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inseobts · 2 days ago

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TRAITOR pt.2

law x traitor!reader

PART 1 ⤳ PART 3 (coming soon)

words count: 2.6k

tags: series, enemies to lover(?), traitor reader

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

It’s easy to forget you’re lying when they make it feel real.

The Heart Pirates aren’t just a crew, they’re a family. They bicker like siblings, tease each other relentlessly, and somehow, without meaning to, you’ve been pulled into it.

You should’ve kept your distance.

But how could you, when—

“Y/N! HELP!”

You barely have time to register the shout before something massive collides with you, nearly knocking you over.

“Bepo—” you gasp, struggling under the weight of the massive mink currently clinging to you “You cannot use me as a shield... what the hell is going on?”

Shachi and Penguin sprint around the corner, looking absolutely murderous. Ikkaku follows close behind, arms crossed, her glare laser-focused on Bepo.

“There you are, you traitor!�� Penguin points an accusing finger at the trembling mink still latched onto you.

You blink “Okay, wow. Let’s pause. Why is Bepo a traitor?”

Shachi glares “Because someone ratted us out to the Captain.”

You sigh, already piecing it together “Did you guys try to smuggle alcohol into the infirmary again?”

“… No.”

“You so did.”

Bepo’s ears flatten, guilt all over his face “I had to tell him! He was going to find out anyway!”

“You snitch!” Shachi wails.

“You idiots,” you correct, prying Bepo off you before he suffocates you with his fluff “Why do you always try to hide stuff from Law? You know he’s just gonna find out and punish you worse.”

“It’s about the principle of it,” Penguin grumbles.

You sigh, rubbing your temples “What was the punishment?”

Shachi pouts “No dessert for a week.”

You stare “That’s it?”

“That’s everything, Y/N.”

Bepo nods solemnly “They’re suffering.”

You shake your head, barely suppressing a laugh “You guys are so dramatic.”

Ikkaku crosses her arms “You’re laughing now, but if Law ever finds out about that thing you did, you’re not getting out of it so easily.”

Your breath catches.

Just for a second.

And then you force an easy grin “Which thing? I do a lot of things.”

Ikkaku narrows her eyes playfully “The one with the—”

“Shh!” You slap a hand over her mouth “Don’t tell them, it’s supposed to be a secret!”

The others immediately light up with interest.

“Oh, now you have to tell us,” Shachi says eagerly.

“I am so telling the Captain,” Penguin teases.

Bepo nods sagely “This is karma.”

You groan, regretting everything.

Despite moments like these, you don’t forget why you’re here.

Deep beneath the Polar Tang, hidden in one of the ship’s most secure rooms, is one of the reasons you really joined this crew.

The copies of the Poneglyphs.

You don’t know how Law got his hands on them, but you do know that your real crew, the one you actually belong to, wants them.

And you’re the one who has to steal them.

The thought makes your stomach twist.

Because despite everything, despite the mission, despite knowing you’re a liar.

You don’t hate being here.

You don’t hate them.

You should’ve. It would’ve made this easier.

But you don’t.

Some weeks later you meet the Straw Hats, and you immediately know you’re in trouble.

Not because they’re enemies, or because they’re a threat.

But because of Zoro. You've met him years ago, and even if your real crew was always subtle that no one actually know them, he knows you're a well known pirate between the bounty hunters, even without a specific crew name on it.

You see it in his face the second his eye land on you. That flicker of recognition... subtle, but unmistakable.

You know that look.

It’s the look of someone who remembers you.

He just doesn’t know from where.

And that’s a problem.

“You look familiar,” he says bluntly, eyes narrowing slightly “Do I know you?”

Your mind races. A dozen different excuses flash through your head, but none of them are good enough.

So you go for the simplest, most believable one.

“You probably saw my bounty poster,” you say smoothly, forcing a grin “I’ve got a pretty face, after all.”

Shachi and Penguin snicker behind you.

Zoro eyes you for a second longer, clearly unconvinced, but Luffy claps a hand on his shoulder before he can question you further.

“Zoro, stop being weird,” Luffy says, grinning at you “She’s cool, right, Law?”

Law, who has been watching the exchange carefully, nods once. “She’s one of us.”

The words shouldn’t make your chest tighten the way they do.

But they do.

And that’s dangerous.

The Kid Pirates are even worse.

Because Kid is loud, brash, and aggressive—but he’s also smart.

And he watches you.

Not like Zoro, who’s trying to place your face. Not like Law, who looks at you like you matter.

Kid watches you like he’s waiting for you to slip up.

Like he knows something’s off about you, but he just hasn’t figured out what yet.

“You don’t fit,” he says one night, after too many drinks.

You tilt your head, keeping your expression neutral “Excuse me?”

Kid leans forward, propping his elbows on the table “You’re a little too smooth, a little too good at blending in.” He smirks. “Like you practiced.”

Your fingers tighten around your glass.

“I’ve always been good at adapting,” you say, keeping your voice casual “That’s what a good pirate does, right?”

Kid hums, unconvinced.

And you realize, with a slow sinking feeling—

He’s not going to stop watching you.

The deeper you fall into this act, the more tangled it gets.

Zoro recognizes you but doesn’t know from where.

Kid doesn’t trust you but doesn’t have proof.

Law believes in you, and that’s the worst part of it all.

Because when the truth finally comes out...

This new alliance between the three is a sign for you, a sign that it's time to make a move and get away before someone finds out who you are.

You knew the time was coming. You knew.

But now that it’s here, a sick feeling settles in your chest.

Because you don’t want to do it.

It’s not supposed to be this hard.

You’ve done this before. You’ve infiltrated crews, stolen information, betrayed captains who thought you were theirs. It’s always been simple.

Get in. Get what you need. Get out.

But this time—

This time, it’s different.

Because you’re attached.

Because when Law smirks at you in that rare, teasing way, it makes your chest tighten.

Because when the crew laughs and drags you into their stupid antics, you enjoy it.

Because when Bepo whines about missing Zou, when Shachi and Penguin bicker like children, when Ikkaku rolls her eyes at all of them...

It feels like home.

And now you have to rip it apart.

You tell yourself you’ll make it quick.

One night. One chance.

Slip into Law’s office. Get informations and the Poneglyph copies. Get out.

The submarine has weak points, small openings where the sea meets steel, barely noticeable unless you know where to look. And you do.

A quiet escape. No blood. No confrontation.

That’s the plan. Fast and easy, right?

So why does it feel like a mistake before you even start?

You wait until late, when most of the crew is asleep, their laughter from dinner still lingering in the halls.

Law is in his office, like always.

You hesitate outside the door. Just for a second. Just long enough to remind yourself—

This isn’t real. They were never yours.

You push the door open.

Law doesn’t look up immediately, focused on some report in front of him “You should be asleep.”

You smile, stepping closer “So should you.”

He exhales through his nose, amused but tired “What do you want?”

You want him to make this easy.

You want him to be cruel, to be distant, to remind you why you don’t belong here.

But he doesn’t.

He just leans back in his chair, looking at you like you matter. Like you’re his.

Your chest tightens “Just… wanted to check on you.”

A lie. A stupid, obvious lie. But Law doesn’t question it. Instead, he rubs his temple, sighing “You’re always worrying about me.”

“Someone has to.”

“You shouldn’t.”

You swallow “Why not?”

“Because…” He hesitates, fingers tapping against the desk “Because if you care too much, it’ll be harder to leave.”

Your heart stops.

For a second, you think—does he know?

But then he looks away, staring at some distant point, jaw tight.

And you realize—

He’s not talking about you, he's talking about himself.

Not you...

Himself.

Law is the one who doesn’t want you to leave.

And that’s when it hits you... He trusts you. Completely.

Even now, when you’re standing in his office, pretending to care while planning to betray him—

He still trusts you.

Something in your chest aches.

You shouldn’t care. You shouldn’t...

But when he finally looks back at you, exhaustion clear in his golden eyes, and says “Stay a little longer”

And you do.

You sit with him. You don’t steal anything. You don’t run. You just stay.

And for the first time, you think... Maybe you don’t want to leave at all.

You keep telling yourself this is the last night.

You don’t want it to be, but you’ve known it for days now.

Law trusts you. The crew… they think you belong.

And that’s exactly why you have to leave.

Because once you’ve broken through their walls, once you’ve made them care about you, there’s no going back.

No matter how much they make you laugh. No matter how much you start to care about them.

You’re not one of them. You’re just a pirate with an agenda. A thief. A liar. And if you’re not careful, you’ll lose everything.

The night now feels different.

You slip through the ship’s corridors, the quiet hum of the Polar Tang weirdly comforting as you move.

You can hear Shachi and Penguin arguing somewhere above deck, their voices muffled through the metal walls, and it almost makes you smile. Almost.

Law is in his office again. Alone. The perfect time.

You reach for the door, your hand already knowing the cold steel of the handle. But just as you touch it, your pulse quickens—an unease settling in your gut.

Something feels… off.

You hesitate, fingers still resting against the handle. It’s nothing. You’re just overthinking.

But before you can turn the handle, you hear it—the sound of footsteps coming down the hall. Quiet but sure.

Law.

You freeze for a moment and then you start casually walking towards him.

“Couldn’t sleep?”

You look up at him, trying to mask the panic in your eyes “Just passing by.”

Law eyes you, a soft, knowing smile tugging at the corner of his lips “You know, if you keep trying to lie to me, it won’t work. I can tell when you’re lying.”

You swallow, forced to keep your face neutral, even though the tension in your chest is nearly suffocating “You don’t know me that well...”

He steps closer, not threateningly, but with a quiet sort of presence that makes your heartbeat rise “I think I know you better than you think.”

The distance between you two is closing quickly, and you feel a small, dangerous thought flutter in your mind—What if I never leave?

But you shake it off. This has to happen.

You step back, hand sliding into your coat pocket “I think I’ll take a walk. Clear my head.”

Law studies you for a moment, his golden eyes narrowing “You’re not very good at hiding things, you know that?”

You don’t know how to answer that. You don’t know how to lie when it’s getting harder and harder to look at him “I’m going to get some fresh air now”.

You’re standing at the edge of the Polar Tang, staring into the horizon. The sun is setting, painting the sky in oranges and purples.

Tonight, the mission becomes more urgent. The Straw Hats, Kid, and Law’s crew are all moving forward, and you’re running out of time. You know you have to finish what you started.

But how can you betray them?

How can you betray him?

You can’t keep pretending anymore. The lines are blurring. You’re starting to get too close, and you’re terrified of what will happen if you don’t leave soon.

The weight of it is heavy on your shoulders.

But there’s another reason you’re hesitating.

You’ve been hiding your power from them.

Law’s crew doesn’t know what you can do. And you’ve been careful to keep it that way. Because if they knew—if they saw what you could really do—things would change.

And they would fear you... they would all fear you. It happened before. When you’ve used your abilities to their full extent, it’s left a trail of broken minds and empty memories. You can make someone forget an entire conversation, erase their last few hours, manipulate their desires, twist their thoughts—it’s all within your grasp.

And once you start, you can’t stop.

You don’t want to be the monster they think you are. You don’t want them to see you as a tool for their own ends.

So you keep it hidden. You’ve been careful. But now…

Now, you’re feeling the pressure, and it’s getting harder to hide.

You’re walking back to your room, lost in thought, when you hear footsteps behind you.

It’s Law again.

He’s been following you for a while now, and you can feel his eyes on you. You don’t turn around immediately. Instead, you continue walking, your heart pounding.

“You’ve been distant lately.” His voice is calm, but there’s an edge to it—like he’s trying to read you.

You stop, then turn to face him, trying to keep your expression neutral “I’m just tired. There’s a lot going on.”

Law’s gaze narrows. He doesn’t buy it “You’ve been acting weird ever since we got back to the island. What’s going on, y/n?”

For a moment, the weight of the situation crashes down on you. He’s too perceptive. He’s too close to figuring it out.

You take a step back, trying to distance yourself from him, both physically and emotionally “It’s nothing. I just—”

“I’m not asking you to explain everything,” Law interrupts “But if something’s wrong, you can talk to me. We’re... crewmates. I trust you.” He hesitated at that word, as if he wanted to say something else—something much deeper—that scared not only you but himself as well.

You two always had some sort of relationship that started as casual and continued that way, without really talking about your real feelings, as if it were a given.

Anyway his words hit you like a punch. You can’t breathe for a moment.

He trusts you, he likes you.

And you’ve been lying to him this whole time. You’ve been using him. Using his trust to get what you need.

But what if he’s right? What if you do need to tell him?

No. You can’t.

You can’t risk it.

You force a smile “I’m fine, really. Just… need some time to think. I’ll be okay.”

Law doesn’t look convinced, but he nods, though the worry in his eyes lingers “If you say so”

You watch him leave, feeling the weight of his words on your shoulders.

And then—just when you think you might break—you hear the voice in your mind.

It’s your old crew.

The ones who know you better than anyone else, or at least that's what you think.

It’s time. You don’t have much choice now, you have to do it NOW.

143 notes · View notes

seongwars · 18 hours ago

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strangers by nature | viii

Pairing: heir!Song Mingi x heir!Reader AU: non-idol | arranged marriage | enemies to lovers Genre: angst, humor, fluff in future chapters Rating: NC-17 Summary: After a life-altering car accident, Mingi is given one final shot at redemption—reborn as a fuzzy little puppy. To earn a second chance at life, he must complete three tasks or risk being doomed to the afterlife forever. Word Count: 5.5K Warnings: fluff, mentions of infidelity

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“You’ll need extensive physical therapy,” Dr. Jang said, flipping through his chart the day Mingi was to be discharged.

“Walking will be difficult at first. You’ll experience weakness, dizziness, and possibly some coordination issues.”

Mrs. Song let out a sharp breath, bringing a hand up to her mouth as if to stifle a gasp. Beside her, Mr. Song reached over and placed a firm, reassuring hand on her arm. They had known this was coming, yet hearing it aloud made it all the more real.

“We’ll have to make arrangements,” his mother replied. “Oh, if he’s going to struggle, we can have the physical therapist come to the house.”

“There’s no need,” Mingi rasped, glancing over at you. “Y/N can help me.”

The entire room fell silent.

Dr. Jang stopped mid-page, his eyes flickering up over his glasses. The nurse who had been taking discharge notes blinked so fast it was almost comical. Even Mr. Song, ever composed, arched an eyebrow in surprise.

“W-What? Me?” you stammered, pointing to yourself as if there had been some mistake.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like your help,” Mingi repeated, his voice steadier now, as if the decision had already been made in his mind. There was something almost… gentle in the way he looked at you.

You stared at him in disbelief. Mingi, the man who never wanted anything to do with you, was asking for your help?

“Mingi, are you sure?”

Mrs. Song was still staring at him like he had grown a second head. “But you always—” She hesitated, searching for the right words.

“You’ve never liked being…helped. You always insist on doing things yourself.”

Mingi exhaled, leaning back against the pillows, his fingers twitching slightly against the blanket. “I know,” he admitted. His voice was quiet, almost contemplative.

“But things are different now.”

And for some reason, the way he said it made it feel like he wasn’t just talking about his injury.

You pulled up to the entrance, cutting the engine before stepping out to grab Mingi’s crutches from the backseat. By now, the visits were becoming routine, but each time, it still struck you as surreal.

You turned to him, holding out the crutches. “Do you need anything else? I can grab a wheelchair if you want.”

