or buffering. He's just blankly staring at you with a confused expression on his face until his pencil drops into the sand. That's when he quickly stands up  and makes his way toward you. 

“Again.” 

Now, it's your turn to be confused. 

“Raf, what–” 

“Not that, say the other word again.” His ears were red as he crouched down in front of you, a look of determination in his eyes. 

“No– you're making it weird!” You put your hands on his shoulders, trying to put some distance between him as your face turns red. 

“Please, I really need to hear you say it again! I'm seriously going to die if you don't.” There's your overdramatic fishy. 

“Fine, but just this once.” You grumble, turning your head to look away from him. “Daddy…” Though you say it as low as you can and Rafayel groans, tilting his head back. 

“Louder.” He rests his forehead against yours. “Come on, cutie. If you don't…I might want to change that to my new nickname.”

Sylus

It's been about…a year? Yes, definitely a year since you and Sylus started dating. Well, you both have differing opinions on when exactly you started dating. Sylus claims it was the moment he laid eyes on you in the N109 Zone, while you claim it was only about six months ago– which is when you and Sylus made a bet. 

It was a bet where if he came back safely from his mission, he'd leave you alone. He wouldn't bother you anymore, wouldn't talk to you, contact you, anything of the sort…and you won, but you didn't realize he'd actually do it. So whenever you seeked him out to make sure he was safe, and he ignored you, you realized that maybe you did want him in your life. 

This led to you running across the street to him and jumping into his arms like this was a hallmark movie, and you claim this was when you officially started dating Sylus.

But between us, you just agree with Sylus when he says a year, because if you don't, he'll pout for the whole day. 

...And today was one of those ‘pouty Sylus’ days. 

You went on a mission that was probably way too dangerous, even though you told Sylus you were going to slow down on your Hunter's work. But you couldn't just ignore endangered civilians. If any of them would have died, that would've been too much for your sympathetic heart to handle. 

And even if Sylus understands your reasoning, he's still upset that you left without telling him– having woken up to a cold bed without you by his side sent him spiraling into a panic. 

So, when you got home, you noticed he was sulking in the kitchen as he made dinner. 

“Sy…” You take your shoes off by the door, nervously fiddling with your fingers as you tentatively walk into the kitchen. Standing behind the counter, you sigh, “I'm reeaally sorry...” 

“If you're reeaaally sorry, then help me make our dinner.” He says, not looking up at you and that doesn't make you feel any better. 

“Okay..” You finally step past the counter and you look around. “So…what do you need?” You were trying to figure out something– anything that could make Sylus feel better when a thought comes to your mind. 

Most guys probably like it when their girlfriend calls them daddy…right? 

“In the cabinet, top shelf. I need a bottle of garlic powder.” 

Okay, you got this. 

You take a deep breath and open the cabinet, straining your arm to try and reach the seasoning bottle, but your fingertips barely brush it and knock it over. “Shit…” You swallow back your nervousness before continuing, “Daddy, can you grab it for me?” 

The room fills with silence for a moment, but then you hear Sylus chuckle. 

“Sure, kitten.” 

Your back suddenly feels warm as a firm chest presses against it and Sylus reaches up from behind you to grab the bottle. 

“I ask you to do one simple thing and you can't even do that.” Sylus chides, clicking his tongue as he pops the bottle open to pour some into the pan on the stove. 

“Da–”

“If you think a few empty words will make me feel better, kitten…you've got to try a lot harder than that.” 

I'd like to say, this is definitely one of my better drabbles– one of my favorites, in fact!

I have like...six more ideas for drabbles and then I'll need to come up with some more. Like these new cards and Rafayel's student photoshoot event really had me thinking of how seriously the LADS men would take roleplaying– and that spawned a whole different drabble idea, so you can definitely look forward to that!

I'm trying to come up with new ways to do my drabbles, so that's why I did a little prelude before I started writing for the guys. Please let me know any feedback yall have for me! Especially with the coloured dialogue, I'm not too sure if I like it, but it seems really pretty and probably makes it easier to tell who is talking apart. (I won't use it for my fic though, only the drabbles!)

Anyway, I have a small personal project I'm working on this weekend so I probably won't be able to write any chapters for my 'Divisa' fic, but I'm still going to post chapter nineteen of 'Twist of Fate' and try to write at least two more chapters since I'm only on twenty-three or so.

I hope you all enjoyed these drabbles and I hope yall have a great night/day! 🩷

[yuyusshinelight]

Dad thoughts feat ATEEZ: I want a brother/sister

♪ This post is about how I think they would be as parents; just that, some thoughts. This does NOT represent any of Ateez's members in any way.

♪ English is not my first language so sorry if there's any mistake.

Vocabulary just in case someone doesn't know:

y/s/n — your son's name

y/d/n — your daughter's name

Byeol — star

Jagi — sweetheart, darling, etc...

Note: Hi my shining stars! Here I come with a new scenario for our boys being dads because I know how much you like those parenting headcanons. I hope you like it and enjoy your reading. Love you all!!!

SEONGHWA

Seonghwa and your daughter were peacefully building their Lego sets together when the older Park decided to have a conversation about that not too little issue you had commented to him when he had arrived at home "I have heard that you want a little sibling, byeol" and the little girl only nodded, not stopping her really important task of mistakenly making the base of the moon on which his half-finished Sanrio doll should lie "And can daddy know why you want a little brother or sister?".

Seonghwa was clearly trying to get your daughter to tell him the same thing you had told him that afternoon without asking her directly. The way you looked at the ground with a soft pout when you told him that your little star had been sad lately for being only child had him worried about the issue being more serious than he though at first.

"I don't like to be alone" At that confession Seonghwa's heart stopped. Perhaps you two had made her feel lonely without realizing it? "But you have mommy and daddy, my love".

"It's not the same... We can't stay together all the time" The sadness with which his beloved daughter said that felt like the most hurtful stab directly into his heart, it even made Seonghwa hate his work for a moment "Daddy and mommy would like to be with you all the time, baby, but—".

"But you can't, I know..." For how his baby had finished his sentence, Seonghwa couldn't help but feel worse, her small but heartbreaking pout could be perfectly appreciated in her sweet voice.

Something in his head snapped.

In the gentlest way he could, the man took his daughter from her seat to put her on his lap and give her that so needed hug he was craving for "Don't you worry, byeol, mommy and daddy will bring you a little brother or sister, okay?" The speed at which her head turned to look him directly in the eyes even scared the poor man with the possibility of a sudden dizziness or some blow to his little girl from such an action but all his worries erased as fast as your daughter moved her head seconds before thanks to the way in which her eyes shone brighter than ever, holding the galaxy itself in those small orbs exactly like his own "Really? It's a promise?".

The excitement on the little girl's face brought out the most tender and sincere smile from Seonghwa who didn't last long to rub his nose against hers, showering her soft cheeks with many kisses "It's a promise, my byeol".

And maybe he should have talked about the sibling thing with you before promising it to your daughter but, let's not lie, Seonghwa knew you better than yourself; the moment he said yes to his daughter he was already counting on you to be more than okay with having a second child. In fact, you were the one who laid Seonghwa on your shared bed after making sure that your child was peacefully asleep on her own to ride him like never before until he decided to change positions to bury himself even deeper inside you. It wasn't in his plans to break the promise he made to his little star so he fucked you until he left your belly nicely swollen with his seed.

Neither of you could deny anything to your little four-year-old walking smile.

HONGJOONG

"I want a little sister" said your three-year-old son as he perched himself in his father's work chair, a phrase that made Hongjoong drop whatever he was with that same moment and look at the kid "What? Why all of a sudden?".

"My best friend just had one and she's very cute" The way in which his baby waddled slowly without letting go of the chair, with that rascally face inherited from him himself, looking at him expectantly for an affirmative answer, brought out of Hongjoong his most genuine smile "Well, yes. Babies are really cute" he said, ruffling his hair before picking him up and sitting the child on his lap "but that's not a reason to have one, love".

For how the minor gasped dramatically while frowning, there was no doubt that that response had even offended him. This little boy's reactions were so comically unique that Hongjoong's stomach even hurt from laughing on many occasions.

"But I want one!" The child said as if it was the most prevalent reason to have a baby, and Hongjoong was about to talk but the appearance of his favorite girl stopped him "I think I have something to say in all this no?" You said, entering the room until you were standing next to your husband, something that didn't last long because said husband didn't like the idea of not having you closer so he sat you on his free leg; and it's not like you were going to complain, in fact, you hugged him "It's my belly the one that's going to hold that little sister for nine months".

"How?" As soon as he asked, both parents' eyes widened. You should have assumed he would ask, but hey, it's not like you mind talking about it, not like Hongjoong apparently "How what, baby?" He acted dumb, clearly not wanting to have that conversation now, too young his son to talk about anything of that "How will the baby get into mommy's tummy?" But this little curious boy wasn't about to leave the topic for Hongjoong's misfortune, who even let out an accidental "Oh shit".

It had to be said that Hongjoong didn't expect that he should have to answer this question at this point of his short life as a father, nor did he expect that too adorable "Oh shit" from the kid either. Word that clearly set off your alarms as a mother "No, baby. Don't say that" You corrected him, booping his nose and waiting for the child to ask why he couldn't say it if his dad could but you were surprised with that too cute "Okay mommy".

Both you and Hongjoong were about to die of love.

"That's my good boy" Hongjoong said, ruffling his hair one more time and giving him a kiss on the head "So are you going to bring me a little sister yes or not?" You both looked at each other, not knowing exactly what to say, until Hongjoong decided to leave the answer hanging in the air "We'll see" to which your son answered with an unfortunate unexpected "Fuck".

"HONGJOONG" Was the first thing that crossed your mind, yelling at the surprised man that was now looking at you "I DIDN'T EVEN SAY THAT" But then he stopped, thinking for a moment "Well maybe he has learned it from me, yes..." And your son nodding only made you look even worse at your husband "Don't say that either, okay baby?" And with that your baby boy covered his mouth with his two little hands and nod one more time, making you both laugh.

YUNHO

It was a peaceful night at Jeong's residence until your eldest son ended with said peace after all those failed attempts to play with his little sister who was only dedicated to watch him move while eating her tiny fist so calmly in her baby-hammock.

"I want another brother or sister!" Your son screamed, running towards his father's open legs to hide his head in his crotch and hold on to his legs. Sudden blow to his private parts that made Yunho complain and you chuckled softly under your breath so as not to be discovered by your husband who was already looking at you with half-closed eyes and shaking his head despite being laughing too.

"Why do you say that, baby?" You asked after you managed to calm your laughter "Because Y/D/N never plays with me!" Your son screamed again, readjusting his posture while firming his grip without separating an inch from his father "It's that?" Yunho asked between laughs, stroking his little head after hearing his son complain in a sort of shouted sob "I mean, if you want another sibling daddy will give you one".

"Tch, Yunho" His first name, not jagi. Bad moment to put on display his pleaser nature, man "But you have to ask mommy too" And you nodded, he was safe "So... you want another sibling to play with because your sister can't, baby?" And your son nodded without taking his head off his father's body "But you have to know that if we give you a new brother or sister, they couldn't play with you either" And that's the moment your son lifted his head, looking at you directly with a mix of horror and surprise, as if what you had said was the strangest thing ever "Why?".

"Because they would be even smaller than Y/D/N".

"More?!" He was silent for a moment after both Yunho and you nodded, seeming to be reconsidering what you had just revealed to him, when he suddenly separated from Yunho completely, crossing his arms and giving you both his back angrily "I don't want another sibling then".

"Oh no, my third baby" Jeong senior said dramatically, he even put his hands on his chest where his heart was pretending to be hurt "Yunho" you said in a warning tone, taking your son in your arms to hug him, accommodating you two in the couch under the warmth of your favorite blanket "Oh, come on. Three kids sounds nice, don't you think?".

"Y/D/N is only seven months old, let me enjoy life without kicks that burst my ribs a little longer" You couldn't see it because you were too busy kissing your son but you already knew that Yunho was smiling for how happy he sounded saying "A little longer? Is that a yes to a third baby?" Which only confirmed to you that Yunho was indeed looking forward to having a third. And one thing you were never good at since you started dating him was saying no to him when he looked so adorably excited about something "It's a 'maybe when my ribs return to their natural position because your daughter opened them for kicking them so many times' ".

"We're having a third" Yunho said victoriously with that goofy smile that you fell in love with at first sight and that, to this day, was still one of your many weak points.

YEOSANG

"Daddy" your daughter said in the softest voice you could have ever heard in your life. You couldn't see her because you were at the laundry room while your husband and daughter were doing an afternoon snack but you could even swear that she was playing with her little fingers nervously for the tone she used. That was one of her gestures when she was about to ask for something "Tell me, darling" Yeosang sounded as cute as your daughter which made you smile foolishly, nothing could please you more than the fact that the two loves of your life were so much alike "Can I have a sibling, please?".

That question surely made you slow down the speed at which you were doing the laundry, as if that would help you to hear better. It was a topic Yeosang and you talked about a few months ago, both thinking that it would be nice to have a second child not only because you two think that having siblings is so beneficial for a kid, but because you both were attracted by the idea of expanding your family. Another living proof of your love for each other.

But those were your reasons to want another baby, what would your daughter's reasons be? You were curious about them. Just like Yeosang.

"Of course, darling. But can daddy know why you ask?" The tenderness with which your husband was handling this conversation, like every conversation he had with your daughter, was so heartwarming. You could die of a sweet high "I want a sibling to be my best friend forever" and your daughter was about to finish what her father had started.

Not being able to be a mere listener anymore, you put the small skirt you had in your hands back in the laundry basket to go out to the kitchen, finding the lovely picture of your daughter sitting at the counter next to your husband, helping him prepare a bowl of fruit for the three of you to enjoy together.

"Have you heard it, Y/N-ah?" Yeosang said, looking at you with a cute smile that made his dimples stand out. He looked so innocent that made your heart beat in happiness "That's why I'm here, jagi" you approached them, taking your daughter's cheeks between your hands "To tell our baby that mommy and daddy will try to give her a sibling as soon as possible" and then you showered your little girl with lots of kisses to which she replied more than delighted just to join forces you both a few seconds later to shower Yeosang with kisses as well. Something the male was more than happy to accept.

SAN

When your older daughter asked in the middle of the dinner for another sibling you choked with your water to which San quickly reacted by patting you gently on the back, a situation that seemed very funny to the youngest of the three children who couldn't stop laughing at mommy's coughing fit. Whoever was not amused at all was your middle child, and it was not surprising after how much she cried and threw a tantrum when San and you told her that she was going to be big sister.

"Another one?!" She looked at her parents with a mixture of fear, surprise and rejection in her eyes that threatened to burst into tears if you gave her an affirmative answer. She looked so affected that she even worried you both. San couldn't see his kid like that "No, baby" he answered with so much tenderness, hugging the kid and giving her a soft kiss on her forehead before looking at you and asking "No?".

Who knows, maybe you were expecting a fourth child and he didn't know it.

But you shook your head what made your older daughter cross her arms and openly complain about not having a fourth sibling to which your second daughter yelled a not too nice "Three are fine!" Frowning and getting up from her seat to climb onto her father's lap so he could hold her as she wanted, searching for his comfort "But I want another brother!" The eldest answered in the same way her sister had spoken. The girls' tone only hinted at an impending fight between them, something that neither San nor you wanted obviously so San immediately cut them off with a serious "Enough girls".

San hated to use a severe tone with his children but he hated even more the idea of having a fight between his daughters when it was supposed to be a nice and lovely dinner in family. Much worse if the fight was going to be about whether or not to have another member in your family.

"What have we said about raising our voices in a bad way?" He said with seriousness, which made both kids look down with a pout "Sorry..." Both girls said at unison, now looking up at their father before looking at the other, your middle child climbing off San's lap to hug her older sister as an apology. Both had been taught to apologise to each other with a hug to make amends.

And after seeing that your daughters were fine again you decided to settle the dispute "About the sibling thing" both girls had their attention on you now "Daddy and mommy think that three kids are enough, by the moment" which made your second daughter smile unconsciously while your eldest pouted "But that doesn't mean that we won't bring you another sibling in the future" this time your second daughter was the one not looking so pleased while the eldest was smiling.

From the way they both nodded you knew they were content but not satisfied with that. You had given birth to them and raised them, you knew absolutely every single one of their gestures and what they meant. But hey, the discussion was over and you could go back to dinner in peace.

MINGI

"I like this one" Your son said, pointing to a photo in which both children were curled up in their father's arms, the three of them sleeping on the couch comfortably, Mingi hadn't even changed his clothes; one of your favorite pictures in fact, just looking at it almost brought tears to your eyes "In this one dad had just arrived from a tour. You refused to leave his arms even for a single second".

"How old were we?" This one was your daughter "Seven months" Mingi answered, smiling at the memory of how his babies received him that day with their little arms raised, calling him between really cute babblings while they moved nervously in their mother's arms "Such cute babies we were and I don't remember that" Your daughter said dramatically "We need a baby in this house".

"Wait, what?" You looked between your kids and Mingi, who was as surprised as you from hearing that, getting even more surprised when your son agreed with his sister "Right! If we have a little brother or sister they will look as cute as us!".

"Woo, woo, woo. Slow down you two" Mingi tried to calm his already excited twins but it didn't work at all "And why a little brother or a little sister when we can have both?" Your daughter ignored him to continue her talk with her brother, you could almost swear that her eyes were shining. But here dad came to try to calm the situation a second time after seeing the way in which your eyes widened "I told you to slow down, neither your mom nor I have said that we are going to bring you a sibling".

"But daddy! We lost each other as a baby!" Your son exclaimed dramatically as if it was the worst thing ever, with his hands on his father's cheeks and his head tilted back to add more drama "We want to have a baby at home" your daughter pouted sadly with a frown and, before Mingi had the opportunity to reply to that you suddenly said "Well, they really seem very excited about the idea of being big bother and sister, daddy" looking at him with a knowing smile. Apparently he had misinterpreted that expression of yours from a few seconds ago.

The fact is that Mingi had caught your message but, with both children staring at him expectantly, he couldn't do anything but respond to you with one look that only you could interpret: tomorrow you weren't going to be able to get out of bed. But that was only for you, obviously, the answer for your twins was "Then it seems to me that the family is going to grow, mommy " For which your living room ended up filled with euphoric shouts from your kids.

WOOYOUNG

"Babe, come here!" Wooyoung screamed from the kitchen and a lot of horrible things crossed your mind, since your son had been burned until he had cut one of his fingers "What happens?! I swear to god that if my baby is missing just one finger I'll—".

"None of that, I have everything under control here. Just listen to what our baby has to tell you" and with that all your attention went to your three year old boy who was jumping in the stool he was standing on to help his dad with dinner "I want a little sister!" And at such a revelation you could only blink several times, looking between father and son in silence until, after blinking a few more times, you said a simple "A sister".

"Yes!" Your eldest son said really excited, jumping even higher in his spot to which Wooyoung already had his arm around him but without touching him, just as a precautionary measure to prevent his son from falling "I already have a brother, I want a sister now".

Without a doubt, you thought it was quite cute the way he had said it, swaying his little body from side to side with those bright little eyes, but you couldn't help but to look up at the smiling father, looking for an answer "Do you have anything to do with this, love?" And Wooyoung shoke his head, not stopping smiling even for a second "It's all Y/S/N idea. But I also think that it's time to have a girl, babe".

And, to say the truth, the idea of having a girl was quite tempting, even more so when you had been thinking the same thing for a while. Having two children was fantastic as well as exhausting, you were more than sure that having one more could only double the happiness but also the exhaustion. And that was a sacrifice you were willing to do for sure.

"And you? Do you want a sister too?" You asked your second son who you were carrying in your arm, the baby smiling at you the very next moment his big shining eyes met yours which made you smile too "Okay then. Let's see if we can bring you a little sister" You finally said, both your eldest son and your husband screamed with excitement "But you have to know that it may not be a girl but another boy".

"We can always try again, love, don't worry about that" Wooyoung said nonchalantly, winking at you with a big smile to which your son exclaimed an excited "Yes!" Happy with the thought that one way or another he was going to have a little sister "Why did I already expect it..." You shook your head but not in a bad mood, you were also laughing at how predictable Wooyoung and your son were to you.

