Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It had taken my entire life savings, my inheritance, and even one sizable loan, but I had finally done it. I’d opened my own coffee shop: Bittersweet Coffee . It was everything I’d dreamed of and more. Sure, the equipment wasn’t new, and the only employee I could afford to hire was… well, myself. But for the first time in a long time, I had invested in myself, and I dared to hope it would lead to success.

I baked my own pastries and croissants to save on ingredient costs, even though I had to teach myself how to make them. It was a gamble, no doubt about it. Here I was: broke, in debt, and barely holding it together. Opening day was just minutes away, but for once, I was happy. Really, genuinely happy.

No one would take that from me again.

I promised myself that as I unlocked the doors for the very first time.

A month had passed, and business was thriving. Students from the nearby college had made the shop their go-to study spot. Professionals stopped by for a caffeine boost on their way to work, and even a few of my neighbors had become regulars. Their greetings of "Good morning!" and "Looking good, Y/n!" brightened my days, making the long hours and hard work feel worth it.

One particular regular had become an unexpected fixture in my daily routine.

“Hey, Pumpkin,” Schlatt greeted as he strolled in, his voice low and gravelly, like someone perpetually on the verge of saying something sarcastic. His hands were tucked casually in his pockets, and his shirt sleeves were rolled up, revealing intricate tattoos winding up his forearms like vines.

Schlatt owned the tattoo parlor next door, a business as intimidating as its owner seemed to outsiders. His sharp features—chiselled jawline, prominent nose, and chestnut-brown eyes—gave him a rough edge, and his ever-present scowl often sent newcomers scurrying. But I’d quickly learned the truth: what most people mistook for a glare was just his leftover hangover and desperate need for caffeine.

“Hello, Schlatt,” I replied softly, keeping my voice low out of respect for his pounding headache.

Schlatt’s brown hair was slicked back with gel, a few stubborn strands escaping to frame his face. His eyes, dark and intense, had a certain magnetism that always seemed to be sizing up the room. He leaned against the counter, propping his head up on one hand, his expression a mix of exhaustion and amusement as he watched me approach.

“What’ll it be today?” I asked cheerfully, clasping my hands in front of me, glad to see a familiar face.

Schlatt held out his hand, and I blinked, unsure of what was happening. I hesitated for a second, but then placed my hand in his. His grip was firm but casual, and I couldn’t help but smile up at him.

He smirked at me, a flicker of something teasing in his eyes. “Like a puppy,” he muttered, amused.

I raised an eyebrow at his comment, genuinely confused. “What does that mean?”

Schlatt leaned against the counter, casually watching me with his arms crossed. “I’d like to give you a tattoo,” he said, almost lazily. “Something delicate, something pretty, right on your wrist.”

I blinked, thrown off by the suggestion. “Um, no thanks,” I said, laughing awkwardly. “That sounds painful. I’d probably end up crying.” I tilted my head, trying to sound lighthearted despite the sudden awkwardness.

He grinned, leaning in a little closer, his gaze still playful. “Even better,” he teased, his voice dropping lower, a hint of amusement in his tone.

Before I could process what he was saying, Schlatt made a gesture for me to open my mouth. Without thinking, I did, and to my surprise, he dropped something into my mouth.

“Good girl,” he muttered, as if it was a casual compliment.

I blinked in confusion but smiled anyway, slightly baffled by how natural it felt around him.

The taste was bitter at first, but as I chewed, it grew sweeter. I looked at him, noticing the grin still on his face as he watched me, obviously amused by my reaction.

“Chocolate-covered coffee beans,” he explained, popping a few into his own mouth.

I scrunched my nose a little as I chewed. “Is that healthy?” I asked, genuinely curious but trying to keep the tone light.

Schlatt didn’t respond immediately, just shrugged as he chewed his own. “coffee, pup,” he said, a little gruffly.

“Oh, right,” I replied, still chewing the beans, my face scrunching up a little at the bitterness. Schlatt’s gaze softened a fraction as he watched me, but the tough-guy persona was still barely hanging on.

I hurried to get more coffee brewing, the sound of the machine filling the small café as I focused on the task. It seemed Schlatt had caught me at a rare moment when I wasn’t overwhelmed with orders. As he munched on a chocolate-covered coffee bean, he started talking, his voice low but teasing.

“Have you paid rent?” he asked, leaning a little on the counter, his eyes glinting like he was about to drop some serious advice.

“Yep! I sent the money yesterday,” I replied brightly, trying to hide my excitement. “And I have more than enough left over for beans... and maybe even cooking lessons!” I could feel my smile stretching a little wider.

He stared down at me with those unblinking brown eyes, still chewing on the coffee beans. “And did anyone else come by to pick up... extra?”

I furrowed my brow, blinking in confusion. “Was I supposed to pay in cash?” I asked, genuinely not understanding.

Schlatt took a sip of his coffee, then looked at me as though I were a little slow to catch on. “It’s always good to have cash on hand,” he said, his voice a bit more serious. “This neighborhood, while nice, can be dangerous if you fail to pay a certain fella. Get what I mean, pup?”

His tone was oddly comforting, despite the confusing conversation. I gave a small nod, trying to absorb what he was saying. “I get it. Thanks, Schlatt!” I grinned up at him, my voice light and airy.

He chuckled and ruffled my hair, a soft grin tugging at his lips. “Good girl.” The words made my cheeks pink, but I was too distracted to be embarrassed.

“If you need me to collect the money from you to pay the Syndicate, I can. But they’ll likely want to talk to you. They always want to speak to first-timers.”

I tilted my head, still trying to piece everything together. What’s a Syndicate? Before I could ask more questions, Schlatt was already walking out the door, coffee in hand.

I stood there, staring at the door as it swung shut behind him. “The Syndicate?” I muttered to myself.

With a sigh, I turned back to the coffee machine, trying to shake off my confusion. Well, I guess I’d have to figure this one out on my own.

I was just about to begin closing up, but I knew it wouldn’t be the end of my day. There was still so much to do—cleaning, baking, getting ready for the next day. The work was never-ending, but it was exactly what I wanted to do.

The door chimed, and I looked up with a bright smile. “Welcome~”

The man who walked in might’ve been in college, though he didn’t exactly look like he had the energy for it. He was wearing a trench coat, and underneath it, a yellow sweater. His face looked tired, and his hair was messy as if he hadn’t had time to shower in a while. Still, despite the exhaustion, there was a certain handsomeness about him, even if it wasn’t the polished kind.

He stood at the counter, hands shoved in his pockets, his posture slouching a little. He was tall—maybe even a little taller than Schlatt, though I didn’t mind.

“Hello~” he said, his voice low and a little raspy. He must’ve been tired. I had heard it was exam week.

I beamed at him, still cheerful. “What can I get for you today?”

Then, he said something that made me pause.

“I’m here to extort you,” he said, smiling at me, but it was the kind of smile that looked worn out, like he didn’t have the energy to fake it properly.

I blinked, unsure if I had heard him correctly. He continued, his tone light but somehow serious. “I’ll be nice since you’re such a cute lady. How about $1,000 a month, and I’ll let you keep operating here?”

I stared at him for a moment, not quite processing what he was saying. My hand accidentally dropped the cup I had been holding, and it clattered to the counter. The man’s smile didn’t falter, but I couldn’t help it—my lips curled into a giggle.

“Oh, it’s a joke!” I laughed, covering my mouth. “You must be super tired. I heard college kids have exams all week.” I chuckled some more, trying to lighten the mood. “I’ll get you a coffee to go, alright?”

The man seemed momentarily confused, and I took it as a sign that he wasn’t used to people reacting like this. I quickly grabbed a cup and handed it to him.

“It’s $5.49,” I said cheerfully, grinning at him. “Or you can take it off what I owe you!”

He started to say something, but I didn’t let him finish. “Cream and sugar are in the back, along with the lids!” I called after him as he moved toward the back.

He paid for the coffee, looking a little sheepish, and pulled his hat down over his eyes as if trying to hide his exhaustion.

“Make sure you get some rest,” I said, giving him a light pat on the head. I grinned up at him. “I’ve been telling all the college kids that if you bring back an A, coffee’s on me! You’re doing a good job- um”

He blinked at me for a second, clearly not expecting this kind of interaction. “Wilbur. Wilbur Soot,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Nice to meet you, Wilbur Soot!” I said, still smiling brightly.

I watched Wilbur leave, still holding the warm cup of coffee. He didn’t say anything else, just nodded, and walked out. As he went, I couldn’t help but notice how much cream he added to his coffee. It was a lot. With a small shake of my head, I finished closing the door behind him.

The rest of the day was peaceful. Business was going great, and everything was running smoothly.

+++++

Wilbur POV

I walked out of the coffee shop, the warm cup of coffee in my hands. I was a mess—tired, unshaven, and wearing a yellow sweater under my trench coat like I was some kind of college dropout who had lost his way. But even with all that, I couldn’t help feeling a little embarrassed. I had walked in there to intimidate someone, and somehow... I messed that up.

The coffee was incredible. Honestly, it was the best cup of coffee I had ever had, and I couldn't stop sipping it. The more I drank, the more my cheeks flushed from the awkwardness of the situation. It wasn’t like I had a reputation to maintain or anything, but something about the way she treated me... telling me I was doing a good job and even patting my head like I was some stray puppy—it made me feel... well, embarrassed.

I’d been in charge of collecting the money for the Syndicate for years, and now I was stumbling over my words in front of a cheerful coffee shop owner. I couldn’t even look her in the eyes.

I walked across the street to the tattoo shop next door. Schlatt was inside, probably already closing up for the night—he always did on collection days. The fake tough guys who came in to get tattoos had a habit of looking terrified when I walked in, and Schlatt didn't want to scare off his customers.

Schlatt was leaning against the counter, cigarette hanging from his mouth, another familiar coffee cup in his hand. He looked up as I walked in, his usual glare directed at me, but there was a touch of something else there too. Respect, maybe? It was hard to tell with him.

“You doing alright?” I asked, trying to sound casual. I didn't want him to know just how rattled I felt.

Schlatt didn’t respond immediately, just handed me an envelope. I opened it, counting the money inside. It was all there, just like it always was. Schlatt knew what would happen if he ever messed up, and I made sure to remind him of that.

“If you stayed in the gang, I wouldn’t have to tax you so much,” I said with a smirk, trying to needle him a little.

He scowled. “Yeah, and I’d be dead by now. Thanks, but no thanks.”

I shrugged, not really caring. It wasn’t like I needed him anyway.

“So, you didn’t... you weren’t too rough on her, were you?” Schlatt suddenly asked, his voice taking on an unexpected edge. “Coffee’s hard to come by.”

I raised an eyebrow. Schlatt had always been ruthless about getting our money, but he usually didn’t care who we bullied to do it.

“She was cute... Dumb. But cute,” I said, almost casually, but something about the way Schlatt stiffened made me pause.

He didn’t say anything, but the tension between us was clear. As I stepped closer to him, I couldn’t resist throwing out a question just to see how far I could push him.

“You think she’ll sleep with me to avoid paying?”

That struck a nerve. I saw the muscles in Schlatt’s jaw tighten, and his hand moved like he was about to throw a punch. But then he stopped himself, taking a deep breath.

“I didn’t get the money from her,” I said. “I figured I’d come back when she wasn’t so busy. She makes good coffee, though.” I nodded, trying to hide the smile that threatened to form. “Well, things to do and money to collect. See you in a month, Schlatt.”

I turned and walked out, but I couldn’t help but feel a little lighter. Things had gone differently than I expected, and maybe that was a good thing.

I walked into the office, dragging my feet like I was carrying the weight of the world. Technoblade was already buried in paperwork, as usual, the one who handled all the serious business for Phil—our dad. I always thought I was the better-looking twin, but Technoblade was the one who stuck by Phil’s side like a damn shadow. Guess I couldn’t blame him; I was the free spirit, the one who liked to do things my own way. But Dad loved us both the same. I just liked to think I was a bit more... fun.

I threw myself onto the couch, taking up most of the damn space.

“How’d it go, Wilbur? The coffee shop give you any trouble?” Phil asked, signing a stack of papers without even looking up. Only Phil would think a coffee shop was gonna cause me grief.

“Fine,” I said, leaning back like I didn’t have a care in the world.

Technoblade didn’t even lift his head from the paperwork. “Did you get the payment from the coffee shop owner?”

I snorted, flashing a grin. “Nah. She was too cute. I couldn’t bring myself to scare her for the cash.”

Technoblade’s glare shot up like I’d just slapped him. Phil chuckled, probably entertained by my antics. “You know the drill, Wilbur. Cute or not, you’re supposed to collect the damn money mate.”

I waved it off, grinning like I had it all figured out. “I’m not screwing this up. Once I’m done with her, we’ll handle the payment. Don’t worry about it.”

Technoblade’s eyes narrowed, like he could smell the bullshit from a mile away. “At least you’re not talking about marrying her this time. You remember the last girl, right? The one who’s still waiting on your sorry ass to come back?”

I laughed darkly. “Yeah, my bad. I’ll try to be more careful next time.”

Phil gave me a look, his patience wearing thin. “Wilbur, I’ll collect the damn payment by the end of the week. But you’re helping Technoblade now.”

“WHAT?!” I sat up, suddenly all kinds of pissed. “You gotta be kidding me.”

“If you can’t collect the damn money, then you’re gonna work for it, mate” Phil said, scolding me like I was a kid again.

“Shit,” I muttered, sinking back into the couch. “Fine. I’ll help.”

Technoblade just smirked, not even bothering to look at me as he got back to his damn paperwork. Guess that was his idea of a victory. Tasting the coffee on my lips.

Chapter Text

I was rushing around the café, filling up cups and sending customers on their way. The place was a disaster—dishes stacked up, crumbs everywhere. I could already feel the embarrassment creeping up my neck. But finally, I had a moment to clean up before the next customer came in.

The door chimed, and I looked up, startled to see a new face. The stranger seemed to pause at the door, his blue eyes scanning the chaos inside. He gave me a polite, slightly awkward smile.

“Hello, are you open?” he asked, his voice calm and friendly.

“Y-Yes! Sorry about the mess… um, it’s just the lunch rush,” I stammered, offering an awkward smile of my own.

He smiled back, though it was a bit of a nervous one. His blond hair, the color of gold, brushed his shoulders, and he wore a green and white bucket hat that made him look a little out of place yet strangely charismatic. The man seemed to hide a lot of muscle under his green kimono, a contrast to the gentle demeanor he had.

I blinked in surprise when he began picking up dishes without even asking. “No, you don’t have to do that,” I protested, but he just chuckled.

“I had twins,” he said with a grin, “I know how to clean a mess or two.”

“Oh, thank you, sir…” I started, still not quite used to this unexpected kindness.

“Phil. Philza Minecraft,” he corrected me gently. He helped me carry dishes to the sink, his strong hands surprisingly tender as he set everything down.

While I cleaned, Phil asked me questions, his tone easy-going, like we were old friends. “So, how did you end up here all on your own? Some part-timers call off?”

I sighed softly as I wiped away the spills. “No, I can’t afford employees. It’s just me at the moment,” I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt.

Phil paused for a moment, looking taken aback. “All by yourself? No friends? Family? What about a boyfriend?”

At the mention of a boyfriend, my heart skipped a beat. I stiffened, forcing a smile. “Nope, just me, Phil. But I’m having a blast. Every day is exciting, and I really enjoy it—promise.”

Phil’s face softened with concern, but he didn’t press further. Instead, he nodded slowly, his eyes still holding a bit of worry. I decided to change the subject before he could say anything more.

“I was going to make lunch now that the place looks nice,” I said, trying to lighten the mood. “Would you like to join me? I feel like I owe you for helping me.”

Phil shook his head, his smile warm and reassuring. “No, I insist on paying. But your company would be reward enough.”

I made a BLT with coffee and some leftover cookies I had made earlier. Phil seemed genuinely pleased with the meal, complimenting my cooking as he dug in. We chatted about random things, the conversation flowing naturally. It was easy to talk to him—he was kind and attentive, never rushing me.

I found myself growing quite fond of him during the short time he spent here. He was unlike anyone I’d met in a long while—protective, but in a way that made me feel safe.

At one point, Phil wiped a crumb from my face, his touch gentle.

“So tell me,” he asked casually, “how old are you?”

“Nineteen,” I answered between bites, a bit surprised by the question.

He chuckled softly. “Precious and hardworking. Every father-in-law’s dream. Or even boyfriend’s dream,” he added with a grin that made me blush slightly.

I raised an eyebrow, unsure how to respond. “Uh?”

Phil’s smile didn’t fade. Instead, he kept gushing, clearly fond of me in his own way. “Do you have anything in mind when it comes to a boyfriend? What’s your type? Marriage? Kids?”

His questions came so fast I could barely keep up. I blinked, unsure what to say. “Um…?”

Phil looked at me with a kind of worry in his eyes. He wasn’t just asking about a boyfriend out of curiosity—there was a sense of concern behind his questions, as though he truly wanted to make sure I was okay. It was clear he saw me as more than just a cute girl running a coffee shop. He was worried about me being all alone.

"Um, well... No, I don’t have anyone in mind. I don’t really have a type," I said, offering a soft smile. "Marriage is fine for one day in the future, and I haven’t really thought much about kids."

Phil smiled widely, his blue eyes soft with a hint of amusement, and nodded. "That’s fair. You’re young. You’ve got time."

I paused, looking at him curiously. "So, you have kids?"

"Twins," he replied with a grin, his voice fond. "But they’re more like men now. I adopted them when they were teens, after all."

I smiled, realizing how much of a family man he must be. "Guess that makes sense. You seem too young to be a dad," I teased, which made Phil chuckle.

Before I could say anything else, he suddenly stood up, walked over to me, and enveloped me in a warm hug. I froze for a moment, not expecting it, but quickly relaxed at the warmth of his embrace.

"You’re just so sweet," Phil murmured, his voice tender as he held me. "The cutest thing I’ve ever seen. If one of my sons doesn’t marry you, I will."

I pulled back slightly, a bit confused by his words. "I couldn’t possibly force you to marry me, Phil. I’m sure you have lots of suitors."

Phil laughed softly, shaking his head. "I should be saying that to you. I’m worried someone terrible will come and bother you." He kneeled in front of me, looking serious for the first time. "How about I come and help you out once a week? You know, make sure everything’s alright?"

I hesitated, my mind racing. "I can’t afford to pay—"

Phil waved me off, his usual smile returning. "No payment needed. Someone as sweet as you needs a break once in a while." He gently patted my head. "You can reward me with more food and conversation. I won’t take no for an answer, mate. I’ll be back on Saturdays."

"Thank you, Phil, but didn’t you come for coffee?" I asked, still holding the cup of coffee he'd asked for earlier. He paused for a moment, then smiled warmly, almost as if realizing he hadn't actually made a real request.

"I’ll take a large coffee," he said, his tone light and easy.

"Sure," I replied, making the coffee and handing it over. Phil continued to shower me with compliments about the shop, about my cooking, about little things that made me blush with each word. She even taught me a few new ones. I could feel the heat rising to my cheeks. It was flattering, but also... a little confusing.

Before he left, he placed money in the tip jar. "For you, darling," he said, his voice sweet and sincere. I watched him go, his smile lingering even after he'd stepped outside. I found myself a little lost in thought.

He didn’t seem like a bad man... in fact, I kinda looked forward to seeing him again.

+++++

Phil's POV

As I stepped into the building, I saw Wilbur and Technoblade both sitting at their desks. Technoblade was hard at work, while Wilbur was doing his usual whining. My eyes found their way to my coffee cup as I sipped. It tasted as lovely as I remembered—just like Y/n.

I would need to hire someone to dig into that girl’s life. She claimed not to have a "type," but I didn’t buy it. Most people lie about things like that. I saw her give me a once over maybe she was into Dilf’s. I’d make sure she was part of our family. I could tell she liked the praise I gave her. She was cute, sweet, and I could already tell she'd respond well to more of it. I smiled darkly to myself.

Wilbur turned to me as I walked in, tossing me a casual glance. "How’d you do?"

"Great," I replied, taking another sip of my coffee. Wilbur’s sharp gaze lingered on me for a moment. He seemed to think something was off, but he kept it to himself.

Technoblade, noticing the tension in the air, asked, "The money, Phil?" His hand was already outstretched, impatient.

I grinned, looking at my son. "I didn’t get it."

Wilbur snorted, clearly amused. Technoblade's glare could’ve cut glass.

"PHIL!" he growled, exasperated. "We need that money—"

"We’re keeping her," I interrupted, leaning back in my chair with a dangerous smile. "We don’t charge family."

Technoblade slammed his fist down onto the desk, looking like he was about to lose it. "PHIL! We have to charge her or it won’t be fair to—"

I held up a hand to stop him, my tone dark and knowing. "She’s adorable. She doesn’t have a family. No friends. No boyfriend. I know I can have her looking to me for anything she might need. You boys need a mother, don’t you?"

Technoblade let out a frustrated growl. "I’m 25 years old!"

I laughed darkly. "And I called dibs," Wilbur muttered under his breath, clearly annoyed.

Ignoring him, I shifted through the books on my desk. I’d be hiring a private investigator. I needed to know everything about her. Her favorite food, favorite color, the little things. And, of course, more personal details like what position in bed she enjoyed. I was going to make sure she belonged to us. Every way possible.

The more I thought about her, the more I couldn’t get Y/n out of my head. Her smile, the way she had handled that coffee shop all alone, spoke volumes about her strength—and her innocence. She was exactly the type of person I could mold into someone perfect for our family. No one else would understand her like I could. No one else would protect her like I would.

Technoblade’s irritation faded into the background as I focused on what needed to be done.

I could hear Wilbur muttering under his breath, clearly feeling left out. He wasn’t stupid. He knew exactly what I was planning.

"I’ll have her. You’ll see." His voice held that edge of arrogance he always carried. It was almost amusing.

I looked over at him, a dark grin forming on my lips. "Not if I get to her first, Wilbur," I said, savoring the words.

"Maybe not, but I’ll make sure she knows who I am first. You're not the only one who can make a girl feel special," Wilbur shot back, his smirk matching mine.

I chuckled darkly, feeling a surge of confidence. "We’ll see."

The tension in the room thickened as I took a long drink from my cup, the rich flavor grounding me. Technoblade was still glaring at me, clearly bothered by what was happening. He hated the idea of someone "softening up" his world, even if it was a beautiful girl.

"You two are both idiots," Technoblade muttered, his eyes narrowing. "Just remember, if you screw this up, we all suffer."

"We won’t screw it up," I reassured him, though my tone carried a dark promise. "I know exactly what I’m doing."

I leaned back in my chair, letting the thought of Y/n fill my mind. There was no way anyone else would stand a chance. The moment she noticed me, she'd know exactly who was the right one for her. After all, I was a dilf —an experienced, well-established man who knew how to handle what he wanted. And I knew how to use that to my advantage. Y/n would see the appeal. She already liked my praise, and who could blame her? I was everything she needed.

Wilbur, Technoblade—none of them understood that. They were still boys, still playing games. I was the one who had experience, the one who could show her what the world really had to offer. The power of my presence, the way I commanded attention... she’d come to understand that no one else could protect her the way I could.

It wouldn’t take long. She was already halfway mine.

Chapter Text

The café had a pleasant hum of activity, with a few customers chatting over coffee or enjoying a scone. I considered myself lucky to have a brief moment to catch my breath as I cleared plates from the tables. That’s when I noticed him—a man standing at the counter with long, pink hair pulled back into a bun.

As I rounded the corner to greet him, my heart skipped. His face… I recognized it. He looked like Wilbur, but this man was sharper, more imposing. His posture was rigid, his suit perfectly tailored, and his tie impeccably straight. Yet, despite the tough and intimidating aura, there was something about him that reminded me of Wilbur’s tired expressions. That realization made me feel oddly relaxed, even as his piercing red eyes locked onto mine.

"Hello," I greeted with a smile, stepping behind the counter. "Can I take your order?"

His gaze swept over the café before landing back on me. His tone was rough, clipped, and he spoke with an edge that could cut glass.

"Look, girl. I don’t know what you’ve done to Wilbur or Phil, but I’m still collecting the money from you. $1,000—or I burn this place to the ground."

The words hung in the air for a moment, the harshness of his voice taking me by surprise. I blinked, stunned, and then confused.

He held my gaze, his red eyes glinting with a dangerous intensity. For a second, I considered the seriousness of his threat. Then, seeing the way his jaw tightened and his frustration simmered just beneath the surface, something clicked. This had to be Wilbur’s twin.

I tilted my head, breaking into a disarming smile. "Hmm... your jokes aren’t as good as Wilbur’s."

The reaction was immediate. His expression darkened, and his voice rose a little too loud, drawing the attention of nearby customers.

"I’m not joking!" he snapped.

I waved a hand at the onlookers to show everything was fine, then looked back at him with an apologetic smile. "My bad. Sorry. You’re twins, right? I know it’s not fair to compare you two. Don’t worry, though. While Wilbur might have the charm, I think you’re very handsome. And your hair? It’s super pretty."

His frustration faltered for a moment, replaced by suspicion. "I’m not—" He paused, narrowing his eyes. "You think my hair is pretty ?"

"Absolutely," I said earnestly. "I’m so jealous. I wish my hair was as long and nice as yours."

He looked skeptical, his lips pressing into a thin line. "And more handsome than Wilbur?"

I nodded, grinning playfully. "At the moment," I teased, watching his reaction.

Technoblade muttered something under his breath, clearly annoyed but also visibly flustered. His stance shifted slightly, his tough exterior cracking just enough to reveal a flicker of uncertainty.

"So, you’re the twins Phil told me about," I said, leaning against the counter with a mischievous glint in my eye. "He’s mentioned a lot of things~."

Technoblade’s expression hardened instantly. "It’s either too much or not enough," he growled, his tone dripping with irritation.

I chuckled softly, shaking my head. "Don’t worry, nothing embarrassing. Would you like some coffee?"

"Black," he said gruffly.

"A pink drink coming right up," I replied with a grin, already turning to prepare it.

He looked momentarily baffled but didn’t protest. Phil had told me Technoblade’s actual favorite drink—and frankly, it wasn’t coffee.

As I worked, I could feel his gaze on me, a mix of irritation and curiosity. For someone so intimidating, he wasn’t nearly as scary as he thought he was.

As I turned back to the counter, Technoblade was still watching me, his expression caught between irritation and disbelief. I slid the drink toward him with a playful flourish.

“Here you go—pink drink for the man with the prettiest hair in the café.”

He glared at the cup, clearly unamused, but when he finally picked it up, his lips twitched as though fighting back a smile.

“You’re insufferable,” he muttered, but he took a sip anyway. His eyes darted to the side, avoiding mine.

“Glad you think so,” I replied with a grin. “If it’s that bad, you can always give it back, but I have a feeling you’ll like it.”

He didn’t respond, taking another long drink instead. I turned away to tidy up, letting him have his moment.

“What exactly did Phil tell you about us?” Technoblade asked after a beat, his voice low but curious.

“Oh, just little things,” I said lightly, stacking plates and wiping the counter. “Like how you’re the responsible one, Wilbur’s the funny one, and Phil’s, well… Phil. The ‘dilf,’ as he so charmingly put it.”

Technoblade choked on his drink, coughing violently as I glanced back at him with wide eyes.

“Are you okay?” I asked, hurrying over, but he waved me off, his face turning an impressive shade of red.

“He said that?” Technoblade rasped, his voice rough.

“Not in so many words,” I admitted, biting back a laugh. “But you get the idea.”