Mingi shook his head. “No thanks, I’ve got it.”

Then, to your complete and utter bewilderment, he smiled—small, unguarded, but warm in a way you’d never quite seen before. The sight of it sent a strange flutter through your chest, something unfamiliar yet not entirely unwelcome.

Before you could process it, his hand brushed against your arm, a brief touch that sent a gentle warmth trailing in its wake. His fingers lingered just long enough to make you wonder if it was intentional before he gave your arm a light squeeze—as if he were telling you he’d see you soon.

It was fleeting, gone too soon, but the feeling remained, leaving you gripping the car door handle as if it were the only thing keeping you steady.

Mingi had never smiled at you before.

The whole drive home, you were lost in thought, your hands gripping the steering wheel a little tighter than necessary. Confused didn’t even begin to cover it. Lately, everything about Mingi had been confusing.

At first, you thought you were imagining it. But then it became impossible to ignore.

It wasn’t just the way he looked at you now—like he was seeing you for the first time, rather than through you. It was how he acted. How he hovered.

He followed you around the penthouse like a puppy. If you turned around too quickly, he was there, standing just a few feet away. If you rounded a corner, you nearly crashed into him. It was like he was always waiting for something.

Waiting for you.

You could almost see it—the imaginary puppy ears perking up, the wagging tail swishing behind him, hoping you’d notice that he was there.

And as if that weren’t strange enough, he’d also become…talkative. Well, in his own way. Mingi had started initiating conversations with you through animal facts, seemingly random tidbits of knowledge he’d been holding in until they just slipped out.

“Did you know that vampire bats share their food with other vampire bats?”

“What?” You blinked at him, holding your fork mid bite.

“They, um…they regurgitate blood for bats that didn’t eat.” His voice was quiet and uncertain, like he wasn’t sure if this was something you’d want to hear but hoped you might find it interesting.

You blinked at him, trying to decide if this was some kind of weird joke. But there was no teasing in his expression—just an earnest kind of hopefulness, like he wanted you to acknowledge his effort.

Like he wanted you to know he was trying.

“Oh…” You let out a small laugh, tilting your head at him. “Are you telling me I don’t eat enough?”

Mingi’s ears tinged pink as he gave a small, sheepish nod.

“Kind of…” he admitted, shifting awkwardly.

“I noticed that sometimes you skip meals when you’re busy or stressed.” His voice dropped slightly, almost as if he was embarrassed to say it aloud.

“It’s not good for you.”

Another instance, you were humming to yourself as you sorted through the laundry, tossing a few shirts into the washing machine. The penthouse was quiet, save for the whir of the dryer running in the background. You reached for the basket when—

“Did you know that wombats poop in cubes?”

You yelped, throwing your laundry into the air as you spun around. Mingi stood just a few feet away, wide-eyed, his hands hovering awkwardly in front of him like he wasn’t sure whether to help or apologize.

“Mingi!” you gasped, pressing a hand to your chest. “You scared me!”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to,” he mumbled, shifting on his feet. “The sugar cubes you put in your tea reminded me of wombat poop for some reason.”

You shook your head as you stepped into the lift back to the penthouse. You weren’t sure how you felt about your husband’s newfound attitude. It wasn’t that you were ungrateful—Mingi had finally woken up, and that should have been enough.

The moment you kicked off your shoes in the foyer, Mrs. Ha, the chef, scurried over, her eyes darting between you and the hallway like she was still in the habit of speaking cautiously.

“Oh, Ms. Y/N!” she whispered urgently, clutching her apron. “How was he?”

You let out a sharp exhale, still trying to make sense of it yourself. “Weird,” you hissed, picking up your pace to match hers as you both hurried toward the kitchen.

“He smiled at me. And—” You hesitated for a second before lowering your voice. “He squeezed my arm.”

Mrs. Ha gasped so dramatically you thought she might faint. “No.” She shook her head as if refusing to believe it.

“I know,” you muttered, half-joking, but not really. “He used to pretend I didn't exist. Now he’s…” You trailed off, struggling to find the right word.

Warm? Inviting? Considerate?

It felt strange to say out loud, but stranger still that it might actually be true.

Mrs. Ha grabbed your wrist as if trying to steady herself, or maybe you. “Ms. Y/N,” she said gravely, “do you think he hit his head too hard?”

You swallowed, the thought lingering in your mind longer than it should. Mingi’s accident had been severe. He’d been unconscious for months and it was a miracle he woke up at all.

And yet, this wasn’t just waking up. This was different. The Mingi you knew had been cold, distant, cruel even. He never touched you unless absolutely necessary, never smiled at you unless it was laced with sarcasm or condescension. But today?

Today, he’d looked at you like he actually saw you.

Could head trauma really alter someone’s personality that drastically? Had the accident shaken something loose inside him?

“Can you believe he asked me about plants?” Yohan scoffed, handing you a cup of tea as you stepped into the kitchen.

“Mingi and plants.” He shook his head in disbelief, leaning against the counter. “I can’t believe he’s actually considering keeping something alive besides himself.”

You snorted, though the humor was short-lived. The shift in Mingi’s behavior was too drastic, too unnatural. You took a sip of your tea, the warmth doing little to ease the uncertainty. This new Mingi was too good to be true, and you were just waiting for the other shoe to drop. Mingi’s kindness, his warmth—it didn’t make sense. Not when he had spent so long resenting you.

“This morning, he casually mentioned that zebras can’t sleep alone,” you murmured, tapping your fingers against the cup.

“Well he said he’s looking forward to dinner!” Mrs. Ha interjected.

“Three months ago, he barely spoke to anyone, including Y/N and now he’s making conversation?” Yohan shook his head, placing a hand on his hip.

“This is suspicious.”

No one wanted to say it out loud, but you all felt the same way. Mingi’s recovery wasn’t just physical. He was changing, bit by bit. And for the first time in a long while, it wasn’t for the worse.

⋆

“Your grip strength is starting to improve, as well as the mobility on your left side. Soon, you won’t need the crutches anymore,” Dr. Lim noted encouragingly.

Mingi exhaled sharply, rolling his shoulders as he steadied himself. The session had been brutal, as they always were, but hearing that he was making progress gave him a small sense of victory.

“That’s it for today. We’ll see you next week.” The physical therapist gave him a nod of approval before turning away, already moving on to his next patient.

Mingi nodded, gripping his crutches tightly as he made his way toward the exit. Every movement still felt like an uphill battle. He had spent the last two months relearning how to move, how to function without feeling like his own body was working against him. The physical therapy sessions were grueling, pushing him to his limits, but he refused to back down.

The accident had nearly killed him. Three broken ribs, a fractured femur, and nerve damage. Though it wasn’t extensive, it was enough to remind him that no matter how much he pushed, there were still limits.

And he hated that.

He hated the way his body trembled when he overexerted himself, the way his right arm sometimes felt too weak to grip things properly. He hated that he still struggled to get up without support, that simple tasks took twice the effort they used to.

But he didn’t hate the way you anticipated his struggles before he could voice them. The way you reached for his arm before he could stumble, or placed things in a way that made it easier for him to access. And he didn’t hate how easily you entertained his ramblings, even when they were about the most mundane things.

For an hour and a half each week, he hated being away from you.

Because no matter how frustrating the setbacks were, no matter how exhausting the battle of recovery became, seeing you at the end of each session reminded him of his purpose and his promise to Hongjoong and Wooyoung.

The thought of going home had him biting back a grin as he adjusted his crutches and made his way out of the rehabilitation center. He was already looking forward to sliding into the passenger seat beside you, exaggerating the difficulty of his new balance exercises and guessing what Mrs. Ha had whipped up today.

The anticipation carried him forward until it came to a screeching halt.

The moment he stepped into the rotunda, his fingers instinctively tightened around the crutches, his body going rigid. The hospital lobby was a blur of white coats and murmured conversations, but all he could focus on was the figure standing in front of him.

Ahri.

Her arms were crossed, her manicured nails tapping impatiently against her sleeve. She looked annoyed with her lips pressed into a thin line as her sharp gaze raked over him.

The sight of her made something curdle in his stomach—something sharp, bitter, and unwelcome.

“What are you doing here?” Mingi asked flatly.

Ahri scoffed, stepping closer. “Are you seriously asking me that? You’ve been avoiding me ever since you woke up.”

“Maybe that should tell you something,” he muttered, but he already knew Ahri wouldn’t take the hint.

Ahri rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on, Mingi. Don’t act like this. We need to talk.”

“No,” he said simply, his grip tightening around the crutches until his knuckles turned white.

“We really don’t.”

“You’re being dramatic. I was worried about you—”

“Don’t,” he cut in, his voice low, firm.

Ahri’s mouth opened, then closed. For the first time, she looked uncertain, like she hadn’t expected him to be this direct. Her expression faltered for a split second, But then, just as quickly, she recovered, her lips curling into a sneer.

“So that’s how it is?” she scoffed. “You wake up and suddenly forget about us? Is it because you want to play house with her?”

Mingi’s jaw tensed but his silence spoke volumes.

“What’s wrong with that?” he replied quietly.

That made her pause. Just for a second. But then she shook her head, scoffing again like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

“Oh, give me a break,” she snapped. “You spent so long telling me how miserable you were, how you were trapped with her.” She let out a bitter laugh.

“But now what? You wake up from a coma and suddenly, she’s the one you want? You told me you wished you’d never married her, that you never loved her.”

She took a step closer, her voice dropping to something softer, something almost pleading as if she could still reach him.

“Mingi, you told me I was the only thing that made you happy.”

And maybe, once, he had believed that.

Maybe, once, he had convinced himself that Ahri was the answer, the escape he craved, the proof that he was still alive, still capable of feeling something. But standing here now, after dying and coming back, after losing everything and being given a second chance, he saw it for what it truly was.

A mistake. A desperate attempt to outrun his own self-destruction.

But you—you had always been real. And this time, he wasn’t going to run.

This time, he was going to love you the way he should have all along.

“You weren’t,” he said steadily. “You never were.”

Ahri’s face twisted, something wounded flickering across her features before it morphed into anger.

“Bullshit! If that were true, then why did you keep coming back to me?”

"You were there when it was easy, Ahri. When it was fun. But when I was lying in that hospital bed, barely clinging to life, you were nowhere to be found."

Ahri’s lips parted, but no words came out.

“And you know what? I don’t blame you,” Mingi said, tilting his head.

“Because we were never real, were we? We were just two selfish people feeding off each other’s worst impulses.” He exhaled sharply, as if the weight of it all was finally lifting off his chest.

“I don’t owe you anything.”

People turned, pausing in their tracks, stealing glances at the commotion, but Mingi could care less. Instead, he stepped past her without another glance, heading toward the one person who mattered—

You.

"You think you can just walk away from me?" Ahri's voice rose, sharp and unhinged.

Mingi didn’t flinch. He didn’t react at all.

And that set her off.

"Do you really think she’ll love you after everything you put her through?!"

Her lips curled, a smirk. "You think a self-respecting woman like Choi Y/N would want you?" She let out a breathless, almost manic laugh, her eyes glinting with something unhinged.

"Especially when you fucked me on your wedding night!"

A murmur rippled through the gathering crowd. Gasps. A sharp intake of breath. Someone muttering under their breath. But Ahri was past caring. Her hands trembled at her sides, whether from rage or something deeper, something uglier, even she wasn’t sure.

“You threw her away like she was nothing. And now, you think you can just have her?”

Ahri let out a broken laugh, something desperate and wild.

"She’s stronger than you ever gave her credit for." Ahri’s voice turned quiet, almost pitying.

“She doesn’t need you."

Mingi’s breath hitched, and for the first time since this entire confrontation began, doubt slithered in, coiling tight around his chest.

Because what if Ahri was right?

What if you never forgave him? What if everything he had done, all the cruel words, all the neglect, had built a wall so high between you that he’d never be able to climb over it?

He remembered the way you had looked at him when he was just a clumsy, oversized puppy, tail wagging, tongue lolling, no words to defend himself—only his actions. And still, still, you had cared for him. Fed him. Sheltered him. Loved him, even when you hadn’t known it was him.

Mingi clenched his jaw. He could fix this.

Because if he had been capable of love then, stripped of his pride and his excuses, then he was capable of love now. And he would prove it to you. No matter what it took.

He would not lose you.

"Ms. Jeong," a voice said smoothly, "I suggest you leave before you embarrass yourself any further."

Mingi tensed. He didn’t need to turn to know what he’d see—that infuriatingly calm expression, always so composed, so sure with his stupid face and stupid hair.

Seonghwa.

The hospital director's voice was calm, but the authority behind it was unmistakable. He stepped into Ahri’s path, yet the weight of his presence alone was enough to send a chill through the air.

Ahri whirled on him. "Stay out of this, Park Seonghwa!" she snapped. "This has nothing to do with you!"

Seonghwa raised an eyebrow. "You’re causing a disturbance in my hospital. That makes it my problem."

Her chest rose and fell with sharp, angry breaths, but Seonghwa remained unfazed.

"You’re humiliating yourself. If you don’t leave, I’ll have security escort you out."

Ahri’s lips parted, her eyes darting between Seonghwa and Mingi, as if searching for an opening—one last attempt to regain control of the situation. But Mingi had already turned his back, walking toward the exit. Toward you.

And you—you had just barely managed to keep your knees from buckling.

You had been standing just around the corner, heart in your throat, ears ringing with every word that had left Mingi’s mouth.

"Do you really think she’ll love you after everything you put her through?!"

You didn’t have an answer for that. Not yet.

But Mingi, your husband, the same man who once treated your marriage like a prison sentence—was choosing you.

Your phone chimed, interrupting your conversation with Yohan and Mrs. Ha.

Pick up Mingi.

“Has it already been an hour and a half?” Yohan sighed, leaning back in his chair.

Mrs. Ha chuckled as she wiped her hands on her apron, already turning back to the half-prepped vegetables on the counter.

“Time flies when you’re talking shit, I guess,” you murmured, more to yourself than anyone.

Conversations like these had once been a source of relief, a safe space where you, Yohan, and Mrs. Ha could freely air out your frustrations about Mingi and his insufferable attitude. It had been cathartic, a necessary way to bond over shared grievances, particularly in the way he ignored Yohan’s presence, dismissed Mrs. Ha’s kindness, and, worst of all, the way he had treated you.

The usual satisfaction of venting was absent, replaced instead by something heavier.

Guilt.

You weren’t sure why.

Maybe it was the way his eyes lingered now, softer, searching, as if trying to memorize every flicker of emotion that crossed your face. Like he was looking for something—hoping for something.

Or maybe it was the way he hesitated before speaking, as if he wanted to be understood but didn’t know how. As if he was afraid that one wrong step would send him tumbling right back into the version of himself you had every reason to despise.

And that’s what made your chest ache.

You sighed, grabbing your keys from the counter and with a quick farewell to Yohan and Mrs. Ha, you made your way down to the garage. The drive to the hospital was quiet, the high rises casting fleeting shadows as you navigated the city streets.

Your mind wandered. Mingi was still a mess of contradictions—still the person who had hurt you more than anyone else ever had. And yet, in the past two months, something had shifted. He’d been different.

You weren’t sure what that meant for you, if it meant anything at all.

Pulling into the hospital lot, you glanced at the time. You were early. With minutes to spare, you found yourself hesitating, fingers tapping against the steering wheel. You could just wait here, let Mingi find his way out like always.