JONGHO

"Go, go. Ask daddy, my love" Jongho heard you say to your son distantly, you were at the bathroom giving your kid a shower while he was resting on the sofa after having set the table for dinner. Then, the sound of tiny quick steps made him turn off his phone, waiting for his son to appear in front of him just to be surprised by the kid poking his little head out on the side "Hi, baby" Said Jongho, waiting patiently for his son to tell him whatever he had to tell him "I want a brother!".

One, two, three blinks from the surprised father. Not even a hi. His son went straight to the point. The child was certainly clear about his priorities.

Well, such a question demanded seriousness so Jongho leaned closer to the armrest to close distance with his son, resting one arm and intertwining his hands "Daddy and mommy have to talk about it first but tell me, why you want a sibling?".

He had heard multiple reasons why a child might want a sibling. Some quite cute, some quite funny, and with the witty answers your son had for everything, Jongho was especially curious about this one. What a surprise he got when he heard your little boy say "All my friends are from the school or the park, if I have a sibling I will have a friend at home too!".

It was certainly something totally unexpected for Jongho. Although the thought of his son indirectly telling him that he felt lonely at home worried him for a moment, the sight of the smiling kid quickly dispelled all those worries. His little boy just wanted a playmate at home like he had at school and in the park.

"Fine. We'll see if we give you a sibling, okay?" Your son nodded enthusiastically at his father before going to the dining table, leaving both Jongho and you alone in the living room "That was a maybe for a second baby?" You asked him with something like hope shining in your eyes and that was when Jongho remembered hearing you say how much you wanted a second child when you were on the phone, talking to a friend.

If both his son and wife wanted to expand the family, he only could please them so, standing up from his seat, Jongho approached you, stopping in front of you with both hands in the pockets of his trousers "We'll see. We can try as many times as you want but I don't control biology, jagi" and he left you there with a blush on your cheeks, clearly having taken the hint in his words, going to the dining table too with a big smile on his lips.

[nyuoqi]

            — SO I MARRIED MY ANTI-FAN     ౨ৎ     SES

O2O.    eunseok vs seunghan

✸ SYNOPSIS !  : congratulations! you have been invited to korea's #1 romance reality show 'We Got Married' where you will be living with your co-star like a married couple. but what will you do when you find out that your husband is actually your anti-fan?

author's note 𐬹 ۫ ۪  feels so good to be back :)

(1.98k words, not proofread)

YOU WANDER AROUND THE APARTMENT in search of any entertainment, bored out of your mind. Today is a day-off for you, Eunseok and the production team. Which means that there are no cameras filming you for today, giving you the freedom of doing whatever it is you want to do.

The day went by quickly as you spent it on nothing but your phone; texting Seunghan who has somewhat become your new friend and scrolling through your social media.

It is during near your bedtime when you realise how unproductive you have been today. So you decide to put your phone away and wander around the apartment in search of anything to entertain you.

The sight of Eunseok setting up his phone in the living room stops you in your tracks when suddenly an idea comes up in your mind. Grinning to yourself, you walk up towards Eunseok on your tippy toes to surprise him.

Eunseok on the other hand isn't exactly cluless to your plan. He has his back facing you as he struggles to find a good angle where he can balance his phone while simultaneously move his hands freely. His front camera mirroring him. 

At the corner of the screen, Eunseok catches the sight of you creeping up on him, the mischievous glint in your eyes couldn't have been more obvious. Eunseok struggles to hold back a grin the more he sees you, finding you absolutely adorable.

"I can see you, you know? " He says with a laugh, his back still facing you.

You visibly stiffen for a few seconds, your lips falling into a soft pout and your eyes looking defeated. Eunseok observes you from the screen of his phone, the grin he is holding back now displayed in a toothy way.

"Do you want me to pretend I didn't see you the first time so that you can surprise me? " He suggests with a playful tone. Your pout deepen and it seems as if you don't appreciate his suggestion.

Eunseok's grin grows bigger if possible, finding you absolutely adorable when sulking.

"Come here, sit beside me. Don't think I haven't realised how you were basically pacing around the apartment for the past 15 minutes. " He says as he taps the empty spot beside him.

You don't hesitate to head over towards him and occupy both the spot beside him and his personal space as you lean forward on his arms. You then grab one of his arms and drapes it on your stomach, cocooning yourself into his warmth.

The small intimate act makes Eunseok lightheaded as butterflies erupt in his stomach. That must've been due to the amount of chocolate he has consumed today, mustn't it? 

Eunseok fail to even believe his own words the moment the tip of ears turns pink, making him slowly lose focus.

"What are you doing? " You ask your husband who has been fixing the position of his phone for the past few minutes, seemingly trying to find the perfect angle. You tilt your head up to meet Eunseok's gaze, unconsciously snuggling closer to him. "Are you trying to take a picture? Could've just asked me you know, I'm pretty good at taking pictures. "

Eunseok almost laugh at your assumption. If only you know the real reason he's setting up the camera, you would probably be frowning and asking him why. You probably will also have your eyebrows meet from an adorable frown.

"I'm gonna have a video call with my members, why? " He says softly, finally getting the angle he's looking for. He leans back on the couch and pulls you along with him. He's cautious though, fearing that you are able to hear his loud heartbeat if he pulls you in closer.

You say nothing as you scroll on your phone, giggling to yourself at a silly cat video on your TikTok For You page. You lightly tap on Eunseok's arm to show him the video, your giggles only getting louder as you keep on rewatching the video.

After the video replays for three times, you finally lift your head up to take a look at Eunseok's reaction. Surprise overtakes your body when you catch Eunseok staring into your eyes.

He doesn't stop— no, he continues to stare at you even when he gets caught in the headlights.

Your cheeks grow warm. You want to look away and bury your face in the pillow beside you, maybe you might even pretend he wasn't just staring at you. However, you somehow just cannot take your eyes off of him.

The same thing goes for Eunseok.

A vibration from your phone causes you to look away from him. You fish put the small device from your back pocket and check the notification. Seunghan has sent you a message.

hannie ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა

eunseok is about to beat my ass via discord Pls help me. 🙏

Your eyes narrow at the text message, a confused hum escaping your mouth. Eunseok takes note of the sound and glances at your phone. He immediately sees the text message sent from Seunghan.

You know Eunseok is watching your screen so you simply turn to look at him. "What does he mean by this? " You tilt your head, confused. 

Eunseok opens his mouth to answer but he struggles to find the right words for it that won't make him sound insane. You tilt your head further and Eunseok finds himself getting distracted by your beauty.

You look so adorable from this angle, he thinks. The position is perfect. He has your back pressed against his chest as his right arm rests on your shoulders. Your rounded eyes looking straight into his. The smell of your sweet body lotion invades his nose and he loves it so much. Most importantly, the warmth of your body provides comfort to him— like a soft blanket on a chilly autumn evening.

A loud ringing sound coming from Eunseok's phone causes the both of you to break the eye contact. Eunseok hesitates but the sound is too loud to his liking.

He looks at the phone he has just set up snd see an upcoming discord video call from 'RIZZLERSSS 😏🔥'. He sighs deeply, reaching out to decline the call. However you stop him, asking him if it's Riize's discord server.

"Are your members in there? " Your eyes sparkles when you turn to look at Eunseok again. He hesitates a bit but eventually mutters a small yes. You gasp, your body turning around to face his as your left hand touches his right shoulder. "Can I talk to them, please? "

Eunseok wants to decline, knowing the true nature of the video call. However the sparkles in your eyes are just too captivating. Actually, it might be your touch on his shoulder because he swears he can feel himself getting hypnotised. He can't say no to you anymore.

"Of course. " His smile crooks as the words leave his mouth, yet he presses on the accept call button, putting both of you in the call.

"No we can't cancel this, how else am I supposed to see you guys e-fighting? " Sungchan says to Seunghan who is trying to convince everyone to leave the call.

They continue to bicker for a little while until Wonbin points out the small screen with you and Eunseok inside. "Is that Eunseok— and Y/n? " He says, confused.

You give him a little wave along with a smile. Unmuting the mic, you greet them excitedly. "Hi everyone. Hi Seunghan! " You wave a little more enthusiastically at Seunghan, missing the way Eunseok's eyes narrows at it. The rest of the members looking uneasy, especially Seunghan.

"Where's Sohee? " Anton asks, trying to break the ice. Everyone only realising then that one of their maknaes are missing. Shotaro shrugs, "Probably blowing up the toilet. I saw him eating the 2x spicy buldak for dinner. "

The call is silent for a few seconds. No one knowing what to say. Normally, their call has never been silent. However, the presence of you makes a few of them shuffle in their seats awkwardly.

"You know what fuck this. " Sungchan says before clapping his hands. "Welcome everyone— and Y/n— to the fight of Eunseok and Seunghan! "

You frown in confusion, your body turning back around to face Eunseok. "What do you mean fight? You're gonna fight Seunghan? How, virtually? " 

Eunseok's body tenses for a moment, his eyes not meeting yours. Instead, he looks over to his members over the call and sends a help signal through his eyes.

Sungchan chuckles awkwardly, his hand rubbing his nape. "Well Y/n, Eunseok here is super jealous of Seunghan for getting your attention so we, as per his request, set up this call for them to fight! " He ends his speech with a toothy grin.

"Is this what this is about Eunseok, you're jealous? " Your tone unbelievable at the newly found information. "Is this why you were grumpy this morning? " A chuckle leaving your lips this time.

Eunseok finally looks down on you and nods sheepishly, his lips pursed together. "I mean, I'm your husband and this is supposed to be our honeymoon yet you're giving Seunghan all the attention. "

You laugh louder this time, the sound of it resonating within the four walls of your living room. "So you're telling me you did all this just because you were upset I didn't give you my attention? Oh Eunseok... " 

Your eyes look at him with sympathy but your lips are teasing him with a smile. "You're so cute when you're jealous. Now tell me, what do I have to do for you to stop jumping on Seunghan? " Your hands reach up to pinch on his naturally flushed cheeks.

"Follow me on twitter. " Eunseok mumbles quietly, embarrassed at his own request. You tilt your head, not catching his words. "What did you say? "

Eunseok turns his head away from you, refusing to look into your eyes as he repeats his words louder, "Follow me on twitter. "

Did you hear that right? There's no way Eunseok is telling you to follow him on Twitter only because he's jealous with Seunghan. You must've been hearing things wrong and it seems as if everyone else are thinking the same.

"Eunseok be so fucking for real. " Seunghan is the first one to break the awkward silence. One nasty look from Eunseok is enough to shut him up.

"Okay guys, not too much on Eunseok, he's just jealous. " You defend, surpassing a smile. Eunseok opens his mouth in protest but gets cut off by you, "Now if you guys don't mind, we will be leaving the call because apparently my super jealous husband wants me to follow him on Twitter. Bye! "

The small screen that belongs to you and Eunseok disappears the moment you leave the call. You laugh and pinch Eunseok's cheek after you press the 'follow' button on his account. 

"You're so silly sometimes. " You say, your nose scrunching as a result of you smiling a little bit too hard. Eunseok can't help himself from grinning like an idiot, shamelessly admiring how pretty you look like when you smile.

"Yeah, I guess I kinda am. " He replies with flushed cheeks.

On the other side, a beat of silence passes by after you leave the meeting. The members look at each other in confusion until Shotaro speaks up for the first time that night, "What the fuck. "

Sohee, who joins the meeting late as a result of him blowing up the toilet looks at everyone in confusion. "Where's Eunseok? Why are you guys so quiet? " He asks.

Sumgchan shakes his head, still stunned, "I don't know either man. "

yn's new priv's layout btw:

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[nyxs2]

Ma Meilleure Ennemie (pt 11/?)

Some reasons are closer than you realize.

Silco x fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+, MDNI)

Word Count: 7,4K

Warnings: smut, a little bit of female domination, vaginal sex, making love, unprotected sex, creampie, oral sex (f!receiving), orgasm edging, resolved sexual tension, possessive behavior, Silco being a tease, Silco being bad with feelings, thoughts of wanting to kill someone, Silco POV

Set before the events of Act 2 of the first season of Arcane.

Part 10

Silco's Pov ━━━━━━━༺༻━━━━━━━ Silco was between her legs.

He hadn't planned for this when he entered the room the night before. Of course, he had noticed that peculiar glint in her eyes, something carrying that characteristic provocation, as if she were always testing his limits. He knew exactly what that restless, wicked mind of hers was scheming, but unlike what she had likely expected, he didn't take the bait. He simply shared the bed with her to actually sleep. He was far too exhausted to keep playing that game, and the last thing he wanted was to drag it out further. The confrontation in his office had already drained what little patience and energy he had left.

Still, the night hadn't been a loss. He had discovered something valuable: her feelings toward him were more... open, almost vulnerable. That was an advantage. He could work with that apparent softness, shape it to his interests. All in due time.

But not that night. At that moment, all he wanted was to sleep.

Sleep, however, had never been an easy visitor for Silco. He knew what it meant to lay his head on a pillow: opening the door to the specters of his mind. Nightmares, distorted memories, and the relentless sensation that he always needed to be alert haunted him. Most of the time, sleep only came through sheer exhaustion, when his body simply shut down, or through the medications Singed occasionally provided.

But that night was different. He was tired, yes, but not enough to pass out. However, her presence beside him—the steady, measured rhythm of her breathing, the warmth radiating from her proximity—had an unexpected effect. It was as if his own mind was willing to yield, to allow itself a rare moment of rest.

He lay beside her, not too close, but close enough to feel her pleasant warmth. He pretended to be asleep, something that surprised him in how well it worked. She seemed to settle, as if her usual restlessness faded the moment she believed he had already drifted off. It was almost curious how this woman, so full of life and provocation, seemed so small and serene while she slept.

Silco waited patiently. He watched as she slowly surrendered to exhaustion, until finally, her body relaxed and her breathing became steady. Only then, when he was certain she had completely fallen asleep, did he allow his gaze to rest on her.

She looked just as she had for the past seven nights—peaceful, her features softened in a way he rarely saw when she was awake. But this time, something was different. He knew that, unlike the previous nights, she would wake soon, and that certainty brought a peculiar sense of relief, though he would never admit it.

Silco didn't touch her. He didn't wrap an arm around her, didn't pull her closer. Instead, he turned to the other side, his eyes fixed on the darkness of the room, allowing the silence to consume him.

And then, finally, he slept. Still dressed in the same clothes, still burdened with the same worries, but for once, without the demons that usually haunted him. Only the sound of her breathing filled the room, a constant reminder that she was there. Against all odds, she was alive, beside him, in his bed—just as he had wanted. And for now, that was enough.

Silco wasn't sure how many hours he had slept, but the light seeping through the window—left uncovered the night before—betrayed the arrival of morning. However, it wasn't the brightness that pulled him from sleep. It was something else. Something more... tangible. Something he felt before he even opened his eyes.

When he finally did, the sight before him left him momentarily speechless.

She was there, straddling his lap. A vision that would sear itself into his mind like an unrelenting blaze.

She looked like a profane goddess, devoid of any trace of celestial purity, yet still divinely dangerous. Her tousled hair gave her a wild charm; the white shirt she wore slipped off one shoulder, revealing a glimpse of bare skin and the beginning of her breasts—more teasing than revealing. Her firm, bare thighs bracketed his hips, pinning him against the mattress as if she held complete control of the situation. The soft morning light kissed her skin, rendering her almost ethereal—a perfect blend of the profane and the sublime.

And her eyes... Those eyes burned with a fire Silco recognized all too well—intentions far from innocent.

He could get used to this, he thought. He could get very used to this.

Still, he made no move to touch her—not immediately. Silco was not a man who surrendered control easily, even in situations like this. Instead, he settled more comfortably into the bed, his eyes half-lidded in careful assessment as he arched a brow, an expression laced with curiosity and controlled disdain.

"Care to explain this?" His voice came out rough, a mix of lingering sleep and the situation at hand.

She smiled, a smile that promised nothing good.

"You looked like you needed help."

For a moment, Silco frowned, clearly confused by the meaning of her words. But then she moved—slowly—her hips tracing an almost imperceptible circle. It was enough for the meaning behind her words to crash over him like a ton of bricks. He had forgotten he could wake up like this.

Silco reacted immediately. His hands, firm and quick, reached for her hips, gripping them with a hold that conveyed both restraint and authority.

"Don't you dare."

She tilted her head, the mischievous gleam in her eyes growing as she bit her lip, as if testing his limits on purpose.

"I thought you liked a little... initiative."

Silco's grip on her hips tightened just slightly, holding her firmly in place.

"Be careful with your next move, dove."

When she tried to move her hips again, Silco reacted instinctively, attempting to push her off him, but the effort was useless. As if she had anticipated his attempt, she locked her legs against the mattress, keeping herself firmly in place. He felt the weight of her settle even more as she met his gaze with that stubborn, half-lidded look he was starting to know all too well. A look that clearly said: I'm not backing down.

"Get off." His voice was firm, a serious command, laced with the authority he always exuded. But to his growing frustration, she simply ignored him.

Instead, she leaned over him, her arms braced on either side of his head, moving close enough that her hair fell around his face, framing him. Suddenly, all he could see was her—her intense eyes, the teasing glint, and that suffocating proximity.

"You're pulling away." Her voice came as a murmur, laced with something between frustration and challenge. Her eyes met his with a seriousness that felt oddly out of place, considering the position they were in. "You haven't touched me since we got in here. I didn't think you were that stingy."

"What?" Silco blinked, thrown off by the sudden accusation. He tried to focus on responding, but it was difficult, considering the strategically placed weight pressing down on him, scattering his thoughts. "Is that why you're being so stubborn this early in the morning?" Silco let out an exasperated sigh, dropping his head back against the pillow. "Do you think I've lost interest in you?"

This time, it was her turn to roll her eyes, the condescension almost irritating.

"Oh, please, I'm not that naïve." A teasing smile curled her lips. "I know you want me. You want this..." And as if to prove her point, she moved her hips again, defying the firm grip he had on her to keep her still.

He felt his control falter for a moment, but his fingers dug into her hips, his expression hardening.

"Stop that." His voice was low, but there was a weight to it that he hoped would be enough to restrain her.

She, however, only leaned in further, bringing their faces impossibly close.

"But something is holding you back."

"You just woke up from a seven-day coma, and I am not a pervert." Silco's voice was rough, almost a growl, as he kept his gaze locked onto hers. It was as if he were explaining something obvious, something unquestionable, yet to her, it sounded like the most absurd thing in the world. "Of course I stayed away. Sex isn't appropriate in your condition."

He tried to maintain his composure, his usual coldness, but the way she arched a defiant brow and the provocative look she shot him were testing the limits of his patience.

"Oh, believe me, Silco, my condition couldn't be better." she replied, her lips curling into that mischievous smile that always unsettled him. That smile that seemed to promise chaos and absolute control over him. "Better than yours, I'd say... old man."

"Careful, dove."

"Or what?" Her response was swift. "Are you going to punish me? I doubt you have it in you."

The implicit challenge in her words was enough to shatter the last remnants of Silco's restraint. He surged forward, his movements precise and almost violent, flipping their positions in an instant. Now, he was the one above her, his hands firmly pinning her wrists against the mattress. The weight of his body held her down, and he stared down at her with an intensity that felt almost predatory.

Silco could have said he had won this battle. He could have declared victory with her trapped beneath his control. But her smile—that damned smile—only widened. It was the kind of expression that made Silco feel that instead of conquering her, he had walked straight into the perfect trap she had set for him.

The sight of her there, lying beneath him on his bed, hair fanned out against the pillow, lips still curved in provocation, tested the very limits of his self-control. She knew exactly what she was doing, and every inch of her seemed designed to challenge his restraint.

"This is what you wanted, isn't it?" Silco murmured, his voice low and tense, his mismatched eyes locked onto hers, analyzing every detail of her expression.

"Maybe." she tilted her chin up slightly, her posture relaxed despite her disadvantage. "But it looks like you wanted it too."