Technoblade shook his head, muttering something under his breath about his father’s ego. He set the cup down with a loud clink and leveled me with a sharp look. “Do you even know what that word means?”

I tilted my head at Technoblade’s sharp look, confused by his sudden seriousness. "Of course, I know what it means," I said innocently, smiling. "It stands for ‘Definitely Into Loving Father.’ Right?"

Technoblade froze, staring at me like I’d just said the most ridiculous thing in the world. For a moment, there was silence, and then, to my utter surprise, he burst out laughing—a deep, hearty laugh that echoed through the café.

I blinked, startled, but his laughter was contagious, and soon I found myself giggling along, even if I wasn’t entirely sure what was so funny.

“‘Definitely Into Loving Father,’” he repeated between chuckles, shaking his head. 

“Is that not what it means?” I asked, a little embarrassed now, though my smile didn’t falter.

Technoblade leaned against the counter, wiping at his eyes, his laughter finally subsiding. “No, it’s not,” he said, his tone much lighter than before. “But don’t worry about it. Let’s just say Phil’s ego doesn’t need any more help.”

I pouted, still feeling a little left out of the joke. “Well, I think my definition’s better.”

“It’s definitely… sweeter,” Technoblade admitted, a small smirk tugging at his lips. He picked up his drink again, taking another sip as he glanced at me.

Technoblade leaned in close, his red eyes gleaming with mischief as he spoke low enough for only me to hear. “It means Daddy I Like to Fuck. ”

I froze, feeling the heat rush to my face, and my cheeks burned as red as his eyes. “ NO, IT DOESN’T! ” I blurted out, my voice louder than I intended.

The few remaining customers in the café turned to stare, their conversations halting as they looked between us. I clasped my hands over my mouth in horror, my wide eyes meeting Technoblade’s amused expression.

He chuckled darkly, clearly enjoying my reaction. “Oh, it does, sweetheart,” he said with a smirk, straightening up and making his way to the door.

I stood there, my face still burning, unable to move as he waved lazily over his shoulder.

I stood frozen, my face burning so red it felt like it could set the café on fire. Technoblade was gone, and I still couldn’t believe he said that. How could he just say something like that? Out loud? My hands flew to my cheeks, trying to cool them down, but it was no use. My thoughts were spinning, half about what he’d said and half about Phil. Phil knows?!

“Hey, you doing alright, pumpkin?”

Schlatt’s voice pulled me from my spiraling thoughts. I looked up, startled to see him standing there, his eyes catching the light as he tilted his head.

“I-I’m fine!” I stammered, quickly turning my head away.

Schlatt frowned, unconvinced. “Saw Technoblade walking out of here just now. You sure you’re okay, pup?”

I nodded furiously, trying to hide my face. But Schlatt wasn’t having it. He reached out, gently cupping my chin and lifting my face to meet his gaze. My eyes squeezed shut, mortified.

Schlatt sighed. “Hey, pup, it’s okay. Don’t cry. Everyone messes up sometimes,” he said softly, pulling me into a firm hug against his chest.

His words only made my embarrassment worse. My face burned hotter as my mind raced. Oh no, does he think I’m crying because of Technoblade? Did Technoblade tell him what he said? No, he wouldn’t… would he?

“I didn’t know…” I mumbled against his shirt, too flustered to look up.

Schlatt patted my head comfortingly, his large hand gentle. “I’ve got you, kid. Let me close up the shop for you, alright? Take a breather.”

Before I could protest, he moved around the café, shooing out the last customers and flipping the sign to Closed. I stayed rooted in place, clutching my cheeks as the mortification refused to subside.

“I just didn’t know it meant that…” I finally whispered, more to myself than him.

Schlatt turned to me, eyebrow raised. “What didn’t you know?”

My voice came out in a mumble, barely audible. “That ‘dilf’ means… Daddy I like to… to f…”

Schlatt froze, his eyes widening in disbelief. “What?”

I peeked up at him through my fingers, my cheeks flaming as I managed to say it again, slightly louder this time. “I didn’t know ‘dilf’ means… Daddy I Like to Fuck. ”

For a moment, Schlatt just stared at me, utterly blank-faced. Then his lips twitched. A snort escaped. And before I knew it, he was doubled over, laughing so hard he had to clutch his stomach.

“Wha—what the hell?” he wheezed between laughs, wiping tears from his eyes. “You—I thought…”

His laughter only made my embarrassment skyrocket. “It’s not funny!” I protested, my voice small as I buried my face in my hands.

But the more he looked at me, the harder he laughed, each chuckle shaking his entire frame. It seemed like he might stop, but then his gaze landed on me again—me, red-faced and mortified—and he burst into another fit of uncontrollable laughter.

I groaned into my hands. I thought he’d be serious… I thought he’d understand! Now he’s just laughing at me!

“Stop it,” I mumbled, peeking at him through my fingers. “It’s not funny…”

“Pup,” Schlatt managed to choke out between laughs, wiping his face with his sleeve. “You’re killing me here. I swear, you’re the most innocent thing I’ve ever seen.”

I groaned louder, sinking into my chair. This is the worst day of my life.

Schlatt finally stopped laughing, wiping the last tears from his eyes. He leaned down slightly, looking at me with a curious smirk.

“So, that’s what you were about to cry over?” he teased.

I pouted, crossing my arms and turning away. “I don’t want to talk to you, meanie.”

Schlatt chuckled softly and reached out, placing his hands gently on my cheeks. His touch was warm as he turned my face back toward him, his thumbs brushing over the heated skin.

“Alright, alright, I’m sorry, pup. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.” His voice softened, and he pulled a piece of chocolate from his pocket. “Here. Open up.”

I blinked up at him, surprised, but obediently opened my mouth. He popped the chocolate in, and I chewed, the sweet flavor melting on my tongue. My mood brightened just a bit as I savored it.

“There we go,” Schlatt said with a satisfied smile. “Better?”

I nodded reluctantly, still feeling a little embarrassed.

“Now,” he said, his tone a little more serious. “Did Technoblade hurt your feelings?”

I frowned, still chewing. “Not until he told me what a… a dilf was,” I admitted, annoyed.

Schlatt’s eyebrows shot up, and his smirk returned. “Oh? Did he offer to be your daddy or something?”

“NO!” I shouted, my face turning crimson. “Don’t say stuff like that!”

Schlatt burst into a short laugh again, clearly enjoying how flustered I was. He leaned in closer, his eyes narrowing playfully. “Then where’d you learn your new favorite word, huh?”

I hesitated, my mind flashing back to Phil. He said it so casually… maybe he doesn’t know what it means either?

“No one,” I mumbled, avoiding Schlatt’s gaze.

“Uh-huh,” Schlatt said, unconvinced. He tilted his head, his grin widening. “You’re a bad liar, pup. Come on, spill it.”

I shook my head stubbornly, refusing to meet his eyes.

“Phil… Technoblade and Wilbur’s dad, Phil, said it,” I finally confessed, my voice small.

Schlatt’s playful smirk faltered, replaced by a more serious expression. “Phil, huh?”

“But he must not have known what the word meant!” I blurted, desperate to defend him. “I mean, Phil… he wouldn’t say something like that if he knew—”

Schlatt raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical, and gently took my hands in his, his touch steadying my nerves.

“How’d he say it, pup?” he asked, his voice low and careful.

I hesitated, the memory flashing in my mind. Phil’s voice had been smooth, low, and teasing as he leaned in slightly closer than necessary. The words replayed vividly: “Want me to show you what it really means to have a Dilf in your life, sweetheart?”

At the time, I’d thought it was some sort of joke—maybe some British humor I didn’t understand—so I’d awkwardly laughed it off and changed the subject. But we talked about lots of things over lunch. I kinda just forgot.

I repeated the words to Schlatt, my cheeks burning hotter with every syllable.

Schlatt let out a long sigh, rubbing the back of his neck as though trying to process the information.

“That’s… yeah, he knew exactly what it meant,” he said, his tone flat but tinged with annoyance.

I fidgeted nervously. “But Phil’s not a bad guy, right? He didn’t mean anything—”

Schlatt cut me off with a firm look, his fingers tightening gently around mine.

“Listen to me, pup,” he said, his voice serious now. “I’ll pay whatever you owe from now on. Don’t worry about it. But you need to stay away from them.”

“Them?” I asked, my brow furrowing.

“The Syndicate,” Schlatt said, his tone darkening. “Phil, Technoblade, Wilbur—they’re all part of it. Dangerous men, Y/n. You don’t want to get caught up in their world.”

I blinked, confusion swirling in my mind. “The Syndicate?”

Schlatt nodded, his expression hardening. “They’re not just some quirky family, pup. They’re running things you don’t want to know about.”

I stared at him, the weight of his words sinking in slowly. Phil, Technoblade, Wilbur… dangerous? It didn’t make sense—at least, not yet.


+++++

Chapter Text

Schlatt told me everything, laying it all out without sugarcoating a single word. He didn’t try to soften the truth, probably because he figured I wouldn’t get it otherwise.

The Syndicate.
Extortion.
Crimes.
Violence.
Murders.

They weren’t just a quirky, chaotic family like I’d thought. No, they were a full-blown mafia, running things in the shadows like something out of a crime drama. Schlatt explained it all so casually, like he was telling me what toppings he wanted on a pizza.

And then came his advice, simple but terrifying:

“As long as you don’t piss them off, you’ll be fine.”

Don’t piss them off.
Don’t piss them off.

The words echoed in my mind like a broken record, each repetition sinking deeper into my stomach.

Oh no.
Oh no.

I started mentally ticking off every interaction I’d had with them, and the list wasn’t looking good.

First, there was Wilbur.
I’d patted his head like he was a golden retriever.

Then there was Phil.
He’d worked in my shop for a whole day, and I hadn’t even insisted on paying him.

And finally, Technoblade.
Oh boy. I’d called him “pretty.” Not handsome— pretty. Because for some reason, on that day, I’d decided that was the better word.

I was dead.
Absolutely, positively dead.

Schlatt had left by now, probably thinking I’d take his advice seriously and steer clear of trouble. What he didn’t know—what I hadn’t dared to tell him—was that I’d already done everything to piss them off.

But there was no way I’d let Schlatt get hurt because of me. I’d rather face the consequences alone than drag him into the chaos.

As I watched Schlatt walk out the door, my heart sank. If there was going to be a funeral, he’d just have to know he was invited.

But honestly, why would they waste their time coming back to the coffee shop? If I was just an annoyance, they might send some other random person to collect the money. Or worse—Schlatt.

“Hey, Y/n~”

A sing-song voice pulled me from my spiraling thoughts, and I recognized it instantly. Wilbur. Of course, it was Wilbur.

I bit my lip, unsure of what to do. Schlatt’s warnings echoed in my mind. I wasn’t supposed to talk or even look at him, but now he was calling out to me so sweetly. It felt rude to ignore him, but wasn’t it equally dangerous if I didn’t follow Schlatt’s advice?

I turned slightly but kept my eyes glued to the floor. “Um, you alright?” Wilbur asked, his tone light with concern.

“I’m not supposed to talk to you,” I mumbled, barely audible, but of course, he heard.

“Why?” He tilted his head in confusion.

“Because I was told you might hurt me,” I confessed, my voice trembling.

Wilbur chuckled softly. “And you’re not looking at me because…?”
“Same reason,” I confirmed, avoiding his gaze even harder.

Wilbur tilted his head further, trying to catch my eyes, almost as if my words were a challenge. Today, he was dressed nicer than before—his clothes neater, his hair combed, and his glasses spotless. He looked sharp, like he meant business. Yet, he still wore that confident smile.

“You were rather rude,” he said, confirming my worst fears. Then, his grin widened. “How about a date to make it up?”

“A date? That’s it?” I blinked, surprised.

“Well, that and another coffee,” he added, holding up the empty cup from his last visit.

This was definitely against Schlatt’s warning, but if it meant I’d live another day, could I really be faulted?

“I’m closing in 30 minutes… Can you wait until then?” I asked hesitantly, not wanting to disrupt the café.

“Of course,” he replied smoothly.

I hurried to make his order—coffee with sugar—and handed it to him as he went to find a seat. My heart raced as I prepared for what came next, knowing I was toeing a dangerous line.

He didn’t seem angry, which was a relief. I just hoped it stayed that way. I busied myself with finishing up orders and, of course, taking a few new ones. Before I knew it, I was done. Wilbur was patiently sipping his coffee, scrolling through his phone.

“Almost done!” I called out.

Wilbur nodded, slipping his phone into his pocket. I walked over to him, feeling more relaxed than I expected. A smile crept onto my face before I realized it. For a moment, I forgot this was supposed to be a date.

Wilbur chuckled, glancing down at me. “You’re okay looking at me now? You won’t get in trouble?” He said in a sing song tone.

I blinked, remembering Schlatt’s warning. “Just a bit is fine, right?” I replied sheepishly.

Wilbur laughed again.

As we stepped outside, I instinctively took hold of his hand. “So we don’t get lost,” I explained with a grin. Wilbur smiled and nodded.

“Where are we off to first?” he asked.

“There’s a new movie I wanted to see,” I suggested, and he nodded along as I led the way to the theater.

At the ticket booth, I stepped up confidently. “Two tickets for [insert random scary movie] , please.”

Wilbur reached for his wallet, but I quickly pulled out mine. “I picked the movie, so I’ll pay,” I insisted.

Wilbur blinked, intrigued but willing to let me handle it. “Want popcorn?” I asked as we moved toward the concession stand.

“Nah, I prefer something sweet for a show,” he said, his hand holding mine tightly, his face just inches from mine.

“Um, I think they have cotton candy?” I suggested uncertainly.

Wilbur sighed playfully. “Pink.”

“Got it,” I nodded. “But cotton candy for a movie? The best movie snack is popcorn, and then afterward, licorice,” I chattered as I ordered the snacks and paid.

Wilbur just listened, a soft smile on his face. As we walked into the theater, he offered me a piece of his cotton candy. I accepted it with a grin, feeling a surprising warmth between us despite the odd circumstances.

“I was super excited for this movie, but too scared to see it alone. I was going to invite Schl—”

Wilbur gently placed a finger against my lips, stopping me mid-sentence. “Are you sure that’s the only reason you brought me to the theater?”

“Um, yeah,” I stammered, feeling a little flustered. “I mean, this movie is new and supposed to be super scary. If you get scared, you can hold my hand if you want.”

He smirked, raising our intertwined hands. “I’m already holding your hand.”

I blinked, realizing I hadn’t let go since we walked in. Okay, maybe I was the one who was scared.

“You can let go of my hand… and then hold it again if you need to,” I suggested, trying to play it cool.

Wilbur chuckled softly, his laughter brushing against my shoulder. “I’ll give the movie a chance.”

“Great!” I said, a little too eagerly, as the theater lights dimmed and the screen lit up.

The movie was thrilling—wonderfully scary—but way more intense than I had anticipated. With each jump scare, my heart raced faster. When another particularly terrifying scene hit, I instinctively grabbed the closest thing to me—Wilbur. I buried my face into his shoulder, clutching onto his jacket for dear life.

Wilbur remained calm, his eyes fixed on the screen, seemingly unfazed by the horror unfolding. He glanced at me, startled by my sudden grip but didn’t pull away.

“I’m not scared…” I muttered, though my shaky voice betrayed me.

Wilbur chuckled again, a soft, reassuring sound. “Sure you’re not,” he teased gently.

I couldn’t even look him in the eye, feeling a mix of embarrassment and relief. My grip tightened on his jacket, and I wondered if I should’ve picked a Disney movie instead. At least then, I wouldn’t feel like such a burden with my over-the-top reactions. But as Wilbur’s steady presence reassured me, I realized maybe this wasn’t so bad after all.

Wilbur removed his arm, and I instinctively reached out, but he quickly wrapped it around my shoulders, pulling me close. My head tilted up, and I found myself staring into his warm, chestnut-colored eyes.

“I’m not scared at all,” I told him, trying to sound confident.

“No?” He offered me a soft smile.

“No,” I insisted, refusing to admit the truth.

He chuckled, his voice gentle. “I am. Mind if I hold you like this? You might miss some of the movie, though.”

Grateful, I rested my head against his chest. “You’re scared?” I asked, surprised.

“Yep,” he replied simply.

“Then I’ll hold you a bit longer,” I whispered, my knees still trembling as the noise from the movie faded. All I could hear was the steady rhythm of Wilbur’s breathing and the soft thump of his heartbeat.

“Thanks,” he murmured, snorting softly against my head.

We stayed like that until the movie finally ended, even lingering through the credits. As time passed, I felt more embarrassed and childish, but Wilbur’s calm presence made it all a little easier to bear.

As we exited the theater, I clung to Wilbur’s arm, still shaken from the movie. He hadn’t said a word about how I’d clung to him like a frightened child. Instead, he let me chatter away, offering little comments and nods to show he was listening.

“I mean, the effects were amazing, right? But that scene with the alley... ugh, it felt so real!” I rambled, clutching his arm tighter as we cut through a shortcut between two buildings.

The alleyway we entered looked eerily similar to the one in the movie. My heart rate picked up, but I shook my head, trying to push the fear aside. It’s just an alley. Nothing to be scared of...

Suddenly, a clattering sound came from a nearby trashcan. My heart jumped into my throat, and before I knew it, a figure darted toward us from the shadows. Without thinking, I stepped in front of Wilbur, arms outstretched to shield him.

“Stay back!” I shouted, bracing for impact.

But instead of some horrifying creature, a small, scruffy tomcat leapt from the ground onto my head. It landed with a soft thud before gracefully hopping into Wilbur’s arms. My eyes widened as the cat looked up at me, wide-eyed and innocent, then gave my cheek a quick lick.

“A... cat?” I stammered, my voice trembling as I realized what had just happened.

Wilbur chuckled, his hand covering his mouth as he tried—and failed—to stifle his laughter. Setting the cat down gently, he couldn’t hold back, his amusement spilling out in waves of laughter.

I bit my lip, feeling heat rise to my cheeks. “I thought it was—”

“A monster?” he teased, stepping closer, his grin growing wider. “You’re so cute,” he murmured, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from my face.

“I just... I thought it was something dangerous,” I mumbled, ashamed. “I was trying to protect you.”

Wilbur’s eyes softened, but there was a flicker of something else—annoyance, perhaps? He leaned in, his smile still in place but tinged with a hint of frustration. “I don’t need your protection, Y/n,” he said quietly, his voice firm.

I blinked up at him, confused by his tone. “But—”

He cut me off, his hand gently resting on my shoulder. “It’s my job to protect you, not the other way around. You don’t need to worry about me.”

The cat meowed softly at our feet, but neither of us paid it any mind. Wilbur’s gaze was locked onto mine, his expression a mix of affection and determination.

"I'll protect you from any monsters from this point on," he declared confidently.

"Oh, thank you, Wilbur. You're very brave," I replied with a smile, patting his head. He looked a bit surprised at first, then tilted his head down, allowing me to pat him again. Not only that, but he leaned in to kiss me softly on the cheek.

"You’re brave as well," he told me, his voice warm. He offered me his hand, and I took it without hesitation.

"Want to get some food? I can treat you too—"

Wilbur rolled his eyes playfully. "Yes, but I’m treating you. You’re starting to treat me like a child."

"Oh, I didn’t notice. Wilbur is a lot like the little brother I always wanted," I teased, grinning up at him.

Wilbur’s expression shifted into a playful pout. "Little brother, huh? Well, let’s get that thought out of your head," he said, grinning mischievously.

Before I could even process what he meant, Wilbur cupped my face gently with both hands and leaned in, pressing his lips to mine. The kiss lingered, lasting longer than just a few seconds. When he finally pulled away, his brown eyes locked onto mine, waiting for my reaction.

"Whoa, I think it worked!" I said, blinking in surprise. "Wilbur, you have such creative ways of solving problems."

Wilbur sighed, shaking his head slightly. "I know a nice sandwich place. I’ll treat you this time," he said, his tone softer but still amused.

"Okay!" I agreed, grinning up at him as we started walking again, hand in hand.

As we walked back towards my place, Wilbur's hand remained firmly clasped around mine. His grip was a bit tighter now, and there was a protective edge in the way he kept glancing around, as if searching for unseen threats.

"You don’t have to walk me all the way home, Wilbur," I said, smiling up at him. "I’ll be fine."

He didn’t let go. Instead, his gaze darkened slightly, and he shook his head. "I’m not taking any chances. I promised to protect you, remember?" His tone was firm.

"Well, thank you! It’s really sweet of you." I gave his hand a light squeeze, completely missing the intensity in his eyes. "You’re such a good friend."

Wilbur didn’t respond immediately. He just tightened his grip slightly, pulling me a little closer to his side. "I wouldn’t trust anyone else to make sure you get home safe," he finally said, his voice low.

We reached my doorstep, and I turned to face him, still oblivious to the tension radiating off him. "Thanks again for walking me home, Wilbur. You didn’t have to, but I really appreciate it."

He stepped closer, his presence looming in a way that felt both comforting and a little overwhelming. "I would like to be the only one who does this. Just me”

I tilted my head, smiling innocently. "You’re so protective, Wilbur. It’s nice to have someone like you looking out for me."

Wilbur's lips curled into a slight smile, but his eyes didn’t soften. "I’ll always look out for you."

I giggled, misinterpreting his seriousness. "Goodnight, Wilbur! See you soon!" I waved before heading inside, blissfully unaware of the dark possessiveness simmering beneath his calm exterior. Patting him again on the head.

As I closed the door, I heard him mutter softly to himself, "Goodnight, Y/n."

++++++

I twirled the little bracelet between my fingers, a simple trinket I’d picked up while out collecting protection fees. It had caught my eye, and I couldn’t resist. It reminded me of Y/n. Without much thought, I paid for it and slipped it into my pocket. Now, sprawled across the couch in Phil’s office, I felt its weight as if it were a reminder of my own frustrations.

Phil glanced over from his desk, his sharp blue eyes catching the movement. "What do you have there, Wilbur?" he asked, his tone casual but knowing.

I rolled my eyes and stuffed the bracelet deeper into my pocket. "Nothing."

Phil didn’t push, which was rare. He returned to his papers, methodically stacking them in neat piles. I watched him with mild irritation, my thoughts still swirling around Y/n. I thought I was okay with her spoiling me. I thought it meant she liked me. And she did—but as a kid brother. It was insulting. So, I kissed her, hoping it would spark something, anything. I wanted her to see me as more than just a friend. As a man with desires, with longing. But all I got was her fascination, her innocent laughter, and a casual dismissal. It was maddening.

Phil finished organizing his papers, placing them neatly in the outbox. He seemed more focused than usual, almost like he was preparing for something.

"What’s the rush, Phil?" I asked, my curiosity piqued.

"I have a shift at the coffee shop tomorrow," he replied, not even looking up. "Thought it’d be best to get ahead on the paperwork."

I shot up from my slouched position, staring at him in disbelief. "Coffee shop? You’re working? You’re the boss of the Syndicate, why the hell do you have a part-time job unless—"

"HEY!" I interrupted myself, the realization hitting me hard. "I already told you, I like Y/n. I took her on a date and everything."

Phil finally looked up, his eyes cold and calculating, a far cry from any fatherly warmth. "Dibs is for children, Wilbur. And besides," he said, walking over to the desk and sitting on it with that infuriating calm, "why would she want a boy when she can have a man?"

I clenched my fists, the words cutting deep. Phil was always one step ahead, always more composed, more assured. Unlike my lanky frame, he was built like a goddamn statue—muscle, tan, and undeniably attractive. I hated it. I hated him sometimes .

Phil leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping to a more intimate tone that made my skin crawl. "Besides, it would be rude of me to cancel on my first day. I plan to help Y/n out in many ways," he added with a lewd gesture, his smirk dripping with smug satisfaction.

"LIKE HELL YOU WILL!" I shouted, my anger boiling over.

Phil just smirked wider, knowing exactly how to get under my skin.

Phil’s smirk didn’t waver as he leaned back on the desk, his eyes glinting with a dangerous mix of amusement and challenge. "You know, Wilbur," he started, his tone almost casual but cutting like a knife, "this isn’t the first time you’ve claimed to like someone. Remember Hannah? Or Niki? Oh, and what about Sally? You were all over them, making big declarations. And then what happened? You got bored. Moved on. Left them behind like yesterday’s news."

I clenched my jaw, fists tightening at my sides. "That was different," I growled, though the words felt weak even to me.

Phil’s smirk deepened, knowing he had me cornered. "Was it? Because it seems to me like you have a pattern, Wilbur. You chase, you play, and when things get too real, you bolt." He leaned in, his voice dropping to a more serious tone. "But Y/n? She’s not someone you play with. She’s not a fling or a phase. I’m serious about her."

"Serious?" I echoed, disbelief mixing with anger. "You’ve known her for what, a few days? How can you be serious about her?"

Phil’s eyes narrowed, his calm demeanor cracking just enough to show a flicker of something deeper—possessiveness, determination. "I know what I want, Wilbur. And I plan on keeping Y/n. She’s not like your others, and I’m not leaving her behind. Unlike you, I know how to appreciate something good when I have it."

I felt my chest tighten, his words hitting harder than I wanted to admit. I did like Y/n. She was different. But love? Was it love, or just another infatuation? My mind was a mess of conflicting emotions, and Phil’s confidence only made it worse.

"I’m not planning on leaving her either," I shot back, though the conviction in my voice wavered. "I just... I don’t know what this is yet."

Phil tilted his head, his gaze softening just slightly, though his words remained sharp. "Figure it out fast, Wilbur. Because if you don’t, someone else will." He stood, brushing past me with an air of finality. "And I don’t plan on letting her go."

As he walked out, leaving me alone with my thoughts, the weight of his words settled in. I knew I had made mistakes before, playing the part of a carefree charmer. But Y/n was different. I just wasn’t sure if I was ready to admit how much.

Chapter Text

The morning light poured in through the cafe's windows as I brewed the last pot of coffee. The familiar scents filled the air, and I couldn’t help but smile, proud of how everything was coming together. It was quiet at first, but that changed when the bell chimed.

Phil walked through the door, his presence filling the room in a way that made my heart skip a beat. I had completely forgotten he’d volunteered to help out. It seemed crazy—Phil, a member of the Syndicate, working for free in my little coffee shop. I almost thought he had the wrong person.

"I'm here for my shift, dear," Phil said with that impossibly sweet smile of his, making his way to the counter and immediately taking up half of the space in my tiny shop. I stepped back, realizing just how little room was left for me as he set up shop in front of the espresso machine.

“Um, I think I’ll be fine on my own, Phil,” I said, trying to sound confident, though I was more than a little unsure. "I’m really grateful, but—"

Before I could finish my sentence, Phil grabbed my hands. "And miss out on time with my little barista? Never, dear. I’m staying. I really want to spend some time with you."

I tried pulling my hands back, but Phil wasn’t letting go. “Phil, I’m serious, I can do this on my own.”

His grin only grew wider, his blue eyes twinkling with amusement. “We’re not open today” I said, but the door chimed again as a customer entered, ruining that lie.

Phil stepped in front of me, towering over my smaller frame. “Be a good girl and get this man’s order,” he said, not bothering to step aside.

I hesitated, blinking up at him before giving in with a soft sigh. “Yes, sir.”

Phil patted my head, his touch gentle but possessive. "Good girl. I’ll give you a reward if you work hard today.”