But today, something in you wavered.

Maybe, just this once, you’d meet him halfway.

Sighing, you turned off the engine and walked into the hospital. The automatic doors parted soundlessly as you entered, the sterile scent of antiseptic and faint traces of coffee from the café wrapping around you.

You weaved through the familiar hallways toward the rehabilitation center, past patients in wheelchairs and staff exchanging clipped instructions.

And then—

"You think you can just walk away from me?"

You stopped.

Ahri.

Her voice carried through the clinic, too loud, too reckless for a public space, but she didn’t seem to care.

A few steps ahead, just past a row of columns, Mingi stood—partially obscured, his broad shoulders stiff with tension. Ahri stood in front of him, heaving with anger, her expression twisted into something between fury and despair.

Your instincts told you to walk away before you were pulled into something you weren’t meant to witness. But your feet wouldn’t move. Instead, you ducked behind the corner, pressing yourself against the wall, your heartbeat hammering in your ears.

"Do you really think she’ll love you after everything you put her through?!"

You sucked in a breath. That stopped Mingi and Ahri knew it. You peeked out just enough to catch the smirk curling at the edges of her lips and the cruel glint in her eyes.

"You think a self-respecting woman like Choi Y/N would want you? You fucked me on your wedding night!"

The words slammed into you, knocking the air from your lungs. You had known what you were getting into when your parents arranged your marriage to Mingi. You had no illusions about love or loyalty, not when his heart had already belonged to someone else. You had told yourself his affair with Ahri didn’t matter, that you weren’t some naive child clinging to false hope.

But hearing the words now, so bluntly and irrevocably, felt different. It was like an old wound you thought had scarred over, threatening to tear open all over again.

A murmur of voices rippled through the onlookers—gasps, hushed whispers, stolen glances exchanged in uneasy silence. Mingi remained frozen, his jaw clenched so tight it looked painful, his fists curling and uncurling around his crutches.

Your fingers curled into your sleeves, nails pressing crescent marks into your skin. The way Mingi stood there, facing Ahri’s wrath without backing down, without crumbling the way you might have expected, made your chest tighten.

For the first time in your marriage, Mingi was choosing you.

The realization sent a flutter through you, foreign and unwelcome and you had to keep your knees from buckling beneath you.

This wasn’t forgiveness.

But it was something.

Swallowing hard, you spun on your heel and hurried back to your car. By the time you reached the door, your hands fumbled slightly, a little shaky as you slid inside and shut yourself away from the world.

You squeezed your eyes shut, willing the strange, fluttery feeling in your chest to go away. But it lingered, stubborn and insistent, curling around the edges of your thoughts. Ahri’s words still echoed in your mind, but even louder—more impossible to ignore—was the quiet whisper of, What if?

What if Mingi really was choosing you?

Not out of obligation. Not because there was no one else left. But because he wanted to.

A breathy laugh escaped you, more out of disbelief than amusement.

“What do you think, Maro?”

The name slipped out before you could stop it, but it felt natural, like Maro was still here, curled up beside you, tail wagging, waiting for you to spill your heart out.

You swallowed, gripping the steering wheel as if it could ground you.

“It’s stupid, right?” Your voice was tentative as you leaned your head against the headrest.

“It doesn’t change anything. Just because he—” You stopped, shook your head, trying to chase away the warmth threatening to creep in.

“It doesn’t mean I should believe in something that’s never been real.”

You could imagine Maro pressing his head into your palm like he understood everything you couldn’t say. Like he was telling you that you didn’t have to figure it all out alone.

“God, I don’t even know what's happening anymore.”

A sudden, sharp knock against the window jolted you upright. Your heart lurched into your throat as you turned, only to find Mingi standing just outside, giving you a small wave. Your face burned. Huffing, you fumbled for the lock with clumsy fingers before scrambling out of the car.

“I got it,” Mingi said with a chuckle, adjusting his grip on his crutches. His voice was light, but his gaze lingered on you, studying you with an expression softer than you were used to.

“You okay?”

You forced a small smile, brushing imaginary dust off your sleeves in an attempt to steady yourself. “Yeah, just tired.”

Mingi didn’t look convinced. He lingered for a second longer, his eyes searching yours as if debating whether to press further. But he didn’t. Instead, he exhaled through his nose, nodded, and slid into the passenger seat.

The drive home passed in a blur. The streetlights stretched long across the pavement, casting soft, flickering patterns against the windshield, but you were lost in the whirlwind of thoughts brewing in your mind.

Did he really love you?

⋆

"Y/N…can you call my phone? I can’t seem to find it."

Mingi had been more flustered than usual lately—not that he wanted to admit. The accident had left him disoriented, but it was unlike him to be clumsy. But lately, he kept doing things that frustrated him to no end like pushing against a pull door and standing there and now, misplacing his phone for the third time this week.

He was also never one to ask for help—especially from you.

Before the accident, he had gone out of his way to keep his distance. He had made it clear he wanted nothing from you, and you had gotten the message. Eventually, you stopped offering. And for a while, that’s what he thought he wanted.

Now, he couldn’t stand the thought of it.

If you were in the kitchen, he was suddenly rummaging through the cabinets for a snack he didn’t actually want. If you were on the couch, he was sitting on the opposite end, scrolling through his phone but not really paying attention to it.

And if you got up to leave the room? Well…so did he.

Because he wasn’t afraid of being clingy. Not with you. Not when the thought of you leaving, of not having you here, was far scarier than anything else.

You nodded, pressing the call button as Mingi shuffled past you, disappearing into his room. Your gaze lingered on the doorway long after he was gone.

For the duration of your marriage, you had never once stepped foot inside this room. The door had always remained shut, a silent boundary he had drawn long before he ever knew you. A reminder that no matter what legal document bound you together, there would always be parts of him you would never reach.

But as you took a step forward, following the faint sound of his phone vibrating somewhere in the great beyond, you couldn’t help but wonder if he’d let you glimpse into the parts of himself he had kept locked away.

You stood hesitantly by the threshold watching your husband rifling through his laundry, digging through pockets, and muttering to himself under his breath. The Mingi you had married would’ve cursed under his breath, thrown something, or blamed someone else for his misplaced phone.

But this version of him? He simply kept looking, patient and persistent.

His room was dimly lit with the faint scent of paint and cologne filling the space. Canvases leaned against the walls, some vibrant and abstract, others more detailed and unfinished sketches scattered across his desk.

Your gaze landed on a small canvas resting on the edge of his desk. The soft eyes and the cheeky glint, the little nose, and that signature smile. It wasn’t finished, but there was no mistaking it.

Maro.

“There it is,” Mingi muttered, plucking his phone from the ground next to his bed.

As he swiped the screen to end the call, his gaze flickered toward you, then followed yours to the canvas on his desk. He watched you carefully, half-expecting sadness, maybe even confusion. But instead there was something unexpectedly tender.

And then you looked at him, and Mingi felt it.

Why did you have to look at him like that? Like he had done something right for once. Like you saw him in a way that made his heart squeeze. His ears burned. He cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I… picked up painting,” he admitted. “My physical therapist said it’d help with motor skills and strengthening my hands and fingers.”

He swallowed. “I hope you don’t mind that I painted Maro. I… I wasn’t sure if I got the eyes right,” he admitted, almost shyly.

You stepped closer, drawn in by the familiar shape on the canvas. “It looks just like him,” you murmured, reaching out to trace the dried brushstrokes with your fingertips. The texture of the paint, the careful detail—Mingi had poured himself into this.

Mingi let out a sigh of relief but then, as if realizing something, tensed again a second later. “I—uh, it was supposed to be a surprise,” he blurted out, his eyes widening slightly, as if he’d just realized his mistake.

You blinked up at him. “A surprise?”

“For you,” he admitted, shifting awkwardly. His fingers toyed with the hem of his shirt like he wasn’t sure what to do with his hands.

“I wanted to give it to you when I felt like it was perfect. But, um… I guess I kind of ruined that, huh?” He let out a nervous laugh, scratching the back of his head.

“You painted this for me?”

He peeked at you through his lashes, leaving something softer and more vulnerable in its place as he gave you a small nod.

“I just… I know how much you loved—love Maro, and I thought maybe… you’d want something to keep. Something I made for you.”

Something only for you.

Your breath caught in your throat.

Oh. Your heart squeezed at the sincerity in his voice and the way he’d poured so much of himself into a piece just for you was overwhelming.

“Oh, Mingi…” you breathed.

Emotion swelled in your chest, thick and impossible to name. You wanted to say something, anything, but all you could do was stare at him—the quiet hope in his eyes, the way he watched you like he wasn’t sure what you’d do next.

“I love it,” you said, and you meant it. Not just the painting, but the thought behind it. It was just a painting. But it wasn’t. It was a piece of him—his effort, his sincerity, his quiet way of saying what he couldn’t put into words.

“Thank you.”

The words felt small, insufficient for the weight of what he had given you. But then he smiled—a slow, relieved, utterly radiant smile that knocked the breath from your lungs.

And suddenly, the moment stretched—too long, too precarious.

Your eyes flickered around the room, a sharp awareness settling over you. Mingi’s room. When did he get so close? When did you even come in here?

“I should…” You cleared your throat, glancing toward the door. “I should let you get back to painting.”

Before he could say anything, you turned, slipping out of the room, closing the door gently behind you. For a moment, you leaned against it, trying to steady the sudden pounding in your chest. But before you could make sense of anything—

The door creaked open.

“Wait.”

You turned, as Mingi poked his head out. There was a hint of bashfulness in the way his fingers gripped the doorframe, but his eyes held no hesitation.

“…You can leave it open.”

<< vii | ix >>

taglist: @syubseokie @koyagifs @sunnysidesins @thedistractedwriter @notevenheretbh1

@molberto @litolmochi @intowxnderland @yn-reincarnate @lemonkait00

@corgilover20 @randomgworlypop @taegi1016 @almondtofu006 @ateezaddict24

@desi2go @beabatiny @sangilov-r @roomsofangel @symmieangela

@dumplingsyum @etaerealboy @fairylover68 @foxinnie8

@yoonrixx @jean-swolo @silent-potato @jiwoongsblondehair @sanriomilk

@sanniesbum @tyudearyous @kang-ulzzang @scary-thingz @painted-hills

@kyomiingi @tournesol155 @bee-gremlin @sutskyu @fleuresjay

@http-gyu @ishz @park-simphwa @moonsanshine @drinkingrumandcocacola

@innocygnet @jaeyunlvrs @shanabtsarmy @soso59love-blog @plum-stxr

@vcutparis @kaituyyn @blvckarabixnvoid @amazaynaastha

#song mingi #cromernet #ateez mingi #mingi x reader #arranged marriage au #ateez #mingi x you #ateez fic #mingi angst #ateez angst #enemies to lovers #strangers to lovers

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rafes-slut · 1 day ago

Note

Maybe you'll write something smutty related to Morocco? <3

Hope you will like it..xx

Desert Heat

Summary: rafe was forced to be with pouges in morcco and that meant you too. So when he gets chance to pull you aside and take you he does so. While pouges are looking and calling for you.

Warnings: Explicit content, rough sex, semi-public setting, dub-con elements, strong language, tension-filled dynamic, Rafe being possessive and dominant.

----

You should’ve known better than to wander off alone.

The crowded streets of Morocco were suffocating—too hot, too loud, and too packed with people brushing past you on every side. The Pogues were somewhere nearby, their voices echoing through the narrow alleys as they searched for whatever piece of treasure they were after this time. You were supposed to stick with them. But the second you saw him, your feet carried you away before your brain could catch up.

Rafe fucking Cameron.

He was the last person you wanted to see here—especially after the way the two of you left things. The tension between you had been festering for weeks, a sick mix of hate and something far more dangerous. Every time he looked at you, his blue eyes burned right through you. Every time he opened his mouth, it was to get under your skin.

But none of that explained why you felt your pulse race whenever he was near.

You were trying to slip away, blend into the crowd before he noticed—

But he always noticed.

A strong hand wrapped around your wrist out of nowhere, yanking you into the shadows between two buildings. You gasped, but before you could scream, another hand clamped over your mouth.

“Shh.”

His voice was low, rough against your ear.

“Missed me, pretty girl?”

You froze, heart hammering against your ribs as his body pressed up behind you. Heat rolled off him in waves—sticky and suffocating under the blazing Moroccan sun.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he murmured, his lips brushing the shell of your ear.

You struggled against him, but he only squeezed your waist tighter—his fingers digging into your hips through your thin tank top.

“Cut it out,” you hissed, your voice muffled behind his palm.

Rafe chuckled darkly, finally uncovering your mouth.

“Not my fault you keep running.”

You spun to face him, breath catching at how fucking good he looked. Sweat glistened on his tanned skin, his shirt unbuttoned just enough to show off the gold chain resting against his collarbone. He looked like sin—like trouble wrapped in expensive linen.

“Let me go, Rafe.”

He smirked, eyes flicking over your face.

“You don’t sound like you mean that.”

Your heart thudded painfully in your chest, heat pooling low in your stomach. You hated him—hated how easily he got to you. Hated how he always seemed to know exactly what you needed before you even admitted it to yourself.

“You’re fucking sick,” you whispered.

Rafe’s smirk only grew.

“Yeah?” He backed you further into the building behind you, the door clicking shut. The room was small—dusty and half-abandoned, with a cracked wooden table standing in the middle. Sunlight filtered through a broken window, casting slanted lines across the floor.

“You’ve been dying for this.” He crowded into you, his chest brushing yours. “I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think no one’s watching.”

Your breath caught, shame burning under your skin—because he wasn’t wrong.

Rafe always knew how to twist the knife.

“Fuck you.”

His hand shot out, gripping your jaw—forcing you to look up at him.

“That what you want, huh?” he growled, blue eyes darkening.

You should’ve slapped him. You should’ve pushed him away and walked out.

Instead, you leaned into him.

His mouth crashed against yours—hot, messy, desperate. Weeks of tension snapped between you like a live wire. His hands were everywhere—grabbing, pulling, taking. He spun you around, bending you over the table before you could catch your breath.

“Rafe—”

His hand clamped over your mouth again.

“Quiet,” he ordered, voice low and threatening.

The Pogues were still calling your name somewhere outside—your heart racing faster with every echo of their voices.

“This what you wanted, huh?” Rafe’s breath was hot against your ear. His hips pressed hard against your ass, making you whimper into his palm. “Walking around in that little outfit… knew you were looking for trouble.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, your body betraying you with every shiver that ran down your spine. His free hand slipped beneath the waistband of your shorts, making you arch back into him without meaning to.

“Such a fucking tease,” he muttered. “Always running that mouth… but I knew you’d let me have you sooner or later.”

He shoved your shorts down just enough to bare you to him, fingers trailing between your legs—teasing, taunting. You bit down on the heel of his hand to muffle the pathetic noise that escaped you.

The voices outside got closer.

“Where the fuck did she go?”

JJ’s voice.

You froze—your breath catching in your throat.

Rafe just grinned against your neck, loving how fucking sick this was.

“Guess you better stay quiet, huh?”

Your heart hammered as he undid his belt with one hand, the leather sliding free with a low snap.

“Don’t worry, pretty girl,” he whispered, pressing a messy kiss behind your ear. “I’ll make it quick.”

He pushed into you without warning—rough and deep—forcing a muffled cry from your throat. His hand stayed clamped over your mouth, holding you down as he fucked you hard against the table. The wood creaked beneath your weight, your fingernails digging into the splintered surface.