Silco felt the weight of her words like a knife slicing through his control. The tone, the intensity of her gaze, the vulnerability disguised as provocation — everything about her disarmed him in ways he couldn't explain, and it infuriated him. When she shifted her wrists, he let them go. Her hands rose immediately, traitorous and soft, brushing against his face with a gentleness that almost felt like an insult to the position he had just claimed. She wasn't resisting, wasn't fighting back, yet the way she looked at him... it was as if she were the predator, and he the prey.

"I'm alive, you know?" her voice was a whisper, but there was something deeper beneath it, something Silco caught onto instantly. Before he could react, she pulled his face down, pressing him against her chest. Her strong heartbeat echoed against his ear, a pulsing reminder of the life still running through that stubborn, untamed body. "So make me feel it."

Silco lifted his face to look at her again. The glint in her eyes held him captive, making it impossible to look away. She wasn't just asking—she was pleading in a way that blended desperation and desire in equal measure.

"Give me a reason to stay alive."

Her words echoed in his mind as he remained still for a moment. He wasn't a man who responded to pleas, especially not ones so openly emotional. But something about her... something about this moment made her request sound more like a command he couldn't refuse.

Then, Silco moved — slowly, as if each action were calculated to carve this moment into her memory. He rose above her, his silhouette outlined by the soft light filtering through the window, casting shadows and illuminating the sharp contours of his scarred face and lean frame. His fingers found the waistband of her shorts, slipping beneath with a precision only he possessed. The fabric yielded easily to his touch, discarded along with her panties, as if nothing else mattered in that moment.

If she wanted a reason, he would give her one.

Silco gazed down at her half naked form sprawled out beneath him on the bed, her creamy skin flushed. He ran his calloused hands slowly up her calves, relishing the smoothness of her flesh, so different from the rough, scarred skin of his own body.

Silco's eyes flared with lust as he pushed her thighs further apart, exposing her most intimate area to his hungry gaze. He leaned in close, his breath hot against her slick folds as he inhaled deeply, savoring her intoxicating aroma. Silco's thumb found her sensitive clit and he rubbed it in slow circles, feeling it swell and throb beneath his touch.

He trailed provocative kisses along the inside of her thigh, his lips and tongue leaving a damp, tingling path in their wake. Silco paused as he reached the apex of her thighs, his breath mingling with the heat radiating from her core. He looked up at she, his mismatched eyes burning into hers, before he leaned in and ran his tongue along her slit in one long, slow lick.

Silco took his time, his tongue dragging slowly along her slit, savoring every inch of her most intimate flesh. He seemed determined to map out every contour, every secret hollow and ridge, committing it to memory. His hands gripped her thighs, holding her open, keeping her exposed to his hungry gaze and questing mouth.

Silco avoided her clit, the sensitive bundle of nerves that begged for his touch. He knew how much she craved it, how desperate she was for that push over the edge. But he denied her, teasing her mercilessly, his tongue flicking and fluttering along her lower lips, circling her entrance, dipping inside only to retreat before she could hope for more.

He could feel her trembling beneath him, could hear the needy little whimpers and moans that spilled from her lips. Silco hummed, a low, appreciative sound that vibrated through her core. Every now and then, he'd pull back, his lips brushing against her clit, close enough to feel the heat radiating from it, before moving away to continue his torturous path. He could feel her hips rocking, could sense her growing desperation as she chased his touch, his mouth, his tongue.

He could have been rough, maybe that was what she expected from him, could have devoured her with a hunger born of pent-up frustration and anger. But he held back, his gentle touch belying the dark promise in his eyes. He was being careful, so very careful, with his delicate dove. After all, she deserved some relief after everything she had been through.

Silco felt her fingers threading through his hair, but her touch was gentle, almost tentative. Not the desperate, frantic grip he might have expected from her. He glanced up at her, his gaze colliding with hers as he remained nestled between her thighs, his breath hot against her slick flesh.

He could see the frustration etched into every line of her face, the way her brows were furrowed and her lips were pressed into a thin, tight line. Her cheeks were flushed a pretty pink, her chest heaving with each ragged breath she took. She looked like a woman teetering on the edge, a hair's breadth away from shattering completely.

And yet, despite her obvious need, her pleading eyes and quivering body, Silco held back. He couldn't bring himself to give her what she wanted, not yet. Not until he'd pushed her to the very brink, until she was begging him for mercy, for release.

He nuzzled into her mound, his lips brushing against her sensitive flesh as he spoke, his voice a low, husky murmur. "What is it, dove?" he asked, a wicked gleam in his eye. "What do you need?" he punctuated the words with a slow, deliberate lick along her clit.

"You know exactly what I want." her voice trailed off as she broke eye contact by throwing her head back with a long sigh. The gentle tug on his hair became a demand as she whispered, her voice strained and ragged with need. "Stop teasing me."

Her words trailed off into a desperate whimper as Silco's tongue flicked out to tease her once more, circling her clit again before retreating. The maddening rhythm of his licks and nips was driving her to the brink of insanity, the pleasure bordering on pain.

"Damn you, Silco." she growled, her voice a mix of anger and desperation. "Stop playing with me and just... just fuck me already."

"Shh, dove." he murmured, his words vibrating against her sensitive flesh. "Patience is a virtue. Surely a clever girl like you knows that sometimes, the anticipation is half the pleasure?"

Silco could see the desperation reaching a fever pitch in her eyes, the way her body squirmed and writhed beneath him, seeking more of his touch, more of the pleasure he was so cruelly withholding from her. With a wicked, knowing smirk, he decided it was time to turn his attention to her aching, throbbing clit.

He leaned in and dragged the flat of his tongue along the sensitive bundle of nerves, feeling it pulse and quiver against his lips. He lapped at her slowly, his tongue swirling and circling, teasing her mercilessly. He could feel her thighs begin to tremble, her fingers tightening in his hair as he worked her closer and closer to the edge.

He suckled her clit gently, his lips sealing around the sensitive flesh as he flicked his tongue back and forth, back and forth, driving her to new heights of ecstasy. He could feel her hips rocking against his face, her body arching as she chased her release.

Just as he felt her start to stiffen, her muscles tensing and her back arching off the bed, Silco pulled away. He wrenched his mouth from her sex, his hands leaving her thighs to grip her hips and hold her down as she bucked and writhed beneath him. He could feel the frustration radiating off her in waves, could see the betrayal and anger flashing in her eyes as she glared down at him.

Panting, Silco looked up at her, his lips glistening with her arousal, a wicked smirk playing on his mouth. "Ah ah ah, not yet." he chided, his voice a low, teasing murmur. "You don't get to come that easily. Not until I say you can." he punctuated the words with a sharp nip to her inner thigh, his teeth sinking into the tender flesh just hard enough to make her yelp.

Silco sat back on the bed, his eyes roaming hungrily over her body, taking in every dip and curve, every inch of soft, inviting skin. He let her legs fall open around his waist, keeping her exposed and open to his gaze, his touch, his every whim. His hands slid up her thighs, his fingers splaying over the smooth expanse of skin, feeling the heat radiating from within.

Slowly, almost lazily, Silco began to remove his vest. He shrugged it off, letting it fall to the floor beside the bed. Next, he loosened his tie, the black silk slipping through his fingers like liquid. He tugged it free, tossing it carelessly onto the growing pile of clothing. As he worked on the buttons of his shirt, Silco glanced up to find she staring at him, her gaze almost tangible in its intensity. He paused, his fingers stilling on the button he'd just started to undo, suddenly self-conscious in a way he rarely was. It wasn't often that Silco felt apprehensive about anything, let alone the way he looked. He knew he wasn't that hideous to look at, his younger self attracted attention and certainly the current self did the same thing, but in a somewhat rugged and dangerous way. But there was something about the way she was looking at him now that made him wonder, made him question whether she would find the sight of his half-naked form pleasing to the eye.

"You're staring, dove."

Silco watched intently as she sat up, his eyes never leaving her face, gauging her every reaction. He remained still as she reached out, her delicate fingers starting to unbutton his shirt with a patience that surprised him. He couldn't remember the last time someone had taken such care, such reverence in undressing him.

He braced himself for her reaction, for the revulsion or pity he knew would surely follow when he saw the scars he had acquired over the years. But as the last button slipped free, he saw no disgust in her eyes. Only a fierce, almost hungry intensity that made his blood run hot. He felt her hands on his bare torso, her fingers tracing the lines of his scars, the ridges of muscle and bone. She explored him with a touch that was almost reverent, as if she were committing every inch of him to memory.

He said nothing, watching her through hooded eyes as she helped him shrug out of his shirt, the fabric slipping down his arms to pool on the bed behind him. Somehow, that action felt more intimate than what they were about to do. A kind of intimacy that surpassed even sex.

Silco pulled her towards him, his hands gripping her waist as he tugged her against his bare chest. He captured her lips in a searing kiss, his mouth slanting over hers with a hunger that stole her breath. He kissed her like a man starved, like he wanted to devour her whole, to consume every last inch of her until there was nothing left.

At the same time, he pushed her back down onto the bed, his body covering hers, pinning her beneath him. He could feel her softening, yielding to him, her curves molding to the hard planes of his body. His hand slid down her side, over the dip of her waist, the flare of her hip, until it reached the waistband of his trousers.

With a deft, almost lazy movement, Silco undid his pants, the zipper parting with a soft hiss in the charged silence of the room. He didn't break the kiss, his mouth still moving over her, his tongue still stroking and teasing and tasting her. But he could feel her anticipation, could sense the way her body tensed and tightened waiting for him.

Slowly, almost torturously so, Silco slid his hand inside his pants, his fingers wrapping around his hard, aching length. He could feel the heat of it, the way it throbbed and pulsed in his grip, the way it leaked and wept with the need to be inside her. With a low, guttural groan, he slowly, inch by inch, entered her.

He could feel her tightness, her wetness, the way her walls clenched and fluttered around him as he pushed deeper and deeper inside her. It was a slow, sensual slide, a deliberate, purposeful claiming of her body, but it felt different from the other times. It felt more meaningful, more... visceral.

Silco could feel every inch of her, could savor every second of their joining, could revel in the way she took him in, welcomed him, needed him.

He swallowed her gasp with his mouth, his tongue muffling the sound, his lips curling into a smirk of pure male satisfaction. He could feel her trembling beneath him, could sense the way her body strained towards his, seeking more, needing more. And he gave it to her, his hips rolling forward, his length driving deep, claiming her, possessing her, making her his in every way that mattered.

Silco broke the kiss, his lips trailing along her jaw, her neck, until he reached the sensitive skin of her shoulder. He nuzzled into the crook of her neck, his breath hot and heavy against her flesh as he rested his forehead against her shoulder. His hips continued their slow rhythm, his length sliding in and out of her slick heat, each thrust pushing him deeper, each retreat leaving him teetering on the brink of withdrawal before he plunged back in.

He could feel her nails raking down his back, her fingers curling into his skin, her grip tightening with each thrust. The sharp sting of her nails scoring his flesh only spurred him on, made him drive into her harder, faster, with a fervor that bordered on punishing. He could hear her moans, feel them vibrating through her chest, could sense the way her body strained and arched beneath him, demanding more.

Silco's hand slid up her side, his fingers skimming over the curve of her breast, the swell of her hip. He gripped her chin, turning her face towards him, his thumb brushing over her lower lip. He could see the pleasure etched into every line of her face, the way her eyes were glazed and unfocused, the way her lips were parted and trembling with each ragged breath she took.

Silco held her gaze, those eyes so alive, so human, so hers. A big difference from that soulless white during the incident in Singed's lab.

His hand slid to the back of her neck, his fingers tangling in her hair, gripping it, holding her in place. He wanted to drink in the sight of her, to memorize every flicker of emotion that crossed her face, every gasp and moan that fell from her lips. He wanted to burn this moment into his mind, to keep it with him forever, a reminder of the power he held over her, the way he could make her feel, the way he could bring her to life with his touch.

Silco felt her body stiffen beneath him, her back arching off the bed, her nails digging into his shoulders, her eyes squeezing shut as a silent scream tore from her throat. He could feel her coming undone, her walls clenching and fluttering around his length, her body shaking and trembling with the force of her climax. It was a beautiful, breathtaking sight, one that made his heart pound and his blood sing with primal satisfaction.

Silco let himself go, his hips slamming forward one last time, burying himself to the hilt inside her spasming heat. His release crashed over him like a tidal wave, his seed erupting from him in thick, hot ropes, painting her walls white with his essence. He crushed his mouth to hers, swallowing her cries, drinking in her ecstasy as if it were a fine wine. His hand gripped her hair tighter, his other arm wrapping around her waist, holding her flush against him, keeping her pinned and trapped and utterly his as he rode out the aftershocks of his climax.

Finally, with a shuddering breath, Silco rolled to the side, staring at the ceiling as he caught his breath. However, a sound caught his attention. He turned to face her, one brow arched as he took in her amused expression as she laughed, the way her eyes danced with mischief and satisfaction.

"And you didn't want my help." her voice came out teasing, breathless from both the sex and the laughter.

"How curious you should say that." he murmured, his voice a low, teasing drawl. "Because I remember you begging me to fuck you."

She turned her face to him, strands of sweat-dampened hair clinging stubbornly to her flushed cheeks, framing her expression in a way that struck Silco as unintentionally disarming. Her gaze was soft, a vulnerability peeking through the defiance that usually colored her every word and action. It was the kind of look that unsettled him—not because it posed a threat, but because it invited a reaction he wasn't accustomed to navigating.

That softness in her eyes... Silco wasn't sure how to interpret it. It felt like standing on the edge of a precipice, unsure if the drop would shatter him or leave him standing on solid ground.

"Touché." she murmured, her voice low, yet filled with an unspoken acceptance of her defeat.

Somehow, he felt like he had also lost some internal battle. One he hadn't realized he had started. And he hated it.

"Touché indeed, dove."

━━━━━━━༺༻━━━━━━━

[...]

That laboratory exuded the same dark essence as the Institute, though it carried an even dirtier, more decayed air. The peeling walls seemed to whisper forgotten secrets, while the acrid smell of chemicals mingled with something deeper and more visceral: the pungent aroma of death and despair. It was a suffocating atmosphere that made your skin crawl and your stomach churn. There was something there that went beyond simple physical discomfort; it was as if every molecule of that place was infused with suffering and fear, leaving behind an almost primal urgency to destroy everything around you.

Your senses screamed at you to act, to eliminate the evil that permeated that room. A malevolence that was now embodied in the figure of the scientist in front of you, hunched over you, meticulous in his task. He pierced the needle into your skin with the precision of someone who had repeated the same procedure countless times, without emotion, without hesitation. The dark red liquid filled the collection tubes as you felt an unpleasant tingling creep up your arm.

You knew he had done something. You might not know what, but your instincts told you as much. Something was wrong, and he was the culprit.

Your gaze fixed on him like a blade ready to pierce. You watched him like a predator locking onto its prey, feeling a silent rage grow in your chest, radiating to your limbs. It was irrational, yet it made perfect sense: you wanted to kill him. Not for what he was doing now, but for what he had already done, for what he represented. It was as if he personified everything wrong with that place, as if his death would be one step closer to purification.

The scientist, however, seemed immune to the weight of your gaze. He didn't avert his eyes from his work, focused on filling the tubes with your blood as if it were just another routine task. Perhaps he was used to hateful looks. Perhaps he simply didn't care.

"For analysis." he murmured finally, labeling the tubes with cold efficiency. His voice was monotone, as if he spoke only because it was necessary, with no intention of engaging beyond the bare minimum. It was almost as if you were an object, a tool for experimentation, not a person.

Sevika was there, of course, a solid and inevitable presence in the corner of the room. She was a shadow, but not the kind that went unnoticed; her imposing figure and disinterested, almost bored expression conveyed an unshakable vigilance. Even when she seemed not to be paying attention, you knew she was registering everything around her.

Outside, there were more men, but they weren't there to protect you — after all, if there was any danger in that room, that danger was you. They were there to ensure you didn't escape again, that there wouldn't be another kidnapping attempt or any other incident.

The increase in security measures was undeniable. The night shifts had more men now, and the furtive, monitoring glances had been replaced with blatant surveillance. No one pretended not to be watching your every step, taking note of every move. Your privileges had been revoked by Silco for an indefinite period. In short, your freedom was suspended. No more open doors or unescorted movements.

But what stood out to you the most, what truly made the changes scream at your senses, was the way Silco's men now looked at you. They tried to disguise it, of course. Tried to act like everything was normal, but you saw the apprehension in their eyes, the way their hands stayed closer to their weapons when you walked by. It was subtle, but for someone like you, it was impossible not to notice.

They were afraid of you.

It wasn't the same fear they felt for Silco — his was deeper, rooted in respect and terror for his authority. The fear they had of you was different. It was more immediate, more instinctive. They looked at you as if they expected you to lose control at any moment, as if it was inevitable that you would explode. A caged animal about to strike.

You didn't need to be reminded of the reason. The warehouse. You knew that. No one would ever speak of that night again — Silco made sure of it — but that didn't mean it would be forgotten so easily. It was strange, feeling that fear so tangibly. It was something you used to associate with Silco, with the way he entered a room and made everyone freeze. Now, you were doing the same. And you couldn't decide if it bothered you... or satisfied you.

That is, everyone was afraid — except Sevika.

Sevika looked more irritated than usual, and the reason was obvious: being assigned as your personal guard couldn't have been the most stimulating task for Silco's right hand. She made no effort to hide her displeasure, which only made the dynamic between you even more uncomfortable. The weight of her gaze—half judgmental, half exasperated—was almost tangible, as if you were an unwanted burden, something she had to tolerate simply because it was a direct order from Silco.

You knew what she thought: that this was a waste of time, that Silco could have assigned anyone else to "watch over his whore." It was an expression you had overheard once, spoken in a moment of fury, though never directed at you. Despite the harshness, you understood, even if you hated to admit it.

When Singed finally finished extracting your blood, he applied a bandage to your arm with the same lack of delicacy as always. The gesture was mechanical, as if you were just another piece in his endless experiments. Without another word, he turned away, his hand gesturing toward the door with a clarity that needed no explanation.

You didn't need to think twice. Every part of you longed to get out of that place. Sevika was already waiting outside, casually leaning against the wall as if she were part of the surroundings. Before you could say anything, she stepped forward and, with a brusque motion, threw a coat over your shoulders. The sudden touch made you startle, more out of instinct than anything else.

"What was that?" you asked, lifting the fabric as if you didn't understand the need for it.

Sevika, without even looking at you, shrugged and turned to walk down the narrow hallway.

"It's cold outside." that was all she said, her tone dry, sharp, leaving no room for argument.

You rolled your eyes, sighing as you followed her. Her strides were long, forcing you to pick up your pace just to keep up. It was irritating how even that seemed intentional, as if she wanted to constantly remind you that she was in control of the situation. Then again, you never really seemed to be in control of anything ever since you had come back under Silco's wing.

"Is this really necessary?" you asked, motioning to the bandage on your arm as you quickened your steps. "It's been three weeks, and I'm perfectly fine. I don't see why I still have to come back to this damn place."

"Silco's orders."

Her voice was firm, leaving no room for argument. There was something undeniably final in her tone, something that made it clear she wasn't willing to discuss the matter any further. Her face, as hardened as the steel that made up her mechanical arm, only reinforced that impression.

"Take it up with him, not me."

You took a deep breath, trying to resist the urge to roll your eyes.

"Oh, come on, don't tell me you actually like playing bodyguard." you shot back, crossing your arms. Your voice carried a hint of provocation, but there was also genuine exhaustion in it. "I know you hate this job just as much as I do."

Sevika didn't respond. Her silence was almost as irritating as the idea of being escorted by her. You bit the inside of your cheek, searching for a new angle.

"Well... not that I mind the company." a mischievous smile danced on your lips as you spoke. "I remember you used to enjoy mine quite a bit."

That did it. Sevika halted in the middle of the street, her body coiled like a spring about to snap. When she turned to face you, her eyes burned with an intensity that made the air around her feel heavier. She stepped toward you, her firm footsteps echoing against the pavement, closing the distance until you had to tilt your head back to meet her gaze.

Oh. She looked like she was about to strangle you.

"Don't ever bring that up again."

You tilted your head slightly to the side, feigning innocence.

"Why not? Don't tell me you never told Silco about us."