I felt a flush creep up my neck, a mix of embarrassment and something else. Something unfamiliar, but not entirely unpleasant. His praise, though overbearing at times, was something I had never experienced before. It was warm, sincere, and—if I was being honest—it made me feel special in a way I hadn’t realized I needed.

I went about serving the customer, all the while feeling Phil’s eyes on me, guiding me in a way that was both comforting and unnerving. Every time I did something right, he would reward me with a smile or a pat on the head. It was strange. I was used to being the one doing the work without much fanfare, but with Phil, it was different.

When the next customer came in, Phil didn't even let me greet them before he stepped in and took charge. "I’ve got this one, Y/n," he said, his voice smooth and commanding. I wanted to protest, but the way he took control felt natural, like it was what he did best.

I couldn’t deny it—I was beginning to enjoy his company. His presence filled the room with a sense of security that I hadn’t realized I needed, and while I didn’t know exactly where this was going, I couldn’t help but want to be near him more and more.

As the morning passed, he continued to hover around, always in my space, always watching, and always offering praise. His affection felt so genuine, yet his possessive nature tugged at something inside me—something I wasn’t sure I was ready to acknowledge.

But for now, I couldn’t find it in myself to pull away. His attention was something I had never gotten before, and it felt... nice. Maybe too nice.

The coffee shop had been quiet for a while, the only sounds being the occasional clink of cups and the soft hum of the espresso machine. I was in the process of putting more cupcakes into the display case when I noticed Phil was cleaning up the plates and cups left on the counter. His presence, as always, was just a bit too close, and I could feel the weight of his gaze on me. 

"You have some cream on your face, Y/n," he said, his voice smooth and teasing. His smile widened as he noticed my embarrassed reaction to his observation.

I quickly wiped my face with the back of my hand, hoping to get rid of the mistake. "I’ll get it," I muttered, but before I could do much more, Phil stepped closer.

He chuckled softly, his gaze never leaving my face as he reached up to wipe it off for me. I froze in surprise as he leaned down and, before I could react, licked the cream off my face.

"Phil!" I gasped, taken aback by the suddenness of it. My mind was scrambling to make sense of what had just happened. "I could have gotten a napkin..."

Phil just smiled down at me, unfazed by my discomfort. "Seems you have quite a bit of cream on you, stay still a moment."

I could feel my cheeks heating up as I tried to figure out why he was doing this. It felt... odd. Was this normal? It didn’t seem so to me, but I couldn’t figure out why it felt so strange.

"Huh? I could go to the bathroom, though..." I suggested, trying to pull away, but Phil was insistent.

He was still so close, his body towering over me as he gently held me still. My mind was racing, and I couldn’t help but feel like something was off, but I couldn’t quite place what it was. He was just... too familiar. Too comfortable with me. As he held me by the shoulders.

Just then, I saw him. Out the window, I caught a glimpse of Schlatt, his figure moving past the shop. I immediately panicked. I couldn’t let him see Phil here. Not after all the warnings he’d given me. Especially with the older man licking cream off my face!

Without thinking, I pushed Phil down, trying to shield him from view. "Phil, Phil, please hide for a moment," I said, urgency in my voice.

Phil looked confused, his brow furrowing as he straightened up from his crouched position. "Dear? Hide? Why?"

"Just for a moment, please," I begged, my heart racing. I could already see Schlatt heading toward the door. I pushed Phil’s bucket hat down over his head, hoping it would be enough to obscure his face.

Phil, despite his obvious confusion, did as I asked and sat down on the floor, his expression slightly amused but still willing to comply with my request.

Just as Schlatt entered, I plastered a smile on my face, trying my best to act casual. "Hey, Pumpkin," Schlatt said, his voice cheerful but tinged with exhaustion. He didn’t seem to notice anything was off, which was a relief.

"Um, hello, Schlatt," I said, my voice shaking slightly. My heart was pounding in my chest as I tried to keep my focus on him, hoping he wouldn’t look around and notice Phil sitting awkwardly behind the counter.

I could feel the weight of the situation settling in. The man who’d warned me not to talk to Phil had no idea that Phil was right here, so close. He’d told me to stay away from Phil, but here he was, practically sitting under the same roof, and I was starting to feel more and more conflicted with every passing second.

I glanced quickly at Phil—he was still sitting low, trying to remain out of sight. His presence was overwhelming, even when he was being quiet, and the way he seemed to occupy the space around him made me feel uneasy. I forced my attention back to Schlatt, who was now staring at me with an eyebrow raised.

"Um, hello, Schlatt," I said, my voice a little higher than usual. I felt heat rising in my cheeks as I tried to stay composed.

"You okay, pup? You look red?" Schlatt asked, his eyes scanning me with a concerned yet playful glint. He was always good at reading me, which made me feel both seen and a little exposed.

"Fine! Just drank more coffee than I should have," I quickly blurted out, hoping he’d buy it.

Schlatt raised an eyebrow but didn't seem convinced. He leaned over, placing a hand on top of my head as if to check my temperature. His touch was warm and comforting in a way that made me feel both safe and a little too exposed at the same time. I could feel the sudden, anxious shift in my stomach as I noticed Phil’s position—still hidden, but I knew he was there.

I quickly grabbed Schlatt’s hand and placed it gently to my cheek. "Just hot, see?" I said, forcing a nervous laugh, hoping it would convince him. My heart was racing in my chest, and my mind was screaming for a way out of this situation.

But then, as if everything was moving in slow motion, I felt it. Phil had wrapped his arms around my waist, his head resting against my belly, sending an electric shock of confusion and panic through me. Why was he doing that? Why now?

I wanted to look at him, to give him some kind of signal to stop, but I couldn’t. Schlatt’s gaze was fixed on me, and I had to meet his eyes, even though I felt like I was going to collapse under the weight of the tension.

Schlatt pulled his hand back, looking at me skeptically. "It’s not too late for a tattoo, pup. Maybe one for your health... Or something to think of me every day," he teased, that smirk of his making it clear he was just playing with me.

I swallowed hard, but before I could respond, I felt Phil’s hand slip under the edge of my shirt, pinching my thigh as if to warn me. I squeaked in surprise, my body jerking at the unexpected touch. My heart pounded, and I struggled to keep my composure.

Schlatt was now eyeing me carefully, trying to see what had made me react like that. "What’s wrong, pup?" he asked, leaning in as if to get a better look at me.

I quickly grabbed Schlatt’s face, gently but firmly, and turned it so he would look at me. "I’m really scared of tattoos, I don’t think I can," I blurted out, the words tumbling out of my mouth before I could think.

Schlatt chuckled, his usual playful smirk returning. "Sure, pup. We can talk about it again another time. Coffee for now."

I nodded quickly, relieved that he was dropping the subject. I quickly poured him a cup of coffee, the action helping to calm my nerves just a little bit. I passed it over to him with a tight smile, still too distracted by what was going on to feel at ease.

Schlatt took the coffee, not seeming to notice how awkwardly I was standing. "Thanks, Y/n," he said with a grin, still completely unaware of the tension in the room.

"Yeah, no problem," I replied, watching as he left the shop, finally giving me some space. I waited a few moments, making sure he was really gone, before I turned to look at Phil.

I stood there, still trying to calm my racing heart, when Phil’s voice broke the silence. His arms were crossed, and he looked down at me with that playful, intense expression I had come to know a little too well. But right now, I couldn't ignore how much he seemed to be enjoying the way I reacted to him.

“You hiding me from someone?” he asked, his voice teasing, a sly grin pulling at the corners of his lips. “Not a boyfriend, right?” He said the word boyfriend with a slight emphasis, almost like he was testing it out.

I blinked, my cheeks already flushing. "No, he's not—" I quickly began to answer, but Phil didn’t let me finish. Instead, he tilted his head to the side, that playful glint never leaving his eyes.

“Don’t you want me to be your Dilf?” he asked casually, his tone so confident, it made me stiffen immediately. My brain stopped for a moment, trying to process the word, but all I could do was feel heat flood my cheeks.

I froze, not knowing how to respond. The word Dilf —I wasn’t even sure what it meant. But it sounded bad. Bad enough for me to feel awkward and unsure, especially coming from someone like Phil. I could feel my stomach twist as I searched for words.

“Phil, that word means something bad,” I blurted out, trying to deflect, but I knew I was blushing hard.

Phil seemed confused for a moment, as if he didn’t fully grasp what I was talking about. Or maybe he was pretending not to understand. Either way, his innocent curiosity only made my flustered state worse.

“Oh, and what does the word mean?” he asked, his voice still innocent, but I could see the mischievous sparkle in his eyes. It was like he was enjoying this little moment of teasing me, watching me squirm in front of him.

I stumbled over my words, trying to find a way to explain it, but all I could manage was a nervous laugh. “You know, um…”

“Go on, tell me,” he encouraged, taking a step closer. It was as if he was savoring the moment, savoring my discomfort, and it was making my heart beat faster.

I felt so out of my depth. What was going on? Why was he so close? And why was I feeling so flustered by everything he said.

“I blushed, before saying “daddy I’d like to fuck” 

Phil’s chuckle sent a shiver down my spine, his breath warm against my ear as his words echoed in my head. "I’d enjoy that—want to be my good girl?" His voice was low, teasing, and something in the way he said it made my heart race and my face flush.

"Phil!" I exclaimed, my voice shaky as the weight of his words hit me. I couldn’t process it all; he was too close, too... intense. His words were too bold, too unfamiliar. Why was he saying this? Why was he acting like this? I couldn’t tell if it was a joke or something more. My mind was racing, desperate to get away from the situation, but I couldn’t move. My feet were planted firmly to the ground, my body frozen in place by his overwhelming presence.

He leaned back slightly, his smile widening as he watched me squirm. "I’m just joking, now who taught you such a naughty word?" His voice was teasing, almost playful, but I couldn’t shake the unease that bubbled up inside me.

"Let’s just end it here?" I begged, trying to escape the tension building in the air. I wanted to be out of this moment, out of his reach. But there was something in his eyes that told me he wasn’t done yet.

Phil seemed to consider my words for a moment before giving me an almost amused nod. "If you like," he said softly, though the glint in his eyes told me he was still enjoying my discomfort a little too much.

I let out a sigh of relief, feeling a bit of tension leave my body. I wasn’t sure what to make of the whole situation, but at least he wasn’t pushing any further... for now. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that this wouldn’t be the last time he would test my boundaries. I just wasn’t sure how to handle it.

The coffee shop had finally quieted down, the day’s rush over. I wiped down the counter, glancing up as Phil stood by the door, his eyes lingering on me with an unreadable expression. He had been so helpful today, and despite his strange behavior earlier, I couldn’t deny he made the day a bit easier.

"I’ll pay you for your time, Phil," I insisted, walking over to where he stood, reaching for my wallet.

Phil shook his head, his smirk still plastered on his face. “Y/n,” he said, his tone playful but firm. “You don’t owe me anything. I’m here because I want to be.”

I blinked, confused. “But you worked all day, and I should at least pay you—”

“No need,” he interrupted, his voice softer now, coaxing me into silence. He waved me closer with a single finger. “Come here, Y/n.”

I hesitated, a small knot forming in my stomach. But I complied, taking a few steps toward him, my hands wringing the cloth nervously.

“Your reward,” Phil continued, his words laced with something that made my heart skip a beat.

I opened my mouth to argue, to say I couldn’t accept more from him, but before I could, he stepped forward, closing the distance between us.

Phil’s lips pressed firmly against mine, and I froze. I wasn’t sure what was happening or what it meant, but the sensation of his kiss was undeniable. It was strong, steady, like he was marking his place in my life in a way I didn’t fully understand. My hands were still by my sides, unsure of what to do.

When he pulled away, his smirk grew wider, and I felt his thumb brush over my bottom lip. “Though,” he said with a playful glint in his eyes, “it’s more of a reward for me.”

I stood there, stunned, my heart racing as I tried to process what had just happened. What did he mean? I wasn’t sure, and I wasn’t sure how to feel about it. His words lingered in the air, heavy and confusing.

I blinked at him, still unsure of how to respond. Before I could speak, Phil was already heading for the door, his casual demeanor back in full force. He turned to glance at me one last time.

“I’ll be back next Saturday. Save my apron for me, dear,” he said, his voice soft but commanding.

I nodded automatically, still trying to find my bearings after the kiss. “Okay, Phil,” I murmured, barely above a whisper.

As the door chimed closed behind him, I stood there, processing everything. What did all of this mean? Why did he kiss me? What was he trying to tell me?

I didn’t have any answers, but one thing was clear: Phil wasn’t like anyone I’d ever met. And I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.

++++

I hummed a tune under my breath, the sweet memory of Y/n's surprised face after our kiss playing over and over in my mind. The taste of her lingered on my lips, and I couldn’t help but grin, wondering what other “rewards” I might coax out of her. The thought alone made my heart race.

"Phil, can you shut up with the soppy songs?" Technoblade’s voice cut through my reverie, sharp and annoyed. His keen ears never missed a thing.

“Sorry, Tech,” I apologized, not wanting to dampen his mood. Even though he often seemed gruff, I knew he had a softer side buried under all that tough exterior.

Technoblade crossed his arms and leaned back in the chair near my desk, his usual huff signaling his irritation. Yet, there was a flicker of something else—an unspoken apology for snapping at me.

“So, what’s the news? Did that gang finally concede?” he asked, trying to steer the conversation into familiar territory.

I shook my head, my grin widening as I leaned back. “Nah, mate. I went to see Y/n yesterday. We shared our first kiss, and it was... pleasant,” I said, resting my chin in my hands, daydreaming about her soft lips and innocent gaze.

Technoblade’s face twisted slightly, a rare show of emotion. He was always wary of new people, even existing members of the Syndicate. Trust wasn’t easily given, especially to outsiders. But this expression wasn’t just suspicion—it was something deeper, maybe even jealousy.

“I see,” he muttered, his eyes narrowing.

I pulled out a folder from my desk, tapping it with satisfaction. “I had a detective dig up all the information they could on her. She’s completely normal. Debt, like everyone else. A boyfriend I couldn’t care less about. And her parents? Dead and buried.” My tone was cheerful, as if discussing mundane details rather than the intimate background of the woman I was fixated on.

Technoblade glanced at the folder, his expression unreadable. “This information is accurate?” he asked, his voice carrying a note of skepticism.

I nodded confidently. “Yes. Go right ahead and look it over if you want, Tech. I’ve memorized it from top to bottom.”

He took the folder from me, his fingers flipping through the pages. “I guess I’ll look it over to make sure you’re not overlooking anything,” he said, his tone betraying a hint of unease.

I smirked, knowing Technoblade’s protective nature was kicking in. Call it stalking if you want, but I needed to ensure nothing would keep Y/n from me. He didn’t respond immediately, eyes still scanning the documents. Whatever doubts he had, I was sure of one thing: I was going to be seeing a lot more of Y/n.

Chapter Text

I had already ignored Schlatt’s advice about staying away from the Syndicate, speaking not to just one, but now two of its members. Despite their reputations, they were much kinder than they seemed, and I genuinely enjoyed their company. Still, I couldn’t shake the guilt—Schlatt had been so worried about me.

The doorbell chimed, snapping me out of my thoughts. My eyes lifted to see pink hair entering the shop, and the familiar weight of guilt settled in my chest again. Technoblade. I assumed he was here for the payment.

“Hello,” I greeted him cheerfully, trying to keep things light.

He nodded, standing silently next to the ordering area, his usual stoic expression in place.

“Um, I left the payment with Schlatt,” I explained, sure that he would prefer not having to deal with me directly. But instead of acknowledging it, he tilted his head slightly.

“Payment?” he asked, his tone neutral but curious.

“Um, yeah… the fee?” I whispered, assuming he’d know what I was referring to.

His brow furrowed slightly. “...Who told you?”

I blinked, baffled by his question. Wasn’t this standard procedure? I expected him to be relieved, maybe even pleased, that he didn’t have to personally deal with it anymore. But he seemed more puzzled than anything else.

Without another word, he pointed to the drinks, and I instinctively began making one for him. I handed him the brightly colored drink he pointed to, watching as he took it and sipped from the straw. His stoic demeanor didn’t falter, As I handed it over, he took a sip through the straw, his expression awkward.

“I’m not charging you,” he said, his eyes meeting mine briefly before looking away.

I leaned against the counter, utterly confused. “What? Why?”

He continued sipping his drink, the pink liquid disappearing slowly. He continued drinking, clearly uncomfortable with the conversation. "Wish no one told you," he muttered, a trace of irritation in his tone. Then, he looked at me directly. "Are you frightened of me?" he asked.

I paused, considering his question. I should have been, considering everything Schlatt had warned me about, but I wasn’t. Despite his imposing figure and cold demeanor, Technoblade hadn’t shown me any cruelty. Instead, he seemed awkward and almost hesitant, like he was afraid of scaring me away.

"No," I answered honestly. "I don’t think so... But I’ve been warned you could be mean," I added, still unsure of what to believe.

Technoblade remained quiet for a moment before speaking. "Instead of charging you this month, I would like for you to join me on an outing."

"An outing? But I have work today," I replied, hesitant.

He looked at me blankly. "The protection fee is $5000," he said, holding up his hand.

My eyes widened, and my hands moved wildly in disbelief. "Five thousand?! I was told a thousand!" I exclaimed, slamming my hands on the counter. My heart sank. I couldn’t afford that, not with the shop being so new. We were doing well, but I had no savings to cover such a steep fee.

Technoblade didn’t say anything; he just stared at me with that same stoic expression. His silence was unnerving.

"I'll go on the outing with you," I agreed reluctantly, feeling trapped. He nodded, satisfied, while I started to close up the shop.

Technoblade tapped on his phone as I locked the doors, my mind racing with worries. This was a terrible idea, but falling into deep debt was even worse. I followed him silently, feeling the weight of my decision as we stepped out onto the streets. He led the way, and I followed, unsure of where we were headed but knowing there was no turning back now.

Technoblade and I strolled through the bustling strip mall, the vibrant energy of the place making me feel both excited and a little nervous. I wasn’t sure what we were doing here—window shopping, maybe?

"So, um, what are we looking for exactly?" I asked, trying to break the silence. He glanced at me briefly before turning his attention back to his phone.

"Just point at the stuff you like," he said simply.

I nodded, a bit confused but willing to go along with it. As we passed by various shops, I started pointing out things that caught my eye—a cute dress in a boutique window, a cozy-looking scarf, some sparkly earrings. Each time I pointed, I chattered on about why I liked it, filling the silence between us.

"This dress is super cute, don’t you think? Oh, and look at these earrings! They would be perfect for a night out. Oh, and that scarf! It looks so warm—perfect for this weather," I babbled, my nerves getting the best of me. The more he stayed silent, the more I felt the need to keep talking.

After a while, a thought crossed my mind, and I couldn’t help but voice it. "You know, if you’re looking for advice on gifts for a girlfriend or something, you could just ask," I said with a small laugh, trying to lighten the mood. "I’d be happy to help. I mean, I can totally see these earrings being a great gift, or maybe that dress if she likes dressing up. What do you think?"

Technoblade stayed mostly silent, barely glancing up from his phone. He seemed so absorbed in whatever he was doing, and it made me wonder if he was even listening. I continued to chatter nervously, trying to fill the quiet with my endless stream of thoughts, but his stoic demeanor only added to my confusion.

I continued to chatter nervously, trying to fill the quiet with my endless stream of thoughts, but his stoic demeanor only added to my confusion.

"Is this really fun for you?" I asked, glancing at him as he looked at his phone.

"Why? Is there something else you want to do?"

"No, I just mean... it’s fine. You want me to show you items I think are cute, right?"

Technoblade held my gaze, towering over me by a head or two, and nodded, still as quiet as ever. "Um, how about something matching? I think it’s cute when couples match," I suggested.

He followed behind me, still glued to his phone. It kind of felt like I spent the whole day talking to myself. By the time the day was over and we were walking home, my voice was sore from all the chatting.

"Sorry," I mumbled.

He tilted his head slightly, curious. "For what?"

"You didn’t look like you were having much fun."

"I did," he replied, though it felt like a lie.

"You were on your phone the whole time."

"I was," he confirmed.

"Well, I hope you had a bit of fun. Don’t worry, you don’t have to invite me out again if you didn’t enjoy it. I’ll find another way to pay the protection fee. I don’t want to force you to—" I forced a smile, but before I could finish, Technoblade grabbed my wrist and guided me to the front of the coffee shop, where a pile of packages waited.

Confused, I glanced at the boxes. They couldn’t be for me, but they all had my name and address on them. "These can’t be mine," I said, bewildered.

"They’re for you," Technoblade said.

"They can’t be—I didn’t order anything."

"I got them for you," he clarified.

Suddenly, it hit me. He had been listening to me. He had ordered everything I pointed out during the day. And there were so many packages! It was clear restraint wasn’t in his vocabulary. I opened one package and inside was a pair of emerald earrings I had pointed out as a joke. Holding them in both hands, I realized their value and smiled nervously.

"I can’t accept all these!" I exclaimed.

Technoblade’s face fell slightly, looking disheartened. I quickly corrected myself, "I mean, not all at once. I haven’t even gotten you anything. It would be so rude!"

He gave me a softened smile. "So, you want to see me again?" he asked with a hint of happiness.

No. No! my brain screamed, but my mouth betrayed me. "Of course, I do."

He hugged me, his arms firm but gentle. "Then I shall deliver one to you each time we meet. You can give me a drink as payment," he said.

I stared at the emerald earring in my hand, still too stunned to calculate how much he must have spent. What on earth had I pointed out? Oh man, what did I do?

It felt like all too much! While I was lost in thought, Technoblade gently took the earring from my hand and placed it in my ear. I was too shocked to react. Then, he pulled out another pair and placed them in his own ears.

Matching.

We were matching.

Only couples ma—

Before I could finish the thought, Technoblade leaned down and kissed me. A full, deep kiss. His hands held my arms firmly as he pressed his lips to mine. I was so surprised, I instinctively tilted my head away, but he followed, pushing further into the kiss. I let out a small squeak as he licked the roof of my mouth, deepening the kiss and holding it for what felt like forever—until he decided it was enough.

Technoblade finally pulled away, his eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that left me breathless. I was completely flustered, my face burning with a mix of embarrassment and confusion.

“W-what was that?” I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper.

He smirked slightly, his usual stoic demeanor softening just a bit. “A gift,” he said simply, his tone as steady as ever. “For spending the day with me.”

I blinked up at him, still trying to process everything. “But... but why?”

“Because I wanted to,” he replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

I touched my lips lightly, still tingling from the unexpected kiss. “Technoblade, I... I don’t understand.”

He shrugged, his gaze never leaving mine. “You don’t have to understand everything right now. Just know that I enjoyed today.”

“But you barely spoke,” I pointed out, my voice still shaky.

“I was listening,” he countered. “To every word.”

My heart pounded in my chest, overwhelmed by the sudden realization that he had been paying attention the whole time. All those little things I pointed out, the conversations, the nervous chatter—he had absorbed it all.

He took a step back, his expression softening even more. “I’ll see you again soon. And remember, next time I’ll bring another gift.”

“Technoblade, you don’t have to—” I started, but he shook his head.

“I want to,” he said firmly. “And maybe next time, you’ll give me something in return.”

+++++++

I hummed softly, the same tune Phil had been humming earlier. Suddenly, it didn’t seem so stupid anymore. The date hadn’t gone exactly as I’d planned. I’d hoped Y/n would accept all the gifts so I could get her even more. Spoiling her brought me an unexpected satisfaction. It bothered me to think she had to work so hard when I had more than enough to take care of both of us. Maybe I could even pay off those debts I’d seen in her files—that would definitely make her happy.

I needed to make more progress. So far, Wilbur was trailing far behind, and Phil was holding second place. But after showering Y/n with those gifts, I was confident I had taken the lead.

Phil chuckled from his desk, interrupting my thoughts. “Not often I hear you humming, Technoblade.”

“Hmmm,” I grunted, noncommittally.

Wilbur grinned from across the room. “Finally got away with that murder you were planning?”

I smirked at Wilbur's comment, shaking my head slightly. "No, no murders today," I replied, the thought of violence feeling far from my mind for once.

Phil leaned back in his chair, a knowing glint in his eyes. "So, what's got you in such a good mood, mate? Doesn’t seem like it’s just the usual business."

I glanced down at the documents spread across my desk, my thoughts momentarily drifting back to Y/n. "Just had a good day," I said nonchalantly. "Spent some time with someone... special."

Wilbur raised an eyebrow, leaning forward with interest. "Special, huh? Who’s the lucky person?"

I didn’t bother to hide the small smile tugging at my lips. "A girl."

Phil’s eyes widened slightly, and he let out a low whistle. "Ah, so that’s what this is about. You’ve got it bad, Tech."

Wilbur chuckled, leaning back with a smug expression. "Didn’t think I’d see the day. The mighty Technoblade, falling for someone."

"Shut it, Wilbur," I muttered, though there was no real bite in my words.

Phil crossed his arms, still grinning. "So, what did you do? Shower her with gifts? Sweep her off her feet?"

I nodded, my gaze drifting back to the memory of her surprise when she saw the packages. "Something like that. She didn’t want to accept them all, though."

Wilbur smirked. "She’s got more sense than you, apparently."

Phil leaned back against his desk, his eyes shifting between us with growing curiosity. “So who is this special girl?”

“Y/n, the owner of that coffee shop.” I said, my voice steady, though a tightness crept in my chest at the sudden attention.

The room fell eerily silent. It was as if everything around us paused, the weight of the moment settling on the three of us. Neither Phil nor Wilbur spoke, their stillness unnerving me for a brief second.

Suddenly, Wilbur’s voice shattered the silence, sharp and almost incredulous. “You, you BASTARD!! I told you I had plans to date her!”

Phil looked more conflicted than I had ever seen him, his gaze flickering to Wilbur and then to me. “Tech, son. I really don’t want to have to fight both you and Wilbur on this one. I plan to make her my wife and your mother.” The words came out almost too casually, as though he’d said them before. I remembered him joking about it in the past, but hearing it now, it hit differently.

But I wasn’t backing down. Not this time.

“I’ve already decided she’s going to be my mate. You’re the ones who always tell me to find a girl so I can have an heir,” I replied, my voice unwavering. The thought of anyone else touching her, even Wilbur, made my blood boil.

Wilbur huffed in frustration, standing up. “NOT HER,” he snapped, as if trying to convince himself more than anyone else.

Phil’s tone suddenly hardened, his gaze firm. “She’s off-limits, to you two.”

The room went dead silent, the tension so thick you could cut it with a knife. I could practically hear the weight of our words pressing down on everything around us, the battle lines drawn clearly now.

I leaned back in my chair, crossing my arms, not backing down. “We’ll just have to let Y/n decide,” I said, my voice cold but calm, a challenge in my words.

Phil clapped his hands together, the sound sharp and final. “Agreed.”

Wilbur, ever the provocateur, let out a low chuckle. “Fine by me,” he said, though I could tell he wasn’t entirely content with the situation. He was still trying to play it cool, but I could see the competitiveness brewing behind his words.

The silence that followed was tense, all three of us aware that the next move was in Y/n’s hands. And I was prepared to do whatever it took to make sure she chose me.

Chapter Text

Phil's Pov

It was the end of another shift. It had been a long time since I worked a regular job—one of labor and social pleasantries, where problems were expected to be solved with patience instead of violence.

I forced a polite smile as the customer in front of me grumbled about the wait time, his tone sharp, his attitude sour. He had no idea who he was speaking to so critically. Of course, who would expect the leader of the Syndicate to be standing behind a counter, taking coffee orders like some common barista?