The whole time, the Pogues kept calling.

“Y/N!”

You could feel the sick smile against your neck, Rafe’s hips snapping harder every time your name echoed through the narrow streets outside.

“You’re so fucking filthy,” he growled.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes—not from pain, but from how fucking good it felt to finally give in to him. To finally let him ruin you the way you both knew he would.

It didn’t take long. It never did with him.

Rafe came with a low groan, his teeth sinking into your shoulder to muffle the sound. You followed seconds later—your whole body shaking under him as pleasure ripped through you.

He stayed buried inside you for a moment—both of you panting, sweat-soaked, and wrecked.

Then he pulled out, fixing his belt like nothing happened.

You scrambled to fix your clothes, heart still racing as he backed toward the door—smirking like the fucking devil.

“Better get out there before they start to worry,” he taunted, slipping out into the street like he hadn’t just fucked you half-senseless.

You stood there trembling—legs still shaking—until the voices finally faded.

133 notes · View notes

aspenmissing · 14 hours ago

Note

HI! I’ve been LIVING off your writings for arcane and they’re so HEHEHE 🎀🎀

I’ve been struggling lately with severe episodes of depression and only if your comfortable with it, I would love to see your take on the arcane characters reacting to our (TW) suicide attempt.

especially for a female reader who always puts on a happy front for the people around her; it would hit close to home 🫂

(I don’t mind which characters you use, but pls include Viktor)

ᴀ ʟɪꜰᴇ ʀᴇᴡʀɪᴛᴛᴇɴ

ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴠɪᴋ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴊɪɴx || ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ/ᴄᴏᴍꜰᴏʀᴛ || 5497 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ꜱᴜɪᴄɪᴅᴇ ᴀᴛᴛᴇᴍᴘᴛꜱ, ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ, ɴᴇᴀʀ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ, ᴏᴠᴇʀᴅᴏꜱᴇ/ᴘɪʟʟꜱ/ᴘᴏɪꜱᴏɴ (ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ/ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ'ꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴛꜱ) ꜱᴇʟꜰ-ʜᴀʀᴍ/ᴄᴜᴛ ᴡʀɪꜱᴛꜱ (ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ'ꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴛ) ᴀᴛᴛᴇᴍᴘᴛ ꜱʜᴏᴏᴛɪɴɢ(ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ'ꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴛ) ᴀᴛᴛᴇᴍᴘᴛᴇᴅ ᴊᴜᴍᴘ/ᴛᴏʟᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴊᴜᴍᴘ (ʀᴇɢʀᴇᴛꜰᴜʟ) (ᴊɪɴx'ꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴛ), ꜰᴇᴇʟɪɴɢꜱ ᴏꜰ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ᴀ ʙᴜʀᴅᴇɴ

ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ: ɪ ᴀᴍ ꜱᴏ ɢʟᴀᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏɪɴɢ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ꜱᴡᴇᴇᴛɪᴇ! ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ᴠᴇʀʏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛᴀᴋɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴛʜᴇᴍ! ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ᴅᴏ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴋᴇᴇᴘɪɴɢ ᴡᴇʟʟ, ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ᴛʜɪꜱ ʙʀɪɴɢꜱ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ᴄᴏᴍꜰᴏʀᴛ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜ! ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏ ᴋɴᴏᴡ, ɪ ᴀᴍ ꜱᴏ ᴘʀᴏᴜᴅ ᴏꜰ ʏᴏᴜ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ꜱᴏ ꜱᴛʀᴏɴɢ, ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ꜱᴏ ɪᴍᴘᴏʀᴛᴀɴᴛ ɪɴ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ. ᴀɴᴅ ᴀꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴏᴄᴛᴏʀ ꜱᴀʏꜱ "ɪ'ᴠᴇ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴍᴇᴛ ᴀɴʏᴏɴᴇ, ᴡʜᴏ ᴡᴀꜱɴ'ᴛ ɪᴍᴘᴏʀᴛᴀɴᴛ" <3

JAYCE

Jayce had always admired Y/N’s resilience, the way she lit up every room she entered. She was a beacon, a guiding light that never seemed to flicker, even in Piltover’s darkest moments. The people adored her, drawn to her warmth like moths to a flame. But Jayce—Jayce loved her.

Perhaps that was why it hit him so hard when he found her.

The moment he pushed open the door to their shared home, the air felt different—thicker, heavier. A cold dread slithered down his spine as he stepped forward, calling her name. Silence. His heart pounded as he searched, fear taking root deep in his chest.

Then he found her.

Y/N lay crumpled on the bathroom floor, her skin pale as the moonlight filtering through the window. A broken glass bottle lay near her trembling fingers, the liquid inside having seeped into the tile. The sight knocked the breath from his lungs.

“No—no, no, no.” He dropped to his knees beside her, hands shaking as he cupped her face. “Y/N, wake up—please.”

Her eyelids fluttered, and for a moment, her gaze met his—distant, hazy, filled with an exhaustion he hadn’t seen before. Had he been so blind?

Jayce fumbled for his communicator, hands clumsy as he called for help. His mind raced, the realization hitting him like a hammer: he had failed her. He had been so enamored with the light she shared with the world that he had never noticed the darkness she hid within herself.

Tears burned in his eyes as he pressed his forehead against hers. “Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice was barely above a whisper, raw with emotion. “Why did you feel like you had to go through this alone?”

A weak, trembling breath escaped her lips. “I… didn’t want to burden you.”

Jayce’s heart shattered. “Burden me?” He shook his head fiercely, gripping her hand tightly. “Y/N, you are everything to me. I don’t care how much you’re hurting—I want to be there. I need to be there.” His throat tightened. “I love you.”

His fingers smoothed over her cheek, his touch light as if she might break further under his hands. He could feel her pulse beneath his fingertips—faint, but there. Relief battled with anguish as he kissed her knuckles, his own hands trembling.

The sirens in the distance barely registered in his mind. All he could focus on was her—his Y/N, the woman who had given so much of herself to others that she had nothing left for herself. How had he missed it? The tired smiles, the way she lingered in moments of silence, the distant looks when she thought no one was watching. He cursed himself for not seeing it sooner.

“Stay with me,” he whispered, voice breaking. “I don’t care how long it takes, I just want you here. We’ll figure this out. I promise you, we’ll figure this out together.”

Her lips parted, and for a brief moment, he saw something flicker in her gaze—not quite hope, but not despair either. He clung to it.

When the medics finally arrived, Jayce refused to let go of her hand, riding with her to the hospital, his grip never faltering. Through the beeping monitors and sterile white walls, he stayed, whispering soft reassurances against her forehead, tracing circles into her palm. He stayed because he couldn't bear the thought of losing her, because for once, he needed to be the light she could rely on.

Jayce made a silent vow that night. He would not lose her—not to this. He would remind her every single day that she wasn’t alone, that she didn’t have to pretend. That she was loved.

And most of all, that he would always, always catch her when she fell.

VIKTOR

The evening had settled over Piltover, the golden glow of the city’s skyline stretching across the window of their shared apartment. Viktor had just finished at the lab, exhaustion weighing heavily on his limbs as he made his way home. The scent of rain lingered in the air, a storm having passed through earlier, leaving the streets damp and glistening under the flickering lamplights.

Viktor had always admired your ability to bring light into the world, how you could make anyone smile even on their worst days. To most, you were the embodiment of warmth and laughter, always ready with a joke or a gentle touch to ease the burdens of others. But Viktor… Viktor had seen something else. Something deeper.

There were nights when you thought he was asleep, but he had caught you staring blankly at the ceiling, your body curled into itself like you were trying to disappear. The way your laughter would sometimes falter for just a moment too long before you forced it back into place. The way you’d look at your own hands, as if they didn’t belong to you. It was subtle, so well hidden beneath that dazzling exterior, but Viktor saw it. He had always seen it.

And yet, he hadn’t known the depth of it. Not until tonight.

He pushed open the apartment door, the familiar warmth of home greeting him. But something felt… off.

There was an unnatural silence, a stillness that sent an uneasy chill down his spine. He called out your name, his voice carrying through the small space, but no response came.

Frowning, he stepped forward—and that’s when he noticed it.

The floor outside the bathroom was wet.

His heart leapt to his throat as his mind raced. The water trailed from beneath the door, pooling slightly against the tiles. He reached for the handle, his grip trembling, and pushed it open.

His cane slipped from his fingers the moment his eyes took in the scene before him.

You were in the bathtub, submerged in water tinged with crimson. Your wrists were slit, thin ribbons of blood curling through the water like a painter’s delicate strokes. Your face was tilted to the side, eyes half-lidded, your usually radiant expression now eerily blank.

“Moji bohové… Y/N!” (My Gods)

Viktor lurched forward, his knees hitting the wet floor as he reached into the tub, hands shaking violently as he cupped your face. You were still breathing—barely, but you were. He let out a ragged breath, urgency overtaking his horror.

He dragged you out of the water, cradling you against his chest as he pressed his trembling fingers against your wounds, trying to stop the bleeding.

“Stay with me, moje láska, please—please stay with me.” His voice cracked, thick with desperation as he pulled off his scarf, wrapping it tightly around your wrists. His mind was screaming, urging him to act fast, to not let you slip away from him. (My Love)

He had seen you smile through pain so many times before, always the light in the room, the one who comforted others, who laughed as if sadness was a stranger to you. How had he not seen? How had he not noticed the weight you carried behind that smile?

“Why… why didn’t you tell me?” he whispered, pressing his forehead against yours as tears slipped down his cheeks. “I would have listened—I would have done anything to help you.”

Your lashes fluttered, a shuddering breath escaping you, and Viktor held onto it like a lifeline.

He wasn’t going to let you go.

Not now.

Not ever.

His hands remained firm around you, his warmth seeping into your cold skin. He rocked slightly, whispering soft reassurances against your damp hair. “It’s alright, moje láska. You are not alone. You never have to be alone.”

He kissed your forehead gently, lingering there as if he could will his strength into you. “I will stay by your side for as long as you let me. No matter how dark it gets, I will be your light, just as you have always been mine.”

The soft rise and fall of your chest told him you were still with him, still holding on, and he vowed in that moment to never let you carry this burden alone again.

The night was long, but Viktor would spend every second of it reminding you that you were loved, that you were wanted, and that you were not alone.

JAYVIK

The apartment was warm, filled with the scent of parchment and lingering traces of oil from the lab. The soft flicker of gaslight cast long shadows on the walls, wrapping the space in a false sense of comfort.

Viktor sighed as he leaned his cane against the entryway, rolling his stiff shoulders. Jayce followed close behind, locking the door with a weary exhale. Another late night at the workshop—hours of calculations, adjustments, and tense discussions—but at least now, they were home.

Home, where Y/N would be waiting for them.

Jayce set his bag down and ran a hand through his hair. “Y/N?” His voice was warm, familiar, expecting her usual hum of acknowledgment. When only silence met him, he frowned. Maybe she was already asleep. She had been exhausted lately.

Viktor busied himself with his brace, fingers fumbling with the straps. “She must have gone to bed early,” he murmured, though the silence gnawed at him, unsettling.

“I’ll check on her,” Jayce said absently, already striding towards the bedroom. He pushed the door open, expecting to find her curled beneath the blankets, perhaps with a book still open in her lap.

The room was dim, moonlight spilling through the curtains in fractured silver strands. But something was wrong. The air was too still.

Then he saw her.

For a moment, his brain refused to process it. A trick of the shadows, a distortion in his vision—but no. His breath left him in a violent gasp, the world snapping into cruel clarity.

Y/N. Hanging.

His body moved before thought could catch up. The chair was toppled beneath her, her feet barely brushing the floor. Her body swayed ever so slightly.

A strangled noise tore from Jayce’s throat, raw and broken.

“Oh, Gods—”

He lunged forward, his hands finding her legs, lifting—lifting—his arms shaking with the effort as he tried to take the weight off her throat.

The rope cut into her neck, biting deep. Her skin was pallid, lips parted slightly as if in the middle of an unfinished thought. Her eyes, half-lidded, unfocused. Too still.

He couldn’t breathe. His mind was a mess of static, a scream trapped in his chest.

“Viktor! A knife—now!” His voice cracked, desperate.

In the next room, Viktor froze, the world tilting violently around him. Something inside him fractured at the sheer panic in Jayce’s voice. He turned too fast, his brace slipping as he nearly collapsed against the wall. His hands fumbled, shaking, as he pushed off toward the kitchen.

He could hear Jayce in the bedroom, his voice hoarse, pleading.

“Come on, Y/N—stay with me, please! Just hold on—just a little longer—”

Viktor’s fingers closed around a knife. He nearly dropped it in his rush, his breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps as he forced his legs to move faster. The bedroom felt miles away.

When he stumbled inside, the sight nearly shattered him.

Jayce was on his knees, still holding her up, arms trembling with exertion. His face was tight with barely restrained panic, but he refused to let go. He couldn’t.

Viktor swallowed down bile and forced himself forward, lifting the blade with unsteady hands. His breath hitched at the sight of her face—slack, unmoving, the deep bruising already forming around her throat.

She had always smiled. Always.

The girl who laughed in the morning sunlight, who brought warmth into their coldest nights—who held their hands even when hers were shaking.

His grip on the knife tightened. The rope frayed beneath the blade, splitting apart with a final, sickening snap. Y/N collapsed into Jayce’s arms, boneless and eerily limp.

Jayce cradled her against his chest as they hit the floor, his breath coming in frantic gasps. “She’s not—” He couldn’t finish the sentence. He pressed his ear to her chest, his heart hammering so hard it nearly drowned out the sound of—

Nothing.

Viktor knelt beside them, his fingers trembling as they found her wrist. Searching, searching— But she wasn’t breathing.

His stomach dropped. “We need to—Jayce, lay her down. Now.” His voice was sharp, cutting through the panic.

Jayce barely registered the words before he obeyed, carefully easing her onto the floor. His hands hovered over her, shaking.

“She’s not—she’s not breathing,” Jayce whispered, and something shattered in his voice.

Viktor adjusted himself beside her, forcing composure into his hands. He tilted her head back, fingers brushing against the bruising at her throat, and pressed his ear to her mouth.

Nothing.

His chest clenched. No. No, no, no—

“Jayce.” He barely recognized his own voice. “I need you to count.”

Jayce blinked at him, dazed. “What?”

Viktor’s hands found her chest. He had studied this. He had learned. He could do this. He had to.

“Count, Jayce!”

Jayce flinched before snapping into action, his voice shaking. “One—two—three—”

Viktor started compressions. He pressed firmly, methodically, ignoring the way his hands trembled. “Fifteen,” Jayce choked out, and Viktor moved back as Jayce tilted her head, pinched her nose, and pressed his mouth to hers, breathing for her.

Nothing.

“Again,” Viktor ordered, voice hoarse.

Jayce counted. Viktor pushed. Jayce breathed. Again. Again. Again.

A sound.

A weak, shallow gasp.

Jayce jolted, his hand flying to her cheek. “Y/N?”

A cough—ragged, barely there. Then a wheeze, her body twitching as her lungs fought for air. She was breathing.

Jayce let out a sob, hands clutching at her like she might disappear. “Oh, thank the Gods—”

Viktor exhaled shakily, his head bowing as his hand gripped Y/N’s. She was still pale, her breaths uneven, but she was here.