For a split second, something flickered across her expression—something almost imperceptible in her eyes. Maybe irritation, maybe discomfort. Whatever it was, it bothered her, and that only fueled your desire to keep pushing.

"There is no 'us'!"

You let out a dramatic sigh, forcing your voice to sound wounded. "Ouch. That hurts, Sevika... I thought I meant something to you."

She scoffed, the sound almost as rough as the laughter you remembered hearing from her months ago in a very different context. And yet, you caught it—a fleeting glimmer in her eyes, a trace of amusement she was clearly trying to suppress.

"You're still the same damn brat, it seems."

You smiled. Not just any smile, but the one you knew she'd understand—the one that told her you knew exactly how to get a reaction out of her. "Just the way you liked..."

Sevika shook her head, lips pressing into a thin line, but you could've sworn you saw the corner of her mouth twitch upward, just for a second.

"Oh, what a coincidence."

The male voice cut through your thoughts, making you turn your head toward the speaker. It was easy to recognize the figure in front of you: the faded yellow coat, the metallic prosthetic gleaming under the flickering streetlights. And, of course, that cynical smile—just as much a part of him as his tattoos. Finn.

He wasn't alone. Just like you, he was surrounded. His men were strategically placed around the area, each one gripping a weapon, their presence carrying a silent threat that hung in the air like the metallic scent of blood.

"I didn't expect Silco to let you out so soon, considering... what happened." his voice carried a tone of feigned surprise, but there was something in his eyes that betrayed him—he already knew.

Of course he knew. It was naïve to think the barons wouldn't have heard about your kidnapping. Information traveled fast in Zaun, especially when it involved someone like you, someone directly tied to Silco.

Finn took a few more steps toward you, moving with the confidence of someone who knew exactly where he stood. You felt Sevika right behind you, a wall of protection, her presence as solid as a shadow. Though she hadn't moved or spoken, you could feel the tension radiating from her, like she was just waiting for the slightest excuse to draw her weapon.

"But I'm glad to see you safe and sound." Finn continued, his grin stretching into something almost cruel. "Silco would've been unbearable if anything happened to his little pet."

The condescending tone in his voice made your stomach churn. The way Finn uttered that word—pet—made something inside you recoil. His tone was meticulously chosen to humiliate, to reduce you to something insignificant, a plaything under Silco's rule. Your fingers twitched instinctively, but you held back the urge to respond in kind.

Finn noticed your reaction, of course, and seemed to revel in it. He tilted his head slightly, as if he wanted to appear helpful, though the malicious glint in his eyes said otherwise.

"Anyway, our people need to look out for their own." He shrugged, a casual gesture that felt rehearsed. "So, if you ever need someone to... disappear, if you catch my meaning, or maybe just a friendly shoulder to lean on—" He paused, letting the offer hang in the air for a moment. "Stop by Slickjaws. I'd be honored to have you."

"I'll consider it." you replied, keeping your voice smooth, almost polite, even as bile rose in your throat.

Finn lifted a hand in a gesture you recognized immediately, though it still made your skin crawl. Out of politeness—or mere formality—you offered your own, already regretting it the moment your fingers met his. The press of his lips, or more precisely, the cold metal of his prosthetic, against the back of your hand was light, yet it lasted a beat too long. His eyes never left yours throughout the gesture.

There was something calculated about it, a kind of manufactured intimacy that felt entirely unnecessary. As if every movement of his was designed to feign gentleness, a deliberate attempt to invade a space you had no intention of surrendering.

"You remain quite the vision, my dear." he murmured, his voice as syrupy as poisoned honey. When Finn finally released your hand, it took all of your willpower not to wipe it immediately against your clothes—something he would undoubtedly notice. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have business to attend to."

You watched as he walked away, your gaze locked onto his back, assessing, calculating. Beside you, Sevika had already pulled a pack of cigarettes from her pocket, but her eyes were also fixed on Finn, her expression as severe as yours.

"How much longer is that guy gonna keep breathing?"

"As long as Silco thinks he's useful." Sevika replied, her voice as dry as the undercity air around you. Without even looking at you, she started moving again, signaling that it was time to move on.

But something in you wasn't ready to let the subject die there.

"Didn't that seem a little too suspicious to you?"

Sevika let out a low grunt from her throat, a sound that could've been impatience just as easily as indifference. Without breaking her stride, she shoved her pack of cigarettes in your direction—a gesture so automatic it seemed like she hadn't even realized she'd done it.

"He just barks. He doesn't bite."

You reached out without hesitation, pulling two cigarettes from the pack. In one smooth motion, you retrieved your own lighter from your pocket, the cold weight of the metal between your fingers stirring an odd sense of nostalgia for the situation. You lit Sevika's cigarette first, holding it between your fingers with the same casual ease as always. When the tip glowed red, you passed it back to her before lighting your own.

"Maybe." you murmured, exhaling the first puff and letting the smoke curl lazily between you. "But his barking might attract bigger dogs."

Sevika exhaled through her nose, the smoke spilling out like a deliberately restrained dragon. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she turned to look at you, weighing your words as if trying to decide whether this was a valid warning or just another one of your attempts to get under her skin.

"I'll inform Silco."

[...]

You were on your way to Silco's office, begrudgingly following Sevika's orders. She had shoved you toward the stairs, and the glance she threw over her shoulder before turning back to deal with some unlucky bastard made it clear—she would rather be anywhere else than dealing with more problems.

That brief pause, however, gave you something rare: a few seconds of "freedom." Too bad it didn't last long.

Because something came flying straight at you.

Your peripheral vision caught it too late, and before you could react, it hit your head—hard. The impact was unexpected, knocking you back as a throbbing pain pulsed at the point of contact. It wasn't enough to send you to the ground, but it did throw you off balance.

You braced yourself against the nearby wall, fingers pressing against your forehead as the pain radiated outward. When you finally looked down, you saw the culprit—a small metallic monkey, twitching like an out-of-control puppet. Its cymbals clashed together in a frantic rhythm.

"Don't be so dramatic! I barely threw it."

The voice rang out, high-pitched and mischievous, like it was laughing directly at you. The sound echoed down the corridor, and for a moment, you looked around, trying to pinpoint the source. It was a feminine voice, familiar, brimming with an almost contagious energy.

Your attention, however, didn't stay on the voice for long—because the monkey quickly pulled it back. Its movements grew even more erratic, until a puff of blue smoke escaped from the tiny automaton. And then, almost comically, its head popped off, ricocheting off the walls like a pinball before disappearing into a dark corner of the hallway.

"What the f—"

"By the way, you should see the face you're making right now!" the voice continued between giggles. "Priceless!"

The sound of footsteps behind you broke the corridor's silence. Light, almost imperceptible steps—but you heard them. The owner of the voice. The owner of the damned flying monkey.

As you turned, the air left your lungs, as if someone had just knocked the wind out of you.

Standing before you was a little girl with bright blue braids.

Part 12

AUTHOR'S NOTES: I think a lot of people might have expected something rougher from Silco, considering the slightly dominant touch I gave him. But I’m an idiot for symbolism: see, if you pay attention, every time they had a more intimate moment, Silco was always dressed. And this is the first time he undresses—both in the literal and... not-so-literal sense. Sooooo, you get what I’m saying, right? Also, special appearances by Sevika, Finn, and Singed! And who could that person at the end be?? I have no idea…. 🤭

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[feelbokkie]

L♡VE IN F♡CUS | Chapter 22

WARNINGS: swearing, mention of food and eating, depiction of an anxiety attack

PAIRING: idol!Changbin x fem reader

GENRE: smau, crack, angst, fluff

P♡V: 1st/2nd person (depending on how you view it)

SUMMARY: Amateur concert photographer Y/n has recently been promoted to junior music journalist. Her first assignment? An exposé on the popular Kpop boy group, Stray Kids. Spending an entire tour doing in depth interviews with eight men seems simple enough, but one member isn't exactly open to the idea. Will Y/n be able to break down the walls around his heart, or will her big break turn into a big disaster?

TAGLIST: ♡PENED

W♡RD C♡UNT: 2,972

SCREENSH♡T C♡UNT: 21

A/N: I wasn't planning on writing this chapter so soon but on of you sent me a ko-fi and it kinda motivated me to get this chapter done and out.

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You flip through the menu for the fifth time trying to figure out what to eat. Hyunjin and Wonseok happily chat along in their own little world about some art movement—you lost the plot of their conversation ages ago when they started about a specific type of paint and technique that you’re not even going to try to pronounce. Changbin sits across from you, absent-mindedly fiddling with his menu and nodding to the ongoing conversation.

“Are we boring you so much that you’re just going through the menu? Again?” Wonseok asks suddenly.

“I don’t know what to eat,” You grumble quietly.

Wonseok reaches over and turns a few pages in your menu. When he finds the page he's looking for he traces the page with his finger until he lands on one of the menu items. "They have fish and chips right here."

"Yeah, but I didn't think you'd take us to an actual restaurant. I can't order fish and chips while the three of you order...whatever you're going to order. It's like if I went to a restaurant back home and just ordered tteok-bokki...or if we were in the States and I got chicken tenders and fries." You gently push Wonseok's hand away from you and roll your eyes.

Wonseok pulls back his hand and brings it to his temples, almost as if he's starting to get a headache. "This is probably the only time I'm going to get to treat professional idols to a meal, I'm not just going to give them street food. Just order what you really want to eat because you're not going to be able to order fish and chips for dinner at the place we're going to. I don't want to hear you complain about not eating what you wanted for the rest of my life."

You huff out a 'fine' as you close your menu and set it to the side. Your eyes land on Changbin who is quietly scribbling something on a piece of paper that seems to have materialized. You quietly shake your head and turn your attention to Hyunjin who is looking between you and Wonseok, thinking hard about something.

"You know, Wonnie, Hyunjin is an amazing artist." You pull up your broken arm from resting on your lap. "He's the one who drew all over my cast. He posts some of his stuff on his Instagram. He's probably even carrying around his sketchbook in that tote bag of his..."

"Ah, noona..." Hyunjin's voice trails off as he scratches the back of his neck. You can't see his ears under his hat but you can almost imagine how red they're getting.

Wonseok takes your broken arm and carefully examines the doodles and drawings on your cast. Most of them are flowers and plants. Occasionally, there are little characters like the BbokAri he drew next to Felix's message and the puppy next to Seungmin's. There's hardly any room left for anyone else to write anything. Before you forbade any of the members from hanging out with you without someone else there, Hyunjin would find his way to you when he was bored and draw on your arm.

"Wow, these are amazing, Hyunjin! Do you mind if I look at your sketchbook?"

Your arm is returned to you as Wonseok and Hyunjin get wrapped up in yet another art-filled conversation. Changbin is still focused on his piece of paper, scribbling away. Part of you wishes you could pull out the small tablet you brought with you so you could work on editing photos on the ride to the gallery. But you know that'll only cause Wonseok to scold you for working when you're not supposed to. If you could offer more thought to Wonseok and Hyunjin's conversation that isn't just regurgitated garbage from your first-year introduction to art history course that you took back in university, then you could easily join in their conversation.

Deciding to bite the bullet, you sit up a bit straighter in your seat and rest your chin in your good hand. "What are you so focused on writing there Changbin?"

There's a moment of silence between the two of you. He pauses writing but you're not sure if he heard you or is thinking of what to write.

"Lyrics," He mumbles so softly that you almost miss it amongst the noise that is Wonseok and Hyunjin chattering loudly beside you.

"Did you get an idea just now?" You perk up in your seat a bit. "Can...can I see? I won't write about it. It's all off the record."

Changbin's head stays low, focusing on writing his lyrics. It's only now that you're reminded of his inability to focus on more than one thing at a time. The fact that he answered you earlier is strange and probably the most he can do.

You watch him silently as he works. You take note of all of the little things you see. Like the way his brows twitch as he tries not to furrow then while he scribbles something out. Or how the fingers on his nondominant hand dance on the table while his head subtly bops along to a rhythm only known to him. Whether he's simultaneously creating a beat in his head while he works or he's remembering a song that one of the other members of 3racha made is another unknown factor that you wish you knew the answer to. You notice the way he mouths out the words he's writing to himself and how quickly he presses his lips together and shakes his head when it appears to not flow correctly. You can only imagine that this is what it was like watching Michelangelo paint the Sistine Chapel; hypotonic.

You only break out of your trance when your server comes to the table and takes your order, something that neither you nor Changbin noticed until Wonseok and Hyunjin told you. And that's when Changbin finally looked up and caught you staring at him, forcing you to look away as heat rose to your face. Wonseok took advantage of the situation and ordered your food for you before you could change your mind.

After lunch, the four of you decided to walk around London for a bit. When you were working with Han and Seungmin yesterday, you made sure to avoid the more populated and obvious tourist areas, only capturing notable landmarks in the distant background. With more freedom to explore, you all head to the more touristy areas so Hyunjin and Changbin can blend in more seamlessly.

As you walk along the crowded streets, the earlier pain you felt inside the art galley quickly comes back. You're paying less attention to the conversation between Wonseok and Hyunjin and more to your surroundings. Despite the cool day, you feel suffocatingly hot. Almost like something is sucking all of the air out of your lungs.

"...Y/n!"

You snap out of whatever daze you're in at the sound of Wonseok's worried voice. You glance up to meet three concerned faces watching you carefully.

"Sorry, what were you saying?" Your voice is thick is unsteady as you're unable to meet any of their eyes.

"Are you okay? You're walking slowly. I thought we lost you in the crowd for a moment there."

You swallow hard as you try to settle your rapidly beating heart. "I think I ate too much earlier. My stomach hurts."

"You look kind of pale, noona," Hyunjin chimes in. "Maybe we should head back to the hotel?"

You wave Hyunjin off quickly. "N-no, it's okay. I just need a moment."

"I'll go get you some water." Wonseok's voice softens with a gentle tone as he looks around for a shop.

Hyunjin places one hand on Wonseok's shoulder, stopping him from trying to look through the crowd. He pulls his bucket hat off with his other hand, gaining a clear view of the area. "We've been here a few times. I think I know where there's a shop nearby. I'll help you find it, hyung."

"Okay, thank you. Changbin, are you okay watching Y/n?" Wonseok asks the younger man.

Too focused on the unsettling feeling growing through your body, you don't notice that Changbin's already watching you. He's been silently keeping an eye on you since you started to fall behind on your walk. Had Wonseok waited a second longer to notice you, Changbin would have said something to bring their attention to you.

"I got her," He says simply.

With that, Hyunjin tosses something at Changbin and leads Wonseok forward through the crowd. Changbin quietly pulls you off to the side away from the crowd, under the shade of a tree. You mumble out what you hope is a 'thank you,' and focus on Changbin's shoes. They're white sneakers a blue stripe going through them. Subconsciously, you start to count the small holes near the end of the shoe while you place your hand on your chest. You feel your heart beating rather quickly like it's beating a little too hard and might give out at any moment. You apply as much pressure with your hand and take deep, unsteady breaths as you try to calm your heart.

You feel something cover your head, partly obstructing your vision and muffling the outside noise. You look back up at Changbin who is now adjusting Hyunjin's bucket hat that he put on your head.

"Professional idol secret," His words come slowly as he continues to fix the rim around the hat. "A lot of us don't do well in crowds so we wear bucket hats to block out the noise and the view a bit. Fans think we wear them to hide our hair for comebacks, but most of the time it's to protect our sanity."

You swallow dryly, unable to wet your suddenly parched throat. "I go to concerts and fan signs for a living. I do well in crowds."

Changbin crouches down so you can see him under the protection of the bucket hat, a tender smile warms his whole face. It's the first time you've seen him smile since the gallery. "In the past, yeah, but...you have the same expression on your face that you've been getting when we're at the airport lately. You kind of look like Hannie when he's having an anxiety attack."

"I don't have anxiety attacks," You're not sure if you're telling Changbin or reassuring yourself. You can't remember a single moment in your life where you've had an anxiety attack. So why would you start now?

"Okay," Changbin nods before standing up straight again, your view of him is once again obstructed by the hat. He gently takes your hand off of your chest and places it on his own. "At the very least, match my breathing. You sound like you just ran a marathon and I can't help you if you pass out. I don't know cpr."

The two of you stand there for a moment. Changbin's hand is firmly on yours as he keeps it on his chest. You have no choice but to match his breathing by following the steady rising and falling of his chest. You can feel the subtle, yet rapid thuds of his heart beating in his chest despite how calm he is.

Slowly, but surely, your own breathing falls into its own steady rhythm and the strange feeling in your body dissipates. You're not exactly sure how long the two of you stand like that, but eventually you drop your hand from his chest and Changbin let's you.

"Better?"

You slowly nod your head. Most of your discomfort is gone, but you still feel jittery. Almost as if you injected straight caffeine into your bloodstream. "Yeah, I just need to sit down."

Changbin doesn't ask further questions and instead leads you to the small grassy area near the tree and urges you to sit. He joins you on the grass, falling back into silence. Now that you're relatively back to normal, you can't help but avoid looking at Changbin. You're more thankful for the hat now that it can help you avoid his gaze.

The two of you sit there in silence for a few more minutes before Wonseok and Hyunjin find you. Hyunjin is about to question why you're wearing his hat before Changbin stands up and pulls Hyunjin to the side for a moment to talk to him.

Wonseok takes one of the empty spots beside you and rummages through the plastic bag he brought back with you. He pulls out a water bottle and a small metal tin and hands them to you. "I watched a TikTok ages ago and a doctor on there said that mint is supposed to be good for an upset stomach."

"Thank you," You smile tiredly at Wonseok.

Hyunjin and Changbin make their way back to you. Hyunjin takes the other open spot next to you while Changbin sits on the other side of him. They're quiet for a moment while you continue to drink your water and eat the mints that Wonseok bought. Wonseok passes out the other water bottles from his bag to Hyunjin and Changbin.

Surprisingly, Changbin breaks the silence first, asking if the store that Wonseok and Hyunjin went to was crowded. Then the conversation shifted to what everyone planned to do later. Wonseok tells them about your now tentative dinner plans, which leads to an argument. You change the subject to see what the newlywed couple of the group had planned. The conversation shifts again, this time to souvenirs that all of you want to get. Which of course leads to another teasing argument that ends with Wonseok trying to make you spill water on yourself.

"You two are such a cute couple. How long hav--"

You choke on your water as Hyunjin's words catch you off guard and trickle down the wrong pipe. Wonseok has his own visceral reaction, one that you don't see but you can hear the sound of him gagging at the question. Still, Wonseok slaps your back to help you get the water out.

"We--are not--dating." You choke out as you try to regain your composure.

"Y/n is like my little sister," Wonseok adds as he drops his hand back to his side.

Both Hyunjin and Changbin have confused expressions as they watch the two of you. Hyunjin opens and closes his mouth like a fish as he lets out confused babbles. "Sorry, I just thought...you two are...when..."

"Wonseok hyung is older than you but you two talk casually. Plus you're so close." Changbin says finally. Hyunjin shuts his mouth and nods quickly, agreeing with Changbin's reasoning.

"That's because Wonnie is a pathological liar--ouch!" You rub the spot on your leg where Wonseok hit you and glare at him. Although, you're not sure he saw your face through the hat.

"Stop telling people that I'm a pathological liar." You don't have to see to know that he's rolling his eyes. Wonseok shifts a bit and faces Hyunjin and Changbin. "I enlisted right after I graduated high school to get my military service over with. I ended up liking it so much that I stayed for two more years. When I finally enrolled in university, I was so much older than everyone in my classes that I just never mentioned how old I was. I met Y/n our senior year during our internship so I never said anything. She didn't know that I was older until we got our official IDs with our birth year on them."

"And he's so much older," You crack a smile.

"Stop that, I'm only 3 years older than you."

"Whatever," You wave him off as you turn back to the two younger men. "Besides, we're really like family. His parents treat us like siblings."

"Plus I have a girlfriend."

"And he has a girlfri..." Your voice falters in the middle of your sentence as you think about it for a moment. You turn to Wonseok and blink for a moment as you try to process what's happening. "You got a girlfriend? You actually got a woman to talk to you? Romantically? Who is it? Do I know her?"