Y/n did.

She moved swiftly, trying to gauge my reaction, her hands already occupied with some minor task but her attention flickering to me. She looked ready to step in, to smooth things over, maybe even thinking I was furious.

I was.

Slightly.

But not enough to cause any harm. Maybe.

Once the customer finally left, Y/n let out a tired breath and moved to flip the sign on the door to closed . I watched her, noting the way her shoulders sagged just a little more than usual. She was always exhausted, always pushing through, always greeting the world with a warm smile despite how drained she looked.

It made me want to kiss away the exhaustion. To take her burdens, place them on my shoulders, and tell her she never had to worry about a thing again.

But I held back. We weren’t quite there yet.

Not yet.

But the day would come soon—sooner than she probably expected. A day where she wouldn’t be coming home alone, where she wouldn’t have to fight through her exhaustion by herself.

A day where she’d collapse into my arms after a long shift, where I’d pull her close, whisper against her hair, “You don’t have to do this alone anymore.”

She just didn’t know it yet.

It was adorable, the way she moved about, cleaning up with a quiet determination. I helped, of course. The sooner we finished, the sooner I got my reward—and I already had plans in mind.

A date.

Not just any date, either. Something grand, something worthy of her. I’d take her somewhere upscale—a play, one of those once-in-a-lifetime performances that everyone raved about. And afterward, maybe—

"Phil."

Her voice cut through my thoughts, sweet as honey.

"Yes, my dear?"

She gave me that soft, tilted smile, the kind that made my chest feel warm. Damn.

"Thank you again for the help," she said, sincere as always. "Are you sure I can't pay you?"

She had asked before, a little hesitant, maybe nervous. She knew what kind of work I did, but aside from treating me with a touch more politeness, she hadn’t changed how she acted around me.

It was refreshing .

"No payment needed, mate," I assured her smoothly. I reached into my pocket, fingers tightening around the tickets. "Instead—"

"I know! How about a date?"

I nearly stuttered .

Of all the things I had expected, that wasn’t one of them. The sweet girl I had spent so long pursuing—who I thought I’d have to convince, to charm, to win over —was the one making the offer?

Maybe I had underestimated her.

I barely managed to contain the grin threatening to spread across my face. I had to keep my composure. Had to keep from looking like some maniac thrilled beyond reason.

"Sure," I started, but before I could say anything else, she grinned and cut me off.

"What stuff do you like to do?" she asked, stepping closer, excitement shining in her eyes.

I nearly stepped back—not out of reluctance, but because her sudden closeness made my pulse jump.

But I held my ground.

Let her lean in close.

Let her ask about my hobbies like she wanted to know.

And damn , if I wasn’t already gone for her, I was now.

I tried to think of my hobbies, and I was sure I had some at some point. But work had consumed most of my life. Then, of course, the kids… and— fuck.

I rubbed the back of my head, feeling like an idiot.

I guess I didn’t have hobbies.

If I had to pick something, I would say Y/n . She was the first thing in a long time I had made time for that wasn’t tied to work. She was the only part of my life that felt like a break from all the blood and business.

But saying that out loud? Yeah, she might find it strange.

Then again, was it stranger to let her just stand there, staring at me, waiting for an answer?

My smile dipped slightly. “It’s… been a long time. But I used to volunteer at an orphanage.”

The memory felt distant but warm. Back before life got too chaotic. Before I met Wilbur and Technoblade—before I knew I had to take them in.

"But due to life being so chaotic, I’ve only been able to send in donations." I paused, realizing how long it had been since I last saw those bright, smiling faces. I hated that I couldn't donate my time anymore, but money usually made me feel a little better about it.

Usually.

It had been so long, I had almost forgotten I even sent those payments every month, never once missing one.

I cleared my throat, eager to shift the conversation. No point dwelling on things I couldn’t change.

“So, about the date?” I asked, hoping to move forward.

Y/n nodded and, to my surprise, took my hand.

"I got the perfect one!" she beamed.

I barely processed what she said—I was too focused on the warmth of her fingers wrapped around mine. I fell into step beside her, utterly smitten , my carefully laid plans forgotten in an instant.

I was expecting a day of flirting. Blushes from Y/n. Maybe some stolen moments alone—just the two of us.

Not this.

I barely had time to react before a small body launched itself at me, clinging to my arm like a koala. Another kid tugged at my coat, demanding a piggyback ride. A third was already climbing onto my shoulders like I was some kind of jungle gym.

I sighed, but it wasn’t really in frustration.

Y/n, on the other hand, was radiant . She was all smiles, giggling as she played with the kids, her eyes lighting up in a way I had never seen before. It was hard to be annoyed when she looked so damn happy .

And, if I was being honest, I didn’t hate this either.

The kids were loud and chaotic, but their laughter was contagious. I found myself smiling despite everything, lifting one of them onto my back with ease while the others cheered.

Maybe this wasn’t the date I had planned…

But it wasn’t so bad.

Y/n’s voice was soft, soothing, as she read aloud to the children. Most of them were already curled up on their little mats, heavy eyelids drooping as they drifted into sleep. I sat nearby, listening, watching. She had a natural ease with them—gentle, patient—like she was meant to do this.

And damn, if that didn’t make my heart race just a little.

I hadn’t realized how much I missed this. The warmth of it all. The laughter, the tiny hands tugging at my sleeves, the weight of a child leaning against me, trusting me completely.

It made me think back to when Technoblade and Wilbur were younger—too old for bedtime stories but never too old to listen when I read to them anyway. I missed those years. And maybe… just maybe, Y/n was the one who could bring that feeling back.

I set down the child in my arms, brushing their hair from their face before rising to my feet. The book closed with a soft thud in Y/n’s lap, the last of the children slipping into sleep.

It had taken me too long to find the courage to adopt my boys. But because of that hesitation, I had sworn never to let life pass me by again.

So I walked over to Y/n, heart steady, intent clear.

“Y/n, will you—”

Something soft hit the back of my head.

I winced out of reflex, more out of surprise than pain.

Y/n barely managed to stifle her laugh, her eyes flicking toward the culprit.

I turned, glancing over my shoulder.

And there, peeking over the edge of a mat, was a wide-eyed little troublemaker, clutching another stuffed animal, ready to strike.

My eye twitched as I locked onto the little blonde menace. His shoulder-length hair was slightly messy, and he clutched a yellow duck plushie in one hand, a smirk playing at his lips. His bright blue eyes twinkled with mischief—pure defiance against nap time.

Before I could even say anything, Y/n let out a small giggle beside me.

“That looks like a tiny Phil,” she cooed, amusement clear in her voice.

I forced a smile, though my eye twitched again. Great.

“You sure you wouldn’t rather join your friends for a nap?” I asked, keeping my tone light.

The kid just grinned wider.

And then he threw the damn plushie again.

I shot to my feet immediately, Y/n barely holding back her laughter as she followed.

“Cheyanne, it’s nap time,” she said gently.

So that was the little brat’s name.

Cheyanne’s eyes flickered between us for half a second—then he booked it in the other direction.

I sighed, rubbing my temples before taking off after him, making sure we were far enough from the other kids before muttering under my breath, annoyed,

“Cheyanne.”

I hadn’t planned on chasing a kid around the orphanage. Nor had I expected him to outrun me. Either I was getting old, or kids these days were just faster.

Determined to put an end to this ridiculous chase, I finally caught the little brat, tucking him under my arm like a sack of potatoes. Cheyanne squirmed and wiggled, determined to escape, but I held firm. Meanwhile, Y/n was grinning at me, clearly entertained by the entire situation.

And that’s when it hit me—I was panting, tired, completely disheveled, with a child under my arm. Hardly the suave, confident man she’d first met. The one who flirted and made her blush. Fuck. I’d shown her a flawed side of myself. A crack in the perfect image. A light blush dusted my cheeks at the realization.

“I—uh, I found him,” I said, still slightly out of breath.

“You did it, Phil!” Y/n cheered playfully, and I nearly groaned.

I set Cheyanne down carefully, and he crossed his arms, pouting. His small fists clenched at his sides, frustration written all over his face. He was the oldest one here… Eight. No wonder he didn’t want a nap.

When I met his eyes, something twisted in my chest. Why did I see… them?

The same defiance. The same stubborn streak. The same quiet, unspoken loneliness I once saw in two boys who later became my sons.

My instincts kicked in before I could stop them.

“I think you’re too old for naps,” I admitted, crouching down to his level.

Cheyanne huffed. “They always make me.”

I nodded in understanding. It was easier for the staff to keep everyone on the same schedule. But still…

“I’ll talk to them about it,” I promised.

Cheyanne blinked up at me, surprise flickering across his face before quickly masking it with an indifferent shrug. But Y/n, ever the bright spot in the room, clapped her hands together with an idea.

“Till your friends wake up, want to play?” she offered.

His pout melted instantly, replaced by wide, eager eyes. Like he wasn’t used to this—attention, consideration. Like he was scared to accept it in case it disappeared.

And as I watched him play with Y/n, something settled in my gut.

If he didn’t find the right family, he might just age out of this place.

Would he be okay with me adopting him?

I pushed the thought aside for now, deciding to think on it again when emotions weren’t running so high.

And when I finally took Y/n home that evening, I realized—I’d wasted those theater tickets. The restaurant had charged me for a meal we never ate.

But this?

This was the best date she could have ever planned for me.

The sun was starting to set, casting a golden glow over the orphanage as Y/n and I said our goodbyes to the kids. Some were already half-asleep, leaning against each other in drowsy contentment. Others, like Cheyanne, were still clinging to their last bits of energy, refusing to give in to exhaustion.

I reached out, ruffling the boy’s blonde hair. “Be good, kid.”

Cheyanne scrunched his nose, trying to look unimpressed, but I didn’t miss the way he leaned ever so slightly into my touch. His small hands gripped the straps of his overalls, his face twisting like he was debating something.

Then, finally, he mumbled, “Are you guys gonna come back?”

I stilled.

That… was harder to answer than it should have been.

The truth was, I didn’t have the time I once did. My life was a balancing act—running the Syndicate, keeping my boys in check, making sure Y/n was safe, and now… this. There was no room for sentimentality.

At least, there shouldn’t have been.

But before I could figure out how to respond, Y/n beat me to it.

“We’ll do our best,” she said warmly, offering Cheyanne a reassuring smile.

The kid’s expression softened, like he wanted to believe her but was afraid to. I gave his head one last pat before slipping my hand into Y/n’s, giving it a light squeeze as we turned to leave.

I straightened my posture, slipping effortlessly back into the role of the confident, charming man I was supposed to be. The one who could flirt and make Y/n flustered, not the one who had spent the last few hours getting tackled by children.

“So, my dear,” I drawled, smirking as I led her down the steps. “Did our date live up to your expectations?”

Y/n grinned up at me, but instead of teasing me back, she said, “You’re great with the kids, Phil!”

I nearly groaned.

There it was—the nail in the coffin for my carefully curated image. There was no coming back from this. I could already hear the jokes Wilbur and Techno would make if they found out.

I sighed, giving up entirely. “…Thank you, dear.” Then, after a pause, I added, “You’d make a wonderful mother.”

Y/n’s eyes widened, a pretty blush creeping up her cheeks.

Ah. There was the reaction I’d been hoping for.

Satisfied, I led her through the quiet streets, stealing moments where I could—pressing soft kisses to her knuckles, murmuring flirtations that made her roll her eyes but never pull away.

And when we finally reached her door, I expected her to bid me goodnight and slip inside. But instead, she turned to me, hesitating for a moment before speaking.

“Will you go with me to the orphanage again?”

I froze.

It shouldn’t have been a hard question. I should have given some charming excuse, a smooth deflection.

But then I looked at her—at the hopeful way she gazed at me, at the warmth in her eyes.

Damn it.

I exhaled, my resolve cracking. “I’ll do my best for you, dearest.”

Her smile was instant, bright and grateful. “Thank you. Cheyanne seemed to really like you.”

“…Mmm.”

I hummed noncommittally, but in truth, my mind was already turning.

Cheyanne.

The way he tried to act tough, the way he instinctively braced himself for disappointment, the way he seemed so unsure of what to do when someone actually cared.

I’d seen that look before.

Maybe… just maybe…

I thought about asking her—maybe even offering a little bribe. “I’ll take in Cheyanne if you’ll be my girlfriend,” the words danced on the tip of my tongue. But I couldn’t bring myself to emotionally blackmail her. Instead, I pressed a soft kiss to her cheek.

“I’ll see you next week, Y/n.”

Her smile, that radiant, genuine smile, warmed me more than any words ever could. “Thank you again, Phil,” she said.

I vowed then that I would never lose that smile—or force her to be something she wasn’t. Instead, I would wait, patiently ensuring that she fell in love with me on her own time.

And maybe then, when I have ther nerve to file the paperwork. I could have y/n be Cheyanne’s mother.

++++

Today was unexpectedly wonderful. I spent the day with Phil at the orphanage, and every moment was filled with laughter and warmth. I watched him with the kids—so gentle, so caring—and I couldn’t help but feel that this was a side of him I’d never seen before. His playful banter with Cheyanne, the way he managed to make even the most mischievous child smile—it was like he’d rediscovered something precious in himself.

Then, as my thoughts drifted, another name crossed my mind—Schlatt.

I frowned slightly, realizing it had been a while since he had come in for his usual cup of coffee. Normally, he made a point to show up, lingering at the counter, making some comment about how I made the best damn coffee in town. But lately… silence.

Maybe that was a good thing.

Schlatt had always been unpredictable, and I had a feeling he wouldn’t exactly approve of me hanging around Phil.

Still, I wasn’t about to let that ruin my night.

I ran a finger over my cheek, remembering the warmth of Phil’s kiss. The way he looked at me before he left, like he was promising something unspoken.

Maybe I’d see him again sooner than next week.

Chapter Text

Wilbur pov

I sipped my coffee, watching as Y/n finished up for the day. It was impressive, really, how her little coffee shop managed to stay packed from Monday to Saturday. A real feat.

I wandered toward the door, rolling my eyes as someone tried to step in despite the clear "Closed" sign hanging there. People never knew how to read. With a smirk, I shut the door in the guy’s face and locked it behind me. Y/n didn’t notice—if she had, she might have scolded me.

She was chatting about her week, her voice light, warm—until she said something that made my stomach twist.

"Ah, Phil took me on a date!"

My grip on the coffee cup tightened, but I forced my expression to stay neutral, a smile still in place. A date?

I tried to brush it off, to tell myself it wasn’t a big deal. But she was excited. And I hated that.

“A date?” I echoed, tilting my head, pretending it was curiosity instead of the annoyance brewing in my chest.

“Yeah, a play date, sort of. We went to an orphanage to play with the kids—it was so much fun.”

I nearly scoffed. An orphanage? That was Phil’s idea of a date? Was my old man losing his game? Who the hell took a girl to volunteer work instead of a fancy dinner?

Still, I didn’t voice it. Instead, I let out a fake dramatic sigh, shifting tactics.

“A date,” I repeated, narrowing my eyes slightly, lips twitching into something that wasn’t quite a smirk. “And not once have you offered to take me on one?”

I expected her to stammer, to blush, to get all flustered like she usually did when I teased her. Instead, she beamed.

“Perfect timing!” she said brightly. “I have two tickets to a musical talent show—want to come?”

My stomach twisted again, but for a different reason this time. A musical competition. Of course it had to be that.

The memories clawed at the edges of my mind. Of a time when I had dreams, when I played the guitar, when I thought music would be my whole life. A past I had buried because it hurt too much to hold onto.

But Y/n was looking at me, hopeful. She had said date.

I hesitated for only a second before I forced a smile.

“Sounds fun, my lady,” I said, with as much enthusiasm as I could muster.

For Y/n, I would go. I would push past the weight in my chest, the memories I’d rather forget.

And maybe, just maybe, I’d enjoy myself.

I was wrong. So terribly, horribly wrong.

Everyone who went on stage sucked.

They called themselves musicians? They couldn’t even sing ! What the hell was wrong with them? It was like watching a slow-moving train wreck that no one had the decency to stop.

Y/n, bless her, sat beside me with a small smile on her face, but I could tell she wasn’t enjoying this much either. Still, for some reason, she powered through, kicking her feet idly against the bleachers as if sheer optimism would summon some actual talent onto that stage.

I decided to just say it. No point in pretending.

“There isn’t much talent at this talent competition,” I muttered.

Y/n snorted, a little too loud, before covering her mouth. “I’m sure there’s a hidden gem somewhere. ”

I pretended to scan the crowd. “Where would that be? Unless you can sing, my lady?”

She laughed, the sound interrupting the dying cat noises coming from the guy on stage. She blushed, leaning in slightly to whisper, “No, I can’t sing. I’d sound maybe as bad as you.”

I turned to her, offended. “I’ll have you know, I can sing—” I stopped mid-sentence, catching the look on her face. She actually looked impressed, like she believed me without even hearing a single note.

“Well… I used to,” I admitted, rubbing the back of my neck. “It was a long time ago.”

Y/n tilted her head, still listening. “I know. Phil told me you played the guitar too.”

I rolled my eyes. Of course he did.

Before I could respond, the announcer’s voice rang out through the speakers, cutting through my thoughts.

"Will Wilbur Soot please come to the stage? It’s your turn."

…What.

I blinked. My head turned slowly to Y/n. She was grinning.

She didn’t.

She did.

The next thing I knew, she was grabbing my arm, shaking my shoulder like an excited kid, and dragging me toward the stage.

Ahh. Fuck.

I was in full autopilot, my body moving, but my brain screaming traitor at the top of its lungs.

Somehow, in the midst of my suffering, Y/n had managed to rent me a guitar, shove it into my hands, and push me straight onto the stage before I could even think about protesting. I turned my head, wide-eyed, just in time to see her slipping behind the curtains, giving me a little thumbs-up.

Oh, she was enjoying this. And I was about to kill her.

I knew Y/n meant well , but as the stage lights burned into my eyes and I stared out at a less-than-impressed audience, I felt my irritation spike.

More than irritated—I was pissed .

She orchestrated this. She set me up .

But then I glanced at her, standing off to the side, looking so damn pleased with herself, and… yeah.

I knew why she did it. She wasn’t just meddling to be annoying. She actually cared . Or maybe she just really wanted to hear me sing.

I sighed, the sound carrying through the mic, and forced a smile onto my face.

“I am woefully unprepared today,” I said, my voice dripping with faux disappointment. Then, turning to Y/n, I let an evil grin curl my lips. “Because my girlfriend didn’t tell me I’d be performing tonight.”

Even from here, I saw her blush.

Got her.

“So,” I continued, fingers settling over the guitar strings, “I’ll play a song… I—”

I hesitated.

The last song I had sung… was for a girl I thought I loved. A song left unfinished because she didn’t love me the same way.

My grip on the mic tightened.

I’d never say all that. Not out loud.

Instead, I exhaled and let the words come naturally, softly.

“When the sun loves the moon.”

My hands moved without thinking, the years slipping away as muscle memory took over. The weight of the guitar, the feel of the strings—it was familiar , almost comforting.

And then I sang.

When the sun loves the moon
Even the ocean feels its pull
Oh, and the stars align every night
To spell out their love in tiny bright lights

I used to love singing like this.

On the streets. On a stage. In dimly lit bars where no one knew my name. In quiet rooms where Techno was my only audience, nodding along with that small, knowing smirk of his. Music was my whole damn world. I thought I’d make it big one day. That music would bring me happiness.

I thought she would bring me happiness.

Oh, when the sun loves the moon
Never touching but never far
Oh, at the break of day
A summer’s ray
A moonlit night that casts away
Their love remains, their love remains.

Sally. My first love.

I played every single day until Sally. And she hated me for it.

She never understood why I gave up my place in the Syndicate for music. She said I was throwing away power, throwing away our future, for a dream that would never love me back.

So I gave that up for her.

I gave up everything.

And still, it wasn’t enough .

She wanted more . More power. More money. But never me .

She didn’t just leave—she destroyed me.

Smashed my favorite guitar against the wall before she walked out the door. Didn’t even look back as it shattered, as the strings snapped one by one.

Like I was nothing.

Like we were nothing.

Like I never meant a damn thing to her at all.

Oh, oh, oh, oh
Oh, when the sun loves the moon
His golden light
Her silver hues
A beautiful song
Oh, how they long
For dawn.

After that, I didn’t just stop playing.

I stopped loving .

I thought I’d never love again.

I let the last note fade, my fingers hovering over the strings.

And then, through the haze of old pain, I saw her.

Y/n.

Cheering for me.

Beaming.

Looking at me like I mattered . Like I was worth something .

I felt the floor shift beneath me, like I was losing my balance, like she had reached inside my chest and tugged .

She wasn’t Sally.

She wasn’t demanding, wasn’t selfish, wasn’t waiting for me to fail so she could walk away.

She was warmth . A hard worker. Genuine.

She never asked me to change. Never demanded anything from me. She just supported me .

Like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Like I was someone worth supporting.

I swallowed hard, my throat tight.

My heart flipped—no, it plummeted .

Before I could stop myself, I stepped off the stage, my feet moving on instinct. Moving toward her .

"You were amazing, Wilbur!" she said, still caught up in the moment. "The best and—"

I took her hand in mine, pressing it to my cheek.

She blinked, caught off guard.

I wasn’t mad anymore.

At least… not for the same reason.

I was furious at myself.

For thinking I’d never love again.

Because Gods help me , I was falling.

And this time, I didn’t want to stop.

I pretended to be annoyed, but it was impossible. Her hand was still against my cheek, and the warmth from her touch was seeping through me, making every defense I’d built up feel like nothing. Her smile—it was like sunlight breaking through a storm cloud. She moved her hand to the top of my head, her fingers gently ruffling my hair.

"Good job, Wilbur," she said, the words sincere and soft, like she believed them. Over and over again.

The words sounded like music in my ears. I felt a bit ridiculous for pretending to be annoyed, but I couldn’t help it. It was so hard to control my smile when she was looking at me like that.

“There was a price for playing a song for you,” I said, my voice teasing, but the way my heart was beating was no joke.

“Oh? What’s that?” she asked, a little surprised but still grinning.

I wanted to tell her then. To ask her to be mine, officially . To claim her before anyone else could steal her away, to force her to agree. It was there, at the tip of my tongue, the words ready to spill out. But as I looked at her, standing there, so real, so perfect , I couldn’t bring myself to rush it.

Now, after everything—the song, the applause, the way she’d cheered for me like I was the only one who mattered in the world—I just wanted to bask in this moment. I wanted to savor it. To savor her .

“Praise me more,” I said instead, my voice low, almost shy.

She smiled, a soft, gentle thing, and started again, telling me how amazing I was, how great the performance was. It felt like she was treating me like I was the only person who existed in the room, in her world, like I was everything she wanted to see.

Like I was hers .

I let her praise me like that, and I realized I didn't even care how ridiculous it felt. It was like I was a puppy, and she was my owner, giving me all the love I’d craved for so long, without hesitation.

When we finally started walking home, hand in hand, I couldn’t stop thinking about it—the guitar. My eyes wandered to the instrument in my hands, the one I hadn’t even really thought about when I grabbed it.

“I have to return this,” I said, guilt creeping up on me as I looked at it. “I didn’t pay for it. I think I stole it.”

Y/n laughed, but it was warm and understanding. “Oh, I bought that for you a few days ago. They were kind enough to store it on stage.” She gave me a knowing smile, and it took me a moment to process her words.

I froze for a second, then smiled sheepishly.

“You bought it?”

Her eyes sparkled. “Yeah, I wasn’t sure what to get you, but it was hard imagining you with anything but that one. So I thought, why not?”

It was so simple for her. No hesitation. No second thoughts. Just pure, untainted kindness.

I pulled her into a hug, and for a moment, it was like I didn’t have to think. I didn’t have to be scared of what might come next. I could just hold her, feel her against me.

I fucking loved her. So much. More than I’d ever let myself admit. More than I was even ready for.

She smiled, holding me back. I could feel her warmth in every inch of my skin. “I’m glad you liked it. I had no idea what to get you, but when I saw that, I knew it had to be perfect for you—”

I pulled back to kiss her cheek, a soft, lingering kiss. Then, from my pocket, I pulled out a small bracelet I’d picked up a few days ago.

“Will you take this?” I asked her, holding it out with trembling fingers.

Y/n looked at it for a moment, her eyes softening before she reached out, taking it from me. As she slipped it onto her wrist, her smile widened.

“I love it,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “Thank you, Wilbur.”

I kissed her cheek again, my heart pounding in my chest. The words I wanted to say— I love you —were right there, fighting to escape. But I held them back. I wanted to say them. I needed to say them. But something stopped me. Maybe it was the fear that I’d push her away. Maybe it was the fear of being wrong again.

But God, I loved her. And one day, I’d say it. I knew I would.

But for now… for now, I just held her hand, walking beside her. Letting everything else fall away.

+++++

I couldn’t stop smiling as I walked, still riding the high from watching Wilbur perform. He was incredible, more than I could’ve ever imagined. The way he played and sang, so raw and effortless—it was like he poured his whole soul into it.

I wished I could’ve recorded it, saved the memory, but I didn’t need the video. I had the moment, the sound of his voice, the way he held the guitar like it was a part of him.

Maybe later, I thought, I’d ask him to sing for me again—just for me, no stage or audience, just us. It’d be a memory to cherish.

But now, I had to focus on the task at hand.

I was standing in front of Schlatt’s tattoo shop, coffee in one hand and a small box of cakes in the other, the familiar aroma of both filling the air. It was a little tradition of mine—bring him something sweet whenever I stopped by. I’d learned that he wasn’t the easiest to read, but I liked to think it brightened his day just a little.

I knocked on the door, then waited, the tap of my knuckles echoing in the quiet street.

Nothing.

I knocked again, this time a little louder, but still no answer. It wasn’t like Schlatt to not be here. His shop was supposed to be open, but it looked completely closed off, the lights turned off inside. The place had that eerie, empty feel to it, as if it had been abandoned for longer than just today.

I stood there for a moment, the disappointment settling into my chest. It had been the longest stretch of time I’d gone without seeing him. I knew he wasn’t the most reliable, but I couldn’t help the nagging feeling of wanting to see him, talk to him. He had a way of grounding me in ways no one else could. But today, it seemed like I was just a little too late.

With a small sigh, I turned away from the door. I would try again another day, I thought. Maybe he’d be around then. But for now, there was nothing left to do but to leave, the lingering warmth of the coffee and cakes in my hands reminding me that today just wasn’t the day for it.

Still, there was Wilbur, and that brought a smile back to my face.

I’d see him again, and that would be enough for now.

Chapter Text

TECHNOBLADE POV

I had walked all the way to the coffee shop, the crisp evening air doing little to cool the heat in my face. It was embarrassing—how much time I’d spent thinking about her this past week. How her voice lingered in my mind, how her laugh interrupted my focus at the worst possible moments.

She was a distraction. A dangerous one.

And yet, here I was.

I adjusted my tie, making sure my suit was pristine. First impressions mattered, even if it wasn’t the first time I was seeing her. If I was going to do this, I had to do it right.

I needed the perfect line—something that would make her blush.

"Did it hurt?" No, too cliché.

"Y/n, do you believe in fate? Because I think mine just led me straight to you." No, that was something Wilbur would say.

"I don’t need caffeine anymore—not when just looking at you wakes me up."

Better. That one had potential.

"You must put something special in your drinks, because after one taste, I keep coming back for more."

That was smooth. That was perfect.