Jayce pressed his forehead to hers, tears slipping down his face. “We should have seen it,” he whispered.

Viktor swallowed the lump in his throat. His fingers brushed over her bruised skin, shame curling around his ribs like iron bands. “She hid it well,” he murmured. And wasn’t that the cruellest thing? That she had carried this pain alone.

Y/N stirred weakly beneath their touch, her eyelashes fluttering. Her brows furrowed slightly, lips parting as if to speak—but no words came. Only a soft, broken whimper.

Jayce nearly choked on his relief. He pressed a kiss to her temple, his voice breaking. “You’re okay. You’re okay.”

Viktor leaned closer, voice thick with something fragile and raw. “You are here,” he whispered, “and you will stay. We will not lose you.”

Jayce nodded fiercely, his fingers lacing with hers. “Never,” he swore. “You’re not doing this alone anymore.”

They clung to her—whispering, holding, promising. She didn’t have to say anything. She didn’t have to smile. They saw her anyway.

They always would.

VANDER

Y/N always smiled. She laughed the loudest at the bar, kept Powder entertained with tricks and stories, reassured Vi when the weight of the world settled too heavy on her young shoulders. She playfully ruffled Mylo’s hair when he got too cocky, and she always had Claggor’s back when he was the quiet voice of reason in their little group. Even when her own demons clawed at the edges of her mind, she tucked them away, never letting them show. Never letting them burden the people she loved.

But tonight, the mask cracked. And then, it shattered.

She had gone upstairs first, excusing herself early under the guise of exhaustion. Vander had nodded in understanding, still busy closing up the Last Drop. He never truly slept until he knew everyone was safe, and Y/N had used that to her advantage.

The bar was nearly empty, the lanterns dimming as the night stretched thin. No one questioned her departure, not when the weight of the day had worn everyone down. It gave her just enough time to slip away into the small room she shared with Vander, her hands trembling as she emptied the pills into her palm.

She wasn’t sure how many she took. It didn’t matter. She just wanted it to stop. The thoughts. The exhaustion. The feeling of never being enough.

And so, Y/N laid back, exhaling softly as the weight of the world started to fade.

It was Powder who found her.

The little girl had woken up from a nightmare, the kind that left her chest heaving and her hands shaking. She had wanted to go to Vi, but for some reason, her feet had led her to Y/N and Vander’s room instead. Powder liked Y/N. She was warm, safe. Always had a way of making her feel like everything would be okay.

But when she reached the bedside, shaking Y/N’s shoulder gently, she didn’t wake up.

“Y/N?” Powder’s voice was small, hesitant. She shook her a little harder. “Y/N, wake up.”

Nothing.

A chill raced down her spine. Then she saw the empty bottle on the nightstand. Then another. And another.

Powder’s breath hitched. Fear crashed into her, stronger than any nightmare. But she didn’t understand. Y/N wasn’t waking up. Maybe she was sick? Maybe she needed medicine? Powder’s tiny hands tugged at the blanket, trying to wake her up again. But Y/N didn’t move.

She scrambled back, panic rising, and bolted from the room, feet pounding down the hall. She didn’t stop until she reached the stairs, nearly tripping over herself in her rush. Powder didn’t stop running until she burst into the bar, tears streaming down her face.

“Vander! It’s Y/N—she—she won’t wake up!” Powder’s voice cracked as she tugged at his arm, desperate. “There’s bottles—she took something—I think she’s sick, she—she—”

Vander’s heart stopped.

The rag he’d been using to wipe down the bar dropped from his hands as he bolted past her, his heavy footsteps shaking the floorboards. As he thundered up the stairs, Vi and Claggor appeared from their rooms, rubbing the sleep from their eyes. One look at Powder’s tear-streaked face was all they needed.

“What happened?” Vi asked, voice thick with worry.

“I dunno! She’s just not waking up! She won’t wake up!” Powder sobbed.

Vi and Claggor exchanged a glance. They understood. Powder didn’t. Mylo peeked out from behind Claggor, rubbing at his arm, confused and grumpy.

Vander didn’t stop to explain. He threw open Y/N’s door and the sight that greeted him stole the air from his lungs. Y/N, lying far too still. Pill bottles littering the bedside. The rise and fall of her chest barely visible.

“No, no, no, no, Dammit.”

Vander surged forward, gathering her up in his arms. Her skin was too cool, her breaths shallow. He didn’t think—just acted, hauling her toward the small bathroom down the hall. He barely registered Powder’s panicked sobs behind him as he forced Y/N over the toilet.

Vi sucked in a sharp breath, grabbing Mylo’s arm. “Come on. You and Powder, let’s go.”

“What? Why? What’s wrong with Y/N?” Mylo protested, but Vi’s grip tightened.

“Claggor, help me.”

Claggor nodded, stepping in to gently but firmly steer Powder away. She kicked and fought weakly against him, her sobs growing frantic. “No! She’s sick! I wanna help!”

Vi bent down, brushing Powder’s hair from her face. “It’s okay, Powder. Vander’s gonna take care of her. We just… we just need to give them space, alright?”

Powder sniffled but nodded, clinging to Vi as Claggor led them away.

Inside the bathroom, Vander’s hands shook as he forced Y/N forward.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he muttered, voice rough with barely restrained panic. “You gotta fight for me. You hear me? You gotta—”

He forced his fingers down her throat.

She gagged, a weak protest leaving her lips before the contents of her stomach spilled into the sink. Vander didn’t stop, rubbing rough circles on her back, murmuring reassurances as more came up.

His heart was a hammer against his ribs. He had seen plenty of things in his life—seen friends die, seen blood spill, seen too much suffering. But nothing, nothing compared to this.

To the sight of Y/N, the woman he loved, lifeless in his arms.

Her body shook, her limbs too weak to fight him, but finally, finally, she coughed, a wet, ragged sound. Vander let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, tightening his hold on her.

“There we go,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “There we go, sweetheart.”

He kept her close even as she trembled, even as the reality of what she had done settled between them like a heavy fog.

Y/N tried to pull away, but Vander wouldn’t let her.

“I’m sorry,” she croaked, voice raw. “I just—I couldn’t—”

Vander closed his eyes, his jaw tight.

“We’ll talk later.” His voice was gentle but firm, a thread of something unshakable woven through it. “For now, you’re staying right here. With me.”

She sagged against him, too tired to argue. Too exhausted to do anything but let him hold her.

Vi and Claggor lingered near the doorway, their faces tight with worry. Powder and Mylo were gone, safely away from the scene. Vander met Vi’s eyes and gave her a small, reassuring nod.

He wasn’t letting her go.

Not now. Not ever.

SILCO

The tavern was alive with raucous laughter and the clinking of glasses, the air thick with the scent of alcohol and smoke. Y/N sat among them, a dazzling smile gracing her lips, laughter bubbling from her throat like a melody. She was the light in the darkness, the one who brought ease to those around her, the one who always knew how to make even the most hardened criminals feel warmth.

But Silco saw through it.

He sat in the corner, swirling the last remnants of whiskey in his glass, his sharp gaze locked onto you. To everyone else, you were nothing but joy and sunshine, the one who never let the weight of the world press down on her shoulders. But Silco saw the exhaustion lingering behind your eyes, the way your laughter was just a touch too forced, the way your hands twitched slightly when you thought no one was looking.

It was an illusion, a damn good one at that, but he had spent enough time around you to know when the cracks were showing.

Later that night, when the festivities had died down and the streets of Zaun were shrouded in the quiet hum of neon lights, he followed you. Your steps were hurried, unsteady, like someone desperate to escape their own shadow. And when he saw you disappear into your room, he felt the cold dread settle deep in his gut.

The click of the hammer being drawn back cut through the silence like a blade.

Silco’s breath hitched as he entered the dimly lit room, his eye immediately locking onto the sight before him. You stood near the window, your hand trembling as you gripped the pistol, its barrel pressed firmly against your temple. The usual warmth in your eyes, the ever-present, easy-going smile—gone. Instead, there was a hollow emptiness, a void that threatened to swallow you whole.

A cold pit settled in his stomach.

He moved before thought could catch up, his body acting on raw instinct. A single second stretched into an eternity as your finger tightened on the trigger. Just as the shot rang out, Silco’s hand collided with your wrist, jerking it upward. The deafening crack of the gun filled the room, the bullet embedding itself into the ceiling. Dust rained down around you both, but neither of you moved. You stood there, breathless, wide-eyed, gun still clutched in your fingers.

Then, the weight of his grip crashed down upon you.

Silco’s fingers curled into the front of your shirt, yanking you forward with a force that stole what little air remained in your lungs. His crimson eye burned with fury, his usual composed demeanor shattered. The grip on your collar was tight, almost suffocating, his knuckles white from the pressure.

"What in the hell do you think you're doing?" His voice was venom, raw and shaking with something unrecognizable—fear? Anguish?

You had never seen him like this. Never heard his voice crack beneath the weight of something so... human. You tried to speak, tried to push back, but his grip only tightened, his face inches from yours.

"You were going to leave me." His voice was a rasp, barely above a whisper, yet it carried the weight of an unforgiving storm. "After everything, you were going to take the easy way out?"

Tears welled in your eyes, though you stubbornly tried to blink them away. "Silco, I—"

"No." His voice cut through whatever excuse you were about to give. His free hand shot up, fingers tangling in your hair as he forced you to look at him. "You don’t get to smile through the pain for everyone else and then fall apart when no one’s looking. Not to me. Not ever."

The weight of his words hit you harder than any bullet could have. The mask you had carefully maintained for so long cracked, splintering like glass. A sob clawed its way out of your throat, raw and unfiltered. You expected him to let you go then, to leave you standing there in your misery.

But he didn't.

Silco pulled you into his arms, his grip still tight, still grounding. His chin pressed against the top of your head, and you felt the rise and fall of his breath—ragged, desperate.

"You don’t get to leave me," he murmured, softer this time, but no less resolute. "Do you hear me, Y/N? I won’t let you."

Your fingers curled into his coat, clutching him as if letting go meant shattering completely. He wasn’t soft, nor was he gentle. But he was there. Unyielding. And for the first time in what felt like forever, you let yourself break in the arms of someone who refused to let you disappear.

"You stupid, selfish girl," he muttered into your hair, the words rough but laced with something deeper, something unspoken. His grip didn’t loosen, if anything, it tightened. "You think you can just slip away, leave me in this wretched place alone?"

You shook against him, silent sobs wracking your body, unable to form words. He let out a shaky breath, as if forcing himself to regain composure, but his arms never let go.

Slowly, almost reluctantly, his grip on your collar loosened, his hands instead smoothing over your back in slow, grounding motions. "You are not a burden," he muttered, his voice softer than you had ever heard it. "You are not alone. Do you understand that?"

You buried your face into his chest, his scent—cigarettes and the lingering traces of whiskey—somehow grounding, anchoring you to something tangible. He let you cling to him, let you fall apart in his grasp as if holding you together was the only thing keeping him steady as well.

"We'll figure this out, Y/N," he said, voice quiet but firm. "But you don’t get to leave. Not without a fight."

His fingers curled into your hair, holding you close as his body shielded yours from the ghosts that threatened to pull you under. The room was still, the weight of the moment settling between you both like an unspoken promise.

For the first time in what felt like forever, you let yourself believe him. Silco would never let you disappear.

JINX

The wind howled through the empty alleyways of Zaun, rustling Y/N’s hair as she stood at the edge of a crumbling rooftop. The city stretched below her, its familiar neon glow casting eerie shadows on her face. Her hands clenched into fists as she stared down at the drop, heart hammering against her ribs.

She had spent her whole life being the light for others—smiling, laughing, pushing forward no matter what. But cracks had started to form beneath that bright façade, fractures so deep that even she couldn’t pretend anymore.

“Y/N?”

The voice sent a shiver down her spine.

Jinx.

She turned slightly, just enough to see the blue-haired girl standing a few feet away. Jinx’s usual manic energy was absent; instead, her wide eyes were locked on her, her expression unreadable.

Jinx took a step forward, boots crunching against the rooftop’s gravel. “What… what the hell are you doing?”

Y/N exhaled, forcing a small, tired smile. “Hey, Jinx. Didn’t think you’d find me here.”

“Yeah, well,” Jinx’s fingers twitched at her sides. “Didn’t think you’d be doing this either.”

Silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken words. Y/N turned her gaze back to the drop. “I just… I don’t want to pretend anymore.”

Jinx’s hands curled into fists. “Pretend what?”

“That I’m okay.”

The words hit like a punch to the gut. Jinx sucked in a sharp breath, a storm brewing in her chest. Her whole life, people left—either by choice or because the world took them away. And now Y/N, the one person who always smiled, who always pulled her out of her worst moments, was about to leave too?

Jinx’s mind raced, her heart hammering in her chest. Y/N had been there, through the madness, through the worst of it, the only one who never looked at her like she was broken beyond repair. And now she was just going to leave? Just like that? After everything? After she promised?

“No,” Jinx snarled, stepping closer. “You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to come into my life, make things better, make me think that maybe—maybe I’m not alone, and then just leave! That’s not fair! You promised me, Y/N!”

"Jinx I-"

“Shut up!” Jinx’s voice cracked, anger and fear twisting inside her. “You think you can just disappear and it won’t matter? That it won’t tear me apart?” She was trembling now, fists clenched. “You wanna jump? Fine. Go ahead!”

Y/N’s eyes widened, and for a second, she thought she had misheard her. But Jinx’s expression twisted into something broken, something raw—grief and fury tangled together in a storm she couldn’t control.

“Go on, then! Don’t just stand there acting all hesitant! You wanted this, right? So do it! Jump! Leave me like everyone else has!”

A beat passed.

Then another.

Jinx’s expression crumbled as the weight of her own words hit her like a freight train. Her knees buckled, and she fell forward, clutching at Y/N’s hands with desperate strength. “No, no, no—I didn’t mean that.” Her voice broke, tears slipping down her cheeks. “I take it back, okay? Just—please. Please don’t go.”

Y/N felt Jinx’s grip tighten, her desperation sinking into her bones. And for the first time in a long while, she didn’t feel invisible.

Her legs trembled as she stepped back from the ledge.

The adrenaline, the fear, the sheer weight of everything crashed down on her all at once. Her knees buckled, and before she could stop herself, she collapsed onto the rooftop floor. Her body shook with exhaustion, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

Jinx didn’t hesitate. She dropped down beside her, arms wrapping around Y/N in a crushing embrace. She held on like Y/N was slipping through her fingers, like if she let go, she’d disappear forever. “Please,” Jinx whispered, voice raw and trembling. “Don’t ever do that again.”

Y/N buried her face in Jinx’s shoulder, her fingers clutching onto the fabric of her shirt as silent tears slipped down her cheeks. Jinx’s grip only tightened, rocking them slightly, as if trying to ground both of them.

“I got you,” Jinx murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “I got you, okay? You’re not alone.”

Y/N let out a shaky breath and closed her eyes, allowing herself to be held. For the first time in what felt like forever, she let herself believe those words, even if just for a moment.

Jinx pulled away slightly, her fingers brushing over Y/N’s face, tilting her chin up to meet her eyes. “Let’s get out of here,” she said, voice still unsteady but firm. “We’ll go somewhere, anywhere. Just… stay with me.”

Y/N hesitated, but the warmth in Jinx’s grip anchored her. She gave a weak nod, and Jinx exhaled sharply, relief flooding her features.