His lips form a line so tight that the skin around them turns white while he tries to think. You flip part of the bucket hat up so you can see his have better. He's looking down at a blade of grass, contemplating something before he meets your eyes. "Frankie,"

"My Frankie?"

"Well, technically our Frankie but yeah." He sheepishly scratches the back of his neck.

"Oh," Your heart rapidly sinks to the bottom of your stomach.

You physically bite your tongue to prevent yourself from asking a million questions. Knowing that your best friends are dating behind your back hurts. Especially when there's an unspoken agreement against keeping secrets. So why did…

"I'm going to throw this all away and then we can explore a bit more." You get up quickly and take everyone's now empty water bottle.

If you stay where you are and continue to let your mind wander any further, you're going to either say something rude to Wonseok or burst into tears. You're happy that your friends found happy relationships. But they kept it from you and the idea of that doesn't feel good in your head or your heart.

"Noona--"

Wonseok puts his arm out, preventing Changbin from going after you. You're out of ear range as you walk quickly to the trashcan. Wonseok turns to both younger men and shares a small smile. "I get it but if you try to comfort Y/n when she's upset, it's going to become a bigger issue. Trust me, she hate when people see her upset or cry. Just let her have a moment and then she'll be okay."

—

Buy me a coffee?

—

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[babsworlds]

DOUBLE LIFE.

pairing. Tangerine x wife! reader

synopsis. everyone has their secrets, your biggest one was your job.

warnings. Tangerine’s real name being Aaron, Lemon’s real name being Brian, this is kinda short, nothing more ig?

IN THE MORNING, you were a loving wife who cared deeply for your husband, Aaron. But in the afternoon, you turned into a deadly assassin.

On your wedding day, you promised Aaron you would never lie or keep secrets. But there was one truth you never told him: your dangerous job. Aaron believed you worked at the little bakery you owned, especially when he went on his "work trips”.

Technically, you never lied. He never asked about your real job.

Even though Aaron didn't know what you really did for living, you knew all about his work. You knew he and his brother, Brian, were assassins too. Aaron called his missions "work trips" and you let him think you didn't know.

It was safer that way, for both of you.

You always planned your missions so you would be back home before Aaron returned. You were always ready to welcome him back from his "business trips". It was cute how he had no idea about your secret double life.

So there you were, in Tokyo, boarding a bullet train. You had an easy task: steal a briefcase and disappear from the train. Nothing hard, no required killings or disasters.

Just a normal theft.

From the time you stepped onto the train, you tried to do your job as fast as you could. You furiously searched for the one specific briefcase. It had a unique mark—a small train sticker on the handle.

Bingo. You found exactly what you wanted. "I think I found it," you said to Dylan, your handler, on the phone. You held the phone between your ear and shoulder as you grabbed the briefcase.

You started to slowly realize something as you brushed your thumb over the train sticker. It wasn’t just an ordinary train. It was a sticker of some train you couldn’t remember the name of from Thomas the Tank Engine—a kids show that Brian had always been weirdly fixated on and talked about.

You were Percy, of course.

It could mean two things.

Maybe it was a coincidence.

Or maybe your husband and brother-in-law were on this train too.

You quickly knew the answer when you looked through the glass door and spotted your husband, Aaron, sitting in economy class. He was casually dressed, blending in with the other passengers, but there was no mistaking him. Your heart skipped a beat as you realized that this was no coincidence.

Carefully, you continued to observe, noticing Brian who sat opposite of Aaron, seemingly engrossed in his phone.

But Aaron wasn't your husband for no reason. He could literally sense your presence.

"What's up, man?" Brian asked his brother, noticing Aaron's sudden tension.

"I guess I just miss Y/n," Aaron shrugged, trying to shake off the feeling.

"You always miss her," Brian replied with a chuckle. "She's got you wrapped around her finger."

Aaron smiled, but his eyes continued to scan the train, the nagging feeling that something was off.

You quickly walked through the narrow, never-ending aisle of the train cars, your mind racing with the recent revelations. You had missed your station stop, too occupied by your thoughts and the intense conversation with Aaron.

With each step, you felt the tension and anxiety building. The briefcase was still in your grasp, and you needed to find a way to get off this train without drawing any more attention.

"Madam?!" someone yelled after you, and you recognized the voice immediately. It was Aaron.

You didn't stop. Instead, you quickened your pace. "Madam?!" he called out again before grabbing you by the shoulder, making you turn around.

You looked into his eyes, and he looked at you with an emotion you couldn't even recognize. "No fucking way," he cursed as he saw you.

You were quiet. You couldn't bring yourself to say a word. "What are you doing here?!" he asked, his voice filled with confusion and concern.

"Could ask you the same thing," you started, trying to avoid his question.

"Well, I'm here on my business trip," he said, his eyes narrowing as he tried to make sense of the situation.

His eyes wandered over your body, finally landing on their briefcase in your hands—the one you were supposed to steal. "And why do you have our briefcase?" he asked, suspicion lacing his voice.

A wave of realization hit him. "Fuck me," he breathed out, trying to process it. "You're an assassin."

"Why didn't you tell me?!" he raised his voice, frustration evident. You rolled your eyes, trying to stay calm. "Because I knew you would freak out," you admitted. "Just like now."

"Don't act like you're innocent, Aaron," you started, your anger only growing.

"Psst, I'm Tangerine," he corrected you, using his code name. You rolled your eyes.

"Whatever. I know you're an assassin—I've known for years," you began, your tone turning passive-aggressive. "I've kept your secret, just like I've kept mine!”

Aaron—or Tangerine—looked at you with a mixture of surprise and frustration. "And you never thought to tell me?" he asked, his voice rising again. "Why hide it?”

"Because to be honest, you two suck at this job," you shrugged, chuckling to yourself.

"Pardon, love?" he said, raising an eyebrow.

"I mean, you were supposed to look after this briefcase, and finding it was the easiest thing ever," you replied, a smirk forming on your lips.

"So what now?" Aaron asked, looking at you with a challenging glint in his eyes. "Are we going to fight for it?" he smirked, clearly enjoying the tension.

"I'll kick your ass," you smirked back, feeling a mix of adrenaline and excitement.

[nabipumpum]

｡𖦹°‧ Coming back to you ᴴᵃⁿⁿⁱ ˣ ᴿᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ

Pairing - Pham Hanni X fem!Reader

Genre - slight angst, fluff

Synopsis - Months after you have followed separate paths, the silence between you is as deafening as the words that have never been said. Both try to move on, but there is something that continues to connect them: absence. As time goes by, memories become more alive, and the lives you try to build without the other begin to unfold in unexpected ways.

Warnings! non idol au!, mention of alcoholism, a certain dependence?, not reviewed W.C.: 1.776

Part 1 | Part 2

Newjeans masterlist

Weeks turned into months, but the void left by Hanni didn’t seem to diminish.

You spent your days trying to fill the time, immersing yourself in routines that once seemed insignificant, but were now your only way to maintain your sanity. The support group, the new hobbies, the lonely nights you filled with old movies… Everything was an effort to move on.

But in the silence of the early morning, it was she who filled your mind. Hanni’s smile, the eyes that always seemed to see right through you, and even the way she caught your attention when she knew you were closing yourself off.

You knew you no longer had the right to text, but that didn’t stop your hand from hovering over your phone, your fingers itching to type a simple: “I miss you.”

And on the other side, Hanni wasn’t so different.

Although she had gone back to her routine and kept up appearances, the sound of her name still echoed in the corridors of your mind.

Sometimes, when conversations with her friends lost their meaning or when the silence became too heavy, Hanni found herself looking at her cell phone, going through old messages she never had the courage to delete.

She told herself it was better this way. But on especially lonely nights, Hanni felt the weight of what she had lost, and the longing was like a slow blade.

It was on a rainy afternoon that you found yourself walking aimlessly through the city. The fine drops soaked your jacket while your footsteps echoed on the wet sidewalk.

Everything seemed heavy, but at the same time, there was something comforting in the melancholy of the moment.

Without realizing it, you arrived at the park. The same park where everything began and ended. The memories came like a blow: Hanni on the swing, the way she looked at you when you said something that seemed to break her heart.

You sat on a bench, letting the rain mix with the tears that you didn't even realize were falling.

Meanwhile, on the other side of town, Hanni was at a café with some friends, but the conversation seemed distant. Something was off, and she knew exactly what it was: you.

“Are you okay?” Danielle asked, interrupting Hanni’s thoughts.

“Yeah, just… I’m distracted.” She replied, forcing a smile.

But when she looked out the window and saw the rain falling, Hanni felt her chest tighten again. The same tightness she felt whenever she thought about you.

A few weeks later, you finally crossed paths again. It wasn’t planned, but it seemed inevitable.

You were leaving a supermarket, holding a bag with fruit and bread, when you saw her. Hanni was on the other side of the street, walking quickly, a backpack slung over her shoulder.

Your heart stopped for a moment. You didn’t know if you called out to her or if you simply pretended not to see her.

But Hanni saw you. And, for a moment, your eyes met.

She hesitated, and you noticed the small, sad smile she gave before turning to continue walking.

Before you could think, you called out to her.

“Hanni!”

She stopped, turning around slowly. Her face was serene, but her eyes gave everything away: longing, hurt, and something else you couldn’t quite identify.

“Hi…” she said softly, as if the word was hard to say.

You hurried across the street, the words tumbling over each other in your mind. “I… I didn’t know I’d see you here.”

“I didn’t expect it either.” She replied, looking down at the ground for a moment.

The silence between you was heavy. It was the kind of silence that only existed between two people who had been everything to each other and were now just… strangers with a shared past.

“Are you okay?” you asked, finally.

Hanni nodded, but there was something in her manner that told you it was an automatic response. “And you?”

“I’m trying,” you answered honestly. “Some days are better than others.”

She looked at you, and for a moment, you thought she was going to say something important. But instead, she just smiled slightly. “I’m happy for you.” she said, before tightening her grip on her backpack and taking a step back. “I… I have to go.”

“Sure.” you answered quickly, feeling the familiar tightness in your chest. When she turned to leave, you stood there, watching as Hanni disappeared into the crowd.

And on the other side, Hanni couldn’t help but look back one last time, her face carrying a mix of longing and regret.

The days that followed were filled with the shadow of that encounter.

To you, the sight of Hanni seemed clearer than anything around you.

The way she looked at you, as if she was holding herself back from saying something else, haunted you.

Hanni, on the other hand, began to question her own choices. She knew she had done the right thing by walking away, but the sight of you trying to change, trying to move on, affected her in a way she couldn't explain.

They both went about their daily lives, pretending that time was healing them the wounds. But at night, when the world went silent, the emptiness left by the other seemed louder than ever.

Hanni thought of you. And you thought of Hanni.

But neither of you found the courage to fill the silence.

It was a cloudy afternoon when you saw her again. This time, it wasn’t by chance. After days of dwelling on the brief encounter at the supermarket, you decided you had to act.

You knew where to find her. A small café near Hanni’s college was the place where she usually studied. And there she was, sitting alone with her headphones on, a notebook open and a pen twirling between her fingers.

Your heart was beating fast as you approached her, hesitant. For a moment, you thought about going back, but then she looked up and your eyes met.

“You.” she said, surprised.

“Hi…” you replied, feeling your voice crack.

She took off her headphones, putting them aside. “What are you doing here?”

“I… wanted to talk to you.” you said, nervous. “If you have time.”

Hanni hesitated, but then closed her notebook and gestured to the seat across from her. “Okay. Tell me.”

You sat down, your hands sweating as you tried to find the right words. “I know we saw each other at the grocery store, and I didn’t say everything I wanted to. But… I needed to see you again.”

“Why?” she asked, her tone cautious.

“Because I wanted to show you that I’ve changed.” you said, taking a deep breath. “That everything you said to me that day in the park, and later at the café… I heard it, Hanni. And I took it to heart.”

She frowned, as if trying to understand where you were going with this.

“I’ve been sober for six months.” you continued, your voice shaking. “It wasn’t easy. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but I did it. For me. Because I realized I couldn’t keep living the way I was.”

Hanni was silent, her eyes fixed on yours.

“And part of it was because I realized how much I hurt you,” you added, feeling the tears well up. “I don’t want to use you as an outlet ever again. I want to love you the way you deserve to be loved.”

She looked away for a moment, biting her lip. You didn’t know what to expect, but then she spoke:

“I’m happy for you.” she said softly. “I really am. You’re trying, and that’s… amazing. But I don’t know what that means for us.”

“It means that if you still have feelings for me, I want to try again.” you said, your voice thick with emotion. “But only if you want me to. Because I don’t expect you to trust me right away. I just want a chance to prove that I can be different.”

The silence that followed felt like an eternity, but then Hanni sighed and looked you in the eyes. “I’m not going to lie. I missed you. More than I’d like to admit.” But… I’m scared.”

“Scared of what?” you asked.

“Of getting hurt again.” she admitted. “Of letting myself believe that things will be different and ending up in the same place.”

“I understand.” you answered sincerely. “And I’m not going to ask you to trust me now. I just want to show you, over time, that you don’t need to be scared.”

Hanni looked at you for a moment longer, as if trying to see the truth behind your words. Finally, she gave a small smile.

“Okay…” she said softly. “Let’s see where this goes.”

Your heart skipped a beat, but you held it in. You knew this chance was just the beginning.

In the months that followed, you began to rebuild what you had lost. Hanni was cautious, but little by little, she began to relax around you. You shared laughs and long conversations again, but this time, there was something different: transparency.

You made a point of being present in every moment, not just the bad ones. You would invite Hanni to go for walks, to watch movies, to study. And she, in turn, began to trust you again.

One afternoon, while you were at the park — the same one where so many good and bad memories were made — Hanni held your hand.

“I think for the first time in a long time, I don’t feel afraid.” She said, smiling slightly.

You squeezed her hand, feeling your heart warm. “I promise you’ll never have to feel that way with me again.”

One night, while you were lying on the couch, watching a random movie, Hanni looked at you with a smile that was pure relief.

“You know I’m proud of you, right?” she said, her voice soft.

You smiled, feeling your eyes sting with the tears that were coming. “Thank you for giving me a chance. For believing in me, even after everything.”

Hanni leaned in to kiss your forehead. “I believe in you. I always have. I just needed you to believe in yourself too.”

In that moment, you knew that despite all the hardships, you had found your way back to each other.

And this time, it would be different.

[ranpazz]

FOOL ME ONCE, FOOL ME TWICE. ft. Fyodor Dostoevsky

synopsis ; Fyodor kept telling himself that he only kept you around for your ability. But how many times can he keep saying the same thing when you show him such genuine tenderness?

cw ; angst if you squint, mostly fluff, mentions of self-harm (fyodor biting his nails), you're his little nurse tbh, IT'S PROOFREAD FOR ONCE!!!

Beneath the Silken Dreams – An ability that allows whatever the user imagines to come to life. Fictional entities, objects, and living creatures. As long as there is a clear image in mind, it will become reality. However, this power cannot manipulate timelines, outcomes of scenarios, or the world.

Fyodor was a complicated man– one with a cryptic goal. Only a handful of individuals were aware of his status, his intellect, what he could do, what he would do. His goal was a tedious one, eliminating all ability users from this world. You knew his priorities better than anyone, he had reminded you countless times. He also didn't hesitate to remind you why you were still by his side. "Your ability is useful," he'd say, and that cold yet mocking tone was all you needed to hear.

You truly should have known this from the start. People that were subordinates of Fyodor were exactly what they were called. Subordinates. Disposable, replaceable, pawns for him to strive closer to his desire of a promised land. However, even with those painfully clear facts, you wanted to believe you were treated just a bit better.

In fact, it was rather noticeable. You've always been near Fyodor even before you became a part of this organization. Throughout the silence that filled the air when you were in his presence, there was always an unspoken conversation between the two of you. Perhaps you were delusional, or maybe you were right. He'd never inform you of the answer either way.

He noticed it though, how he allowed you to easily wander around like a stray cat, you were never too far away from him. He told himself that it was due to your awareness of your usefulness in his plans, yet, even he knew that there was more to it than that. This –whatever this was– was certainly a relationship that he couldn't figure out. Fyodor, for once, did not want to piece this together. Growing attatched with someone in this world was a mistake– a grave one for the reciever.

How can he push himself away when there's something so alluring about you that even he cannot overcome?

"Fyodor-kun," you called out. "your tea."

This was a tradition of sorts for the both of you. Everyday, at a certain time, you'd bring him tea along with a few snacks. It occurred without fail, and he noted it. Fyodor refused at first, he didn't want to accept your generousity. Eventually, he gave in just to indulge in you, after all, you continued insisting to the point where he cannot comprehend his next thought.

Fyodor looked away from his set of monitors, turning in his chair to face you. He then took the teacup you had prepared– the same one as always. As he took a sip, his eyes softened the smallest bit at the sight of you. You looked tired. Had you not been sleeping well? How come he had never noticed this before?

"{♡}, you should attempt to receive proper rest," he began. "You're of no use to me if you're surviving off of mere winks."

Honestly, he knew that the part involving your usefulness was not necessary, but he would rather remind you of your place rather that sound like he cares. Unfortunately for his emotional constipation, you caught on. It warmed your heart to see the subtle concern he expressed– it meant you were getting somewhere.

"Try these. They're delicious." You ignored his suggestion about your rest, pointing to the thumbprint cookies on the small tray. Fyodor enjoyed jam with his tea, you learned, so you decided to make cookies to test his palette.

He gave you a neutral, almost unimpressed, look. You mirrored it, albeit with a silent plea in your eyes. 'Please please try them,' you thought, and as if he could hear your mind racing, he sighed, setting down the teacup before reaching for a cookie. You noticed the teeth marks and dried blood near his nails– he'd been biting them again.

It was almost ridiculous how familiar you were with his habits, the little things he did or enjoyed. Though, the self-destructive habits upset you, and it didn't matter if he cared about your outbursts or not. He shouldn't have done them if he did not want to hear it.

"You've been biting on your fingertips again," you stated, a frown playing on your lips. "I keep telling you to find some alternative to that, Fyodor-kun." The Russian did not pay you any mind, bringing the small cookie to his mouth and taking a bite. You wondered if this was the first thing he's eaten today, and knowing him, it most likely was.

He let out a quiet hum of satisfaction from the taste of the dessert, the jam balancing the sweetness of the dough. It did not surprise him that your baking had been advancing, especially since it was always you who tended to him. "You did a splendid job baking these. Leave them there. I will finish the rest later on."

Your heart fluttered from his praise, but you quickly reminded yourself of the state his hand was in. Thankfully, you had prepared for these –reoccurring– situations. Fyodor observed with a subtle interest as you rummaged through one of the drawers in his desk, pulling a package of bandaids along with alcohol wipes, holding up the items with a knowing glint in your eyes.

The next sigh he had let out was one of resignation, extending his hand out to you with a look of something you couldn't quite name. Instead of dwelling on it, you tore open the little packet of alcohol wipes, placing the seal aside. You took his hand in your own, his touch cold yet familiar. Dabbing the alcohol pad against the tiny wounds, he didn't even react.

You wondered how people would react if they discovered that the 'demon fyodor', monster of the underworld who trampled anyone who opposed him, was getting the most insignificant of injures cleaned. People feared him –his touch– but you were never afraid of his ability, much less himself. Call it naivety or bravery, but you could never bring yourself to be fearful of him. To you, Fyodor was simply a man who wanted a pure world, to offer benevolence to the children and bring light. His methods were questionable, you knew that, but you'd do anything to help him achieve this dream world.

After cleaning the cuts, you opened a couple of bandaids and wrapped them around each finger delicately. He did not understand how you could handle someone like him with such care, as if he were the most fragile thing on earth. His piercing gaze trailed from your hands to your face, studying you. You were used to his habit of staring, so you let him be.

You tossed the wrappers and such away into the small bin beneath his desk, offering him one more smile before stepping away to tend to your other duties. "I'll see you later, Fyodor-kun." You said, leaving the room without another word.

Unbeknownst to you, a small yet noticeable smile had revealed itself on Fyodor's usual expressionless face when you left his office. If only you were aware of the genuineness behind it.

He supposed you were more important than he presumed back then.