I took a deep breath, straightened my jacket, and reached for the door—only to slam straight into the glass with a loud THUD.

Pain shot through my face, but the embarrassment was worse. I placed a hand on my forehead, exhaling sharply. Fucking hell.

At least no one was here to see it.

Then my heart sank.

The shop was closed.

Closed.

I ran a hand down my face. How could I forget it was Sunday? Sunday meant the shop was closed, you absolute dumbass.

Wilbur would never let me live this down. Phil would have a month’s worth of teasing material.

Before I could turn and leave, I heard a voice—soft, sweet, and laced with amusement.

"Hey, Techno!"

I froze.

No. No, no, no—

"Tech! Up here!"

Slowly, I looked up.

Y/n was leaning over the roof, smiling down at me. And just like that, my heart was in my throat.

Her smile was soft, like a flower in bloom. But then, it shifted. Her lips curled into a sly, knowing smirk—a fox cornering its prey.

She giggled into her hand, and I felt heat rush to my face.

Shit.

She saw.

How much did she see?

"If you like, I can make you a drink~” she teased. “Well, after I’m done gardening.”

She leaned forward slightly, and I nearly panicked, stepping toward the roof like I could catch her if she fell. I wasn’t sure what was worse—the fact that she caught me being an idiot, or the fact that I’d let her smile at me like that forever if it meant I could see it again.

I hurried up the ladder, not caring if my suit got dirty anymore. All that mattered was getting to her.

Y/n stood at the top, waiting for me with that same warm smile, surrounded by a rooftop garden. Vegetables grew in neat rows, flowers bloomed in pots, and vines trailed along wooden trellises. It was… peaceful. Beautiful, even.

I was so caught up in taking it all in that I forgot to say anything.

She tilted her head, studying me. “Tech, you okay?”

“Fine,” I said—too stiff, too abrupt.

She stepped closer, placing a gentle hand on my cheek. I froze.

"I, uh… well, I saw you run into the door. You sure you're okay?"

Fuck. So she did see that.

Desperate to distract her, I held up the small gift I had brought. “Here.”

Her eyes widened slightly as she took it. "Oh, thank you, Techno," she murmured, smiling.

And then—before I could stop myself, before I could think —the words tumbled out of my mouth.

"Do you believe in fate? Because I… I want to wake up to you."

Silence.

Fuck. Fuck. FUCK.

My brain caught up with my mouth a second too late.

I just told her I wanted to wake up next to her. I just —

I wanted to punch myself in the face.

Y/n was staring at me, computing my words, and I could feel the heat crawling up my neck. Too much. I was coming off way too strong. Too aggressive. Too awkward. Too—

"Technoblade?"

Her voice was so gentle that it made my thoughts stutter.

She put the gift down and reached for me again, her fingertips brushing my cheek. "Hey, it’s okay. Breathe with me, alright?"

I hadn't even realized I was holding my breath.

I exhaled shakily, letting her ground me. She wasn’t laughing. She wasn’t rejecting me. She was just… here. I let myself be here too.

She let go, stepping back with a bright smile. "I was just growing some carrots. I think they'd be wonderful for a carrot cake."

"Pog," I said automatically, then narrowed my eyes. "Where do you grow the potatoes?"

Y/n gave me a look—half amused, half exasperated. " Tech. I own a café. What would I even do with potatoes?"

"Make potato soup," I said, as if it were obvious.

She giggled, shaking her head. "You’re ridiculous."

I crossed my arms. "No, you’re ridiculous for not having potatoes in your garden."

She hummed thoughtfully. "I think I have some potato seeds somewhere, just for you, Techie."

I watched as she disappeared into her little storage shed, already plotting out the best place to plant them. When she returned, she held out a small bag with a smug grin. "Alright, farmer boy , let's see what you’ve got."

I scoffed, taking the seeds. "I was born for this."

"Oh, please . Like you could do better than me ," she teased, putting her hands on her hips.

That was it. The challenge had been issued.

"You don’t even know who you're talking to," I smirked, rolling up my sleeves.

What followed could only be described as war .

I worked with precision and speed, making neat rows, carefully spacing out each potato seed, while Y/n flopped down next to her carrot patch, pretending to wipe sweat dramatically from her brow. "Ugh, this is so much work," she whined.

"Pathetic," I muttered, focused entirely on my task.

"Excuse me?" she gasped, tossing a handful of dirt at me.

I dodged easily, smirking. "Gonna take more than that to beat the blade ."

"Oh, you are so going down, farm boy," she shot back, flinging another clump at me.

I retaliated, sending a perfectly aimed handful of soil onto her lap. She shrieked, tackling me in revenge. Before I knew it, we were both covered in dirt, our argument about potatoes versus carrots long forgotten in favor of laughter and playful shoves.

Eventually, Y/n threw her hands up. "Alright, fine , I admit it! You win, oh mighty potato god."

"Damn right," I grinned, brushing dirt from my suit—or what was left of it. The once-pristine fabric was ruined , streaked with soil, leaves or stuck to my pants, my tie completely askew. But as I stood up, wiping sweat from my forehead, I turned to admire my work.

Perfectly planted potatoes.

A masterpiece.

Then I realized—

I was alone .

The laughter had stopped.

I frowned, glancing around.

Had I annoyed her? Had I been too in the zone?

I vaguely remembered hearing Y/n groan about how exhausting gardening was. She had been beside me, complaining about the sun, the dirt, and how "this was way too much effort for a vegetable" .

But how long ago had that been?

I swallowed, an unfamiliar worry creeping in.

Did she leave?

I turned, guilt twisting in my stomach, thinking I might have gone too far—maybe I was too competitive, too focused on winning. But before I could spiral any further, something cold pressed against my cheek.

I flinched slightly, then blinked.

Y/n stood there, beaming up at me, holding a drink against my face. "I got your drink~" she said cheerfully, completely unbothered.

She wasn’t upset. She wasn’t avoiding me.

She had just gone to get me something to cool off.

"The sun is really hot today," she continued, tilting her head in concern. "You're not overheating, are you? Your suit looks a bit hot—"

I didn’t let her finish.

I pulled her into a tight hug.

She let out a small noise of surprise but quickly melted against me, wrapping her arms around my back. "Tech…?"

I held her tighter. I wasn’t great with words, but I hoped she understood. That I was grateful. That I had missed her in just those few minutes she had been gone. That even if I got too in my head sometimes, she always pulled me back without even realizing it.

Y/n laughed softly, rubbing my back. "You're really warm, you know that?"

I didn’t respond right away. I just held her a little longer before finally murmuring, "Thanks for the drink." I let out a slow breath, my grip on Y/n’s hand tightening slightly. "You know, I’ve never actually said goodbye to my parents."

She blinked, confused. "What do you mean?"

"They left while I was sleeping," I said, my voice hollow. "One night, they tucked me in, told me they'd see me in the morning. And then..." I shrugged, but the motion felt stiff, unnatural. "They were just gone."

Y/n’s fingers curled around mine, her warmth here with me.

"Wilbur was the one who woke me up when I slept too long. He said they must’ve had a reason." I huffed, the old bitterness creeping in. "He still believed in them for a while. I didn’t."

I glanced at her, something raw in my expression. "It messes with you, you know? Makes you think you’re not enough to stay for."

I finally let go of a shaky breath. "Phil was the first adult who didn’t just... disappear. I didn’t trust him at first. Thought he’d leave too. But he never did." A small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at my lips. "He kept showing up. Kept staying. Took me years to believe that maybe he actually meant it."

I looked down at our hands. "Guess what I’m trying to say is... I don’t trust people easily. But I trust you."

I didn’t know what Y/n would say. Didn’t know if she’d even want that kind of responsibility—being trusted by someone like me. Being needed by someone like me. The thought gnawed at me. What if she left? What if one day, I woke up, and she was gone too?

I so desperately wanted to keep her close. To hold her so tight she could never slip away. If I had to, I would make her stay.

I was a member of the Syndicate. I had done terrible things. To horrible people.

I told myself it was for the greater good—to keep the town safe, to protect the innocent. To protect people like her.

But right now, standing here with her hand in mine, I wasn’t thinking about justice. Wasn’t thinking about the Syndicate, or the things I’d done in its name.

I was only thinking about her.

Y/n stared up at me, and I wished— gods, I wished —I could kiss her.

But more than that, I wanted to pull her into my arms, to keep her safe, to worship her like the princess she was.

To be the monster that kept all the other monsters away.

For her.

Y/n didn't say anything at first.

She just stared up at me, her eyes wide, searching.

I had been bracing myself for... I don’t know. Pity, maybe. Rejection. Something that would make me regret ever opening my damn mouth.

But then—

Slowly, Y/n squeezed my hand. Tight. Grounding. Real.

"You trust me?" she murmured.

I swallowed. "Yeah."

A small smile tugged at her lips, but there was something soft, almost sad in her eyes. Like she understood. Like she knew what it meant for me to say that.

Her fingers brushed against my wrist, and I had to stop myself from shivering at the touch.

"Then I'll stay," she said simply.

Like it was the easiest thing in the world. Like it wasn’t something so precious it made my ribs ache. I stared at her, my grip on her hand tightening.

I wanted to believe her. Gods, I wanted to believe her.

But I also knew the world didn’t work like that.

People left. They always left.

Except... Phil hadn’t.

And now Y/n was saying she wouldn’t either. My heart was beating too fast. I could feel it hammering in my chest, drowning out all my thoughts. I wanted to pull her close. Hold her. Keep her.

I wanted to kiss her. More than that , I wanted to claim her, to make sure everyone knew she was mine.

I had done so many horrible things. I had been the monster lurking in the dark, the one that made sure worse things never touched the town.

Y/n didn’t know the full extent of that.

And yet, she still looked at me like this.

Like I was someone worth staying for.

I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to breathe.

Slow. Steady.

If I rushed this, if I scared her off...

I couldn't risk that.

Not with her.

So instead of kissing her like I desperately wanted to, I reached up, my fingers brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

"...Good," I murmured finally.

Because I didn’t trust words right now.

But I trusted her.

+++++++++++++++

I knew it was pointless. Schlatt wasn’t going to be there—just like he hadn’t been all week.

But I couldn’t help it. Worry gnawed at me every time I passed his shop, an uneasy weight settling in my chest. How long had it been since I last heard him call me puppy in that teasing drawl? Since he’d tried, once again, to talk me into getting a tattoo? Since he’d just been here ?

Maybe I was sticking my nose where it didn’t belong.

But I was worried.

The door creaked open.

My breath hitched as I carefully stepped inside. The parlor was dimly lit, only one lone light casting a faint glow over the inked walls. Everything else was cloaked in shadows.

And then—I heard voices.

Not Schlatt’s.

"When are you coming back, boss?" a man asked, his tone firm, edged with frustration.

"Yeah, the Syndicate is getting out of control. Soon they'll be on our turf, trying to level us out," another voice added.

I froze, pressing myself against the wall just beside the door, heart hammering.

Finally, Schlatt spoke.

"Give me a week more," he said, his voice rough, tired. The clink of a bottle followed, and through the narrow opening, I saw him—leaning back, cigar in one hand, beer in the other, looking completely unbothered.

Except—I knew him. And that expression? That was forced indifference.

Across from him, a man with black hair tucked under a beanie stood with his arms crossed. His frustration was palpable, his glare sharp as he snapped, "You’ve been asking for ‘one more week’ over and over again! We fucking need you!"

Schlatt rolled his eyes.

Another man—this one with a white bandana wrapped around his forehead—spoke up next, his voice carrying an accusatory edge.

"It’s not about that girl still, is it?"

Silence.

Then—Schlatt’s gaze darkened, sharp as a knife, slicing through the tension like a warning.

"Quackity. Sapnap." His voice was low, but there was no mistaking the threat woven into it. "You might be paid more than anyone else I employ, but that doesn’t mean you get to stick your fingers in my business."

The bottle in his hand flew across the room, shattering against the wall—right by the door where I stood.

I flinched.

And in that split second, Schlatt finally noticed me.

"Y/n." My name left his lips in a surprised gasp.

"S-Schlatt?" My voice came out small, barely above a whisper.

He pushed a hand through his hair, red eyes scanning me as he took slow steps forward. His usual cocky smirk was nowhere to be seen, and something about that put me even more on edge.

I felt a flicker of something cold—fear? Unease?

Then—"Hey, pup." His voice was gentle, almost reassuring, but it didn’t match the tension in his shoulders.

I swallowed and gave a hesitant nod.

"Did you hear what I was talking about?"

I hesitated.

"I—I was just worried about you," I admitted, my voice trembling slightly. "You haven’t been around for a while… You’re okay, right?"

I couldn’t stop my gaze from flickering past him—to them. Quackity and Sapnap stood close, watching me, their presence heavy with unspoken warnings.

Schlatt placed a hand on my back, grounding me. But he wasn’t the same.

The warm scent of cinnamon that used to cling to him was gone, replaced by smoke and booze.

Schlatt forced out a smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He even let out a small laugh, like he was trying to ease the weight of the moment.

"I’m fine, Puppy. How about this—I'll come down first thing in the morning..."

I searched his face for any sign of deception, my fingers tightening around the fabric of my sleeves. "You promise?"

Schlatt tilted his head slightly before nodding. "Promise. Go home, Pup. I’ll see you soon."

And just like that, I believed him.

I left that night, comforted by the thought that tomorrow, things would go back to normal.

…But come morning, the tattoo shop was locked.

Schlatt was nowhere to be found.

Chapter Text

I am worried for Schlatt.

But there was nothing I could do if he didn’t want me to be a part of his life. I wouldn’t force it. Even if I wanted to. Even if I missed him.

My fingers clenched around my apron, holding onto something—anything—to steady myself. It was fine. I was fine. I found people who did want to be around me.

The bell above the café door chimed softly.

Technoblade was the first to enter, as silent as ever, but there was a weight to his presence that immediately settled over the room. Without hesitation, he strode toward me and, without a word, wrapped me in a firm hug. I stiffened in surprise before melting into it. His grip was strong, grounding. And when he pulled back, he held out an expensive-looking box.

“For you,” he said simply, pressing the gift into my hands. His voice was quiet but resolute, like I had no choice but to accept it.

I blinked up at him. “Tech, this is—”

“Nothing compared to what you deserve.”

My heart skipped a beat.

Before I could respond, he took the drink I had prepared for him and went to sit down, settling in like he had no intention of leaving anytime soon. He sipped his coffee, eyes lazily watching me work, treating me like some sort of princess he was keeping an eye on.

Then, the door slammed open.

“Y/N!!!”

I barely had time to react before Wilbur threw himself at me, arms wrapped around me dramatically as he lifted me off the ground. I laughed, immediately running my fingers through his curls, scratching lightly at his scalp the way he liked.

“There’s my good boy,” I praised, and Wilbur practically preened under my touch.

“I have a new song for you,” he announced proudly, setting me down.

“Oh? Another masterpiece?”

“Of course. Only the best for my favorite girl.” He winked, and I chuckled, handing him his usual coffee.

Wilbur took a sip, satisfied—until his gaze landed on his twin.

Technoblade was glaring.

Wilbur’s entire mood shifted as he scoffed, pointing an accusatory finger. “What are you doing here!?”

“Existing.”

“Unfortunately.”

Wilbur huffed, but still went to sit next to his brother, their bickering dropping to a quieter murmur that I could barely catch.

“She likes me more.”

“She’s not a prize, Wilbur.”

“Yeah, yeah, keep telling yourself that, big guy.”

Before their argument could escalate, the café door opened again.

Philza entered, his usual easy-going grin on his face. “Morning, love.”

“Morning, Phil,” I greeted warmly.

Without hesitation, he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a thick wad of cash, placing it on the counter. “How much to steal you away for the day?”

Before I could answer, both Wilbur and Technoblade snapped their heads up.

“Absolutely not.”

“Denied.”

Phil barely spared them a glance, sighing like a tired father dealing with unruly children he was. “Figures you two would already be here.”

I handed him a cup of coffee, shaking my head in amusement.

Phil took a sip, then smirked at me. “You look gorgeous today, by the way.”

Technoblade gripped his cup a little tighter. Wilbur groaned.

“Really, Phil?”

Phil grinned, clearly enjoying himself. “What? Just speaking the truth.”

And just like that, all three men were fighting for my attention. It was friendly. Non-threatening. A lighthearted game between them. But I couldn’t help but feel… wanted.

It was nice having the café so lively, filled with laughter, playful banter, and the warmth of people I had come to trust. The air buzzed with familiarity, with something safe. Something good.

I smiled as I wiped down the counter, sneaking a glance at the three bickering men. Technoblade, arms crossed, was staring down Wilbur, who had dramatically thrown himself across the table, loudly complaining about favoritism. Phil just chuckled into his coffee, clearly amused at his sons’ antics.

The café was quiet.

The warm scent of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, mixing with the faint hum of the radio in the background. It was peaceful—until it wasn’t.

The moment the bell above the door rang, I looked up, ready to greet the customer with my usual smile. But the words caught in my throat.

Him.

My ex-boyfriend stood in the doorway, his familiar, smug expression twisting my stomach into knots.

“You’ve really done it, huh?” he said, stepping inside and looking around, unimpressed. “Opened your little café.”

I swallowed hard, gripping the counter. “Yeah.”

He scoffed. “Never thought you’d actually go through with it. I mean, let’s be real—you? Running a business?” He let out a mocking laugh. “How long do you think this is gonna last? A few more months before you crash and burn?”

I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palm. “You’re wrong,” I tried to say, but my voice was small. Weak.

He stepped closer, leaning against the counter like he belonged here. “Come on, Y/n. You know it’s true. You always needed me. No one else is gonna put up with you like I did. No one else—”

Snap.

The sharp sound of a guitar string breaking made both of us jump.

I turned toward Wilbur, who was gripping his guitar too tightly, his fingers twitching as he stared at my ex with dark, burning eyes.

Phil sat back in his chair, swirling his coffee. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes—his eyes were sharp. Watching. Calculating.

Then, without a word, Technoblade stood.

And before I could even register what was happening, he had my ex by the collar, lifting him off his feet like he weighed nothing.

I gasped, stepping back in shock. But Phil caught my wrist, gently pulling me to his side. “Easy now, love,” he murmured, his voice soft but firm. His hand came up to my head, stroking it gently. “You don’t need to listen to a single thing that bastard says.”

“Phil—” I tried to say something, anything, but then Wilbur was in front of me, taking my hands in his and pressing them against his cheek.

“Forget him,” Wilbur whispered, letting me feel the warmth of his skin. His hands trembled slightly, but he kept his voice steady. “You’re brilliant, Y/n. He’s just bitter you proved him wrong.”

I blinked rapidly, my vision blurring with unshed tears. Wilbur gave me a soft, lopsided smile. “You can pinch my cheek if it helps,” he joked, though his voice was thick with something else—something protective.

I sniffled, barely managing a weak chuckle as I did exactly that—pinched his cheek, just to ground myself. Wilbur let me, tilting his head into my touch.

Meanwhile, Technoblade was murmuring something low, something dangerous, into my ex’s ear. I couldn’t hear the words, but whatever he said had my ex’s face paling.

Technoblade shoved him toward the door. “Get out,” he growled. “And don’t come back.”

My ex hesitated, but when Tech took a step forward, he bolted. The door slammed shut behind him, the bell ringing one last time.

For a moment, the café was silent.

Then, Technoblade turned back, brushing nonexistent dust off his suit. “Problem solved.”

I let out a shaky breath, finally realizing how hard my heart was pounding.

Phil kissed the top of my head. “Atta girl. Don’t let idiots like that get in your head.”

Wilbur squeezed my hands, his thumb rubbing over my knuckles soothingly. “You’re so much more than he ever deserved.”

Technoblade crossed his arms, glancing at me. “Want me to hunt him down?”

I blinked. “What?”

“Joking.” A pause. “Unless you want me to.”

Despite everything, I laughed—a small, breathy sound. And somehow, even with my heart still unsteady, I felt safe.

My heart felt… full.

Then—

A shiver ran down my spine.

For just a moment, I felt eyes on me. A presence, watching. 

I turned toward the window, my breath hitching as I caught a glimpse of something—someone—just beyond the glass. A tall figure, standing in the shadows, cigarette ember glowing faintly against the dim morning light. Red eyes, sharp and unreadable.

Schlatt?

I blinked.

The figure was gone.

I swallowed, forcing out a small laugh at myself. You’re imagining things.

Schlatt wasn’t here. Hadn’t been here. Not for a long time.

The weight of their words, their kindness, settled deep in my chest. I wasn’t used to this—to being wanted , to being treated like I was worth something.

And then—soft.

The brush of lips against my cheek, warm and lingering just long enough to make my breath hitch.

I turned, eyes wide. Technoblade?

He didn’t say anything at first, just adjusted his suit, as if the kiss had been the most natural thing in the world. Then, his fingers gently lifted my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze.

“You shouldn’t waste your time listening to people beneath you,” he murmured, brushing his thumb lightly over my cheek. “You’re worth more than that, Princess.”

I felt my face heat up instantly. Princess?

Before I could even process that, Wilbur practically tackled me into a hug, burying his face into my shoulder. “You were so cool just now, Y/n,” he mumbled, voice muffled. “Standing up for yourself like that? I almost cried. Go on, praise me too.”

“Wil—” I blinked, still trying to recover from Tech’s words, but Wilbur wasn’t budging. He was nuzzling into me like a pleased cat, and I couldn’t help but let out a soft chuckle, running my fingers through his curls. “You were amazing too, Wilbur. Really.”

He made a pleased sound. “I knew you liked me best.”

“I never said that—”

And then—

“Marry me.”

I nearly choked.

I whipped my head toward Phil, who was leaning back in his chair, sipping his coffee as if he hadn’t just casually proposed in the middle of my emotional crisis.

“What?” I managed to squeak out.

Phil just shrugged, completely unfazed. “What? It’d solve all your problems.” He grinned, winking. “And you know I’d treat you right, love.”

I opened my mouth. Closed it. What was happening?!

Wilbur gasped, clutching his chest dramatically. “Phil! You can’t just say that!”

“Why not?” Phil smirked. “You were thinking it too.”

Wilbur spluttered.

That warmth settled deep in my chest, filling the hollow spaces I hadn’t even realized were there.

Wilbur was still arguing with Phil, gesturing wildly as he ranted about how a proposal should be romantic and not just tossed out like an afterthought. Phil was laughing, sipping his coffee without a care, while Technoblade sat beside me, arms crossed, shaking his head at them both.

I closed my eyes for just a moment, letting their voices wash over me.

Yeah… I was okay now.

And I wasn’t alone.

Chapter Text

Technoblade always came in to keep me company. Wilbur never showed up without his guitar, always ready with a song just for me. And Phil—well, Phil had practically become my unofficial co-worker, helping out at the café whenever he felt like it.

I couldn’t even begin to describe the joy I felt. After so long thinking I was alone, here they were—real friends, looking out for me, caring for me. It was different now. They didn’t just stop by once a week out of obligation. They came whenever they wanted, whenever they felt like it.

The café was quiet for once—a rare thing these days. I took the chance to sweep up, already expecting someone from the Syndicate to show up soon. Sure enough, the bell chimed, and I looked up, ready to greet them with a smile.

“Welcome!” I said cheerfully—then froze.

Schlatt.

My heart stuttered in my chest. “Schlatt?” I squeaked, the broom slipping from my fingers. Before I knew it, I was walking toward him, half in disbelief. I had never thought I’d see him again. Not after so long. Not after he lied.

“Where were you?” My voice wavered. “You said you’d come back—it’s been so long and—”

I stopped.

He was smoking.

That wasn’t unusual for him, but it was the way he stood—detached, distant, as if the room itself was unremarkable. As if I was unremarkable. The heavy scent of alcohol clung to him, drowning out the warm cinnamon that used to linger in his clothes.

I forced a small, teasing smile. “Schlatt, you know there’s no smoking in here.”

Nothing. No wolfish grin, no lazy drawl of "C’mon, pup, you gonna kick me out?" No teasing ruffle of my hair. Just a blank stare and another slow drag from his cigarette.

I shifted on my feet, biting my lip. “Um… you must be thirsty. Do you want a drink? I made some carrot cake—you always liked that.”

I turned to go, desperate to shake off the tightness in my chest, but before I could take a step—

Schlatt caught my hand.

I stilled, looking up at him, my hopeful smile still lingering on my lips.

He didn’t let go.

“Um… Schlatt?” I asked hesitantly.

Schlatt didn’t answer. He simply dropped his cigarette onto the café floor and crushed it under his shoe.

I blinked. He’s never been this disrespectful before.

“Schlatt, you can’t just—”

Before I could finish, his hand was on my cheek, rough but steady. His thumb traced my skin, slow and deliberate, before sliding over my lips, tilting my chin up. My breath caught. I wasn’t sure what he was doing, what he wanted , but something about it made my stomach twist.

Unsure, I pushed his hand away.

Schlatt’s expression darkened. His eyes, once familiar and teasing, now held something harsher.

“Pack your shit.” His voice was sharp, edged with something dangerous. “I have a new coffee shop you can rent out.”

I stared at him, confusion making my head spin. “What… what?”

“I can’t protect you here,” he said, impatient. “This is Syndicate territory. But in my area, I can keep you safe. The Ometa will make sure nothing happens to you.”

I flinched at the name. The Ometa? What the hell was that?

“Schlatt, what are you talking about?” My voice wavered, desperate for answers. “I was worried about you! The tattoo shop—where have you been? Why—”

Schlatt’s patience snapped.

“Shut the fuck up and pack your shit !” he barked.

I winced. My hands curled into fists at my sides.

Then, slowly, I shook my head.

“No.”

Schlatt’s jaw tightened.

“I like it here,” I said, my voice steadier this time. “I made friends. I built this place myself. ” I swallowed hard, forcing myself to hold his gaze. “I’m not going.”

This was mine . My home, my safe place. Not even Schlatt was going to take that away.

Schlatt shoved a handful of photos into my hands, forcing me to take them. My fingers trembled as I flipped through them. Each picture showed me with Wilbur, Technoblade, and Phil. The men he had warned me to stay away from.

“They’re kind ,” I started to say, hoping— begging —to change his perspective.

“They’re dangerous !” Schlatt snapped, his voice cutting through the air like a blade.

His hands gripped my shoulders—too tight, too rough—and shook me. The force of it stole my breath, his words spit out like undeniable facts .

But there was no evidence of them trying to hurt me.

The funds they took? They went to worthy causes. The people they dealt with? They were criminals—monsters that would have burned the city to the ground if not for the Syndicate standing in their way. It wasn’t good , no, but it was necessary .

A necessary evil.

One the world needed more of.

And maybe that made me bad —for knowing and saying nothing.

I placed a hand on Schlatt’s shoulder, trying to ground him, to calm him. My voice came out small. “Schlatt… you’re really scaring me right now.”

“Then do as I told you, Puppy ,” he commanded.

I swallowed hard. My entire body felt cold, but I stood my ground.

“I’m staying.”

Schlatt’s expression darkened, his lips pressing into a hard line. His red eyes burned with something unreadable.

“I’m asking you to leave, Schlatt.” My voice wavered but didn’t break.

Schlatt scoffed. “Fine.”

I exhaled shakily, thinking— hoping —it was over.

Then, the door swung open.

Two men walked in.

Quackity. Sapnap.

A pit formed in my stomach.

Schlatt lit another cigarette, exhaling smoke like it was nothing.

“ Tear this place down. ”

I barely had time to process his words before Quackity and Sapnap moved past me, baseball bats in hand.