Jinx helped her to her feet, keeping an arm wrapped protectively around her. “We’ll figure this out,” she muttered, more to herself than anything. “Together.”

Y/N glanced back at the ledge one last time before turning away from it for good. As they walked, Jinx’s grip never loosened—not once.

And for the first time in a long time, Y/N felt like maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t completely alone after all.

#Arcane #arcane fandom #arcane angst #reader insert #jinx x platonic!reader #jayce x reader #jayce x you #jayce talis x reader #jayce x y/n #viktor x y/n #viktor x reader #jayce x reader x viktor #viktor x you #vander x reader #silco x reader #jayvik x reader

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magnagaruzenmon · 2 days ago

Text

Lights camera

A short little jaunt from us with love

INT. SOUNDSTAGE – FILM SET

The air is thick with tension as Daizo steps closer, his voice dripping with malice.

“You and I aren’t so different,” he says, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that seems to burn right through you.

You hold your ground, jaw tightening as you shoot back coldly—

“We will never be the same.”

The silence crackles between you like a live wire, charged and dangerous.

“And cut!”

Mr. Valenti claps his hands together, stepping forward from behind the monitor. “Daizohan, Argo, you both are doing great. Seriously, that was electric. Next, we’ll do the girl’s scenes, then we’re wrapped for today.”

You exhale, the weight of the scene finally lifting off your shoulders. Daizo relaxes too, his previously menacing stare replaced by an easy grin. The two of you nod at the director before heading off to hair and makeup to remove the layers of prosthetics, fake dirt, and stage blood.

The buzz of hairdryers and muffled chatter fills the trailer as the makeup artists carefully peel away the carefully sculpted villainous scars from Daizo’s face. You sit beside him, tugging off the tactical gloves from your costume, watching in mild fascination as his transformation reverts—going from a ruthless antagonist back to the Daizo you’ve come to know.

“Dude,” you say, shaking your head in admiration, “how do you go from pleasant smiles to playing a straight-up villain like that? You’re terrifying.”

Daizo smirks, leaning back in his chair. “It’s honestly really easy. I just think about all the bosses who’ve put me in a bad position and pretend I’m getting my revenge.”

You let out a laugh. “Remind me never to get on your bad side, then.”

Daizo chuckles. “Too late for that, I’m already plotting against you.”

You nudge him playfully before standing to stretch. “Whatever it is, keep doing it, man. You’re killing it.”

Daizo tilts his head, his usual pleasant smile returning. “Thanks. And you know what? You’re doing fantastic too. You are bodying the role.”

You pause, blinking at him. “…Bodying?”

Realizing your confusion, Daizo quickly clarifies, “It means you’re doing really well at something. It’s a slang term.” Then, after a beat, he smirks. “Although, I guess in this context, it also works because you’re embodying the role too.”

You grin. “So basically, I’m just that good?”

“Basically.”

As the last traces of your characters are wiped away and the two of you finish changing out of costume, Daizo glances over. “Hey, Yeji and I were gonna hang out later. You wanna join?”

You laugh, already picturing Yeji’s determined but hopeless face struggling with a game controller. “As much as I’d love to see Yeji rage-quit another fighting game, I’ve got other plans.”

Daizo raises a brow. “Jeewon?”

You nod.

A knowing smile spreads across his face as he pats your shoulder. “Good for you, man.”

With that, the two of you grab your things and step out into the evening, another day of filming behind you.

About 45 minutes after you arrive at your hotel you get a knock on your door. You open it to see Jeewon smilingly brightly at you.

You smile back as you let her in. Not even a moment later she lifts up her top and is saying, “get on the bed baby,” you turn to her surprised as you say,

“Whats got you all riled up,”

She smiles and says, “you dummy. You and Daizo have this insane hero-villain dynamic and watching you two gets me so wet.” as you lay on the bed she smiles before saying,

“I just wanna corrupt you,” as she finishes she takes out your cock and wraps her sizeable bust around your head, you moan in ecstasy as Jeewon slowly massages your shaft with her tits. As always she feels delightfully soft. You moan as she looks at you with the brilliant innocent smile before she speeds up a bit. You groan as your toes curl watching her expertly coax you to orgasm.

“Youre starting to twitch, does that mean you're close,” you nod helplessly as Jeewon speeds up again. Her pace is relentless and unsurprisingly you cum all over her large tits. Jeewon smiles at you before licking the cum off one and whispering

“Do you have more for me baby,” your eyes roll back as you grow hard again. Jeewon smiled before taking off the rest of her clothes and mounting you. Jeewon’s tight sopping pussy readily greets you as she bottoms out on top of you. She smiles as she rides you relentlessly for the next few hours, eventually the two of you stop fucking to go on that date you promised her.

The warm glow of the restaurant’s hanging lights casts a golden hue over the table where Argo and Jeewon sit. The sizzling grill between them fills the air with the rich aroma of marinated beef, the sound of fat crackling punctuated by the occasional clink of metal chopsticks against plates.

Jeewon expertly flips a piece of short rib with her tongs, her sleeves rolled up just enough to show the delicate curve of her wrist. She looks up at Argo, eyes gleaming with amusement.

“You know, for someone who does their own stunts, you’re surprisingly bad at handling tongs,” she teases.

Argo fumbles slightly as he tries to grab a piece of meat, nearly dropping it before saving it last second. He smirks. “I’d like to see you land a 20-foot fall onto a moving car.”

She leans forward, resting her chin in her hand. “I could. Just… y’know, in my imagination.”

Argo chuckles, shaking his head. “You’d be a menace if you did your own stunts.”

Jeewon grins as she takes a lettuce wrap, stuffing it with meat and rice before holding it up to him. “Here. Let me feed you so you don’t embarrass yourself.”

Argo raises an eyebrow. “Oh? We’re at that stage already?”

“Just shut up and eat,” she says, suppressing a laugh.

He leans in, taking the bite straight from her fingers, making sure to hold eye contact the entire time. The corners of his lips quirk up as he chews. “So, does this mean I get to feed you next?”

Jeewon crosses her arms. “That depends. Do you think you can do it without dropping half of it in my lap?”

“No promises,” he says, grinning.

She shakes her head but can’t stop herself from laughing. As the night goes on, the teasing continues—small touches, lingering glances, playful challenges over who can cook the meat better. It’s effortless, easy, and when Jeewon takes a sip of her drink and meets Argo’s gaze across the table, she knows she’s in trouble.

The good kind.

#k pop smut #kpop fanfic #jeewon fanfic #jeewon #jeewon smut #kpop x male reader

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silvysartfulness · 2 days ago

Text

So last night, I finally typed out a few sentences I’ve been keeping in my head for several years – the ending lines of Heaven Has A Road But No One Walks It. And then I started crying.

I’m honestly still feeling emotional, thinking about it. I first started writing this story in the summer of 2020, almost 5 years ago, while still recovering from the lingering effects of a life-threatening bout of the original covid virus. It was only a month or so after I first watched the Untamed and got utterly swept away.

I have been working on this fic ever since, and it’s been by far one of the most important things in my life for years – I’ve lost two beloved cats during that time, and gone through a lot of really hard times. This fic was always there, an anchor, both a light and burden.

It ended up 471.000 words long. (For reference, that’s about the same length as the official English translation of Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation, or just shy of the total wordcount of the LOTR trilogy.)

And it’s done.

It’s finished. I did it. I hauled that insane, gargantuan beast all the way across the finish line.

When I first came up with the outlines of the idea, I was 100% certain I’d never write it down. I hadn’t written fanfic in many years, my brain is chronically damaged from consecutive autistic burnouts to the point of diagnosed clinical disability, and I struggle a lot with fatigue and concentration and memory issues. The idea of writing anything, let alone something of that scope and needing that much research seemed impossible to the point of laughable.

But a friend and writer I really looked up to told me she’d love to read it. So I figured I could at least try to start, see how it went.

I, uh. Didn’t think it’d get quite this long.

I am actually very proud of what I have accomplished! It’ll be a long while yet before I can post all the last 5 chapters – they need beta and edits, illustrations, and getting translated into Russian by my friend in Ukraine. It may be months yet.

But it’s done.

And I could never have done without all the people cheering me on along the way – the friends I made in this fandom, and old friends who decided to come along on this journey with me. Every single person ever commenting, or sending me asks, or drawing me art, or writing nice things in the reblog tags here on tumblr. I am beyond grateful to you all!

Heaven Has A Road is done.

This journey is over. But it’s not really the end.

Just another new beginning.

#the happy songxuexiao roadtrip story #tagsoicanfinditlater

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too-much-tma-stuff · 1 day ago

Text

Not Our Responsibility

Previous | Masterpost

Danny and Sam spent hours that night researching different typed of ghosts and demons. There was distressingly little information about Arabic ghosts easily accessible online and Danny regretted, not for the first time, that cultural education was not on the LoA’s curriculum. When they were called down for dinner Danny and Sam continued to talk and debate about the ghosts, mostly just because it was fun watching her parents try not to look disgruntled and upset by the morbid topic. Something they always gave Sam a hard time about being interested in but couldn’t tonight because Danny was clearly interested in it too.

They tried to redirect the conversation towards academics or their ‘relationship’ a few times, Danny would give polite, short answers before returning to his conversation with Sam. No one was surprised when after dinner the Manson parents suggested that Danny stay the night since they were clearly having such a good time.

Danny put up token resistance and gave in quickly when they insisted as he knew they would. He and Sam went back up to her room to play some online games with Tucker and tell him about everything that they had learned. Privately he was debating between the names Hatif, a voice without a source, and Afreet, which was a type of demon. He liked the sound of both but one was obviously scarier then the other.

He could use both, he didn’t have a name like Oracle yet an a voice without a source was a pretty good meaning for the guy in the chair. But would it be suspicious? Maybe.

“Shit,” he cursed as he died again.

“What the hell Danny!” Tucker half shouted as he tried to revive Danny for the fourth time that match.

“I’m sorry guys, my minds just not in it tonight I guess. I’ll try to focus.”

That night after they finished their game and he was curled up in a nest of pillows and blankets he’d made for himself on Sam’s floor he decided he’d rather just go by Hafit. He wasn’t going to be a demon after all, and there was a fine line between having fun with how people would persevere him and sabotaging any chances he had of remaining in contact with his family when all this was said and done.

The next day he told Sam’s parents that he was heading home, denied their offer of a ride and took a cab as close to the warehouses as they were willing to go. He let himself in to his makeshift lab without the need for a key, simply reaching through the door to unlock it from inside, and headed to his workbench. He dumping out a bag of scrap materials he had stolen from the gave he pulled up a stool he was sure was new and started to tinker.

It was less then an hour later when the door creaked open again and he glanced up to see Red hood entering. He gave his unwilling brother a smile, Red Hood nodded as he closed the door behind him and stood there with his arms crossed, posture as closed and defensive as Danny’s was open and inviting.

“Hey, welcome! Thanks for the chair,” He said, gesturing to it knowing Jason could only be the one who’d brought it. “I don’t have any cameras or anything in here yet if you want to get comfortable,” he suggested, gesturing to his own face to indicate Hood’s helmet.

“No thanks,” Jason said in a clipped tone, but he did come further into the building, pulling out a second chair and sitting down across from Danny.

“I’ve decided on a code name by the way,” He said conversationally when it became clear Jason wasn’t just going to get to the point of why he was here. “Hafit, I’ll put a modulator in my helmet to make my voice sound more ghostly, I have an aesthetic I want to go for,” he joked and Jason scoffed.

“Alright,” He agreed, and hey, at least he wasn’t making fun of Danny for it. He lapsed back into silence and this time Danny let him, there was a tension in Jason’s body that said he had something to say but was struggling with it. Rather then distract him further Danny gave him the time he needed to sort of his thoughts, going back to tinkering with his scrap to take the pressure off Jason. “Do you really think you can fix the effects of the Pit?” He asked after a long time. “Without undoing the, you know, being alive part.”

Danny hummed and put down his tools, clasping his hands on the table as he leaned forward a little bit. “Yes. Probably more easily for you then for me since you only had one exposure and haven’t been exposed repeatedly like me. Like I said last time, I won’t make any guarantees but I do think I can.”

“You know a lot about this?” Jason asked, cocking his head a little.

“More then most people, I am one of the Demon Head’s heir after all,” Danny said with a sneer as he picked up his tools again, wanting to keep his hands busy while he talked about this. He glanced up when he heard an intake of breath. “You didn’t know that? Talia was fond of you, I assumed she’d tell you about her sons… No? Well, I am, and Damian too. Talia Al Ghul is our mother, Bruce is our father.

“But back to the Lazarus water. I’ve been dependent on it since I was 8 so mother has been sending me bottles of it to keep me going while I was here. Unbenounced to her and with father’s supervision Tim and I have been conducting experiments on it for a couple years now, so I know a decent amount, I’ve simply reached the limits of what I can do under their supervision like I said last time. Not because they’re going to hurt anyone, but because I’ve realized that it’s far too magical to be made sense of by purely scientific means.

“There’s all sorts of emotion wrapped up in it, and that might be what gives it it’s power but maybe if I can strip all the anger and blood lust out of it, imbue it with some other emotion instead,” He trialed off as he got lost in his own thoughts. Shocked out of it by Jason’s laugh, making his hands still in their work.

“I’d say that sounds ridiculous but…” Jason trailed off, he knew, he had had unexplained things happen to him as well.

“That’s certainly what father and Tim think, they want everything to have scientific explanations. You know father is a control freak, anything that’s not controllable or understandable in a traditional sense is unacceptable thing, experimenting with magic is too unpredictable for him. It’s the obvious next step to me though, and my instinct for this stuff is good, has been since I was dunked in the pit the first time. I have a… connection to it I think. Not like grandfathers,” he wrinkled his nose at the thought. “But I haven’t been wrong about this yet.”

“You’re very confident,” Jason said a little condescendingly and Danny shrugged.

“I’ll take all appropriate precautions and if I’m wrong I’ll try something else, but I know where I want to start. Once I have the appropriate tools and security of course. This is a very good start, thank you again, but I suspect it’ll take a few months to get everything I need.”

Jason hummed and they lapsed into silence again, only for a few minutes this time. “You talk different then you do on TV,” Jason pointed out cocking his head a little. Danny wasn’t surprised to find that Jason had been doing research into what the family had been up to since he was gone and maybe Danny in particular since they were working together now.

“I know. I sound more like Damian don’t I?” He asked with a little smile and Jason nodded. “That shouldn’t be surprising really. We are twins, raised in the same environment, I just pretend to be a normal kid for the cameras but you already know I’m not a normal kid. I need you to take me seriously as a potential ally and scientist so dumbing down my speech won’t do me any favours.”

“I guess that’s true,” Jason said with a shrug and Danny laughed.

“While you’re here I’d like to iron out some details. I said I would help you if you needed, so we need a secure line to contact each other, a com or something. Once I have more security up I’ll give you codes to enter but not to disable cameras so I can keep an eye on what you’re doing in here but I’ll make sure no one else can get in. I’m one of the bats ‘guys in the chair’ after all, I’m good at that and keep them off my own trail.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Jason snorted. “If you’re working with Lazarus water I’ll be avoiding this place like the plague.”

“Fair enough, but I still will as a show of good will,” Danny said firmly and Jason didn’t argue.

“Your right about contact though, once you’ve build something your sure is secure I’ll give you access to the channel I use. For now… are you going to be here for a while?”