[starpoweredv1b]

With finding out you do like JJK, I gift you this drabble with Nanami.

Nanami isn't a dad. He is still single, and his life is still all about punching that time card. That is until one day, when he is getting off, a colleague begs him for a favor.

"My daughter normally takes the train home, but with all those reports of chikan reports lately, do you think you could possibly take her home?"

She is lucky that Nanami is such a stand-up guy and agrees. Taking time out of his valuble off time, he drives to the nearby college to wait. Still in his suit and tie, he is leaned against the side of his expensive car, always the gentleman he plans to open the door. He gets appreciative looks from girls passing by, but he has no interest in any of them. 'To young' he thinks to himself, that is until he sees his little soon to be passanger. Bright eyes look around the parking lot on the phone with someone, stretching up on tiptoes to try to get a better vantage. Silly little girl, don't you know that isn't how seeing better at a distance works? When she finally catches sight of him, she hangs up the phone and makes her way over to him with a bright smile to match those bright eyes.

"Mr. Nanami?" she asks once she gets close enough to be heard, sweet voice filling his brain like cotton candy and she was just so tiny as she stood in front of him. She would be easy to pick up. Hell, he could do it with one arm if she didn't squirm. Maybe even if she did. "Yes. Your mother sent me to take you home." he says. His voice was full of authority, but still polite. He put his hand out for her bag, but instead, she placed her own small hand in his mistaking it for a handshake instead. Everything about her was tiny. No wonder her mother was worried and asked him to go get her daughter. He would never do anything to her against her will.

In the car, he was now trapped with her smell, too, trying to make idle conversation, but it was hard when she smelt exactly like a vanilla cupcake. It's not the cheap perfume type either. "I'm going to school to be a baker." she proudly tells him the smile on her face makes him want to ruin it with his cock down her throat, but he waits. Ever the gentleman that he is. He doesn't even get home before he is fisting his cock roughly to the scent of her still in his car and texting her mother that he would be more than happy to keep picking up her daughter and making sure she got home safe, free of charge of course.

Over the weeks, he slowly starts getting his little passenger used to his touch. A hand on her back as he guided her to the car. Pushing her hair out of her pretty face when she looks up at him. No, he didn't just trail his fingertips down her face. Everything is slow and methodical until she greets him with a hug after a bad day. Tests and her partner burnt the confections they were working on. She huffed and crossed her little arms as her adorably plump and glossed lips pouted. God did he want those lips around his thumb as he absolutely wrecked her. She wouldn't have to have bad days like this if she dropped out of college and moved in with him. She could make him cute little deserts and breads and he could stuff her tiny cunt full of his hot loads every day. It would be absolutely perfect.

She didn't notice his hand on her thigh. She didn't notice it slipped up and up until he was squeezing the fat of her thigh. She didn't say anything when they ended up at his apartment instead of her home, but she did say, "Please." when she ended up across his lap in his secluded parking spot, making a mess all over the front of his pants

Turns out, she was playing the game as much as he was.

-🐱

🐱 anon singlehandedly feeding this account i swear!!! thank you for the gift it made me (s)cream trust.

making reader into his little housewife slowly but surely, god it definitely drives him crazy just imagining her all rounded and glowing with their kid one day, wearing an apron as she bakes for him. thinking about it would literally lead to him going extra deep if he's fucking her. whispering how good she's doing for him as he spears her open to her cervix. circling her clit with callous experienced fingers as he thrusts deep.

he's also the type to give forehead kisses as he cums deep inside. he'll have his hands on the backs of her thighs, her feet on the broad of his shoulders, and cock head kissing the curve of her cervix as he holds her in a mating press. he'll kiss her forehead so sweetly as he bullies her loaded cunt oh my god i need this man so so bad.

also this inspired me to one day write about burnt out salaryman nanami as a chikan. thank you 🐱 anon i am in love with your asks.

[annepi-blog]

Blaine Anderson - Dating Coach (1/14)

Hello and welcome to my fic for the Klaine Valentine's Challenge 2025!

I'm so excited to be participating again this year.

This story is dedicated to the wonderful @fallevs (check out her stories too, they are amazing!) because she made the incredible discovery that when you google Blaine Anderson, the third link you get is - no joke - a dating coach website. I thought this was so funny, and now was the perfect time to turn this into a fun Klaine rom-com for this challenge.

I hope you all enjoy the ride!

Let me know what you think - comments are always welcome!

_______

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationship: Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel

Characters: Kurt Hummel; Blaine Anderson; Finn Hudson

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting; Dating Coach Blaine Anderson; Humor; Bickering; Idiots in Love

Summary:

Kurt had planned a quiet morning. What he didn't count on was Finn bursting in with an announcement that would disrupt his carefully curated peace: he's signed up with a dating coach. Kurt is immediately skeptical. Finn, bless his heart, isn't exactly the most critical person when it comes to these things. What if it's a scam? What if this so-called "coach" is just a smooth talker taking advantage of desperate romantics? There's only one way to find out. Determined to protect his brother (and, let's face it, satisfy his own curiosity), Kurt decides to take a closer look at this so-called expert.

[rei-ismyname]

How Nightcrawler did NOT become a priest

In X-Men vol 2 #100, Chris Claremont showed us Kurt Wagner wearing a priest collar and reading from scripture. Before he had a chance to follow up on that, he left the book and it was just a weird thing that happened for 3 years. In 2003's Uncanny X-Men #423-424, Chuck Austen revisited the idea. TW sexual assault mention, religious trauma.

The X-Men return from a mission to find everyone left behind has been crucified on the front lawn. They didn't do a very good job (the nail goes through the wrist, not the hand) and almost everyone survived. Still, everyone was shaken up.

In trying to get to the bottom of this hate crime they identify The Church of Humanity as the culprits. It comes out that Kurt has been studying to be a priest for years, was ordained and walked away (because he was too horny lol) - except nobody else has any idea what he's talking about. He remembers a ceremony with the X-Men there, they do not. What is going on?

The X-Men decide to track down the Church of Humanity and put a stop to whatever they're up to. They'd also like some answers.

They find Father Whitney, who is a member and the dude who was training Kurt. Instead of being a frothing bigot, he seems genuinely remorseful. Jean Grey figures out there's secrets to be uncovered and Phoenixes the floor open, revealing a bloody lab. The plot thickens.

He's not exactly innocent either. 'They' were angry that Whitney failed. Failed to keep him in the priesthood, failed to curb his lustful desires (good luck with that,) and he failed at remaining a hater. He liked Kurt despite being a 'mutie' but he still did his part in a scheme to make him POPE. Yes, fucking really. He's repentant but fuck this guy.

The X-Men have a location and they close in on The Church of Humanity's Montana HQ. Turns out they have a psychic mutant they've been forcing to brainwash people. The boss is actually mad about the whole crucifixion thing. Meanwhile the X-Men are fighting their way through illusions and bullets.

After a pretty rad moment where Jean claims to have a message from God (it's Phoenix fire) the X-Men make their way in and find an imprisoned human priest who is 'on their side.' He exposits the plan to destroy the Catholic church by installing a 'demon' as pope and then rapturing everyone. It gets sillier.

How were they going to rapture the faithful, to make it appear they'd ascended to heaven? Exploding communion wafers, obviously. We get proof of that when Father Exposition raptures in front of them. He'd been fed the ballistic body of Christ. At this point the ringleader starts ranting at them, making very little sense. My understanding is that The Rapture is a very fringe belief, one that people keep predicting unsuccessfully. Perhaps it's not surprising that the leader is into Deuteronomy (one of the harsher Abrahamic texts, super popular with right wing extremists.)

Kurt basically enters a scripture rap battle at this point, with Havok chiming in every so often. He was adopted by a Catholic family and retained some knowledge. That actually explains a thing or two, but back to Kurt. They fight, find out the leader is a woman, and then she blows herself up. Or maybe she was raptured.

With all that figured out it's revealed Kurt was never a priest. If this fringe sect can even ordain Catholic priests, it was still an illusion - one that Kurt bailed on because of the vow of chastity. He was also brainwashed. The leader, sigh, was once a nun. When she was raped by a priest and victim blamed out the Church and her job, she decided to bring the Catholic Church down. She still loved God but not the religion. This whole plot was her way of achieving that.

I really hate that unnecessary revelation of rape as motivation. The Catholic Church clearly has a history of systemic sexual abuse and cover-ups but this is a clumsy and frankly offensive way to touch on it. It turns a survivor into a mass murdering bigot and makes little sense. Instead of being silly comic book nonsense, it becomes a callous use of real experiences and problems to provide an ex post facto explanation that wasn't really necessary.

Anyway, yeah - Nightcrawler was never a priest. He's Catholic but even in a brainwashed illusion he decided it wasn't for him.

[sofixt0k]

Can you explain to me why the monologue was a lie? I mean, I am 1000% open

Honestly, I don't have it at hand right now, but I'll try to answer you with what I have in mind, if I'm wrong about something, correct me!

• The first thing I want to highlight from all this is the intentions with which they superficially give us the monologue, which you would quickly reach the conclusion that this is finally Mike opening his heart... But is this true?

• Another point I want to make clear is that Mike loves Eleven, he OBVIOUSLY cares about her, but are these romantic feelings?

• The monologue was a product of the situation they were in, Mike desperately needing a way to help, and him thinking after hearing everything Will said in the van, that Eleven needs him.

• That's where it all starts off badly, because it's Mike responding to words that aren't even Eleven's, but rather Will's feelings, and that, adding Will behind him as support for him to say something he hasn't said is... It's weird, it's a very weird decision to include a character's "unrequited love" to save a relationship, or the world with this relationship, whatever... This is not how you write a story of unrequited love.

• What has always made me think that Mike lie is with the ease (at least ease of speech, because him face looks tragic) when he start to say one I love you after another I love you and I love you, I love you... It used to not be hard to tell if she really feels it, you know? It's no excuse to say he was born into a loveless home (although that's not exactly accurate either) when literally Eleven was raised in a lab.

• The words that Mike says in general seem very basic to me, and they confirm the fact that when he is in that relationship he does not separate Eleven from her powers. And from Eleven's expressions throughout the monologue we know that the last thing she needed to hear was all that. And here we go, Eleven trying to save the world and all of Mike's words are encouraging his powers?, mhm...

• Mike's life didn't start when he met Eleven. He had already made a plan to have her sent back to an asylum, which ended up not being carried out when it turned out to be helpful in finding Will.

• The fact that after that monologue they practically didn't talk to each other only shows that Eleven knows, he lied.

There could be more points but these are my main reasons for saying that he lied!

If anyone disagrees with something feel free to comment and share ideas!

[edward-munson]

I don't care | S.H.

Summary: Taking care of Steve after he was attacked by an army of demobats seems like a lot of work, only because apparently he doesn't like you.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x f!reader

Warnings: angst, fluff, mentions of injury, allusion to smut

Word count: 2.2k

☆°•○♡

"You want them spicy or not?" You ask Steve as you make nachos for dinner for both of you.

He's lying on the couch, on his back. He still recovers from the attack of the demobats. His neck is almost fully scarred, but the bites on his stomach and his sides are still painful. You've been laying low together for close to two weeks.

Your friends didn't want to make you team up with them to find Vecna and kill him. Not that you're not brave or strong enough to do so. But you're still pretty new to all of this and someone had to stay with Steve. So you didn't even bother opposing the idea, even though he's not your biggest fan.

God knows why, he never told his reasons. And your friends didn't know either. Maybe Eddie did, but he wouldn't open his mouth about it.

"I still think this is really unnecessary. I'm not a fucking child" He complains as he walks past the kitchen door, leaning against the sink.

With crossed arms, he looks at your food. You made chilli beans, guacamole and cheese sauce for the spicy nachos. You look up at him, trailing your eyes on his neck for an instant before raising an eyebrow to him.

"You can't even hold your own weight, Harrington. Stop being a crybaby".

Steve scoffs at you, but doesn't move an inch from his position. "Jesus, I wish we had another plan".

You drop the spoon you were using, turning your face to look at him. "I'm only doing this because they asked me to. Get off your own ass".

You leave the kitchen, walking out to the bedroom you were sleeping on. You were staying at his house. It's not like there were other options, but you couldn't refuse to stay there when he's alone and barely walking. Well, he can walk. The worst part is that he needs rest because of his wounds.

The past two weeks you've been quite getting along. Not that much, really. It's not like you were friends. Probably more like close acquaintances. Because obviously, he was the one pushing you away.

You didn't leave your room for a while, you were too annoyed to eat, and since it was dinner for the two of you, it didn't feel like you should eat anymore. You decided to spend your time watching something on the TV, which would easily make you get bored.

And then you would read books, or write stuff. It's been pretty tough lately since Vecna appeared. Max almost got killed and now she was staying at Dustin's house. The other kids were coming back to Hawkins to help, maybe Eleven might be able to do something about that.

You actually wished you were doing something fun. Like, taking a trip to the beach or snowboarding since it's fall and the weather has been cold. Your thoughts were pushed back by a knock on the door. Steve didn't open it and you didn't mention doing it either, so he just stayed there.

"Sorry I was an idiot" His voice came out muffled through the closed door. "I know I've been cranky and annoying".

You only opened the door after a couple of minutes, not exactly sure if he was still there. But he looked up from the floor at you. "You used to be nice. I mean, way before this curse happened".

He stayed quiet, because you were right. But what else can he do if the world was turned upside down (almost literally) again? And you almost got them killed once, not on purpose of course.

You were also the one to get too close to Robin and he hated seeing his best friend sharing her friendship with someone else. Because up until then, he was the only one she was the closest he had to a friend, even though he had a strong relationship with Eddie too.

None of it was your fault, but he grew annoyed over you. He couldn't lie to himself and say you weren't too kind and helpful. But he started to become extremely unenthusiastic over you through the year.

"A lot has happened since then. I'm trying to live up to the fact that we're against another monster again" Steve leans an arm against the doorframe, but refuses to keep his gaze at you.

"Which isn't my fault, by the way. Not to mention I'm the one who pulled you out of the watergate before you were eaten".

Another few seconds of silence, which was followed by a sarcastic nasal laugh. He shook his head and hung it low to the floor.

"Oh, you want a prize for that? Because I remember clearly when I didn't ask for your help!" His words were harsh, even if not intended.

But now you were the one who didn't know what to say. Until you feel the bitter taste on your tongue.

"Guess I should've let them rip your skin apart, then".

He saw the door shutting in front of him, cursing himself for being extremely idiotic and insensitive. He almost felt like punching his own face for that.

Steve heard you talking to Eddie that night through your walkie talkie. It was a little bit hard to hear because the reception was static for you. But you could listen to Eddie and God, you missed him and the others. It started to become unbearable to live with Steve. He heard you lament the whole situation, complaining about the way you were treating each other.

He was bitter about the things they were going through. He was angry he couldn't have done more. And he was taking it out all on you. He couldn't face another apology on the same day, because he knew he didn't deserve to be forgiven. Not right now.

The next day, he made breakfast by himself. It took you by surprise, but by the time you were up, he had already eaten. And you wouldn't want to eat with him either. You remember Nancy saying the bickering was just "sexual tension" but you knew it didn't have anything to do with that.

Even though you felt your ears burning from the thought, you couldn't deny to yourself that he was pretty charming. And seeing him shirtless whenever he would change the gauze made you feel weird. God, his hair was always pretty while yours looked like a bird nest after waking up.

The day seemed to have lasted longer since you haven't exchanged a single word to each other. He was focused on watching movies, playing video games and listening to music. He was getting bored out of his mind, but there wasn't much he could do being injured.

You, on the other hand, went out to do some errands. In fact, you didn't care you left him alone. You were getting tired of staying inside. So you went to see Max, and invited her to eat at Burger King. She seemed to feel better to do something like that too. Everything seemed pretty fuzzy lately.

Will, Mike and Eleven were pretty close to Hawkins. Thanks to Argyle who thinks he's a speed racer, and Jonathan who encourages him to drive long hours so they can arrive as soon as possible.

It was almost 7 PM when you came back home. You've finally had some fun after a week. You obviously couldn't be going out since they still haven't found Vecna and he knows about you too. The man in front of you seemed pretty pissed that he didn't see you were out until he woke up two hours ago.

"What? Don't give me that father look" You dropped your backpack on the floor and followed upstairs.

He's got a whole show prepared and he wasn't feeling like he would regret it this time.

"You know you can't just fucking go out and yet, you still do" He walked behind you, like a mother scolding a child.

"Yeah, dad. I know so. But here I am, back in pieces" You turned on your heel to look at him before closing your door.

Much to your dismay, he was faster this time, holding it with his right foot and right hand. Even injured, he was still stronger than you.

"No, don't push it. You can be an easy target for him, you know that?"

You huff, dropping your arm to your side. "Look, Harrington. I'm an adult, and I'm very aware of what I do or don't do. So please, just stop making a scene and leave me the fuck alone".

Steve couldn't even stand arguing with you anymore, it was so tiring. But he knew he would blame himself if something ever happened to you out there. He couldn't let this happen to you, even though you've been annoying him for whatever reason.

He took a step towards you, his hands balling into fists. The way your eyes were boring into him in an unamused face irritated him even more.

"Look, honey" His tone was purely sarcastic and you felt it not only in his voice, but in his demeanor too. "You know you're putting yourself at risk doing that. If I'm not fucking sure you're safe as well, I won't live with that".

At each passing second, you could feel him walking to you, but you couldn't walk back. You couldn't run from him, you couldn't get away from him. You wouldn't, you didn't feel like you wanted to.

"And not just because of my friends, they sure would kill me. But because I couldn't lose another person" You feel his breathing hitting your face, his eyes flicking as he looks at you.

He looks down at you with such intensity, it's crazy how there's a magnetic pull towards him.

You hold his gaze, feeling a cold shiver down your spine. He didn't look like he was about to snap at you, even though his tone was a bit loud.

He furrows his brows when he sees your lip curling into a smirk. "Well, Steve" His fingers move by the sound of his name, you always call him Harrington. "I thought you didn't care if I died or not".

This time, he was the one to smirk at you. "Honey, I don't remember saying I never cared about you".

Your stomach sank at that. Because now as you think of it, it comes crashing down as a realization that he never really said anything related to that. He truly never spoke about it.

"Doesn't seem like it"

"You see, this is why you annoy me so much" His nose bumps into yours, but he still gazes at you like he doesn't mean to avoid eye contact.

"Yeah? Then you should–" He doesn't let you finish your sentence.

Steve crashes his lips against yours, his hands flying down your hips. He feels your immediate reaction as you don't correspond right away. For a few seconds, he thinks he's done the wrong thing and almost regrets it, until you grab him by the neck with both hands. You wrap your fingers around his neck, your fingertips grazing the nape of his hair.

Your lips are smacking his lips in a hurry, while he runs a hand to cradle your face. He slips his tongue into your mouth and holds his breath when he feels your tongue moving in sync with him. He doesn't want to admit this is what he wished he could've done before.

Steve has been so stressed lately that he could only think about defeating Vecna. He didn't realize how much you were willing to take care of him these weeks. All he knew was that he also had to take care of you. And this is why he became so angry when you left without him knowing.

Especially because if something did happen to you, he would feel the regret of being an asshole to you.

He rips a low whimper from you when he gently grasps your lower lip by his teeth as he heaves against your mouth. You're both too absorbed into your own feelings, leaving grunts and gripping each other everywhere.

His fingers were digging your skin every time you would kiss his jawline and he was growing eager. He didn't want to look like he was trying to take advantage of you, only noticing now how much you also wanted this.

He then roughly pulls your shirt off, watching as your chest is quickly rising and falling. And his eyes sparkled when he saw your cleavage for the first time like that. Your bra perfectly hugging your round big breasts.

Steve didn't wait any longer, holding your waist and pushing you back against your bed.

That night, he pounded on you just like you dreamed about. He slapped his hips against your ass just like you wished someone would one day. The air was filled with sounds and lust.

You didn't even notice when your friends arrived right after he had an orgasm. You didn't have time to get dressed, only getting caught when Robin opened the door to you both naked. He didn't have time to remove his condom. She saw you naked. And worse. She saw her best friend naked.

And you thought it was going to be awkward, until Eddie turned the awkwardness into "I knew these idiots would fuck".