My chest tightened. “What are they doing?” I grabbed onto Schlatt’s shirt, my voice rising in panic. “ What are you doing?! ”

The first blow landed.

Glass shattered.

I flinched at the sharp sound, my heart leaping into my throat. Then another crash. And another. The coffee machine. The pastry counter. My home.

“ STOP! ” I screamed, tears spilling down my cheeks as I lunged forward, desperate to save what I could.

But Schlatt caught me, dragging me back against his chest. His grip was firm—unyielding.

His voice was eerily soft, almost gentle.

“This is for the best, Pup .”

He whispered the words like he actually believed them.

I beat against his chest with everything I had. It wasn’t much—not against someone like him.

“You bastard! Stop this! ” My voice cracked under the weight of my sobs. “I thought you were my friend! Why?! You know how hard I worked—how much this meant to me!”

But Schlatt barely reacted. He grabbed my wrists, his grip like iron, his expression a mix of irritation and something colder . My blows were pathetic, meaningless. I couldn't even see through the tears blurring my vision, couldn't do anything but scream as my world shattered around me.

Glass on the floor. Wood splintering. The scent of coffee— my coffee —spilling uselessly onto the ground.

Schlatt clicked his tongue, shaking his head like I was some foolish child. “You’re makin’ too big a deal outta this, Pup,” he murmured, voice sickly sweet —the way you’d speak to a dog that didn’t know any better.

“I’ll get you a nicer place. Better equipment. Employees, even. You won’t even have to run it on your own.”

I let out a choked sob, my body trembling.

He didn’t get it.

This wasn’t about money. This wasn’t about business.

This was mine.

Schlatt’s hand suddenly pressed against my head. A familiar touch. The same way he used to pet me—to tease me—to remind me that, to him, I was his.

“Open, Pup.”

I froze. My breath hitched.

Then, I shook my head. No.

“I’m not your Puppy ,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “I’m not your anything. ”

Schlatt’s fingers twitched.

“I’m leaving ,” I spat, stepping back, shaking, barely holding myself together. “I don’t want anything from you! You’re the bad person, Schlatt! You’re the monster! ”

I turned—ready to run.

But I didn’t make it to the door.

A sharp, stinging pain exploded across my cheek.

I gasped, stumbling, the world spinning from the force of the slap.

Before I could recover, before I could even breathe , he grabbed me—shoving me down .

My knees hit the ground hard.

I struggled, trying to push away, but Schlatt was already on me, holding me down with his weight, his strength, his control .

“You’re gonna be a good Puppy ,” he whispered, voice dangerously low. His fingers wrapped around my chin, forcing me to look at him. His eyes gleamed—sharp, unwavering, cruel.

“And you’re gonna shut your trap.”

I thrashed, my breathing ragged, my heart pounding .

I sniffled, my whole body trembling as I tried to hold back my sobs.

Schlatt leaned down.

I barely had time to react before his lips crashed against mine.

A broken gasp escaped me, but he didn’t stop. His grip was firm, his mouth moving against mine with slow, deliberate pressure, as if he could force me to accept it.

I was still crying.

Tears streamed down my cheeks, but Schlatt just wiped them away with his thumb—only to kiss me through the misery.

"I'm gonna make it all better, Y/N."

His hand petted my head, fingers threading through my hair in a sick mockery of comfort.

I whimpered against his lips, my voice barely a whisper.

"You ruined it. You ruined everything. I just want—" I choked on my words, shaking as I tried to push him away. "Let me go. I'm scared. I want to go home."

Schlatt hushed me, pressing his forehead against mine, refusing to let me pull away.

"You don’t get it yet, do you?" he murmured, his breath warm, tainted with the scent of smoke and alcohol. "You belong with me. You'll get used to this, Puppy. You’ll get used to me.”

His lips ghosted over mine again, softer this time. A slow, cruel kind of tenderness.

I shuddered.

"I love you, Y/n," Schlatt confessed, his voice raw, earnest in a way that made my stomach twist. "I fell so hard for you, Puppy."

I froze.

Even now—even after all of this—if he had come into my café and simply said those words…

If he had told me he loved me without all the destruction, without forcing me to my knees, without kissing me through my tears—I would have said yes.

I would have agreed.

But not like this.

Never like this.

"Let me go," I repeated, my voice quiet but firm.

Schlatt exhaled through his nose, irritated. But finally, finally, he loosened his grip. He helped me up—gentler than before.

But he didn’t let go.

Not really.

"I have to leave this place, but I’m taking you with me."

Chapter Text

Schlatt held me against his lap, cradling me like I was something precious. His lips trailed under my chin, slow and deliberate, pressing kisses along my jawline. His touch was gentle, almost reverent, his large hand enclosing mine so I couldn't push him away.

"You know I love you, Puppy," he murmured against my skin. "I’ve told you so many times. You just need to understand. I did this for you. For us."

But love wasn’t supposed to feel like this.

Love didn’t rip you from everything you’d built.

Love didn’t lock you away.

Schlatt reminded me of my ex in so many ways. He was more affectionate, sure. But he was far crueler.

This new café—the one he’d given me—wasn’t really mine. It was a cage.

It had all the equipment he’d promised, but none of the life. No hustle, no chatter, no familiar faces. No new conversations over warm cups of coffee.

No Technoblade. No Phil. No Wilbur.

Just him.

Schlatt kissed my temple, his fingers stroking up my arm as he pressed another kiss—this time to my collarbone. I didn’t react.

I just sat there. Blank.

Staring at the wall.

The bell rang.

"Boss," Quackity’s voice cut through the suffocating quiet.

Schlatt pulled away from the kiss, his lips lingering for a moment before he finally turned his head.

"Quackity," he greeted, before shifting me off his lap.

I wobbled slightly but caught myself.

"Go make Quackity a cup," Schlatt ordered, his tone casual—like I was just a barista at his beck and call. "You know how he likes it."*

Then, as I turned, he slapped my ass.

I flinched.

But I didn’t say a word.

I just walked to the counter.

The café Schlatt made for me wasn’t really a café.

It was a prison .

High up in some random office building, tucked away in a space that no one but his people could reach. There were no customers, no laughter, no warmth. Just the dull hum of machines and the constant presence of my captors .

Schlatt. Sapnap. Quackity. And a man named Karl.

They were my only visitors.

I hated it here.

I set Quackity’s coffee down in front of him, careful not to let my hands shake. I just wanted to leave—to be anywhere else —but before I could take a step, Schlatt's arm hooked around my waist, yanking me back down onto his lap.

I stiffened.

"The Syndicate knows we took Y/n," Quackity said casually as he took a sip of his drink.

"Good," Schlatt snorted, utterly unbothered. He took my hand in his, pressing a slow kiss against my knuckles. "She was always mine in the first place." My fingers dug into my thighs, gripping tight enough to leave marks. I kept my eyes down, my breathing steady.

Quackity's glare was sharp, cutting through the tense silence like a blade. He wasn’t even trying to hide his anger. His dark eyes locked onto me from across the room.

"We need to use her as bait." His voice was cold, unforgiving.

My stomach twisted.

Schlatt’s head snapped toward him. "I'm not letting you use Y/n as bait." His tone was dangerous now—calm, but simmering with an underlying threat. "She's not even meant to be part of this."

Quackity scoffed, his mouth twisting into a cruel smirk. "Well, now she is. And she already chose a side." His eyes narrowed at me.

I glared back.

Schlatt's chair scraped loudly against the floor as he stood. "Get out."

"But—" Quackity started.

"Get. Out." Schlatt's eyes darkened, his voice low and cold. "Leave the cup behind."

Quackity's jaw tightened. He slammed the cup down so hard that coffee sloshed over the edge, dripping onto the floor. Without another word, he stormed toward the door, throwing it open so violently it bounced off the wall.

Schlatt watched him go, unbothered. Slowly, he turned toward me. His hand found my chin, tilting it up so I had no choice but to meet his gaze. A slow, predatory smile spread across his face, teeth flashing in the dim light.

"Don't worry, pup." His thumb dragged across my jaw, and I froze under his touch. "I'm not planning on using you as bait."

He picked up Quackity's abandoned cup, took a slow sip, and licked his lips.

I hated how effortless it was for him—how easily he could slip from dangerous to sweet, like none of this mattered. 

"Well, what are you planning to use me as?" I asked.

Schlatt placed the empty cup on the table in front of me, his hand drifting up to his chin as if he were genuinely considering it.

"Huh…" His voice trailed off thoughtfully. "Never thought about it much."

His eyes darkened as he reached out, his hand brushing through my hair before giving my head a soft pat. "I just like you, Y/n." His tone was light—too light for a confession like that. "From the moment we first met, I liked you."

He pulled a small chocolate from his pocket, peeling back the foil with practiced ease. Without thinking, I held out my hands. He smiled and placed the candy in my palm, folding my fingers over it like he was giving me something precious.

"I have no plans to use you, abuse you, or harm you." Schlatt’s voice was calm—almost affectionate. "I just want you to stay by my side."

His thumb brushed over my knuckles, and I shivered.

"Sorry, pup. It had to be this way. But I warned you time and time again about the Syndicate."

It almost sounded reasonable when he said it like that. Like I had forced his hand by getting close to the Syndicate. Like this whole mess was my fault.

I swallowed hard. "Schlatt…"

"Yes, puppy?" His eyes softened as he turned toward me.

"Can’t you just… make peace with them?" My voice was small.

Schlatt's expression darkened, his jaw tightening.

"Who?"

"The Syndicate."

Schlatt’s smile didn’t reach his eyes this time. He leaned down until his face was inches from mine, his hand curling beneath my chin.

"They don't want peace, Y/n." His tone was dangerously soft. "They want you. And that…" His thumb pressed against my lower lip. "Isn't something I'm willing to give up."

"What if I could help?"

Schlatt’s dark brown eyes followed me, unblinking. His expression was hard to read as I stared up at him, waiting for him to speak.

"If you can both agree to peace… that would end all this, right?" I asked, my voice quiet but steady.

Schlatt hummed thoughtfully. "To bring peace would mean one of us leaving. And I doubt those three would leave." His voice was calm, like we were discussing business over coffee instead of the mess my life had become.

So that meant Schlatt would have to leave. But he wouldn’t—he wouldn’t give up his power or his territory.

"I’ll—" I swallowed hard. "I’ll go with you."

Schlatt’s eyes sharpened, his gaze locking onto mine.

"If… if you take your men and leave the Syndicate alone. Start over. Start your gang in a new town." I took his hand in both of mine, holding it tightly. Pleading. "I’ll come with you."

Schlatt’s lips curled into a dangerous smile. Then he laughed—dark and deep—his hand pressing to his forehead as his other hand tightened over mine. He tipped his head back, the laugh rolling from his chest like smoke curling through the air.

"You’d really do all that for me, sweetheart?"

I nodded.

"No running?" His eyes flashed. "No protests? Nothing but right at my side?"

I nodded again.

Schlatt’s smile widened. He took my hand, undoing the bracelet around my wrist with careful precision. Then he kissed my palm—slowly, deliberately—his lips brushing against my skin as if sealing a deal.

Next, his hands moved to my ears. He slid off my earrings with the same gentle care, his fingers lingering against my skin.

Finally, he pulled me up into his arms, cradling me against his chest. His chin pressed to the top of my head as his arms wound tightly around me.

"Alright," he whispered. His voice curled against my ear. "Deal."

Chapter Text

Schlatt kept his promise. But instead of telling the Syndicate—and risking them trying to take me back—he decided we’d leave in the dead of night. No warnings. No whispers.

There were protests, of course. None louder than Quackity. But Schlatt shut him down with a single order, his tone cold enough to freeze the air.

Night had already settled over the city, the chill creeping into my bones as I stood beneath the dim parking garage lights. My chest tightened painfully. My heart thudded hard against my ribs as the weight of it all pressed down on me. More than anything, I regretted not saying goodbye.

Schlatt held out his hand to me. "You’re gonna make this easy for me, right, pup?"

Biting my lip, I hesitated—just for a moment—before sliding my hand into his. His grip tightened, his fingers curling possessively around mine as he pulled me forward.

We walked hand in hand through the parking garage, the sounds of footsteps echoing off the concrete walls. One by one, his men loaded into sleek black cars. The place was emptying out fast—furniture and junk left behind like forgotten debris. Even the new coffee shop Schlatt made for me would be abandoned.

He promised to buy me more stuff. New machines. New cups. A whole new shop, if I wanted it.

Schlatt lit a cigarette as we walked, the glow of the ember lighting up his sharp features in the dimness. Dressed in a fine suit, he looked more like a king than a criminal. His hand remained steady around mine as smoke curled lazily through the cool air.

I stayed quiet, listening to the low sounds of car doors closing, the soft hum of engines, and the hollow echo of our footsteps.

This would be the last time I saw this city.

The light hit like a sledgehammer, blinding and loud in its intensity. My eyes squeezed shut, overwhelmed by the sudden brightness. Schlatt’s hand tightened around mine, his grip almost bruising.

“What the fuck…” Schlatt muttered, his voice low and sharp.

The bright overhead lights in the garage flickered to life, casting harsh white beams over the concrete. And then—

“Schlatt.”

The voice echoed through the parking garage, low and cutting. My heart twisted painfully in my chest.

Phil stepped into the light, calm and dangerous, his smile a thin veneer over something sharper. His hands were relaxed at his sides, but the men flanking him weren’t. Behind him, members of the Syndicate stood in formation—silent and ready.

Technoblade was just behind Phil, his expression stone-cold, but his eyes burned with rage. Wilbur stood beside him, his smile twisted into something feral. They were furious. And they were here for me.

“So, you’re here,” Schlatt said, dropping his cigarette and crushing it under his heel. His tone was low, but his whole body was taut, poised to strike.

“Of course,” Phil said lightly. His eyes flicked toward me. “You were planning to leave without a goodbye?”

Schlatt chuckled darkly. “Forgot you were getting sentimental in your old age.”

Phil’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “You may leave, Schlatt.”

“But Y/n stays.”

Technoblade’s voice cut through the tension like a blade. His jaw was tight, teeth clenched.

“Or we end you,” Wilbur added coldly, his eyes glinting dangerously beneath the harsh lights. “And every single person here.”

My breath hitched. This wasn’t what I wanted.

“Wait!” My voice cracked as I stumbled forward. Schlatt’s arm tensed around me, but I pushed through it. “Wait—wait, wait! I asked him to do this! I asked him to leave with me! There’s no need to fight—please—please, we can just go. No one has to get hurt!”

Phil’s gaze softened—barely—but Techno’s and Wilbur’s remained hard as steel.

Schlatt’s hand slipped up to the back of my neck, pulling me protectively against his side. “See, pup?” His voice was low, mocking. “They don’t care about what you want. Just about keeping you away from me.”

“Let her go, Schlatt,” Technoblade growled. His hand twitched toward the hilt of his sword.

Schlatt’s fingers curled tighter against my neck. “You really wanna test me right now, big guy?”

Wilbur’s smile sharpened. “It’s not a test.”

The air in the garage felt heavy, like the pressure before a storm. My heart pounded painfully as the tension between them sharpened into something lethal.

Someone was going to die if I didn’t stop this.

I didn’t know who struck first. All I knew was that suddenly everything exploded.

Bodies crashed together, fists flying, weapons drawn, and the air filled with the sounds of grunts and the sharp crack of impact. Chaos. It was impossible to tell who was winning or losing, only that it was violent and fast and terrifying.

But Schlatt—Schlatt didn’t care.

He caught me around the waist and threw me over his shoulder like I weighed nothing. I gasped, struggling for balance as he walked calmly through the storm of violence unfolding around us.

“Schlatt—wait—!”

He didn’t even slow down. His steps were steady and unbothered, like he was taking a casual stroll through the park instead of walking through an all-out brawl. My head bounced against his shoulder as I held onto him tightly, my arms looping around his neck.

Behind us, I could hear the clash of metal, the thud of bodies hitting concrete, someone shouting in pain.

Schlatt didn’t look back. He moved down the parkade, weaving around broken glass and unconscious bodies, until we reached his car. His hand was just on the handle when—

Click.

A sharp, unmistakable sound.

Schlatt’s head turned. Slowly.

Quackity stood a few feet away, arm outstretched. A gun in his hand. Pointed directly at Schlatt.

My breath hitched.

Schlatt set me down. His hand brushed briefly over my back, reassuring—but his eyes never left Quackity.

“Quackity,” Schlatt said, sounding almost… amused. “Really?”

Quackity’s eyes were burning. His hand was steady. “I told you she was trouble,” he said darkly. His voice was low, trembling with rage. “And look what the fuck she’s done now.”

Schlatt’s expression remained impassive. “Explain it to me, then.”

Quackity’s jaw tightened. “First, she changed you.” His finger hovered over the trigger. “Then she started this whole fucking fight. And finally…” His eyes flashed toward me. “Where the hell were you going?”

Schlatt smiled faintly. “I was thinking about retiring.” He spread his arms, gesturing lazily toward the chaos behind him. “Look at all this. Doesn’t it get tiring? Put the gun down, Quackity. Join us. I have money. I have Y/n. I’ve made enough to finally have some fun—”

Quackity’s face twisted. “Fun?” His voice sharpened into something bitter.

Schlatt tilted his head, his smile sharpening. “Don’t be dramatic.”

Quackity’s hand trembled. His eyes were wide and furious.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he said softly. “ Fun ? After everything? After all we did—after all I did? You were supposed to build something with me, Schlatt. We fought through hell together. We bled together. I was at your side when no one else was. And you’d throw that all away for her ?” His lip curled as his eyes flicked toward me. “What’s so special about her, huh? What did she do that I didn’t?”

Schlatt’s expression remained calm, that amused little smile never faltering.

“You wouldn’t get it,” he said quietly.

Quackity’s breath hitched. His hand steadied. His eyes narrowed.

“Yeah,” Quackity said coldly. “I figured.”

Bang.

The gunshot echoed through the garage, deafening.

Schlatt’s body jerked backward. His hand shot to his side, blood already blooming beneath his fingers. He stumbled a step back, his eyes widening briefly—then sharpening.

He chuckled. A low, dark sound. “You really—” He coughed, blood staining his teeth. “You really gonna do this, huh?”

Quackity’s eyes were hard, cold. “You left me behind.”

Schlatt’s hand slid from his side. His knees bent. He looked at Quackity—almost proudly.

“Well,” Schlatt said hoarsely, smiling faintly. “Took you long enough.”

Quackity cocked the gun again.

I screamed.

I froze when the gun turned on me.

Quackity’s hand didn’t even tremble. His finger curled around the trigger. His eyes were cold and empty.

Schlatt was faster.

In a blur of movement, Schlatt’s hand shot out and wrenched the gun from Quackity’s grip. Metal clattered as the gun spun across the floor.

“ Go! ” Schlatt barked, his voice sharp and cutting.

Quackity’s wide eyes flicked up toward Schlatt. His breath hitched. His mouth opened, but no sound came out.

“Don’t make me regret this,” Schlatt said darkly, eyes narrowing.

Quackity hesitated—just for a second—then his jaw tightened. He closed his eyes, spun on his heel, and ran.

Schlatt exhaled shakily, his hand trembling as he undid the gun, letting the bullets drop one by one onto the concrete. They clinked softly as they hit the ground. He stood there for a moment, breathing heavily, his face unreadable. Then his eyes flicked toward me.

“Schlatt?” My voice was barely a whisper.

Schlatt didn’t answer. He turned toward the car. His hand touched the handle—

And then his legs gave out beneath him.

“ Schlatt! ”

I ran to him as he collapsed against the side of the car. He slid down, his back hitting the cold metal with a hollow thud . His breath hitched as blood bloomed beneath his suit jacket, spreading dark and fast.

Schlatt’s hand moved toward his pocket. He pulled out a cigarette, shaky fingers bringing it to his lips. He lifted his lighter, but his hand was trembling too hard to strike it. The flame sputtered and died.

I grabbed the lighter from his hand, flicking it open. I leaned forward, lighting the cigarette for him. The tiny flame cast a soft glow over his pale face.

Schlatt exhaled, smoke curling from his lips as he smiled faintly. He lifted his hand and gently patted my head.

“Good pup,” he murmured. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.

“Schlatt—” My voice broke. My eyes burned, tears already slipping down my cheeks. “Schlatt, we have to go. We have to get you to a hospital—”

Schlatt’s hand curled around my cheek, his thumb brushing over my skin.

“Don’t cry,” he whispered.

My hands were shaking. I reached for his hand, trying to pull him up—but he stayed there, slumped against the car, his head tilting back.

“Please,” I begged. “You’re bleeding so much—we can get help—”

Schlatt smiled, soft and distant. His eyes were half-lidded, dark brown and glassy.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured. His hand slipped down from my cheek, fingers brushing lightly against my collarbone. His hand fell into his lap, and his breath hitched.

“Schlatt—”

His head lolled to the side. His cigarette slipped from his fingers, smoke curling upward as it hit the ground.

“Schlatt!” My voice broke. My hands curled around his face, shaking him. His eyes were open—but his gaze was empty.

“No, no, no— stay with me! ” I screamed, pressing my hands over the wound in his side, blood soaking through my fingers. “Schlatt—Schlatt, please—”

But his eyes were already slipping closed. 

His hand twitched—then slowly fell open. A small piece of chocolate tumbled from his palm and hit the ground with a soft clink .

“ No— ” My voice cracked. My breath hitched painfully in my throat. “ Schlatt—! ”

Unwrapped. Uneaten.

And Schlatt stayed silent.

Chapter Text

I really had been screwed, life or death. Just when I thought I was finally getting everything I wanted, Death’s cruel hand reached out and ripped it all away. Hell, I knew from the beginning that I didn’t deserve her—didn’t deserve anything good. But god, did I try.

I opened that tattoo shop with the idea of sneaking into Syndicate territory. It worked, but hell, did it give me a bad name. People saw tattoos, and all they saw was a criminal. I couldn’t get in anywhere. Cafés, coffee shops—every place I tried to get a drink, they kicked me out. But bars? Bars always welcomed me, as long as I was willing to drink myself stupid. But that wasn’t what I wanted. I didn’t want to drown in alcohol at noon. I just wanted a damn coffee.

And then came that café.

It opened like a little shop of dreams, all pastel colors and too much cuteness. I didn’t think I had a chance, not with my rough exterior, covered in ink and scars. I thought it’d be another one of those places that’d never let someone like me through the door.

But I was desperate. I needed a place. I needed something . So I walked in, cigarette in hand, barely giving myself a shot.

And that’s when I saw her.

My first thought? She’s cute. Yeah, I know—shocking, right? But she was. Brand new, fresh-faced, and full of energy. That first day she opened, she was like a puppy—bright-eyed, naive, just waiting for the world to be kind to her.

But when she looked at me, her finger pointed straight at me like I was some kind of criminal.

“Hey, you!” she called out, her voice stern but with a playful lilt. My heart dropped to my stomach—was she going to kick me out?

“No smoking,” she said, the little pout on her lips making my chest tighten.

“Is that rule for everyone or just me?” I asked, leaning back in my seat, playing it cool.

She pointed to a sign on the wall.

“Touche,” I muttered, smirking a little, before flicking the cigarette into the ashtray. I don’t know what it was about her—maybe it was the way she stood there, defiant, hands on her hips, challenging me. Or maybe it was the fact that no one had ever cared enough to stop me from doing something so simple as smoking.

“Now what would you like?”

But in that moment, something in me clicked. I knew I’d be back.

And I was. Every damn day.

"So, what would you like today?" she asked, her voice as sweet as her smile.

I leaned forward, grinning. "Make me a coffee as sweet as you are, pup," I said, watching her carefully. She gave me a curious look, maybe a little tired, but still gave me that smile—the kind that made the whole day feel brighter.

"Sure," she answered, before turning to get the coffee.

I took a sip as I waited at the counter. The second the bitter liquid hit my tongue, I nearly gagged. Fuck . This coffee was harsh, no sweetness in sight. I almost spit it out.

But Y/n was watching me, pleased with herself. "See, we have the same taste!" she announced, clearly proud of the bitter hell in her cup.

I chuckled, shaking my head. "Sweet, puppy. I said sweet."

She raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in her eyes. "Oh, you did. I thought you wanted to try a cup I enjoy," she said, her voice light and teasing.

Hard to believe she actually enjoyed this, but damn, there was something about her that was infuriatingly endearing. All I wanted to do was pull her close, bury my face in her hair, hold her tight, and kiss her senseless—make her forget about everything else but me.

"Here, try this," she said, handing me another cup.

I took a sip, and this time? It was perfect. Smooth, just the right amount of sweetness, a little warmth that spread through me. "Now that's more like it," I muttered, meeting her gaze.

Her smile grew wider. Damn, she was good. Too good.

Was it really my fault that I fell so hard for her?

I found myself holding out a piece of chocolate, my hand trembling just slightly, as I watched her. I held it out with my hand waiting for her to take it. But she ate from my hand.

It was almost funny—she avoided the white chocolate ones without even thinking, instinctively turning her nose up at them. So, I’d feed her different flavors, things I thought she might like. When she liked it, she’d savor it, lips curling with that little smile, the one I couldn't get enough of. When she didn't? She’d chew through it quickly, swallowing it with barely a second thought. But I was getting better at reading her, learning what she liked, and what she didn’t. And God, she was sweeter than any chocolate.

I had plans. So many plans. I'd thought about how I would ask her out, every detail mapped out—the day, the time, the place. I imagined her smile when I asked, how she'd light up, how her laugh would ring in my ears. But before I could make it happen, my life came crashing down.

I was living in bliss, thinking everything was perfect, forgetting what I came for, why I was even here. The Syndicate—the reason I was tangled up in all of this—had been lurking in the background, and the moment I took my eyes off Y/n, they came sniffing around. Flirting with her. Keeping her occupied. Talking to her, making her smile. And in my anger and frustration,
I ruined everything.

I ruined her little coffee shop. Her dream.

I sucked for that. I knew it.

But now? Now I was paying for it, watching her with those pretty, tear-filled eyes. I hated it. Seeing her like this, because of me, because of what I let happen.

"Don't cry," I whispered, my voice cracking. I hated seeing her in pain.

"Don't cry, pup," I repeated, reaching closer, her face just inches from mine. I reached for a piece of dark chocolate—bitter and sweet, just like everything I was feeling—and handed it to her, hoping it would make her smile.

But my eyes were so heavy. I could barely keep them open. The weight of everything—the guilt, the frustration, the desire to make it right—was wearing me down. And before I could see that sweet little smile of hers, my eyes closed, the darkness pulling me under.

I couldn’t even see the one thing that kept me going—the beautiful girl who had stolen my heart without me even realizing it.

I couldn’t stop her from crying.

Not even in my dreams. What the hell kind of man was I?

"Sorry, pup," I muttered, the words feeling useless against the sound of her sobs.

"Schlatt?" Her voice cut through the haze, pulling me back.

I blinked, confused. I looked up—Y/n. She was crying again. Her eyes were red, swollen, her face wet with tears. The sight of her like that burned itself into my memory, a reminder of everything I fucked up. She was staring at me, her face a mixture of worry and fear, confusion written all over her. She didn’t know what the hell was going on, didn’t know how to make sense of it.

My side was on fire. Every breath felt like I was being stabbed with needles, the pain shooting through me. I couldn’t focus. There was something in my hand, something attached to me… I could barely make it out. IV fluid running through, but I wasn’t sure where I was.

It was a hospital.