“Probably a couple more hours.”

“Good, I’ll go get you a burner phone. You can use that for now,” Jason said and started to get up.

“That sounds good, before you go though do you have any requests about what I should build for you?” Danny asked cocking his head to the side a little and giving Jason a slightly cocky smile.

“No requests yet,” Jason snorted shaking his head at Danny. “Show me what you can do and then maybe I’ll trust you with something that I need.”

“That’s fair, I’ll see what I can come up with. I have some ideas,” he assured with a smile that was just a hair to wide and was satisfied when he saw Jason’s posture stiffen slightly.

“Good,” Hood huffed before he stalked out of the warehouse like an offended cat. Danny bit back a chuckle. He knew he was unsettling when he wanted to be and he did like to play that up sometimes, just for fun.

Once he was alone he turned his attention back to his work, mentally doing a catalogue of what he had and what he could make with it. He didn’t want what he made to require constant reloading right now so it couldn’t be a weapon, especially since he didn’t have what he needed to manufacture the amount of ammo that would be actually necessary and anything that used traditional bullets wouldn’t be unique enough to really show what he could do.

He didn’t have a lot to work with really, but what he did have was a direct line to the channel the bat-family used to communicate, which had been changed and updated a few times since Jason had died. Danny grinned and pushed most of the junk to the side, pulling the things he would need for this project closer to him and beginning to work. It wasn’t a particularly difficult build really, the hardest part being making sure that it would be easily detectable or traceable by Oracle. With the work he did he could help cover it up but he didn’t want to be to obvious and found out before he was ready to reveal what he was doing here. He wasn’t going to come clean by choice until he had results.

He got a text message from his father at one point and responded that he was still at Sam’s and would be back for dinner, double checking that his phone was set up to reroute from her house just in case the checked his location. Satisfied that he was in the clear he put the finishing touches on his project and started working on something else while he waited for Red Hood to return.

It was about three hours before Jason returned, not long after Danny started cleaning up and putting away his unused tools and scrap for next time. He was sure that eventually his lab would end up being a complete cluttered mess, with ongoing projects and experiments. But for now he could fully clean up his space, so he did. He would be ready to leave as soon as he had showed Hood what it was that he had made.

A loud bang on the outside of the door made Danny jump and alerted him to the fact that Red Hood had returned before he pushed the door open. He tossed a phone at Danny without saying anything and it was only his life-long training that allowed him to catch it with so little notice.

“Perfect timing,” Danny said as he started to mess with the phone, there was only one number in it which was Red Hood’s. He pocketed it and picked up the com he’d made. “Can I see your helmet for a minute? I made you a com that can patch in to all of the channels the Bats are currently using and shouldn’t be able to be traced,” He said, showing it to Hood. He’d made it as stripped down as he could so there would be almost no place to hide a tracker. “You can put your other channels you use in here the normal way,” He said with a dismissive gesture.

“Damn you would throw the family under the bus like that?” Jason chuckled as he took off his helmet and handed it over, of course he was wearing a domino under it.

Danny gave Jason a unimpressed look as he started to pull out the old com and install the new one. “The family can look after themselves and I’ll be looking out for them too. If you seriously injure one of my siblings we might have a problem, but I don’t think you’d actually do that. Your problem is with Bruce, and frankly, that’s none of my business.”

“He’s your father,” Jason said a little dumbly.

Danny shrugged without looking up. “He’s yours too, no matter how much you deny it he raised you more then anyone else did, and you’re trying to kill him. I’m just not saving him. It shouldn’t be our job to save him anyway, but you know it is. The way Tim had to blackmail Father into taking him on as Robin after you so he wouldn’t fall apart after your death...” Danny trailed off with a disapproving hum, he hadn’t been their during that time of course but Tim had told him about it. He’d witnessed a fair few fights as well and knew they weren’t new.

“Damian tells me I don’t know the meaning of loyalty, perhaps he’s right, or perhaps no adult has earned it yet.” He was loyal to his siblings though, he wouldn’t have done this if he thought Jason would hurt them.

There was a long moment of tense silence before Jason spoke. “What do you mean falling apart?” He asked, sounding… nervous? Danny didn’t look up to check, worried it might send Jason back into his shell.

“He was furious, unreasonably aggressive even to petty criminals. The big blue boy scout had to hold him back from killing the Joker. Now, I’m not against killing him, but if Bruce needs a child to keep him true to morals he claims to hold so strongly then I don’t think he has a leg to stand on and yet he still has screaming fights with anyone who argues with him, including his children.” Danny hated those fights.

“He and Dick still at it huh?” Jason asked sounding amused.

“Not just Dick anymore, but ya,” Danny agreed with a sigh.

“Does he fight with you?” Jason asked, sounding a little uncertain.

“Me? No, if none of you managed to change his mind I Definitely won’t be able to. It’s easier to make him think I agree with him and then go do the things I want behind his back. He does love us, and I do love him too. I just…” He trailed off and sighed. “He leans on us more then he should, when he needs proper help. It’s tiring, and dangerous at times. I want better for all of us, including him, including you. But I’m just a teenager, a genius one, but basically still a kid. I can’t fucking fix decades of generational trauma, I can do my best to make sure me and Damian make it out.”

He finished working on the helmet and tossed it to Jason, sighing and stretching. Talking about emotions was more tiring than combat sometimes. “Helmet’s good to go. I told the family that I was staying overnight with one of my friends but I’d be home for dinner so I have to go. Let me know if you have any issues with the com, I’ll be back when I can and I’m sure you’ll find me if you want to talk.” He got up from the desk pulling on his own helmet. He’d get out of the alley with his grapple and find a place to hide and change back into civvies before calling a cab.

He waited for Hood to put his helmet back on as well and test the com a little before herding a baffled Red Hood out of his lab so he could lock up and head out. “I’ll be bringing some things over the next week too, just some equipment I need. Smuggling it in will be tricky, but I think I can make it work.” And if he really needed he was sure Sam and Tucker would help him without demanding to many answers if he really needed it, but he wasn’t going to say that. If they were involved at all the fewer people that knew that the safer they would be.

---------

When he got home Alfred and Damian were waiting for him. Well Damian pretended he had just been hanging around the lobby but it was obvious he had really been doing. Especially when he and Alfred immediately shooed him through into the family dining room. They had a little catching up to do after he'd been away overnight. Danyal forced himself not to jump to the conclusion they knew he had been lying, that would only make lying harder.

“So Danny, did you have fun with your friend?” Bruce asked.

“Oh ya I had a great time! We watched movies, played Doomed, and did a bunch of research!” Danny agreed as he served himself some of the salad on the table before pushing it over to Damian.

“And her parents behaved themselves?” Tim asked dryly, ignoring a warning look from Bruce.

“To my face,” Danny said with a grimace and an equally dry tone. “Sam told them we were dating to shut them up but I don’t want you to worry about it. I’m still very much not interested in a relationship, just giving her some peace from her parents. I'm only mentioning it in case they bring it up at the next Gala they're invited to.”

“Are you sure? If you do want to date you know that’s alright don’t you Chum?” Bruce asked a little awkwardly.

“It doesn’t have to be girls either,” Tim added, of course he’d been dating Bernard for a while now.

“No, I know. Really though guys, Sam is one of my best friends but that’s all we are. If that ever changes or I get interested in dating I will tell you guys,” He promised. And that actually wasn’t a lie, he might not trust his family with everything but he knew he could trust them with that. Bruce might be the normal amount of protective of one of his children in a romantic relationship but he wasn’t bad about his kids romantic lives really.

“You said you were working on some research? What were you researching?” Bruce asked, pushing his food around his plate. Maybe he’d already eaten? Or maybe he was just to tired, he certainly had impressive bags under his eyes. It was nice he was still staying up to have a meal with them and show an interest even though he must have had a long day.

“Uh..” Danny glanced at Alfred where he was lingering in the doorway. “Permission to talk about work just a little at the table?” He asked holding his fingers up just a bit apart from each other. Alfred considered it and then nodded. “I’ve been thinking about changing my code name! I mean Mystic was just a spin off of Oracle and it’s worked well but I want a name of my own you know? So Sam and I were looking up types of ghosts.

“I told her it was for a story I was trying to write but I think since I’m a disembodied voice most of the time so I think something ghostly would be cool! And maybe I’m reclaiming my death a little bit you know?” He asked and didn’t comment on the way Bruce and Damian both flinched.

“Ah,” Bruce sounded, a little strained.

“Any ideas?” Cass jumped in to ask, giving Danny a reassuringly warm smile he couldn’t help return.

“A few, but I don’t want to share them yet okay? Once I’ve thought about it more and have a few finalists I’ll ask you guys for your opinions.”

“That sounds like a good plan,” Bruce agreed with a slow exhale.

“Agreed for that is enough talk about work at the table,” Alfred said firmly. As always, no one argued with him and they all settled in for one of their regular family dinners.

#dc x dp #danyal al ghul #jason todd #my writing #tim drake #damian wayne #damian al ghul #cassandra cain #bruce wayne #sam manson #tucker foley #demon twins au #socialization of the demon twins #alfred pennyworth #the manson's A+ parenting #Sam has bad parents

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greenbubblefactory · 2 days ago

Text

Matchup for Jupiter

Congratulations you have a match with..

Chrollo Lucilfer !

★The first time Chrollo sees you, he doesn’t approach,not immediately. He’s always been a man who appreciates beauty in its many forms, and there is something about you that intrigues him far beyond mere aesthetics. You remind him of something out of an old gothic novel,ethereal, poetic, with an air of mystery that lingers long after you’re gone.

★He watches the way you speak, the way your emotions flow so openly across your face. He sees the way you light up when someone is kind to you, the way you seem to absorb the world with wide, curious eyes. To someone like him, who has spent a lifetime controlling his emotions, your expressiveness is almost foreign. And yet, it is also captivating.

★When he finally does speak to you, it’s in that smooth, deliberate voice of his, each word laced with intrigue. “You have the air of someone who belongs in another time,” he muses, his head tilting slightly. “Tell me, do you ever feel misplaced in this world?”

★That’s how it begins.

★Chrollo quickly learns that you are an enigma wrapped in contradictions soft yet passionate, dreamy yet deeply introspective. He is drawn to the way you weave poetry into casual conversation, how you adore monsters yet fear conflict, how your love for riddles reflects a mind that craves depth and challenge. And when he sees the way you struggle to define your own emotions,constantly second-guessing whether your affections are romantic or platonic he finds it oddly endearing.

★“Does it matter?” he asks one evening, watching as you overanalyze your feelings yet again. “Love is not so easily categorized.” His words stay with you long after he’s gone, stirring something deep inside.

★Chrollo is indulgent in his own way. He never spoils you with meaningless material things, but he remembers. He memorizes your favorite poems, reciting them at unexpected moments just to see the way you shiver at the sound of his voice. He leaves books always something he knows will haunt you for days on your desk, never admitting he put them there. He hums the melodies of The Cure and Siouxsie and the Banshees under his breath, a quiet acknowledgment of the music you love.

★And when he touches you,because oh, he touches you,it is always with purpose. A gloved hand trailing along the curve of your wrist as he passes by. A slow, deliberate brush of fingers against yours when he hands you something. A lingering touch at your waist, light as a whisper, just enough to make you wonder if it was intentional.

★Chrollo is fascinated by the way you cling to romantic ideals, how you long for something deeper than mere words. He does not love conventionally,his world is not one of grand declarations or simple, domestic affections but he makes you feel adored in ways far more profound. His presence is unwavering, his attention is sharp, and when he looks at you, truly looks at you, it feels as though he is seeing into the very core of your being.

★But loving Chrollo is not easy.

★There are nights when he disappears without warning, leaving only the echo of his last words behind. There are things he does not tell you, parts of himself he keeps hidden behind that ever-calm exterior. He is not a good man not by any stretch of the imagination but with you, he is something else. Softer, perhaps. More human.

★And yet, the darkness never fully leaves him.

★“You know what I am,” he murmurs one night, the two of you alone beneath the moonlight. His hand cradles yours, fingers tracing absent patterns against your palm. “You know what I’ve done.”

★You do. And yet, when you look at him, you do not see only the thief, the leader, the killer. You see the man who listens to your endless ramblings without complaint. The man who encourages your curiosity, who matches your riddles with ones of his own, who never once makes you feel like you are too much.

★You see the way he protects you, even when you do not ask for it. The way his normally unreadable eyes soften just slightly when you talk about the things you love. The way he touches you,light, reverent, as if afraid you might disappear.

★And in that moment, you know.

★Chrollo Lucilfer is a man who takes what he wants. But with you, he waits. Lets you come to him, lets you decide whether to step into the shadows he calls home.

★Because, deep down, even if he would never admit it, you are the one thing he is terrified of losing.

★And that is the most dangerous thing of all.

English is not my first language so I'm sorry if there are any spelling mistakes!

#matchup #hxh matchup #hxh #chrollo lucilfer #hxh chrollo #chrollo x reader #chrollo hunter x hunter #chrollo x you #chrollo x y/n #Chrollo matchup #chrollo lucifer x reader

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jia127zen · 2 days ago

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Mine to ruin

jungwoo x fem!reader

genre:smut, dacryphillia, jungwoo is a menace to say the least😭

any interactions are very appreciated🤍

Jungwoo knew you were ovulating. He always knew. You were extra touchy tonight, bumping your foot against his under the restaurant table, dragging your fingers along his wrist as you laughed at something he said. And the way you were looking at him? Eyes half-lidded, flicking down to his lips, then back up as you bit your own? Yeah, he knew.

You thought you were being subtle, but Jungwoo noticed everything. The way you leaned into him just a little too much, letting your chest brush against his arm, the way your thigh clenched every time his hand landed on your knee. He could feel the heat radiating off you, could hear those tiny, shaky exhales whenever he shifted closer.

And oh, was he having fun with it.

On the drive home, he let his palm rest on your thigh, rubbing slow, lazy circles over the fabric of your dress. He wasn’t doing much, but it was enough. Enough to make you squeeze your thighs together in frustration, enough to make you let out the tiniest little whimper when his fingers just barely grazed higher. He smirked, glancing at you at a red light—your lips were parted, your eyes hazy.

Oh, you were so worked up.

By the time you got home, you were beyond done. Every little thing about him was making you feral—his broad shoulders, the way his shirt sleeves were rolled up just enough to show off his forearms, his slightly tousled hair. Fuck. You were already thinking about how good he’d look above you, hair falling into his eyes as he fucked you into the mattress.

But Jungwoo? He was dragging this out.

You stomped into the bedroom, stripping off your dress in the bathroom, throwing on a tank top and shorts. When you walked back in, there he was—just sitting on the edge of the bed, scrolling through his phone like he hadn’t spent the whole night making you drip for him.

Fuck that.

You stormed over, snatching his phone from his hands and slamming it onto the nightstand. “Are you acting oblivious, or are you just stupid?” you snapped, arms crossed over your chest.

Jungwoo blinked up at you, and then—that smile. That goddamn smile. “Baby, what are you talking about?” he asked, tilting his head, pretending to be confused.

You clenched your fists. “You know damn well what the fuck I’m talking about.” His smirk widened. “I don’t know, pretty,” he says, leaning back on his hands. “Use your words, maybe?”

Oh, he was such a fucking asshole.