The night was all about this. They decided to leave the Vecna subject for the next day.

[tricoloreddango]

☆Glass Breaking☆

Chrollo Lucilfer x female reader

Second and last part to [link]. I recommend reading first part to make a sense of the story.

contents: angst / slight manga spoilers / childhood trauma / Chrollo has an identity crisis / mentions of suicide / non-con attempt (only in a nightmare and as a paranoia) / non-consensual touching / mentions of violence / manipulation / generally suggestive.

Do not read it if you’re a minor or uncomfortable with mentioned topics.

Word count: 8.7k

The hotel suite you were made to stay in was all silent, ignoring the occasional buzz of the AC keeping the place cool. The place was all modern, but with some darker and raw design that wasn't helping your current mood. You doubted it was paid for in the first place as well. No, for someone like Chrollo or other members who sometimes visited, it was much easier to get rid of the person that rented the suite, take over once that person is disposed, and protect their identity at the same time.

Said Chrollo was gone somewhere again, having left without telling you much, as he’s been doing so the entire time of your stay here. It’s been few weeks after he’s taken you with him, with it signalling the start of your new way of living. Every question about his whereabouts were dismissed with a wording too general for you to make a specific guess, unless his leaving was for more trivial reasons such as shopping.

Even just the idea of doing something as simple as shopping felt odd when you thought of Chrollo, now that you’ve learned Chrollo isn’t Eric and that Eric was a completely different person in his being anyway. For all you were not told, he might as well be killing someone during his current disappearance. Probably was.

However, his absence was beneficial to you, or so you assumed. Only then you were able to try to spot any of the smallest details that could let you get out of this place, and today, was meant to be another of your escape attempts. You were now standing near the dark grey door leading out of the hotel suite, ready to discover the mechanism of the electronic lock as another thing on the list of crucial to your leaving details. You didn't plan to go much further than to the reception to ask to call for help; rather you'd make someone working here try to reach out hunter association right away.

Only for your dream to be ruined. You froze in your stand, your hand falling off of the handle when you heard a cheery voice behind you, one you didn’t expect to be heard; not today. You thought you were alone in the suite, deducing that with its quietness.

“Here you are, snooping around again,” Shalnark said with a mock disappointment yet his voice stayed as happy as always. Perhaps to him, your attempts were nothing but childish (and rather adorable, condescendingly), amused that you thought you’d be able to leave. A random and nenless woman, surrounded and known by the wolves aroud her, should only choose to submit to her current situaton.

“Boss wouldn’t like hearing about you trying to find a way out, for…” Shalnark paused, pretending to think of the right number as if he didn’t know it immediately, “… fourteenth time this week!”

You turned around with a sense of unease. You should have known that your moves would have been watched around people like them, people like Chrollo. You were still not entirely sure what the roles of Phantom Troupe members were exactly, especially when they were mostly assigned to simply watch you while Chrollo was gone; not to mention they'd been evading any more serious concerns you had.

Their superiority over you exerted itself in the fact that it was hard to tell each time another troupe member was in the chamber as their moves were too quiet to be spotted to an amateur like you, or even hunters. You could be in another room, just a wall between, and you'll be unaware someone has entered.

You looked at blonde haired young man, wondering what should you say. It wasn’t that being caught again stressed you—it was simply being in presence of members like him that made you anxious, knowing about many crimes the Phantom Troupe was accused of. Especially when, regardless of how many escape attempts you had, so far, there was no consequences for you—somehow. Maybe they all found them that funny and pathetic they didn’t even take you seriously.

“Chrollo also does things I don’t like yet he doesn’t consider my opinion on that,” you said defensively, crossing your arms. Your words made Shalnark laugh. Yep, you really were an entertainment for the public at this point.

“You’re always so sarcastic, no wonder boss likes you so much!” he giggled, but then stopped for a moment, as if catching himself in some forbidden act. “Don’t tell him I said that though.”

Your eye twitched at the mention of Chrollo “liking you.” You well remembered his given reasoning for forcing you to be the part of his life, and while you tried to make the sense of his wording back then, it still sounded like a mental talk today. This reasoning wasn't enough excusable to drag you out of your own life anyway. You didn’t want to be liked by Chrollo if this is what being likeable by him means. Were you that much of an odd person to draw his interest? You found yourself common in and out. The sarcastic speech was nothing but you being unable to keep your frustrations to yourself, not an attempt at being sassy.

“And why is that?” you asked with curiosity, wondering if Chrollo happens to have a weak spot Shalnark could have just implied; something to use. “Boss is just trying to be all cool and mysterious, you know. I don’t want to ruin his image!” he teased you, not giving you any serious answer in the end.

Next, his hand was on your back as he led you back deep inside the suite, and into a living room with a good view of the city and spacious couch and glass coffee table, tall ceiling, cement walls—all interior in same gloomy colors. You were pushed down onto the black leather couch, and being shoven a remote into your hand. “If you’re really that bored, just watch some movie.” As if you didn’t have enough of them already. “I have some work to do,” Shalnark announced and disappeared into one of the rooms in the corridor. But before he closed the door, he shouted back at you, “And don’t move anywhere, I will know you did!” The door was slammed shut.

The suite was quiet again, but this time, every second felt like an anticipation for something. You didn’t remember the last time you felt truly calm, as your “hostage” situation had you stay stressed out. You missed your life, you missed your aunt, but above all, you missed your autonomy and feeling of safety.

Yes, your life wasn’t glamorous working as an IT worker all day, neither was your pay. There hadn't been much to look forward to that you didn’t do already everyday. But you had a choice and such ability makes people who they are, as that’s how they express themselves; and at least you weren’t dealing with a deadly group of criminals. You were still unaware of Chrollo’s intentions with you (besides “I want to understand you” talk), not sure how far he’d go in hurting you, but expecting the worst just in case—hence your ongoing anxiety.

The silence was killing you, so you turned on the tv. Switching between channels back and forth, you didn’t find anything interesting, but you stayed on news channels for few minutes, hoping to see a report about yourself. You didn’t. It really got you thinking of multiple theories. Was your aunt uncaring about your disappearance? Or, did she report it, but you just weren’t that important in eyes of public to be put on the news for people to know? Or even worse, was she forced to be silenced, perhaps with violence? Chrollo promised to not hurt her as long as you comply, but you couldn’t believe him. Secrecy leads to mistrust, mistrust leads to resentment.

A random commercial channel stayed on when you shoved your head back against the back of the couch, staring at the ceiling. So much boredom was forced upon you. Chrollo took you outside, knowing you’d be both an annoyance and resentful if he keeps you inside all day, but you never had a full control of the choice where and for how long. You felt more like a dog being walked, and it’s not as if you enjoyed his presence much. You liked Eric from before whole Chrollo reveal, but he was an illusion of who Chrollo truly was.

Another thing was the cause of your kidnapping. Normally, women are kidnapped to be tortured, raped, killed, trafficked or as a hostage. And you instead were living a, somewhat, normal life. With occasional affection Chrollo expressed towards you, it felt disgustingly domestic too.

You could never feel safe regardless, due to how powerless you were. Not even a hunter, not even a nen or knowledge how to learn it you possessed.

You were getting lost in thought until a voice shook you aware again. Twice in a row wasn't good for your health. “A penny for your thoughts?” the voice teased gently.

You immediately sat up straight, seeing Chrollo has returned and was standing inside the room. You were really going to get a heart attack with these people soon!

“Chrollo, what the hell,” you grumbled in annoyance, to which Chrollo chuckled. He was eyeing you bit intensely, liking what he’s seeing, though not in a suggestive way really; you weren’t wearing anything other than a simple sweatpants and T-shirt anyway, unless he foud you desirable like this anyway. He was content with having your person here, especially when you were making his fantasies come true. “I don’t think I’m to blame here. You looked zoned out.”

“I wouldn’t hear you enter even if I wasn’t.”

Chrollo only smiled in amusement, before he walked towards you and sat down on the coach next to you, with a space between you two thankfully. You tensed up impulsively, and even that small wriggle got his attention. Looking sideways at him, you noticed he was dressed up rather casually today, not betraying any location he had spent his time at—just some black jeans and black long sleeve, all mysterious and... You suddenly laughed as you remembered Shalnark’s words. Perhaps the blondie was right.

Chrollo looked at you in curiosity, not at all offended, merely curious. “You’re laughing, something I don’t see often. Care to share why is that?” he said with interest. Looking at him, you switched from laughing to a sigh. Should you really say what Shalnark told you? “Someone described as you trying to be all cool and mysterious,” you said through a snicker anyway.

His eyes widened, but just slightly; there was no embarrassment or anger either. “Shalnark, you mean?” he assumed. When you nodded, he couldn’t help but ask, “And do you find it to be true?”

You didn’t know if the question was meant to be tricky, meant to see how far your disrespect could go, but you went with honesty as always. “Well… you do act all mysterious. You’re also annoying to me, since you hide so much from me.” Yet you fell into your own trap by answering him, as the question made you thought of your current position and your tone was getting heated up. “When will you finally explain everything to me—” you wanted to add angrily, but all of the sudden, Chrollo pulled you onto his side.

His right arm held you close to him, wrapped around your waist, and he ignored you trying to squirm away. He leaned forward to grab the book from the coffee table, one he left behind before leaving today, and leaning back, he looked at you again. “Let me go, Chro—”

“Calm down. You were stressed out lately, so let’s refocus your mind elsewhere,” he said way too calmly for your own emotional state. You felt nothing but gaslit by him; considering he didn’t even address your concerns and with that, acted as if there’s nothing bad going. You had a lot to worry about, having been literally kidnapped.

Any further protests you had, Chrollo kept holding you like this until you finally stopped trying to get away and cursing him, all resigned as he was more stubborn than you. Only then he opened that damn book, left handed too, and started reading aloud for some reason. His arm pressed you even closer to him, with your head forced against his shoulder. You wanted to ask him what he’s doing, but you gave up on the idea, knowing this infuriating man wouldn’t answer you. You really couldn’t handle a man like him—you, always honest, inquiring and expressive; and him, all nonchalant, secretive and confusing.

The further confusion led you to finally look down at the book’s pages, trying to understand him at least through the stories he was reading. Of course you heard him say same words aloud, but you preferred to read yourself. You didn’t even realize when you now were focusing on the story yourself, your mind finally quiet for once in the spread of last few weeks.

‘It was of course nothing to worry about, he accepted the setback only because he was looking for a fight. If he stayed at home and carried on with his normal life he would be a thousand times superior to these people and could get any of them out of his way just with a kick,’ you read. Kafka.

Following with the flow of the book wasn’t that easy, considering you tended to consume books that are easy on the mind as a form of relaxation and not classical literature, but you tried your best. Your another effort was you trying to understand Chrollo, wondering if the book was picked based on its quality, or if it had an even more significant meaning; all without realizing you were giving him exactly what he has wanted the entire time. Understantment and exploration, job forced on you.

Chrollo glanced at you for a second, you all so prettily unaware, and back at the book’s pages. Leaving you confused and uninformed about his intensions and actions was a key part in making you understand him. If you aren’t provided an answer, you’ll look for an answer yourself, with that you’ll be going through a natural process of getting to know Chrollo—a catalyst he has created for you. He could have told you things about yourself, but not only he did not understand everything about himself, your thoughts about him were meant to be more deep should you be forced to think for yourself.

Not to mention a possible attachment. Sometimes you sparked a bit of possessiveness in him as he doubted he’d like any man being so intimate with you. You were his to explore and he was yours to understand.

Reading along with Chrollo eventually put you under a spell of nothingness on your mind, especially that his voice was smooth and calm enough on your ears with them involuntarily soaking in the sound, and you were finally shifting your attention somewhere else than your problem. You didn’t even question his method of calming you down anymore... or his intensions.

But whether you learned something new about Chrollo… you noticed he wants you to enjoy same books he does, as he has occasionally stopped for your sake so you could catch up after needing to reaad some line multiple times; he also liked physical contact more than verbal communication, as his fingers were absently rubbing your arm. And…

“So you’re ambidextrous?” you finally asked after good quarters of break from speaking due to reading. Chrollo turned his head to look at you, also enjoying the little weariness in your voice. Good, you were getting relaxed. “You noticed, huh? It makes things easier, when…” He had to stop himself here, realizing it’s too soon to tell you about his ability. Its existence would propably only scare you further, should you realize how much he can hurt you with it if he chooses to. Regardless, he looked somewhat satisfied that you found out a detail about him. A small detail, but it meant you pay attention to who he was.

“When?” you asked with a raised brow, wanting him to finish his thought. “When I work,” he said simply.

Hearing ‘work’ was like a sudden whiplash. You now were self aware again, having realized you were getting so comfortable in his presence, forgetting he’s a literal murderer and monster. More awake, you tried to get away from him again, which he didn’t let you, no matter how little the space in his arms felt compared to the huge living room or how much the leather squeaked under your protests.

“Don’t struggle, I won’t hurt you,” he said calmly, but his big grey eyes, so empty to observe when looking at them, watched you like a hawk. Chrollo didn’t derive any sadistic pleasure from observing your distress yet it couldn’t be said his intentions were innocent in their nature either—to him, observing a humanity he was lacking that you didn’t, was a show greater than many. It was something you could describe as finding enjoyment at your expense in the end nonetheless.

“But you already are!” you rebutted, your voice now both angry and anxious, “You think I’m not hurt by this situation already? I don’t want to be here. I want to be home.” The situation of his eyes remaining on the same hunt for your emotions made you feel patronized and frustrated with how little Chrollo took you seriously

He didn’t speak for few seconds, looking at you intensely, weighing your words. No hint of pity or sympathy you would have wanted for your comfort or hope. “And what is home to you, exactly?” he finally asked. How infuriating it was to hear, when he was trying to twist it into some psychological or philosophical conversation. You wanted for him to acknowledge your feelings, not to play with them!

“Chrollo, I don’t want to talk to you like this,” you said seriously. "I'm not a psychiatric patient."

“Answer me the question and I’ll answer one of your questions,” he proposed. Your eyes widened at the sudden deal proposal. Not that it shouldn’t be a bare minimum for him to answer questions, if they were about things that concerned you, but if he wouldn’t do it any other way than through gaining something himself first… It was your sole chance. “A-any question?” you asked hopefully.

“Any,” he responded immediately. You couldn’t believe he’d actually promise that, because the question you could ask can be the most invasive and reavaling there is possible. “But why would you want that?” you asked with suspicion. “Didn’t I say it when I had come to visit your aunt?” ‘Visit’ felt condescending and downplaying to you, considering the nature of what happened that awful night. Your aunt on the floor… you never got a chance to see if she’s truly okay afterwards, but you tried to remember what he said exactly.

“It means you are mine and you will be for a while, (Y/N),” he said intensely. “And I plan to make you understand me, and understand you as well.”

And membering it again appeared unpleasant to you. Your face frowned at the thought. You got the message though. “So you’ll answer any question about yourself because you want me to understand you. But you also make me guess everything, so why would you suddenly allow me to know something, anything as well?” you said confused, and now you look frustrated instead. Can this man be any more unpredictable?

“That’s true, but I’m doing this as unfortunately not everything can be guessed. More specific events or opinions, I don’t think even you would have guessed,” Chrollo stated with a small smile, and his fingers now played with the ends of your hair. He noticed it was getting drier upon the forceful and stressful conditions… he’ll ask someone to buy you a better conditioner than the hotel offered. “Tell me what you consider home, and I’ll answer any question, no matter what it is.”

You exhaled shakily. You could bullshit about what home meant to you, giving some pretty and warm answer, but you knew he would see through you. Or rather, he did so already—he must have noticed at some point, that your memories responsible for a process in what made the idea of home to you weren’t happy. Your entire being screamed “something happened to me so I am a bit bitter and not trusting”. What stopped you was the fact that being so vulnerable was extremely scary, not just because it’s Chrollo you are supposed to say this to, but especially because of this argument anyway. Not that your trauma wasn’t easy to speak about for any reason.

“Home to me is…” you started unsurely, and didn’t like how more intense his gaze became, as if staring inside your entire being, “…a nice fantasy, but I don’t think I’ve truly ever experienced home to be the way I’ve wanted it to be,” your voice was shaky.

“That’s rather vague. I still don’t know what home is to you, just that it’s not the way you wanted it to be,” he said bluntly, crushing your heart a little. How can he be so emotionless in the face of you baring yourself to him?

“What?” you moaned out in distress. You couldn’t take the tension anymore and decided to blurt your definition quickly, “Home should be a safe place for me but it never was. My parents, they both were terrible people, one narcissistic and other absent, so I never had that home as I had to raise myself! I didn’t get any warmth or affection so home is nonexistent to me! Are you satisfied now?!” you shouted the last part. It was a miracle you didn’t cry yet.

Chrollo’s face was painted in a small surprise, his eyes rendered more lively too, and eventually, he nodded as if considering your answer to be acceptable. Inside, he felt satisfaction from having you reveal another part of yourself. “Thank you for telling me that. Now I can tell why you’re always so honest yet insecure.”

Your mouth opened in shock, and your hand was flying straight at his face. How dare he treat your experience as something more akin to experiment than you speaking up about your trauma? Rather than caring about your feelings, he was making them to be an observation for his own enjoyment.

To which Chrollo caught your hand with ease and kissed the palm of it instead, something that to you seemed as an attempt to further patronize you. He then held your hand tightly in his, on his lap, not letting go no matter how much you tried to pull it back. His palm was bigger than yours and even more stronger, leaving yours locked in this prison.

“You’re getting so heated over this. I just find what I said to be truth… not to mock you, but to understand you.” You were getting allergic to the word ‘understand’, but Chrollo’s face truly didn’t carry any mockery; instead he rubbed his thumb against your palm soothingly, as much as he can be affectionate. “Eric” was affectionate too, but it was a play. Chrollo wasn’t faking this affection, no matter how new it was for him to be expressing it.

“I don’t want to be understood by you. That’s a shitty reason to kidnap someone for! I think you’re the last person to be able to understand me. You’re just so…” you said through gritted teeth, but your eyes were becoming teary. “Uncanny feeling?” he replied for you, saying exactly what you’d say. “See? I do understand you,” he said calmly, his face showing some eagerness for you to agree with him.

And you wouldn’t. “Predicting my next move isn’t exactly knowing or understanding me! It’s just observing repeated behavior and making conclusions, and speech isn’t that hard to guess!” you protested with passion.

Chrollo laughed quietly, shaking his head. “But I was right about honest and insecure, wasn’t I?” You fell silent. He was right and it made you naked yet resigned, having you finally relax somewhat in his hold with his arm around you. It hurt. Chrollo was hurting you but no matter what you’d do, he’d make you like a fool and say he just wants to know you. He was good at attacking your weakest points.

You moved to the next part of the deal, needing to switch the topic away from you; Chrollo was just a brute in your eyes. Expecting violence from him, instead you were given another type of cruelty.

“In any case, I answered your question. Now it’s time for me to ask you,” your voice was determined, something Chrollo liked. You were making yourself get to know him regardless of what your initial intention was. You were also so beautifully expressive and alive and not ashamed of that, again. He liked to think about your first few meetings and how you behaved back then.

“Go on, darling,” he said with a slight tease. Being called ‘darling’ so suddenly threw you off your game a lot, and you now felt both embarrassed and dreadful. He added more coil to the fire, “What? It’s not like we didn’t do worse things, did you already forget-” “Shut up!” you said, flustered; though more from anxiety. That one night you had before he had revealed his identity didn’t need to be reminded in this moment. Sleeping with your enemy, not realizing he’s one. The fact you felt good back then sounded shameful today, and abused your sense of pride.

Chrollo just wanted to throw you off your game, but you were back on track. “My question is…” you paused, not sure what you exactly wanted to ask. You had so many questions yet only one will be answered, so you had to prioritize the most crucial one. Your aunt, your future, who is Chrollo…

Chrollo tilted his head to the side, waiting for your question. His hand squeezed on yours.

“Okay…” you finally decided. “I want to ask you, why are you like this?” The surprise on his face was delicious to you, a rare moment for you to have control for once in this situation where you were defenseless, but it wasn’t a question to make because you were curious. No, you just assumed that this answer can answer many other questions you had if you are given a chance to understand him enough to read his motives; more beneficial than asking one specific question.