"Schlatt!" She said it again, panic rising in her voice. Her hands were gripping me, and before I even knew what was happening, her face was pressed against my chest. My hand, almost on instinct, was in her hair, comforting her as much as I could with my shaky fingers.

God, I just wanted to make it stop. I wanted to fix it, to stop her pain.

But this? This felt like heaven.

Not because I was close to death, though I knew I wasn’t far from it. But because she was here. She was with me.

Her warmth, her touch—it was everything I didn’t deserve. I could feel her heart pounding against my chest, and it somehow anchored me. Even if I didn’t know how this mess was going to end, I knew one thing.

I wasn’t letting her go.

“Don’t cry, pup,” I whispered, even though it felt like I was the one who should be apologizing.

++++



"Stop crying!" I snapped—like she was nagging me over some stupid mess I left in the sink, not the fact that I nearly fucking died.

"You almost died, please stop," she begged, voice so damn soft it almost broke me.

I reached for a smoke, needing the distraction. Needed something to keep my hands busy, my brain from spiraling. But she was watching. Eyes red and wide, like I'd ripped the ground out from under her.

I lit the cigarette anyway. "I was shot, not losing a lung. Chill out," I muttered. Like that would somehow make it better.

The tears didn’t stop. I cursed under my breath. "Fine—FINE." I crushed the cigarette out against the tray like it had insulted me. Arms crossed, I slumped back in the hospital bed. Pathetic. I hadn’t even looked in the mirror yet, but I knew I looked like hell. I could feel it.

Y/n leaned against my chest. And I let her. Fuck, I needed her there more than I wanted to admit.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“I’m fine, Y/n.”

“You almost died.”

“Would’ve been my own fault.”

She gripped tighter at my shirt. Her head buried in my chest, like letting go meant I'd vanish for good. My hair was a mess. I felt like I’d been hit by a damn truck, and I was probably paler than usual. Weaker too. I hated it.

“You saved me from—”

I cut her off, my fingers under her chin, forcing her to look at me. “I put you in that mess, pup. If you’d died… it would’ve been on me.”

She whispered my name. Soft. Broken.

"I'm fine," I grumbled. Tried to redirect, make it feel less heavy than it was. "Don’t you have a coffee shop to run?"

She nodded, that sweet stubborn look still on her face. "Not now. It’s not fixed yet. So I have time to stay with you."

I looked away, pretending her answer didn’t hit me right in the damn chest.

“Oh,” I muttered, like it meant nothing.

God, I really hoped she didn’t figure out that I was just trying to keep her here. Keep her close. Even if it meant no smoking in peace. Hell, I’d give up the whole damn pack if she stayed.

++++
Another day. Same cold, sterile walls. The scent of antiseptic was clinging to the air like regret. I’d stopped noticing it. What I did notice was her—Y/n—walking in with that familiar, soft smile and a fresh bouquet of flowers that didn’t belong in a place like this.

Too bright. Too sweet. Just like her.

She placed them by the window without a word, then climbed into the bed beside me like it was the most natural thing in the world. Her head rested on my chest, and despite everything—despite what I’d done—she still curled into me like I was safe.

Like I hadn’t ruined her whole damn world.

The doctor droned on, something about my condition. I’d stopped listening after the words “very lucky.”

“You were incredibly fortunate—the bullet was lodged dangerously close to your heart,” the man said.

I scoffed. “Lucky’s not the word I’d use.”

He frowned. “Ideally, you’d stay for at least a month.”

“And the un recommended time?” I shot back, voice clipped, fingers instinctively curling through Y/n’s hair.

The doctor sighed—already defeated. “A week. But we strongly advise—”

I raised my hand to cut him off. “A week then. I’ve got shit to do. I don’t have the luxury of lying in bed until I scar over.”

He left after that, muttering something about stubborn idiots and miracles.

I glanced down at her. Still fast asleep. Soft breaths warming the side of my ribs. She had no idea how deep I’d gotten—how much I fucking adored her.

And that’s exactly why I had to go.

Before I fell harder. Before I made another mess she’d have to clean up. Before I dragged her down with me again.

It’d be the most unfair thing I’d ever do.

But walking away from her… that was the only mercy I had left.

I decided to spend the week healing.

The hospital room was bland—four washed-out walls that smelled like bleach and sickness. The sheets were too white, the window too small, and every beep of the machines felt like a countdown. But with Y/n in the room, it didn’t matter.

She was always near. Sitting beside me, her legs crossed delicately on the edge of the bed. Humming under her breath sometimes. Other times, just silently threading her fingers through mine when pain made my jaw clench too tight. She smelled like coffee and vanilla lotion, like warmth in a place made of cold linoleum and sterility. And every time she looked at me—eyes soft, lips curled in a half-smile like I hadn’t done a damn thing wrong—I felt something in my chest tighten.

Like she believed in me. Like I could start over.

She’d squeeze my hand gently when I winced, brushing her thumb across my knuckles with a touch so light it almost didn’t feel real. Her eyes would lift to meet mine, wide and full of quiet worry, but never pity. That alone almost ruined me.

God, I wanted to keep this— her. This slow, tender rhythm she brought into my life. She didn’t ask questions. Didn’t pressure me. Just made the hospital feel less like a cage and more like... a pause. A moment of peace. Her laugh was addictive, a small sunbeam in this cold-ass place. Her presence, as grounding as the bitter coffee she brewed just for me, even in a hospital kitchenette that had no right smelling like heaven.

But—

I didn’t deserve it. Didn’t deserve her.

And I knew that. No matter how much she smiled at me, I knew I was bad for her. My presence in her life meant danger—gunpowder and blood instead of lattes and soft pastels. She deserved a clean slate. Not a man dragging a body count and gang wars behind him.

So, the morning of my last day, I got dressed in silence.

The hospital gown was replaced with my old jacket and a button-up shirt that clung too tight against the gauze on my chest. Every motion burned. I gritted my teeth through it. No note. No goodbye. No proof I’d ever been there at all. That was my version of kindness.

She’d cry. I knew that.

She’d walk into the room with that cheerful voice—“Good morning, Schlatt”—and find only an empty bed.

But Phil would be there. Or Wilbur. Or Technoblade. One of those Syndicate bastards would pick her up, tuck her in their arms, whisper sweet reassurances. And if they didn’t—if they so much as made her cry—I’d find them.

Even from afar, even crawling, I’d ruin them.

I stepped into the hallway, one hand braced against my ribs, breath stuttering with the pain of it. The wound tugged sharply every time I moved. It felt like fire blooming in my side, but I kept walking.

Each footstep echoed in the dim hallway like a clock ticking down. I kept my head low, not wanting to see a nurse. Or worse— her.

I was a shadow in a place of light, and I needed to disappear before I snuffed hers out.

 The sun was just rising—its golden fingers stretching lazily across the pavement, too damn gentle for the kind of morning I was having. My side ached like hell, but it wasn’t the worst of it. My lungs burned. Not from pain—no, not that. From craving.

I fumbled in my coat for a cigarette and lit it with shaking fingers. The first inhale was bitter, hot, and familiar. Like regret. Like surrender. If I couldn’t have her, I might as well keep ruining what little of myself I had left. Ruin my lungs, ruin my life. That was the one thing I was good at.

The smoke curled up past my eyes as I stared at the horizon.

No gang. No crew. My empire—burned to ash in my hands.

No reputation either. Just some ex-boss limping out of a hospital, dragging a bullet hole and a broken heart. But hey—at least I was still rich, right? Filthy, goddamn rich.

It was quiet for a long moment, and I let the cigarette hang loose between my lips, tasting the end of things.

Then I heard it.

A voice. Loud. Angry. Cracked with something halfway between betrayal and heartbreak.

"SCHLATTTT!"

I froze. The name hit me like another bullet, right between the ribs—no Kevlar this time. My hand trembled just slightly, cigarette burning too close to my fingers now. I turned, slow. Like maybe if I didn’t look too fast, it wouldn’t be real.

But there she was.

Y/n.

Running. Still in her café apron, hair messy, eyes wild and shining like she hadn’t slept a wink. She was everything I wanted and everything I didn’t deserve—charging toward me like I hadn’t already tried to let her go.

My heart did something awful in my chest.

I dropped the smoke.

The sun kept rising.

But nothing burned brighter than the fury—and grief—on her face.

Chapter Text

The sun was beginning to rise above the horizon, casting streaks of honey gold and muted pink across the park. The kind of morning that felt too peaceful for the mess inside my chest.

And then—I saw him.

Schlatt.

Leaning against the railing like he belonged there. Like he hadn’t just clawed his way out of death’s grip. His back was to me, a cigarette half-burned on the ground beside him. He looked like he’d been standing there for hours. Same damn suit, still rumpled from the hospital bed. But it was his shoulders that gave him away—tense, low, tired in a way that went beyond the body. That kind of exhaustion lived in the soul.

He didn’t even look healed.

He looked like a man still bleeding, just trying to act like he wasn’t.

"Schlatt!" I yelled, rushing toward him, my heart in my throat. I grabbed his arm, pulling him from his thoughts. "Where the hell have you been? Why aren't you at the hospital? Why did you leave? Why—"

But before I could get another word out, he silenced me. He shoved a piece of chocolate into my mouth. I barely tasted it, my mind too consumed with panic and worry to focus on the sweetness.

"Hey, puppy," he said, calm as ever, as if everything was just fine.

I couldn’t help myself—I wrapped my arms around him, holding him close, as if I could keep him from slipping away from me. "I was worried," I muttered into his chest, my voice trembling.

Schlatt’s hand gently ruffled my hair, his touch soothing despite everything. "I'm okay," he reassured me, but his voice was distant.

“Why aren’t you in bed?” I asked, my hands curled tightly into the fabric of his jacket. The suit was wrinkled, warm from his body, and smelled faintly of smoke and antiseptic. I held on like it could keep him here, like I could anchor him to the sidewalk.

Schlatt didn’t look at me. His jaw tensed, and for a second, I thought he might lie. But then he sighed.

“I’m healed enough.”

The words hit like cold water to the chest. Sharp. Jarring. Drenched in something final.

“I have to go.”

Everything inside me stilled.

“Go?” My voice cracked. “Go where?”

He took a slow step back. Not a dramatic gesture—just one that made my stomach twist. His eyes stayed on the horizon, drinking in the morning sky like it offered answers I couldn’t give him.

“I don’t know.” He shrugged, tone too casual, too forced. “New town. Somewhere quiet. Somewhere no one knows me.” He gave a half-laugh that didn’t reach his eyes. “Might even open a real tattoo shop this time. No gang shit.”

My throat was dry. “Why?”

He started walking.

I followed, heart pounding, legs moving before I could even think. “Why?” I asked again, louder, sharper. The question slipped out like a plea.

He didn’t stop.

Not until he reached the edge of the lot—where sunlight spilled like gold over the pavement. Then, he glanced back over his shoulder.

His eyes met mine, and for a second, I saw it. The pain. The weight. The affection twisted up with guilt.

And then he stepped forward, pressed a kiss to my cheek.

Soft.

Warm.

Like goodbye.

“Because you don’t need me,” he said with that same damn half-smile that used to make me melt. “Never did”

He turned. The distance between us stretched wider with every step. Casually saying “See ya, Y/n.”

He waved, and I felt like the ground had just been ripped out from under me. He was leaving. Leaving without even giving me a chance to tell him everything. I hadn’t told him I loved him. I hadn’t even said the words.

"WAIT!" I shouted, my voice rising in desperation.

Schlatt stopped and turned around, the confusion on his face matching the confusion in my heart.

“You said—” I ran to him, the pavement sharp under my feet, my breath catching with the storm rising inside me. “You promised me. You promised you’d help me fix the coffee shop. That we’d make it better than before. You can’t just walk away now. Not after everything. Not like this.”

His features shifted. The hardness faded, just a little, and something more tired and tender slipped through. “Y/n…” he murmured, his voice barely a breath, the guilt swimming behind his eyes.

But I couldn’t let him go. Not when he still hadn’t heard me .

I grabbed his hand, my fingers trembling around his. "You won’t go back on your promise, will you?" I asked, my eyes pleading with him.

Schlatt threw his head back and laughed, a sound that was almost too bitter to be genuine. But then he took my hand in his, pressing his lips to my fingers in a soft kiss. "I did promise," he said, his voice low. "And I’m a man of my word."

My heart soared for a moment. He kissed my hand, said the words, and for a fleeting second, I thought maybe he meant to stay. But then I saw it—that faraway look in his eyes again. That twitch in his fingers like he was still thinking about running.

No. Not again.

"Then you have to stay until it’s done," I said, stepping closer, my voice sharper now, wrapped in sugar but carved in steel. I didn’t let go of his hand. "You made a promise, Schlatt. And when something’s broken… you’d fix it."

His eyes flicked to mine, guarded. So I pushed harder.

"I might need an extra employee," I continued, sweet as syrup, "so you’ll have to fill in. Until I find someone."
Not that I ever would.

There it was—the pause. The hesitation. His jaw tensed, eyes searching mine like he was trying to find a way out without actually wanting to escape. I didn’t let him speak.

"And if I have to make more work for you… I will." My voice dipped low, teasing, but full of challenge. "I’ll turn away every employee who walks through my door. I’ll burn every résumé. I’ll make damn sure you have no choice but to stay, Schlatt."

I smiled up at him, my eyes soft but daring him to test me.

"You promised me."

That did it.

Something in his posture broke. A long breath left his chest. His shoulders slumped a little like he’d just surrendered a war, one he wasn’t even sure why he started. His expression softened completely— fuck , he was folding. Melting under me like sugar in hot tea.

He reached up, brushing a thumb over my cheek like I was some fragile thing he could never say no to.

"You’re evil, you know that?" he muttered, more breath than sound. "You’ve got me wrapped around your little finger, Puppy."

I tilted my head, pretending innocence. "So you’ll stay?"

He sighed again. Nodded. “Yeah… I’ll stay.”

I could feel my heart pounding, a guilty kind of thrill dancing under my ribs. I wasn’t proud of the way I manipulated him but I couldn’t let him go. Not when I’d just gotten him back.

"You’ll work the register, too," I added, biting back a smile.

“Push your luck again,” he grumbled. “See what happens.”

But his voice lacked bite, and his eyes—when they met mine—were molten, warm, already unraveling. That soft flicker in his gaze told me everything I needed to know.

I took a risk.

My fingers slid up his chest, slow and deliberate, curling into the lapel of his jacket. I tilted my head, eyes wide with a mock-innocent pout. “I’m just getting started,” I whispered, close enough to feel the way his breath caught.

He didn’t move. Didn't even pretend to resist.

"I'm a man of my word," he finally said, voice gravel and heat, low and steady.

My heart stuttered.

"Then will you go out with me?" I asked—blurted, really—striking while the iron was hot. My words came out bold, stronger than I’d expected, but I didn’t waver.

Schlatt blinked. The laugh lines around his eyes faltered. “I’m not good for you, Y/n,” he said, voice softer, like it hurt to admit it. Like it was the one truth he still clung to.

I stepped closer, close enough that the front of my shirt brushed his suit. I didn’t let go of him. I pulled —just a little, tugging him down so he couldn’t avoid me.

“You are,” I said, steady and sure. “You don’t get to decide that for me. In fact—” I tapped his chest with a finger, eyes narrowing playfully, “this is your first job as my new employee.”

He tilted his head, eyebrows raised in mock offense.

“Oh? Is that so?”

“Mhm.” I gave him a wide, deliberate smile, the kind that always made him look away when he was flustered. “People flirt with me all the time at my shop,” I added with a little shrug. “It gets awkward. So please, be my boyfriend—just so I can start rejecting people politely.”

That got him.

Schlatt snorted, trying—and failing—to look unimpressed. “Is that all?” he asked, eyes narrowing with amused disbelief.

“No.” I slid my arms around his neck, letting my fingers curl against the back of his hair. “It’s also so I can kiss you anytime I want. Hug you for no reason. And maybe, just maybe… make you bring me coffee for once.”

He stared at me, completely caught. No comebacks, no jokes. Just him, looking down at me like I was the sun rising in his ruined world.

I closed the distance between us without another word, wrapping my arms around him, pressing my face into the soft fabric of his shirt. His scent hit me immediately—faint cologne and the lingering memory of smoke. It was stupid how safe it made me feel.

“Don’t say you’re not good enough anymore,” I whispered, my voice small and trembling. “Don’t leave me alone again. And just… just tell me I’m not the only one who feels this way.”

For a heartbeat, he was quiet. No clever remarks. No teasing grin. Just the thrum of his pulse beneath my cheek.

Then—slowly—his hand moved, lifting my chin with surprising gentleness. His thumb brushed my skin, rough from years of work, but his touch was delicate. Like I might break.

He didn’t say a word.

He just kissed me.

Softly. Hesitantly. Like he was asking for permission with his lips. I melted instantly, leaning into him, letting the rest of the world dissolve in the warmth of his embrace. The streetlights blurred around us. The early sun kissed our skin. And for that moment, it was just us—no Syndicate, no gang, no chaos.

But then something in him broke.

As if whatever dam he'd built up inside himself finally cracked.

His hands moved to my arms, gripping gently at first, then more firmly as he pulled me flush against him. The kiss deepened—hungrier now. Desperate. His mouth found mine again, rougher, his tongue brushing mine with a boldness that made my stomach flip. I gasped into the kiss, but didn’t pull away—only smiled against his lips as I kissed him back with equal urgency.

He groaned quietly, the sound low in his throat as if he was trying to hold back more than just words. His hands slipped up my back, one tangling in my hair, the other curling at my waist like he never wanted to let go.

I loved it. I loved him. And in that moment, I realized I wasn’t afraid anymore. Whatever happened, whatever came next—Schlatt was here, with me. And that was all I needed.

++++ 

Schlatt Pov

Y/n clutched my hand like a lifeline, her fingers curled tightly in mine as we stood side by side in her new little coffee shop—what she proudly called the “soft opening.” Personally? I called it a battlefield. My chest still ached like hell every time I breathed too deep, but watching her bite her lip and fidget with her apron made me forget about the pain altogether.

She was fucking adorable.

The place smelled like fresh espresso and nervous energy. Sunlight spilled through the windows, casting golden streaks across the counters and catching the soft glow in her hair. She’d put so much heart into this place, down to the chalkboard menu and mismatched mugs. It wasn’t flashy, but it was hers—and I couldn’t help but feel proud, even if I had to sit my ass down every ten minutes so I didn’t pass out.

That’s when she did it.

She squared her shoulders, sucked in a breath like she was diving off a cliff, and looked at the three men who had damn near adored her since I got out of the picture.

“Schlatt is my boyfriend now,” she said.

Her voice cracked a little at the end. She was blushing so hard I thought she might combust, shrinking into herself like a damn chipmunk. Brave little thing, announcing it like that.

But while she had nothing to be afraid of—those three would kill and die for her—it was me who should’ve been sweating. Technoblade looked at me like he was debating whether to gut me or let me bleed out slowly. Wilbur’s jaw tightened so hard I thought I heard his teeth crack, while Phil... Phil gave me that stare. The kind that didn’t blink. The kind that meant he was planning at least five ways to kill me if I so much as made her cry.

And yet, she held my hand. Like I was the safest thing in the room.

God, I was worried for her more than anything. Not because she wasn’t strong—she was—but because they had made her soft again. Let her feel safe, let her heal. And now she was handing her heart over to me .

And I knew exactly what it meant to be trusted like that.

I squeezed her hand back, gently, brushing my thumb along her knuckles. “That’s right,” I said, my voice steady. “I’m hers.”

The words echoed louder than I intended, and the silence that followed was deafening.

Wilbur looked away first. His lips parted like he wanted to argue—wanted to scream why not me?—but all that came out was a strained exhale. He leaned against the wall, jaw clenched, eyes fixed on the floor like if he looked at her again he’d break. “She could’ve picked anyone,” he muttered, voice rough. “And she picked you.”

Technoblade didn’t move. His arms were crossed so tightly over his chest it looked like he was trying to hold himself together. His crimson eyes narrowed, locked on mine like he was carving my name into a future gravestone. “Harm here, You die,” he said, low and brutal, “I make it hurt.”

“Deal.” I nodded, because anything else would be a lie.

Phil was the last to speak. He didn’t say it right away, though—just stared. His gaze wasn’t angry. It wasn’t even bitter. It was tired. Hollow in that way only someone who’s lost can be. And the way he looked at her—like she was sunlight he couldn’t touch anymore—made my chest ache for him.

Finally, he gave a slow nod. “Make her happy,” he said softly. “Or I don’t let you die fast.”

I almost smiled.

“Understood.” I met each of their gazes with a steady calm. “Wasn’t planning on fucking it up this time.”

She still held my hand. Tight, like she was anchoring herself to me. I looked down at her—at the blush in her cheeks, the flicker of nervous pride in her eyes, the smallest tremble in her breath—and realized she’d never looked more beautiful. That soft, dangerous hope on her face could’ve destroyed me. Hell, maybe it already had.

I’d gone to war for less.

And they knew it.

Because right then, all three of them saw what I did: she loved me.

And none of them—not Wilbur, not Technoblade, not even Phil—were the one standing beside her now. And it hurt them, but they seemed to want nothing more than to make Y/n happy. At least we had that in common.

Chapter Text

I couldn’t stop my heart from racing, though it wasn’t from excitement this time. Schlatt lay in my bed—his body still, bruised, and bandaged. Even now, wrapped in soft sheets and bathed in the pale morning light, he looked like he’d just walked out of a war. His jaw was clenched slightly in his sleep, one arm thrown loosely over the edge of the blanket, and despite how worn down he was… he still managed to take my breath away.

I sat on the edge of the bed, barely daring to touch him, my fingers brushing against the back of his hand like I was afraid he might disappear again. His skin was warm, rough in familiar ways, and when his eyes fluttered open, my breath hitched.

He looked at me—really looked—his eyes glazed with fatigue, but clear enough to recognize me.

“Schlatt,” I whispered, barely able to speak around the lump in my throat. “How are you feeling?”

He exhaled slowly, letting his head fall back against the pillow. A crooked smile tugged at his lips, tired and small but still him. “I’m fine, Pup. Just a little banged up. Nothing I can’t handle.”

I could tell he was lying. He winced as he shifted, and his voice was hoarse like he hadn’t used it in hours. But still, there he was—cracking jokes, trying to make me feel like everything was okay. Classic Schlatt.

My face flushed. He looked unfairly good like this—his dark hair a mess against the pillow, the cut above his brow barely hidden beneath a bandage, and that dumb little smirk still fighting its way through. How the hell was he still so sexy like this?

I pressed a hand to my mouth, half embarrassed by my own thoughts, half trying not to laugh. “We can wait if you like,” I said, my voice shy but teasing as I glanced at his chest. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Schlatt’s brows rose slightly as he turned his face toward me. 

I leaned in closer, resting my hand on his shoulder—light enough not to press into his wounds. “For the flirting,” I whispered. “For all the kisses I plan on stealing. For when I eventually crawl into bed next to you and demand cuddles.”

He gave a tired chuckle, his eyes drifting shut again. “Pup,” he murmured, his voice gravel and honey, “you say the word, and I’ll tear all these stitches just to hold you properly.”

“So you change your mind then?”

Schlatt laughed fuck he was hot. “You’ll be doing most of the work pup, but I’ll enjoy the show from here” I smiled nervously. “Go on, puppy, undress for me” he commanded. I moved to straddle his lap. Schlatt had his hands on my waist, kneading my sides. Nervous, but eager to please. I pulled up my dress for Schlatt, I caught the ex mafia. Eyeing me up, “too bad I’m healing pup, or I would undo you slowly, until you were begging for me”

I gulped. It has been a long time since I have done anything like this. Schlatt seemed to anticipating it, his hard cock pressed against my panties. It felt much larger and thicker than anything I’ve had inside me before. I squealed, only feeling it grow, my hand against his chest. “You scared, baby?” Schlatt asked, his voice low and rough, curling around me like smoke.

I shook my head, my voice barely above a breath. “No.”

A slow grin pulled at his lips. “Then be a good girl and kiss me.”

I didn’t hesitate.

Leaning in, I closed the distance between us, my heart pounding as I tilted my head and pressed my lips softly to his. His breath hitched against my mouth, and then his hand found my waist, pulling me down the rest of the way until I was fully against him—chest to chest, heartbeat to heartbeat.

The kiss deepened, heat blooming in my chest as his mouth moved with mine. Slow, savoring, like he’d been waiting for this—like he’d been starving for it. My fingers curled in the fabric of his shirt, and my toes curled too, the world narrowing down to the warmth of his body and the way he tasted like cinnamon and smoke.

Schlatt wrapped his arms around me, unhooking the bra and tossing it away. I felt a strand of embarrassment, but Schlatt grabbed my hands and kissed me under the neck. Sucking my throat even getting a moan from me. “Schlatt~”

He pulled away? And I wanted the attention of his lips.

“How about it? Want my lips against your chest?” He teased me. My hands together resting on his belly. I nodded, my arms together leaning close. Schlatt chuckled, pressing his mouth to my chest. His hot breath made me wet between my legs. I tilted my head side to side, unable to breathe. Enjoying the feeling. So new, making me feel loved. I tried to cover myself up, but Schlatt took my hands

“don’t be shy,” his hoarse voice in my ear. His hand pulled mine away so he could go back to playing with my nipples, his hand twisted and pulled at the sensitive tip. I moaned loudly. His touch was hot at each place he grabbed.

I began bouncing on Schlatt, unable to keep still, Schlatt grunted, frustrated as he pulled me off. Taking his boxers off for me to see his big thick cock. Schlatt smirked as I looked. “Like what you see pup?” He lied back down. “Take your time, puppy”

I wiggled my hips, desperate to feel even the tip inside of me. I lowered myself down. His head just hitting my cunt. I made an annoyed sound. Schlatt laughed, getting into a better position. His cock finally guided to my pussy. Sliding between my folds as I sat on him. Schlatt, bringing me back to a kiss.

I began sliding myself up and off of him. My hips moving slow. It was a heavenly fit, I savoured it for a moment. Schlatt careful and letting me move at my own pace. I slowly began to press on and off. My movement clumsy as I found a rhythm. My arms circled around Schlatt's neck. Picking up the pace and finally getting some groans from Schlatt. Sweat falling from his brow. A lazy grin as he watched the show, Schlatt hair more messy then. ever.

I loved this man so much.

“Close schlatt~” I begged and Schlatt placed a hand to my cheek. “Let go whenever you want pup”

“Schlatt! Want to, together”

“okay, pup, alright” he pulled me close. Helped me move my hips, pressing into me with his fat dick. My head against his neck, smelling him. Arching back. “Schlatt!”

“Y/n” I felt it, his cum running down my thighs. His hand on my back startled me. I was practically sobbing, from pleasure. Erotic moans slipping from my lips, as Schlatt, was still cumming.

I pulled him into another kiss, this one more urgent than the last. His breath caught, and I felt his hand tighten at my waist.

“Y/n—” he started, voice husky and strained.

I didn’t answer. Instead, I kissed him again. And again. Soft, then firmer. Like my lips could say everything I didn’t have words for. I wanted him to feel it—how much he meant to me, how badly I wanted him here, now, always.

“Hey... Y/n... oh fuck, babe,” he groaned against my mouth, his restraint slipping with every kiss.

I pulled back just far enough to whisper the words that had been sitting heavy on my heart. “I love you.”

His eyes softened instantly. All the sharp edges in him seemed to melt, and his hand came up to cup my cheek with surprising gentleness.