Your eyes burned with frustration, your eyebrows furrowed, glossy sheen threatening to spill over. You bit the inside of your cheek, looking away, trying to blink the tears back—but of course, that only made it more obvious.

Jungwoo loved it. (his dick twitched) He took your chin between his fingers, forcing you to look at him. His eyes were dark, glinting with amusement. “Why are you crying, beautiful?” he cooed, voice dripping with mock sympathy.

You let out a shaky exhale. “I’ve been wanting you the whole night, giving you hints, and yet you still wanna act like you’re fucking clueless.”

Jungwoo hummed, watching you with that insufferable smirk, before leaning in—close enough that his breath fanned against your lips. “Just—fuck me,” you finally broke, your voice barely above a whisper. His smirk deepened. “There,” he murmured. “Was that so hard?”

Then he patted his lap. “Sit.”

You didn’t even hesitate. You climbed onto him, straddling his thighs, immediately rolling your hips against his. The moment you felt the hard press of his cock through his pants, you let out a whimper. “Y/N,” he groaned, voice already strained. His hands found your hips, holding you firmly in place as you moved.

Your fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, desperate to get it off, and he chuckled, watching you struggle. “So needy,” he teased. “Shut up,” you muttered, unbuckling his belt. As soon as your hand brushed against his obvious bulge, he let out a low curse.

“I saw you get aroused when you saw me cry,” you murmured, palming him through his boxers. “Pervert.” Jungwoo smirked, tilting his head. “Only for you.” Then he leaned in, pressing soft, lingering kisses to the dried tear tracks on your cheeks.

His boxers hit the floor, and his cock was throbbing, leaking pre-cum. You wasted no time, pulling your top over your head, unclipping your bra, and sliding your panties to the side. Jungwoo sucked in a breath when he saw the wet patch on your underwear. “What’s this?” he teased, brushing a finger over your clothed clit. “Already?”

You whined, rolling your hips into his touch.

That was all it took. He slid your panties further aside, lined himself up, and sank into you in one fluid motion. You gasped, nails digging into his shoulders. He groaned, the sound low and needy, gripping your hips so hard you were sure there’d be bruises tomorrow. “Fuck, Y/N,” he panted. “So tight—shit.”

You clenched around him, moaning at the stretch, at the way he filled you up so perfectly.

Jungwoo started guiding your movements, lifting you up just enough before slamming you back down. “Just like that, pretty,” he murmured, eyes locked onto where you were connected. “So fucking good for me.” You whined his name, gripping his shoulders. “Faster,” you pleaded.

Something inside him snapped.

His grip tightened, and suddenly, he was pounding into you, thrusting up into you so hard you could barely keep yourself upright. His head fell back, lips parted in a breathless moan. “Y/N—fuck,” he whined, voice breaking as he drove into you over and over.

You buried your face in his neck, nails scratching down his back as pleasure built in your core. He was hitting so deep, so perfectly, and he knew it.

“Drive me fucking crazy,” he panted. “You’re so—shit—so good.” You could feel yourself unraveling, body trembling, moans turning into high-pitched whimpers.

“Jungwoo, I—”

“I got you, baby,” he groaned, thrusts growing erratic. His lips found yours, kissing you sloppy, desperate, swallowing every moan. And then—white-hot pleasure. You shattered, crying out his name as your orgasm crashed over you, body convulsing against him. Jungwoo cursed, grip tightening as he fucked you through it, chasing his own high.

“Fuck, I’m gonna—”

With a final, deep thrust, he spilled inside you, moaning into your mouth as he came undone. His hips stuttered, and he buried his face in your shoulder, panting against your skin.

For a moment, the only sound was your heavy breathing.

Then Jungwoo pulled back, pressing the softest kiss to your temple. “You okay, pretty?” he murmured, brushing damp hair from your face.

You nodded, sighing as he held you close. Jungwoo smirked, voice teasing but so fond.

“Told you I’d take my time.”

♡

#ZOOWEEEEMAMAAAA #i literally stayed up all night writing like 3 fics including this #jungwoo nct #jungwoo #nct127 #nct x reader #nct imagines #jia nct #nct #Spotify

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bambambwi · 14 hours ago

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High School Romance?

( choi seunghyun x reader )

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At school, you were always the center of attention whether you liked it or not. Your striking looks and family’s influence made sure of that. With your parents owning multiple businesses and funding school events, your name carried weight in every hallway.

Most students adored you, either out of genuine admiration or strategic flattery but not everyone saw you as the golden girl. To some, you were nothing more than a spoiled rich kid who had everything handed to her. They whispered behind your back, assuming your life was effortless, your friendships shallow, and your confidence just arrogance in disguise.

But they didn’t know you. Not really.

Academics, though? That was a different story. Despite your efforts, your grades barely clung to passing. You tried, you really did, but your reputation as a "privileged" student often overshadowed the hours you spent in study halls.

You didn’t have many friends. Sure, there were a few people you talked to here and there but none of them compared to how close you were to Choi Seunghyun. He was the one person who treated you like a person andnot the girl with money. With him, you could laugh, vent, and not worry about living up to some perfect image.

Every project, upcoming test, and school event, you always attended with him. He was always there for you, and you were too. You shared a bond that nobody else could understand, a comfort in knowing that no matter how chaotic things got, you’d have each other to lean on.

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Today was your birthday, but you couldn’t bring yourself to feel excited about it. With the upcoming exams looming over you, the day felt more like another thing to stress about rather than something to celebrate. You had your breakfast and left for school without saying a word to your parents. Not even a simple bye. Yes, that was how it went today.

Once your driver dropped you off at school, you lingered outside for a few minutes, scanning the crowd until your eyes landed on seunghyun. You quickly caught up to him, your footsteps falling in sync as you walked side by side.

"How’s your day going so far, birthday girl?" he asked, a playful grin tugging at his lips.

"Hey, c'mon, the day just started!” you said, tugging your books closer to your chest.

You walked into class and stood by your desk, glancing down at it. A sigh escaped your lips. "Not again.." you muttered, picking up a tissue to wipe away the drawings scrawled across your table. Noticing your struggle, seunghyun gave you a sympathetic look and motioned for you to switch tables. He knew you’d rather avoid cleaning the scribbles off your desk today.

During class, the teacher mentioned the upcoming dance, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes, a wave of unenthusiasm washing over you. Every year, you attended the dance with a boy, and each time, it ended in disaster. This time, you made a choice, not to go.

After school, you were walking down the hallway with Seunghyun, casually chatting, when a boy from another class suddenly interrupted you. With a confident smile, he asked if you would go to the dance with him but to his unfortunate luck, you politely declined.

"He was good-looking, I would’ve taken it" seunghyun said, walking at a slower pace beside you.

"These parties always end up in disaster. I’ve made up my mind not to go" you said, crossing your arms as you walked.

seunghyun let out a chuckle. "Is that so?"

You groaned at his response and, hoping to change the subject, asked, "Don't you have training today?"

He obviously noticed your attempt to change the topic, brushing it off with a smirk. "Yes, I do. Already missing me?"

You gasped at his tease, giving him a playful smirk before walking out of the school gate.

Later at home you were sprawled out on your bed, scrolling through your phone after the intense tutoring session you had just endured. Your mind was still buzzing from the long hours of studying and as you scrolled mindlessly, a message from seunghyun popped up on your screen.

"How’s the brain after that tutoring marathon? Need a break?"

You couldn’t help but smile. Even after everything, seunghyun knew how to lighten the mood.

‘’Meet me outside at the usual spot’’

You immediately sat up, grabbing your jacket and rushing down the stairs, completely ignoring the maid calling out your name in protest. You were determined to meet him, but then, the rain hit suddenly and by the time you reached him, you were completely drenched.

"Ah, you're completely drenched. C’mon now..” he said, moving closer to you and holding his umbrella over both of you.

"Hey, I didn’t know it was going to rain!” you said, not noticing the people behind him.

"I hope you don’t mind that a few of my friends tagged along" he said, a hint of hesitation in his voice. You nodded in response, showing you weren’t bothered by it.

He dragged you into an empty room, the darkness greeting you as you stepped inside.

“seunghyun, what is—"

Before you could finish your sentence, he slipped a party hat onto your head, and his friends entered, holding a cake and singing happy birthday.

You were completely flustered, caught off guard by the unexpected gesture but, as the cake was set down and the laughter filled the room, you couldn’t help but smile. In the end, you ended up having a great time with seunghyun and his friends, the surprise turning into a memory you’d cherish.

──────────────────────

As the days passed, closing in on the dance, seunghyun watched you turn down every boy who asked you to be their date. It stirred an unfamiliar feeling inside him. He tried to brush it off, but the thought of you rejecting them, especially him, kept replaying in his mind. No, I shouldn’t be having these thoughts. She’s my friend. I’m her friend.

It was bothering him more than he expected. His friends started noticing it during training, the way his focus kept drifting, the tension in his movements. They shot him curious glances, sensing something was off, but seunghyun kept brushing it off, not ready to confront what was brewing inside him.

He would linger around his phone, staring at your texts longer than usual, even though you hadn’t messaged. He’d find himself scrolling through old conversations, rereading your words as if they held some deeper meaning he couldn't quite figure out. I really like you but is it worth risking it? Do you even like me back? I cant.

At some point, he ended up breaking down about it alone. He couldn’t help it. He liked you a lot. But he didn’t know what to do. You were the closest thing he had to a true friend, and the thought of ruining that terrified him.

Just a day before the dance, you were in the library, studying alongside him. Out of boredom, you casually asked, "Do you have anyone to go with to the dance?" The question caught him off guard, making him drop his pencil as he paused to think for a moment.

"No, I don’t.” he finally answered, his voice a little quieter than usual.

"You know, since my parents are in charge of this year’s dance, I’m obviously being forced to go.’’ you said, hesitating for a moment. "So, I was wondering..would you go with me instead?"

That one question gave him butterflies. Are you really asking him? Trying to hide his excitement, he replied nonchalantly, “Sure.’’ but deep down, he wanted to jump around in pure joy.

On the night of the dance, seunghyun walked up to your house, adjusting his tie and holding a bouquet of roses. This isn’t a real date... Why did I even bring these? he thought, ringing the doorbell and patiently waiting for someone to answer. The door swung open, and your maid, upon seeing seunghyun, called out for you.

You ran down the staircase, clutching your purse, and as soon as seunghyun saw you, his breath caught. Was it just tonight, or were you somehow even more beautiful today? His eyes were completely focused on you, unable to look away.

You said your goodbyes to the maid, rushing out the door before snapping your fingers to get seunghyun’s attention. Out of embarrassment, he kept his hands behind his back, hiding the bouquet of roses he had bought just for you.

"Aw, seunghyun, you bought me flowers? You’re adorable!"

That compliment made him want to crawl into a corner and hide, his face flushing a deep shade of red.

You took the roses from his hand, smiling as you walked toward the car. As you both got into the car, the drive to the venue was filled with an almost uncomfortable silence, but not an unpleasant one. seunghyun kept glancing at you, his fingers nervously tapping against his leg, while you couldn’t help but admire the roses in your hands.

Once you arrived, you both got out of the car. seunghyun turned to you and held out his hand, offering it with a small, reassuring smile. You hesitated for a moment, then placed your hand in his as you walked toward the entrance, his grip warm and comforting.

Inside, the entire venue was bathed in soft lights and adorned with beautiful decorations. The atmosphere felt magical, a stark contrast to the chaotic dances of previous years.

"Wow... it's completely different from last year's dance" you said, looking around in awe.

seunghyun turned to look at you, ready to respond, but was immediately struck by your beauty. The lights reflected off your features, making your eyes sparkle, and for a moment, he forgot what he was going to say. He quickly turned away, brushing it off with a nervous chuckle, hoping you hadn’t noticed his reaction.

He watched as you walked further in, disappearing into the crowd. seunghyun stood back, observing everyone around him, lost in the music and lights. His focus was interrupted when a woman, holding a drink, approached him.

"Are you seunghyun?" she asked, her eyes scanning him curiously.

Taking a moment to recognize the lady, seunghyun smiled politely. "Ah, you must be y/n’s mother. Nice to meet you" he said, giving a slight bow.

"You look charming today" she said with a smile. "Did you come alone? y/n didn’t tag along?"

"Oh no, I did come with her" he said quickly, hoping not to leave a bad impression on your mom. "She went to get drinks."

Just as he opened his mouth to speak again, a loud scream interrupted him. His heart skipped a beat as he immediately turned toward the source of the sound. His eyes widened in shock as he froze, seeing you drenched in punch. Your mom immediately rushed to the scene, scolding the group responsible for the mess as you ran outside, tears streaming down your face. Without thinking, seunghyun followed you, his heart racing as he tried to catch up.

Grabbing onto your wrist, seunghyun pulled you back, stopping you from running. He gently tugged you closer, wrapping his arms around you in a comforting hug.

"It’s okay" he whispered, his voice soft but steady, "I’ve got you."

"I want to go home" you mumbled, burying your head against his chest.

seunghyun didn’t hesitate. He gently pulled away, unbuttoning his suit jacket and wrapping it around you to keep you warm. "Let’s get you home then" he said softly, his hand resting on your shoulder as he guided you to your car.

He drove you home, walking you all the way to your front door. You stood in front of it, taking off his jacket, ready to hand it back.

"Keep it" he said quietly, his voice soft yet firm.

"But—"

Before you could protest, seunghyun gently cupped your face with one hand, his other hand brushing against yours. He leaned in, giving you a sudden, tender kiss.

"Keep it with you” he whispered after pulling away, his eyes soft and sincere.

You looked at him, confusion evident on your face as you absentmindedly rubbed your thumb over your lips, still lost in the moment.

"I've liked you a lot for some time now" he said, facing away from you, his voice almost hesitant. "And it's becoming impossible to bottle it up."

He took a deep breath, turning back to face you, his eyes soft but vulnerable. "And I totally understand if you don’t feel the same... I won’t bother you."

You stood there, frozen, trying to process what he had just said. The words echoed in your mind, and for a moment, everything around you seemed to blur.

“seunghyun..’’ you whispered, your voice trembling slightly. You stepped closer, your heart pounding in your chest. "I—"

Before you could finish, he turned to leave, a pained expression crossing his face as he took a step back.

"I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything’’ he mumbled, his voice breaking.

But you couldn’t let him walk away. Without thinking, you grabbed his wrist, stopping him in his tracks.

He turned around, eyes wide with surprise as you stood there, a small, uncertain smile playing on your lips.

"I like you too" you confessed softly, your cheeks flushing with the admission. "I’ve just been too scared to say it."

He let out a chuckle, glancing down at his shoes, clearly trying to hide his relief and the smile tugging at his lips.

"Guess it’s getting late” he said, his voice quieter now as he leaned in just a little closer to you. "I’ll text you?"

You playfully hit him softly in the chest, looking up at him with a mischievous smile. "You better do” you teased, your heart still racing from the moment.

With a final smile, you turned and began walking back toward your door, giving him a playful wave over your shoulder. "Goodnight!”

As the door closed behind you, you leaned against it for a moment, tugging onto his jacket, the warmth of it reminding you of the night. You smiled to yourself, feeling the butterflies flutter in your chest, before heading inside.

#kpop #kpop fanfic #bigbang x reader #bigbang #fanfic #choi seunghyun x reader #choi seunghyun #t.o.p fanfic #t.o.p bigbang #t.o.p #t.o.p x reader #ilovemybabygirlsomuchomomg

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