“I would have assumed you’d ask about your aunt or your situation, darling,” he chuckled. “Your question isn’t much specific either, but I guess mine wasn’t too, so I’ll humor you.”

Your legs tensed up, you were sitting your feet on your heels, as you waited in anticipation. You didn’t expect him to open up but you weren’t complaining—you only hoped his answer won’t be anything heavy and burdening for you to remember, as if you didn’t have enough struggle with him.

“There’s many things that can shape a person… but I guess, for me the main reason was growing up in Meteor City,” he said in thought, making you confused. You also were positively surprised he was telling you something so important. “What is that?”

Chrollo stared at you intensely, for a moment having few flashbacks from his childhood, before he spoke, “I don’t blame you for not knowing. Most people are not aware of this place’s existence and it doesn’t exist on official maps.”

Curiosity got into you. What can this place be, for it not being considered to be existing? There were so many undiscovered things on this planet, so many secrets, you wondered just how much he or hunters knew that you didn’t. Another thing to be frustrated about. Though, you were getting a general idea that something bad must have happened in Meteor City for him to mention. You didn’t interrupt, nodding as you were willing to hear him out.

Chrollo continued speaking in composed voice, “It’s a junkyard city. Thought it’s not just trash that’s dumped here—it’s people and strays too. In fact, you can leave anything here.”

Your hand tightened under his and you gasped in horror, making him smile more. Not knowing of a place like this was one thing, but to hear about its environment… you couldn’t bear the thought of people being placed on same level with trash here, disposable as much as garbage. “And you grew up here?” you asked for confirmation, trying hard to not show some sympathy. Yes, the story sounded awful and no child should have been placed in this city, and you could have guessed it shaped Chrollo a lot, but he was still a person hurting you in the end. It’s just that, a human with empathy would experience some volume involuntarily.

Chrollo nodded. He was drinking in your reaction, all fascinated about how you’re feeling about his life-him. You were forced to understand him more and more, but getting there on your own without intending to. “I grew up here. I’m not sure why I was put in Meteor City, or who my parents were, but I certainly never existed in official records. No one in Meteor City does. We’re as nameless as trash is. We are the ones to give ourselves our identities.”

“Is Chrollo just an idea then? The same way Eric was?” you muttered. His hand tightened on yours again. He liked your question, he liked you were getting close to him, he liked how insightful you were with him sometimes for those past weeks. You didn’t have a chance to speak for yourself in your childhood, but in return you have learned how to read others to make sure you’re not doing something wrong.

A skill delightful and lucky for him.

“I guess you could say that. I see myself in you more than I see it in myself,” he mused, his tone both amused and content with you. There was a lot of other things that happened in Meteor City and he wasn’t always so lost. Though it could wait. You’ll get there eventually, and maybe then you’ll agree you two make a full puzzle picture.

His body turned sideways to face you better, and he finally let go of your waist and hand yet put in up on your face instead. “You and I are not so much different,” he stated seriously. Your face scrunched under his words, not liking being compared to the mass murderer and what not (you didn’t know the full extent of his crimes). “I’m not a criminal nor a murderer,” you said with disgust. Chrollo just sighed, bit disappointed by such a black and white answer.

“Yet you still have other ways of dealing with what happened to you, not necessarily the healthiest type—” “What the hell did I even do?!” you said angrily. Surely your coping has been never on this level of debauchery.

“You speak so openly about your opinions and other things yet never about yourself. You’re just as closed as I am. But that’s not my point. You and I both have been denied of a place to call safe or grounding.”

That bastard. Your lips trembled now. Being forced to face your own trauma, the neglect, lack of care and safe environment, even some hint of sympathy towards him and people of Meteor City—you finally couldn’t handle emotions enough to leave them bottled up. “That’s not… it’s not the same anyway. At least I wasn’t living surrounded by trash. At least I went to school. At least I had food on my plate even if we struggled. I still had it better than you—”

“But it’s not only about material things, isn’t it?” Chrollo asked the most sensitive question.

In a sense, your childhood experiences were somewhat comparable. While you had parents growing up, and you had a place to stay, you never quite had a place you could have called home. It was being alone and betrayed and disappointed by everyone and neglected; regardless of what type of physical environment you were raised in.

Chrollo watched your eyelashes get wet enough to the point where the little crystals had to start falling down, like a paper towel that soaked in too much liquid and was dripping wet. He couldn’t cry easily, but it seemed you’ll cry enough for both of you. That living room suddenly felt very small, suffocating you, and Chrollo’s invading speech was swallowing you just as much.

“Yeah, I guess…” you stuttered through a sniffle, “I guess when I think about what happened in my childhood, financial struggle is the last thing that comes to my mind, even if it still existed. It’s the emotional neglect and loneliness that comes first… Items can be bought later in life, but anything else…”

You now no longer were controlling your sobs, and you didn’t reject Chrollo when he pulled you into his arms. His hand rubbed your back and he didn’t scold you for leaving snot on his chest where your face hid. He didn’t say anything, but you had a sense he did understand whether he pitied you or not. His words clearly meant that. You didn’t like being seen as someone of this level of inhumanity and cruelty, and yet, you unfortunately or fortunately had something to relate with. His chin rested on top of your head.

He didn’t know how to express or understand himself, so he looked for answers in hurting others and seeing what makes them feel more and less, depending on what he makes them go through. However, with you he didn’t need to be cruel. He needed to prod you to reveal your shame and things about yourself at best, and your history was similar plenty enough you ended up feeling for him when he couldn’t feel for himself.

When your cries were dying with your emotions being released, you felt sudden emptiness; all wiped out and forced to feel tired. Being embraced by another human, being given an affection you weren’t given much in your life, it was rather easy to fall asleep in his embrace. Working so tirelessly your entire adulthood, you didn’t even have time to make friends either. Close ones at least—since you didn’t like being vulnerable with others.

Chrollo didn’t count how much time has passed since he let you sleep against him. He only counted how many breaths you took and exhaled and how many times you snuggled closer against him. He even counted how many times his heart fluttered in a way alien to him.

Eventually, he carefully lifted you up into his arms and carried to your hotel suite’s room. A couch wasn’t most comfortable.

☆

When you woke up in your bed, it was Pakunoda sitting on it. The outside looked dark enough to be 10PM already, making you feel disoriented as hell.

Whenever you have seen Pakunoda during your forced stay with Chrollo, you felt as if her presence was most bearable among all members. You didn’t let your guard down fully though—all of them were, in the end, dangerous.

You slowly sat up on the mattress, removing the blanket from your body, feeling all hot and thirsty after the nap. Blinking away exhaustion, you looked at her silent form.

“Something’s up?” you asked, curious of her reason to be here. Perhaps it was dinner time, though late as you slept through it.

Pakunoda didn’t answer your question immediately. She pondered over her words to say for a moment, wanting to say something that has been weighing heavily on her mind lately. She wouldn’t tell you of her own jealousy, but she would tell you of her growing sense of pity towards you.

“You’ve made many mistakes, Y/N,” she said sternly.

“M-mistakes?” you asked with voice confused and nervous, but a sense of unease filled your chest. It had to be about Chrollo. Were you too careless?

“When Chrollo,” she didn’t even say ‘boss’ this time, “takes someone into his life, whether it’s a troupe member or you, he doesn’t let them go. You just gave yourself to him the moment you chose to accept him.”

“Accept him? I didn’t accept him!” you protested right away, now wide awake. How can it be said you accepted this man? He took your life when he took you, and he didn’t leave you any choice. He kept playing with you one way or another.

“You did. At least from his perspective. You certainly didn’t reject him,” she warned. “Chrollo gathers possessions by stealing, but he usually releases them by donating them to Meteor City. But it cannot be said for people. Items are just a thrill of chase, holding them isn’t as fun,” just like your aunt’s painting, “but people—he makes them loyal and they stay with him under their last breath. You are perhaps even more precious to him than any of us.” Pakunoda hid her disappointment about this.

Every word Pakunoda said, you had terror spread throughout your body. Your hand gathered the blanket, as you felt nauseous. Your ears didn’t want to hear that Chrollo might never let you go.

“H-how can I be more precious to him, when you’ve known him for years and I was here for just few weeks?” you stuttered from the nerves. Pakunoda sighed.

“Each spider is just a leg. Chrollo is the spider that is completed by the legs. But this is just Phantom Troupe Chrollo. There’s also inner him who’s always incomplete, or should I say had been that much incomplete. You must have been making him feel better recently as he seems to be in a good mood.”

“I’m supposed to be one who completes the real him then?” you sounded quite disgusted and disturbed. You (somewhat) handled understanding why he ended up doing what he’s doing, you handled feeling pity for him, you handled some comparison; but becoming the matching piece to him scared you. A man so ruthless, often cold even if still humane somewhere, one who stole not just you... you didn’t want to live with him nor become like him. “Were you eavesdropping on our conversation?” You had no idea how else she’d be able to refer to all that.

“I didn’t need to,” Pakunoda said seriously. “I know him better than everyone. I can notice him trying to provoke you everyday, craving a reaction for something he didn’t know how he should’ve reacted to,” she sighed. Pakunoda grabbed your hand just like Chrollo did before, but hers wasn’t strangling it. She looked at you with more softness too.

“Then what am I supposed to do?” your voice trembled as you wanted to cry again. “I want my life back.”

Sadly there was no answer.

“You don’t have to have it miserable as long-“

“Don’t even suggest that,” you hissed out. You knew she was trying to tell you the easiest thing you could do is give in, because Chrollo was not letting you go.

“I’m afraid that’s the only thing left for you, besides suicide. Though I doubt you would want to actually die; that is if you would even be able to. I doubt you have many chances to kill yourself,” Pakunoda announced with a small pity. She let go of your hand and stood up, leaving the room for you to think everything through.

You didn’t stifle down your tears. You thought about your entire experience: “Eric” coming into your life, sleeping with him, him hurting your aunt and kidnapping you; now Chrollo refusing to give you any answers, dragging you from hotel to hotel, not letting you go and finally, finding out you’re probably never leaving.

You remembered his words about him saying living with him must be better than working for shitty companies, and while it’s true he has made sure you’re fed and safe, you didn’t feel any calm here. It wasn’t about what he has given you, but about what he had taken from you.

You came to the final conclusion—there’s no way you could have stayed here. You had to get out somehow, you just didn’t know how to assure safety of your aunt—

Nevermind. You weren’t getting out of there. You didn’t want to have Chrollo end up killing Cynthia in spite. Any previous attempt of escape was dumb, you realized with guilt.

Crying yourself to sleep then.

☆

When you woke up in the middle of the night, you felt something warm and heavy against you, creating a breathing sound, behind you. You didn’t have to turn around to guess it’s Chrollo, especially with the cologne you have had time to memorize. The issue was you didn’t want to be held by him. You let him do it before, but circumstances were different. You tried to get out of his grasp to no avail.

“Go back to sleep,” Chrollo said, and his voice sounded rested enough for you to know he didn’t sleep before you woke up; most likely just watched you like a creep.

“No, Chrollo, let me go!” you trashed again. Useless. “What are you even doing in my room?”

“Technically, this room is rented by me-” “Stop being so literal!” It’s always like this. You couldn’t have told if he loved being literal or was simply nothing but being manipulative.

Chrollo only sighed and gently turned you around in bed so you could face him. You gulped in discomfort when your face ended up so close to his, since you both were lying on your sides and he held you close. You both couldn’t see each other that clearly, but moonlight falling inside through the hotel tower’s windows shone enough to make out your contours.

“I’m here because I wanted to. That’s all there is to it,” his voice carried a tease, meant to rile you up a little. Chrollo’s fingers brushed your hair away from your face, his whirlpools of grey marveling in how vulnerable you looked.

Chrollo can be and is a man of control, if he chooses to. With you, he didn’t want to and he couldn’t have, neither he needed to. That why his eyes landed on your lips. He has gotten a taste of them before he took with you, not to mention he has touched your entire body. It’s been weeks he restrained himself from doing more than touches meant to be more gentle and never fully intrusive, but even he wasn’t immune to desire. Desire not even meant to be entirely sexual, mostly driven by your entire persona he forced you to show; of course you were an attractive woman to him as well. Special included, as his attraction didn’t appear without right conditions. Physicality of a woman wasn’t enough for him to get involved.

“I don’t think I can wait. Or rather, I should not have to wait any longer, my love.”

Before you had a time to react or get away, quickly having realized his intention, his lips were on yours and he had you pinned down to bed.

Your scream was muffled by his mouth. Being under him, Chrollo’s hand ran under your shirt, stroking your belly and waist. His kiss was deep and eager, not denying himself for once. Having control himself was negative in an aspect of build up needed to be released upon you. The legs that tried to kick at him, his other hand forced bend to the side and hold down with an irop grip. When you cried out again, he shoved his tongue into your mouth.

When he finally withdrew to give you time to catch your breath back and collect tears in your eyes, them most expressive than ever, he spoke in soft tone, not matching his current cruelty:

“This is just the beginning of our journey, love. Until every breath you take is mine too.”

☆

You woke up with a gasp, sitting up on the bed immediately. Same cement walls, dark wooden floors, big windows and a horrendously sized wardrobe greeted you but there was no Chrollo. It was too dark to be morning yet, but you couldn’t sleep more anyway after a nap before. To make your mood worse, there was rain and storm outside and the sound of raindrops hitting against the glass was too loud for your panicked state.

You realized it was a recursion of a dream, being forced to wake up twice, once in a dream and then in reality. Chrollo didn’t try to force himself on you, but you were still terrified by the idea your mind would have come up with such a nightmare. A meaning was rather clear to you—your own mind was telling you all the control was taken away from you, and that Chrollo wanted to absorb you entirely. The nightmare also caused for you to have new fear instilled into you, making you wonder if Chrollo would ever turn this nightmare into a reality. This paranoia or perhaps a rational and logical thought, depending on how cruel he actually was, made you nauseous from anxiety.

Kicking the duvet off of you, you stood up on your feet, wincing at the coldness of the floor.

You left the bedroom, and walking through the hallway, you ended up in the kitchen to quench your thirst. You felt unease when seeing Chrollo who happened to be here as well, and you were for a second feeling like an actual victim of what happened in the dream.

Chrollo observed you for a while, burning the image of your sleepy form into his mind. You forced your eyes shut to protect them against a bright light and you were rather adorable and vulnerable looking when you were so sleepy and grumpy in the morning. Only to make you feel pierced through with his penetrating gaze, for what that felt like thousandth time in the span of past weeks.

Facing Chrollo not only after a nightmare, but also the conversation with Pakunoda was very intense and stressful. He was now even more scary to you than usual.

“Something’s wrong?” he asked, his voice soft. Chrollo hasn’t gone to sleep yet; and he has appeared in the kitchen right before you, because hearing your noises of distress in the bedroom through his walls, he knew you’d come here for water. It was a perfect occasion for him to continue his game with you.

“I just had a nightmare…” you responded quietly. Gone was your usual neurotic attitude with him, replaced by meekness caused by your fears.

Chrollo approached you and you flinched when he put his hand on your shoulder, a gesture meant to mimic reassurance that he’s there for you.

“What was it about?” he inquired, massaging your shoulder. You were not ready to tell him or preferably you’ll never tell him. Not that he wouldn’t have a few guesses. Perhaps he’d even feel satisfied you thought of him in your dreams as well.

“Uh… I forgot already,” you lied, but you didn’t have enough care to worry about whether he’ll believe you. For once you didn’t want to be honest. For once dishonesty didn’t feel suffocating, even if being blunt was part of your personality. You couldn’t be vulnerable with Chrollo. You wanted to protect yourself.

Surprisingly, he didn’t question you. He simply nodded his head and said, “I see.” He then grabbed a glass and poured a water for you from the fridge, one all fancy.

You accepted the water and drank the coldness eagerly and the temperature helped you ground a little too. Chrollo watched you drink, especially your throat gulping down the liquid.

He took an empty glass from you and put in a sink, and looked at you again. “You don’t have to be alone tonight, you know.”

Your face frowned as a defensive mechanism, with you wanting to automatically say no. “You want me to sleep in same room with you?” you asked with discomfort. How could you do so after all you heard and saw in the last 24 hours? You were exhausted in way different than physical. You were worn out not even emotionally but spiritually.

“Yesterday you were sad too and yet you allowed me to comfort you,” he pointed out, but to you things were now different. You needed only few hours—the talk with Pakunoda and the nightmare—to be creeped out by his presence again.

“And? You wouldn’t give me any other choice anyway if I tried to protest,” you felt proud you came up with a perfect argument. Yes, you weren’t accepting his comfort, you were just resigned because he’d do what he wants no matter what you wanted.

However, Chrollo didn’t seem discouraged in any way. He’ll always be one argument ahead of you. “You felt safe enough to fall asleep in my arms—”

“I was exhausted!”

“Exhaustion didn’t stop you from forcing yourself to stay awake any other day,” he said calmly and you knew he won.

“I… I’m still not in a mood for this again at the moment. I just wanted some water and then I’d go back to sleep…” you argued again, but your hesitation was clear to him.

“In that case, why is your body shaking?” You stared in confusion, but when you forced yourself to focus on your body and not thoughts, you realized he was right. You were trembling and it wasn’t a chilly air in the suite as a cause. It forced you to realize the extent of how shaken up you were at this point. Your tremble became worse as now you were crying.

Chrollo didn’t say anything but he reached out for you and scooped you up into his arms. “Stop…” you said but it came out weakly. You couldn’t tell if you were just too tired to fight him or you were subconsciously craving the comfort.

As he carried you through the corridor out of the kitchen, you once again became enveloped by his warmth, strong and unshaken hold, and his perfume; though now less intense after a shower, but quality enough to stay after having his body washed.

At this point he might be conditioning you to feel relaxed by him anytime you’re distressed, with you recognized familiar sensations.

Chrollo moved you inside his room. To your surprise, it was much smaller than yours. He either wanted you to have a bigger space (how kind of him) or preferred them as a result of growing up in Meteor City. Albeit, the design of the space wasn’t much divergent from your own or the rest of the suite.

He then laid you down on his bed and placed himself next to you, before he pulled a duvet over you two, which also put you in an illusion of being trapped with him despite its warmth. Chrollo held you in his arms but mercifully enough to not do so too tightly, should you feel panicked in your sensitive and crying state.

Just like yesterday, his palmed rubbed you down your spine up and down; to your comfort without slipping under your shirt like it happened in your nightmare. All the same, the fear of him suddenly attacking and forcing you remained in your chest. Thankfully the rain was no longer pounding in your ears, but became a soothing background.

For Chrollo, he wasn’t sure how to comfort your feelings in ways other than physical. He would be able to do so with any other woman… the problem lied in the fact with them he was an actor. With you, he didn’t find a power within himself to pretend. Somehow, you were forcing an honesty out of him too.

He spoke when you finally stopped being so shaky and felt tired enough to close your eyes and fell asleep, “I really don’t want to ever let you go, Y/N.”

With these words spoken into the night and heard by Chrollo only, he knew if you were awake you’d be shaking again.

[qulizalfos]

having a fantasy au moment it may or may not pass

[the-busy-ghost]

Warning- this is a very petty post, but I think I'm entitled to at least one petty, pissed-off reaction every time I finish a classic novel that hit harder than I expected so take this as my quota for the year.

Also spoiler warning for a book that came out over a century ago but still, I didn't know the plot going in so don't want to ruin it for anyone else, if you haven't read it shut your eyes. (Also Local Tumblr User Going Wild Over Book Published a Hundred Years Ago That Everybody Else Already Read should probably be categorised as akey part of indigenous tumblr culture at this point).

Anyway I just finished the War of the Worlds and in between studying I've thinking about Themes and Motifs as you do, and idly looking for further analysis. I then accidentally ran into an article called 'A Quiet Place II Succeeds Where the War of the Worlds Failed' and:

Now I haven't seen any of the Quiet Place films, this is not a rant against them and of course everyone is entitled to their own opinions. But re: the ending of The War of the Worlds, I have to ask, did this guy somehow miss, uh, the entire point of the book or am I just utterly insane?