“Love you too, Puppy,” he said, his voice quieter now—honest, unguarded, and full of something rare. Something real.

+++

The soft hum of the tattoo gun filled the air, mixing with the low crackle of the record player in the corner. Some old jazz song played, slow and dreamy, the kind that made you want to dance in the dark with someone you loved. The small studio was dimly lit, the low light making Schlatt’s sharp features stand out even more as he concentrated.

"Hold still, Pup," Schlatt murmured, his hand steady on my wrist. His breath was warm against my skin, and his dark eyes flicked up to mine beneath his messy hair. He smiled—soft, genuine, the kind of smile he didn’t give to anyone else. "You're doing so good for me."

I bit my lip, trying not to blush. "It’s not that bad."

"Yeah?" His eyes narrowed playfully as the needle pressed against my skin. "Then why are you squeezing my hand so hard?"

I realized my other hand was wrapped around his wrist, knuckles white from how hard I was gripping him. I started to let go, but Schlatt chuckled. "Nah, it’s fine. Hold on as tight as you need to, Pup."

My heart swelled at that, and I smiled even though my wrist was burning. Schlatt’s hand was so steady it was almost hypnotizing. His touch was gentle, his fingers brushing against my skin in a way that made my heart race.

"Almost done," he whispered, his voice low and rough. "You’re being so brave for me. My perfect little pup."

"Schlatt," I breathed. My chest was so full it hurt.

Schlatt smiled. "Just a little longer."

The needle buzzed for another minute before he finally pulled back, wiping down my skin with a cool cloth. "Okay," he said, voice soft. "Want to see?"

I sat up, heart racing as I looked down at my wrist.

A small ram’s head sat just above the thin bone of my wrist—delicate and simple, its curved horns forming a heart shape. It was subtle, but undeniably his. A quiet claim. A promise.

"Schlatt…" I whispered. My fingers brushed over the fresh ink, the skin still tender beneath my touch.

"Looks good on you," Schlatt said, his voice low and full of something heavy. His hand brushed through my hair as he knelt in front of me. "Just like you were always meant to wear me."

I smiled, my heart pounding. "Wait…" My eyes dropped to his arm, to the edge of his sleeve. "Did you…?"

Schlatt sighed and pulled his sleeve up.

There, on his wrist, was a small tattoo of a puppy. Simple lines, but detailed enough that it looked just like me—soft and loyal.

My breath caught. "Schlatt…"

"Yeah?" he said, voice soft.

"You… got that for me?"

He smiled, almost shy. "Yeah. Guess it’s only fair you mark me up too, huh?"

I didn’t even think—I just kissed him.

Schlatt’s hands slid into my hair, pulling me closer as his lips parted against mine. It was gentle at first, but then his hand slid down my back, pulling me flush against him, and the kiss turned deeper. More desperate. My hands curled around his jacket, and he groaned softly against my mouth.

When we finally pulled apart, my chest was heaving, my heart racing so fast it was painful.

"Schlatt," I whispered. "I love you."

Schlatt’s dark eyes softened, and he smiled—that small, rare smile that made me feel like I was the only person in the world.

"I love you too, Pup," he said, his forehead resting against mine. "Always."

He kissed me again, slow and sweet, and I smiled against his mouth because I knew—this time, he wasn’t leaving. He was staying. Just like he promised.

Chapter Text

So, in the scene before you, it’s right as Schlatt is leaving the hospital—still injured, mind you!—and Y/n is running to go find Schlatt before he’s gone forever. In this scene, she runs into Phil, Wilbur, and Technoblade, all ready to confess their love. But in the end, they know she’s in love with Schlatt.

"Stop crying!" Schlatt snapped, though there was a weariness in his voice that suggested he knew I wasn’t going to let it go.

"You almost died! Please stop being so calm about it," I begged, the words spilling out in a rush. I hated seeing him like this.

He lit another cigarette, the smoke swirling around him. I could tell he was trying to hide the pain, trying to act like it didn’t affect him, but I knew better.

"I was shot, Y/n. I'm not losing a lung," he said nonchalantly, but I could hear the strain in his voice.

Tears fell from my eyes, and Schlatt cursed under his breath. "Fine. Fine!" He shoved the cigarette away, crossing his arms on the hospital bed in frustration. He still didn’t seem to understand how close I had been to losing him.

I leaned against his chest, my head resting there as I tried to steady my breathing. "Thank you," I whispered, feeling a wave of gratitude despite the chaos.

"I'm fine, Y/n," he muttered, almost as if to reassure himself.

"You almost died," I said again, needing him to understand just how real it had been.

"Would have been my own fault," he replied, his voice quiet but firm.

My hands tightened on his chest, clinging to him like he was the only thing holding me together. His hair was a mess, his eyes less intense but still carrying that familiar edge. He looked weaker than I had ever seen him, and it scared me more than I wanted to admit.

"You saved me from all of this... from them," I said, my voice trembling with emotion.

Schlatt’s hand moved to gently grab my chin, lifting my face so I was forced to look at him. "I put you in that mess, Pup. If you died, it would’ve been on me."

I swallowed hard, fighting the lump in my throat. "Schlatt—"

"I'm fine," he interrupted me, his tone soft but final. "Don’t you have a coffee shop to run?" he asked, like it was no big deal, like he wasn’t the one lying here, injured and close to death.

I nodded, but I wasn’t leaving. "Not now. It’s not fixed yet. So I have time to stay with you."

He was quiet for a moment, his eyes flickering with something unreadable. It almost made me wonder if he wanted me to leave, to let him have some space so he could smoke in secret. But I wasn’t going anywhere. Not now. Not ever.

I stayed, because I wasn’t about to let him face this alone.

Another day. The hospital walls still felt the same, cold and sterile, as I walked in with a fresh bouquet of flowers in my hands. The smell of antiseptic mingled with the faint scent of the flowers, but I barely noticed it. My thoughts were consumed by Schlatt—by what we had been through, by how close we had come to losing everything.

Phil was waiting for me by the door, his arms crossed as he leaned against the wall. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes softened when they landed on me. I approached him, a soft smile tugging at my lips despite the storm of emotions brewing inside me.

"Thank you again, Phil," I said quietly, offering him the flowers. "For your help. Schlatt might not have..." I trailed off, the words hard to say aloud. Schlatt’s near-death experience had shaken me in ways I couldn’t explain, but I didn’t want to revisit those dark moments.

Phil placed a finger to my lips, cutting me off before I could finish. His touch was gentle, but there was a firmness in his eyes that made me pause.

"I didn’t do it for him, Y/n," he said, his voice quiet but heavy with meaning. "He kidnapped you. Put you in danger and—"

I stared at him, a weight settling in my chest. There was a sharpness in his tone, something that felt like hurt and anger intertwined. He had a point, and part of me knew it was true. Schlatt had put me in that mess, had dragged me into his world of danger and chaos.

Phil sighed, rubbing a hand over his face as if he were trying to release some of his frustration. But then, his eyes met mine, and what he said next caught me off guard.

"I love you," he confessed, his voice raw with emotion. "I love you, and I hate him for putting you through all of this."

My heart skipped a beat, and I felt the air in my lungs freeze for a moment. I opened my mouth to say something, anything, but no words came out.

Phil took my hand gently, as if holding onto me was the only thing that kept him grounded. His fingers were warm, but his grip trembled slightly, betraying the vulnerability he was trying to hide.

"Thank you, Phil," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "But I can’t—"

Phil nodded slowly, his face falling into a mask of acceptance. "I had a feeling," he said, his tone low. He pulled his hand away from mine, though his gaze lingered on me for a moment longer. "But I do have to thank you, Y/n."

I blinked at him, confused. "For what?"

Phil smiled softly, but there was a sadness behind it. "I’ve adopted Cheyanne," he said, his voice lighter now. "We’ll drop by once your coffee shop is all repaired."

My chest tightened, and I felt a surge of emotion I couldn’t quite place. "Thank you, Phil," I managed to say, my voice shaking slightly.

Phil’s smile faltered, and he looked away for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts. When he spoke again, there was a hint of humor, but it couldn’t mask the hurt in his eyes.

"Don’t thank me yet, Y/n," he said with a forced laugh. "If you want my help on Saturdays, you might have to start paying me."

I managed a sad smile, my heart heavy with the weight of the moment. "I understand," I said quietly.

And with that, Phil turned and walked away, his figure disappearing down the hallway. I stood there for a long moment, my heart torn in two, unable to shake the feeling that I had just lost something important. Something that had never quite been mine to begin with.

The hospital corridors felt colder today. The sterile smell of antiseptic and the hum of fluorescent lights did nothing to ease the pit in my stomach. I had come here countless times before, but today it felt different—heavier. Schlatt’s room was just up ahead, and I knew I should feel relieved. He was alive. But something about the air felt too thick, like something was going to break at any moment.

I stood outside his door for a moment, my hand resting on the cool metal of the doorknob, gathering the strength to walk in. I was desperate to see him, but at the same time, I knew something wasn’t right. His near-death experience had shaken me more than I cared to admit, and now, everything felt different.

"Y/n?" A voice called out, pulling me from my thoughts. I turned to see Wilbur standing a few feet away, his hands shoved deep in his pockets, but his eyes were fixed on me with a strange intensity.

"Hey, Y/n!" he said, a forced cheerfulness in his voice, though I could see the cracks beneath it.

"Um, hello," I said, my voice softer than I intended. I wasn’t sure what to say. The tension between us felt thick, suffocating. There were so many unspoken words, things I couldn’t bring myself to voice.

Wilbur’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, but he pushed forward, stepping closer. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you,” he said, his voice low and hesitant, like he wasn’t sure how to start. His words hung in the air, thick with something unspoken.

I felt my heart pound in my chest. I knew what was coming. I had known from the moment he walked in, but I couldn’t stop myself from listening, even though I didn’t want to.

“I… I love you, Y/n.” Wilbur’s confession hit me like a punch to the gut. His words, heavy and raw, felt like they were suffocating me. I could see the pain in his eyes, the vulnerability he was laying bare in front of me. He took a step closer, his gaze never leaving mine. "I’ve loved you for a long time now. And I thought maybe... maybe you felt the same."

I opened my mouth, but no words came out at first. The truth was, I did care about Wilbur. He had been there for me when I needed someone. But what he wanted from me... I couldn’t give him. Not now. Not after everything that had happened.

“I’m sorry, Wilbur,” I said quietly, my voice trembling. “I don’t feel the same way.”

The words felt like they sliced through me, sharp and jagged. I could see the hurt flash across his face, but he quickly masked it with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Right,” he said, nodding slowly. “I get it. It’s him, isn’t it? Schlatt.” His tone was bitter now, but there was still an edge of sadness beneath it. “I knew, I just—" He stopped himself, as if not wanting to finish that thought.

Before I could respond, Wilbur stepped back, his eyes drifting to the floor as the smile faded from his face entirely. The hurt was palpable now, hanging in the air between us like a weight neither of us could escape.

I opened the door to Schlatt’s room and stepped inside. The emptiness hit me like a cold wave. Schlatt wasn’t there. My heart skipped a beat. My breath caught in my throat. The bed was empty. The room was eerily silent.

“Schlatt?” I called, my voice cracking, but the only response was the faint echo of my own voice bouncing off the sterile walls.

Panic surged through me. My heart hammered in my chest as I turned and ran out of the room, ignoring the way my legs burned with every step. I had to find him. He couldn’t just disappear. He couldn’t.

“Schlatt!” I shouted, my voice breaking.

I rounded the corner and there was Wilbur, standing just a few steps away from me, his expression unreadable. But then I saw the look in his eyes—the mixture of sadness and something darker—and I knew.

“Y/n…” he said softly, his voice tinged with regret. His smile was gone now, replaced by tears that welled up in his eyes. “He’s gone.”

My breath caught in my throat. “For how long?!” I yelled, my chest tightening.

Wilbur shrugged, the tears falling freely now. “Who knows.” His voice was quiet, but there was a strange finality to it. "Love hurts, doesn’t it?"

The words felt like they crushed me from the inside out. My chest ached, and I could barely catch my breath. I had to find him. I had to make sure he was okay.

I turned and ran down the hall, desperate to find Schlatt. I couldn’t lose him. Not after everything.

Wilbur’s voice echoed behind me, soft and remorseful. “Sorry for being vindictive,” he said, almost to himself. “But I can’t say I’m not hurt. You love him more than me.”

And with those words, everything felt like it shattered in an instant. The tears I had been holding back fell freely now. My chest ached, and I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t know what to feel anymore. All I knew was that I had to find Schlatt.

Even though Wilbur was right. I loved him more than I had ever loved anyone else. And the weight of that love, the weight of everything that had happened, was slowly crushing me from the inside out.

My heart was racing as I searched every corner of the hospital, my hands shaking. Where was he? Where could he have gone? I hadn’t even noticed he was gone until I came into the room and found it empty. A cold sweat broke out across my brow as I hurried down the hall, my mind a blur. What was I supposed to do?

Where is Schlatt?

I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. I needed to find him. The hospital seemed to stretch on endlessly, and I kept imagining him slipping away from me with every step I took. I couldn’t lose him, not after everything we’d been through. The guilt gnawed at my insides, and all I could see were his eyes—those sad, heavy eyes. He was hurt, physically, mentally, and emotionally. And it was because of me. I needed to tell him everything. I needed to apologize, to explain, to make it right.

"Y/n!" a voice interrupted my frantic thoughts.

I turned, my chest tightening even more when I saw Technoblade standing in front of me. His expression was calm, but his eyes were filled with an unspoken weight, like there was something he wanted to say, something he couldn’t hold back any longer.

"Technoblade..." My voice cracked. "Where’s Schlatt? Have you seen him? Please, tell me he’s okay." My hands trembled as I grabbed his sleeve desperately. I needed to know where he was, needed to find him.

Technoblade’s gaze softened, and for a moment, I saw a flicker of something in his eyes—something I didn’t want to acknowledge. But then he straightened himself, his usual calm demeanor masking whatever emotion was hiding behind his stoic expression. "I have something I need to say to you," he said quietly, his voice carrying a heaviness I couldn’t quite place.

I shook my head, urgency rising in my chest. "Can it wait? Please, I have to find Schlatt. He left the hospital, and there’s so much I need to tell him." The words rushed out of me, almost too fast, but I couldn’t stop them. I couldn’t stop the panic threatening to suffocate me. I love him. I have to make this right.

Technoblade shifted on his feet, a faint awkward smile pulling at the corner of his lips, though it didn’t reach his eyes. His expression faltered for a split second. "Y/n, I— I just have to tell you something, and then I’ll let you go." He paused, his eyes downcast for a moment before lifting them to meet mine. “Technoblade please” i held his hand. “I love him!”

Then I saw that look, the same one Phil and Wilbur gave me… The heartbreak

“The…”

“...”

"The… park. He’s headed that way."

My heart skipped a beat at his words, and I didn’t even process the rest of what he said. "The park?" I repeated, already backing away from him. "Thank you, Tech. I’m sorry, but I have to go. I have to find him."

Technoblade didn’t stop me. He just stood there, watching me with that same sad smile, but his eyes—those eyes—spoke more than words ever could. "It’s fine. I understand," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "You love him"

I barely heard him, my mind already fixed on the only thing that mattered: finding Schlatt. The words Technoblade had said barely registered. I have to find him.

"Thank you," I muttered, turning quickly, not giving myself a chance to say anything else, or even apologize. I ran.

My feet slapped against the floor, echoing in the empty hallway as I pushed past the doors and outside, the cool air biting at my skin. The park was close—too close for comfort—and I felt my heart beat faster with every step I took, knowing that it was all coming to a head.

I didn’t know what I would say when I found him. I didn’t know what I would do. But I couldn’t leave things like this. Not with Schlatt. Not with Technoblade.

Not when everything was falling apart.

I ran toward the park, hoping I wasn’t too late.

Now, for this part—I was originally going to make it so Y/n was just a friends-with-benefits situation with the Syndicate members early on in the series. Like, they were seriously 100% dating her, but they never actively said it. So, in this plotline, Y/n was just dumber. She couldn’t even imagine why anyone would want to date her. You’ll read it below.
P.S. There’s smut in this part. (Oh no.)


+++

Wilbur is safe 

“I want you” Wilbur said kissing me. “I want to make you feel good~” Wilbur said, kissing my throat. As he held me around the waist. I was in conflict. Wilbur was gentle with me, but it was clear he wanted more than a simple kiss. 

“We don’t have to do this” Wilbur said, smiling, “we can keep kissing” Wilbur said but I could feel his hard thought his clothes. And I figured this might just be a one time thing, sex between friends… I pulled Wilbur back down, placing his hands on my sides, Wilbur quickly got the hint. As he grabbed my bare skin under my shirt, tits, and finally, he pulled my shirt off,

“Keep going Wilbur” I encouraged him. Wilbur pressed me against the deck, so my hands were against the counter. As he shamelessly rubbed his erection against my ass. I pulled my pants down, and Wilbur moaned. Grinding his cock against me, while his hand were on my chest, squeezing, pulling my nipples, and humping against me animalistic, it felt good. 

“Be good Wilbur, take your pants off you want I fuck me right?” I asked and Wilbur silently did as I commanded. Pulling off his pants and shirt before showing off all his skin, I pulled him back into a kiss. Skin on skin, heat between us. I sat against the desk wrapping my legs around him. 

He dipped his head down and began sucking my tits his fingers teasing my cunt. Before he placed a finger inside. It was my first time. “Please be gentle” I asked. As Wilbur nodded. “Am I your first?” I nodded. “I’ll make this good for you” he promised. Letting a finger slide past the folds. It felt weird and good. The burn was almost pleasant. I moaned loudly, as Wilbur began placing in a second finger scissoring my virgin hole. 

“I still want you to be tight babe” Wilbur took out a condom, placing it over his dick. “Fuck this is gonna be so good, he grinned. “Wilbur, want you now.” “I’m coming hon” Wilbur promised, before lining up his dick to my pussy. I licked my lips at Wilbur’s cock, wondering what it would feel like buried inside of me. I had no comparison but with how long it was, I knew I would feel it for days.

Wilbur place the tip inside. “Feels good wil, please, so good”

-Wilbur had a heavy praise kink in this one
-Like a dog he kept coming back to be fed. 
-She goes on a not date with Phil and it ends in the same results.
-Phil has a hmmm, well daddy kink

Somehow the interaction, lead with Phil leading me to the bed, I was wide eyed wondering if I was really going to allow Phil to fuck me. Phil was all smiles about it too. As he lead me to the bedroom. 

Now here, Phil even seemed hesitant like he didn’t want to force me to sleep with him. I stood in front of the not so much older man. Phil was gorgeous, his blonde hair like silk, muscled and a tone chest. Phil was nothing to shrink at. I wasn’t exactly in a relationship, just friends with benefits at most. I told myself, so if Phil did want to join in, who was I stop him?

I blushed, tilting my head away. Slowly peeling my clothes away, “I’m your for the night, if you like” I said. And Phil immediately acted as I was just taking my dress off, giving him a show of my underwear. Phil, grabbed me and pushed me to the bed. 

“Aren’t you pretty? Y/n,” Phil, placed a hand on my side “just a pretty mommy in the making, what do you say you let me breed you” I mewed as Phil, laid a hand on my cheek, pointing me to him. Phil was grinning, while I was freaking out he was going to take me raw. 

“I’m not ready-“ Phil leaned down and kissed me hot and heavy, “you’re ready, dear” he told me firm. “It’s not going to stop me if you try and resist. So don’t try” he laughed. I blinked up unsure. Phil was holding me gently, rubbing my thighs. Seeming to mean the opposite of what he was saying.

“You have a color dear?” Phil asked me sweetly. Oh he was playing… “green” I said and Phil kissed me on the forehead before he continued. 

“You slutty little pussy needs someone to cum inside. Maybe it can finally keep you in one place. I’ll give you a baby, keep these legs apart dear” he pulled my legs apart, and rubbed in between my legs. Before placing my legs over his shoulders he was a stench. Phil kissed all over my chest. His arms around me as he pulled off the bra and tossed it. 

Phil pulled off his clothes, his shirt showing off the muscles. Then he pulled off his pants, and boxers. All while ensuring I kept my legs nice and spread for him. Phil's long, thick cock was huge. Maybe even bigger than Wilbur’s and Technoblade’s. I hiccupped, as Phil noticed me looking. “I’m gonna make a mommy out of you but first I’m gonna turn you into a Cumdump.”

Phil, was back between my legs, manhandling my legs further apart. “This is called a mating press, I’m going to ensure you’re pregnant by the end of this night” Phil licked my pussy. Before placing in a finger, I was still stretched out from the few night before. Wilbur fucking me before a show. Ending it with laughter and fun. 

Phil licked my wet hole and moaned in pleasure. He pumps his tounge in and out. Expertly, the man clearly had experience. Sucking against my thighs leaving a mark as evidence. My legs strained as Phil left me in a mating press. “Fuck me Phil, please Phil” I begged and Phil obliged sitting back up. And smirking. “Oh so you want me to breed you, sweetheart. All ready to be a mommy, for daddy” he asked. 

“Yes, daddy. Please, make me a Cumdump. Want your hot cum inside me. Want to have your baby” and this seemed to drive Phil to the edge. As he guided his cock to my pussy. “I was going to prep you more, but I don’t want to leave my dear in pain.”

Phil easily, slide his dick through the folds. The tip easily slipping in. I gasped, as Phil teased me. Pumping me slowing. Tired of the slow pace. I pulled down Phil. “Kiss me, and fuck me daddy” I said in a begging tone. Phil seemed to melt for. As he finally sinks he fat cock inside of me. I moaned. My back arched. “Make me a mommy Phil”

My eyes half lidded as Phil, fucks me rough like I begged for, I could feels him all the way to my Cervix. I could feel the way Phil’s cock grew. Plugging me up, and would have had me on my knees if it were for Phil, holding my legs apart. And thrusting me for all it’s worth. Only adjusting the position so he could fuck me even deeper. I closed my eyes. “Fuck me daddy, oh daddy fuck me” I begged, for Phil, who looked as if the wind had been knocked out of him. I had my mouth open as he picked up the pace, noises slipping out of me as I began panting. “Daddy, daddy, oh please” Phil, squeezed me close, groaning into my ear. Seed spilling, and my eyes widened oh fuck he forgot a condom. 

Phil was panting, above me. I breathed out a sigh, I would have to find some plan b and soon-

Phil got up, he dug into his pants finding something he was looking for. Plan b. He handed it over to me, smiling. “I figured we might need this” “oh? Thank you” I took the pills. Phil still naked and sitting beside me. And when the older did, pull me into a kiss, I let him fuck me 2 more times before he called it quits. Each time without a condom. Breeding me as if he could get me pregnant. 

I held onto Phil, kissing him. Phil kissed me back. Already half dressed. As I sat against his lap, trying to delay it. “We should do this again soon” Phil said, as he finished dressing. I pressed my hands to his chest, “yeah”

I whispered, Phil, kissed my cheek before leaving. 

-Schlatt find out she has been opening her legs to anyone who asks
-Schlatt is pissed saying he should pump her with kids now so she can find out just how nice her boy toys are by giving her and kid and making her off limits.
-(I don't know if he meant it or not? Here is where I began to go in a complete different direction. And ended up scrapping the whole thing. it all just didn't match the Y/n I had already written. She wasn't that dumb I guess... Either way I change the story a bunch from the beginning

This is the last one I could find—where I was writing more for after Y/n and Schlatt officially end up together. And Schlatt notices that the Syndicate members are still just as infatuated with Y/n as they were before. So he decides… why not? He gives each of them the okay to be with Y/n too, for a kind of poly thing.
Y/n with all four of the men.

+++++

I watched as Technoblade went all gaga over Y/n. I swear, these Syndicate members were never going to back off. Not that I blamed them—Y/n was just so fucking sweet, and she shouldn’t be, not after all the bitter coffee she drank.

She gave me a kiss. “Be right back, can you watch the register?”

I shrugged. “Sure,” I said as I let her go. Technoblade didn’t even have to try to glare at me. I rolled my eyes and went to take a seat.

“What do you want? You know I can still send you a bill for your wound,” he threatened me like I needed his money. But Y/n was so grateful to Technoblade—he’d paid without even blinking. And the bastard still brought gifts for her, like a cat dropping off a mouse.

I tapped my hand on the table, deep in thought, before the words came out.

“You can date Y/n if you like.”

Technoblade looked almost excited. “You’re breaking up?”

“Fuck you. I’m not so unconfident as to think you could possibly steal my Y/n away. So if you want to date her as well…”

Technoblade went quiet, deep in thought, before finally saying, “Y/n?”

“I haven’t told her yet. Figured I’d check if you were game first,” I said, and Technoblade nodded.

“Okay.”

“Y/n, come here!” I called out, and she came over to me.

“Yes?” she asked, tilting her head like a puppy—almost wagging her tail.

“Technoblade has a question for you. I already said it was fine, so you can approve or not.”

“Um, alright?” she said, unsure, as I left her to sit with him—moving aside so they could have a moment.

I watched as she listened, Technoblade blushing as he spoke. Then she went as red as a light, and in an instant, she ran. She ran ! Straight to me, her words stuttering.

“Techno—Tech—he—he just—”

“I know, babe. Puppy, go answer him—”

“You’re not mad?”

“No. Now go tell the fucker, yes, I would like you to enter a threesome, or no, fuck off. And let him know I’m not letting him peg me,” I said, the last part as a joke.

Y/n, still unsure and confused, went back to Technoblade. She blushed before going up to him, her hands behind her back—being even more cute than usual—as she nodded her head.

Technoblade took the girl into his arms and kissed her. It should’ve made me jealous, but honestly? Y/n deserved more love than just me. And frankly, Technoblade wasn’t bad.

+++++

--More would have be writing about rules, boundaries and more. It was going to be healthy! I swear!

“Hello~ dear,” Phil called out, rather too sweetly—his voice ringing out louder than the chime.

Cheyanne came barreling in behind him. I swear the kid was a little twisted—rough and uncontrollable—as he rushed in to hug Y/n.

“Mum!” he yelled.

Brat. Always had Y/n melting like Phil had trained him or some shit. Y/n finished hugging the child as Phil was busy flirting hard with her right in front of me.

“It’s been so hard raising him,” Phil said dramatically. “You’d be the perfect mum.”

Even Cheyanne was tired of it as he walked over to sit next to me.

“What’s up, kid?” I asked.

He glared at me. “Nothing much. If you’d just break up with Mum, my dad could marry her.”

Little rascal. I pulled him close and gave him a noogie as he yelped playfully. It was just how we bantered. He pouted by the end of it.

“Y/n might become your mom—” I said carefully.

“I was just joking, unc.”

“I know. But if Y/n became your part-time mum?”

“It would be the best!”

“Let me speak with your dad.”

He grinned and went over to Y/n.

Phil: “You didn’t give Cheyanne more candy, did you? I swear, I can’t handle him without you butting in,” Phil said with a bored expression, though it was obvious he had one eye on me and the other on his son—even from this position.

-Schlatt would then Offer Phil the same deal.
-Oh and Phil adopting Cheyanne is canon. He took that kid in.
-And afterwards they would talk to Wilbur as well.
-And Wilbur would be the one who pushed on the boundaries set in place.
-But I didn’t want to keep writing this story line and I didn’t know how I would keep it healthy? And schlatt doesn’t even seem like the type of person (At least how I wrote him) To be chill with sharing?
-so it got scrapped.

Whelp, I'm sure there is more but I deleted it