#'I too was hurt by the Deadly Gang'

[skaruresonic]

Twitter: "these people are mentally ill and dangerous. they'll excommunicate you if you don't exactly parrot their views"

my friends: actually some of the most caring and chill people I've ever met, who are extremely hard on themselves and passionate about their work and who have largely withdrawn from Sonic in order to move on from the drama

maybe I'm biased but

[edenesth]

By Order of the Black Pirates

An 'Ice On My Teeth' Comeback Special Series

"N-No, please! Spare me! I was wrong! I swear I'll never do it again!" The man's voice cracked as he grovelled on the damp ground, tears carving paths through the grime on his face. His trembling hands offered up the tiny diamond he'd been foolish enough to steal—his last-ditch effort to appease the eight figures towering over him like shadows of death.

He'd heard the whispers, the warnings: Never cross the Black Pirates. Never touch what belongs to them. Never even think of betrayal. Yet greed had blinded him. Now, staring into their cold, merciless eyes, he knew his regret was far too late.

The leader of the gang stepped forward, a smirk tugging at his lips as he tilted his head, studying the pitiful man like a cat sizing up a doomed mouse. "Didn't I ask you to screen these rats better?" he drawled, casting a sideways glance at the eldest among them before shifting his focus back to their prey. "No time to waste. Finish him."

A low chuckle echoed through the tension-filled night as the gang's usual executioner, a broad-shouldered figure clad in his signature fur coat, stepped forward, his grin as sharp as the blade in his hand.

"Sorry, buddy," he mused, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. "This will be the night you take your final breath—by order of the Black fuckin' Pirates."

ـــــــــــــــﮩ٨ـ

Watching the harrowing scene from a distance stood a figure with crossed arms, his voice low as he muttered to his right-hand, "Every man has a weakness. Find the Black Pirates', and we'll knock them off their high horses."

"And if they have none, sir?"

The figure's lips curled into a dark smile. "Then we'll make sure they do."

Pairing(s): gang members!ateez x fem!reader

AU: gang au

Summary: One by one, the Black Pirates uncover their greatest weakness. But when the cracks begin to show, will they stand firm or let their vulnerabilities bring their empire to its knees?

Genre: angst, hurt/comfort

Trigger Warnings: violence, torture, abuse, blood, murder, language, contains dark themes in general

A/N: Credits to the wonderful @sundaybossanova for giving me the idea of something Peaky Blinders inspired. Thank you so much and ily💖

**Dearest readers, please note that all chapters are interconnected. You're advised to read them in order.

ATEEZ MASTERLIST

Hongjoong

‣ The Captain

The Captain of the Black Pirates—respected, feared, and unmatched in strategy—lives by his sharp mind and unshakable resolve. But his carefully constructed world begins to crumble when a grave mistake leads him to torture an innocent suspect nearly to death. Haunted by guilt, his quest for redemption takes an unexpected turn, awakening a part of him he never thought existed: a desire to protect and care for someone.

Seonghwa

‣ The Gentleman

The Black Pirates' poised diplomat, celebrated for his refined demeanour, sharp wit, and unmatched negotiation skills, is always in control. But his composure falters when he encounters an unwilling captive trapped in the Red Room—a ruthless training ground for spies. Driven by an unexpected urge to save her, he finds his carefully maintained boundaries beginning to unravel.

Yunho

‣ The Enforcer [Coming soon]

The towering enforcer of the Black Pirates, both disarming and deadly—his easy charm capable of winning over enemies, while his legendary fury dominates the battlefield. But his unbreakable facade begins to crack when he meets a psychologist during a mission—someone who can see through his carefully crafted mask, just as he can see through hers. Beneath her confident exterior lies a frightened soul lost in a dark world, and for the first time, he finds himself compelled to protect someone in a way he never expected.

Yeosang

‣ The Phantom [Coming soon]

Mysterious and elusive, the Black Pirates' intelligence expert is known for his sharp instincts and unparalleled skill in espionage and reconnaissance. But when he crosses paths with a woman who surpasses him in both skill and wit for the first time, his confidence begins to waver. As she outsmarts him at every turn, he finds himself unexpectedly drawn to her, eagerly anticipating each challenge—because the thrill of being near her is something he never expected to crave.

San

‣ The Tempest [Coming soon]

The Black Pirates' most unpredictable force is a whirlwind of fiery passion and unbridled energy—always the first to leap into action when chaos erupts. But his world tilts when he stumbles upon a woman who, unlike his victims who always begged to live, is on the brink of ending her own life. Upon discovering she's terminally ill, he finds himself gripped by an unfamiliar and urgent desire to save her, igniting a battle within himself unlike anything he's ever faced.

Mingi

‣ The Firestarter [Coming soon]

The Black Pirates' wild card is notorious for his fiery temper and even more explosive schemes—a dangerous yet irresistibly charming presence. But his confidence takes a hit when one of his near-disastrous plans is salvaged by an unlikely passerby: a composed and resourceful former aristocrat, exiled and stripped of her wealth, now navigating the world's harsh realities. Her icy demeanour and unshakable poise captivate him, leaving the ever-impulsive man unexpectedly drawn to her.

Wooyoung

‣ The Charmer [Coming soon]

The Black Pirates' negotiator and master of distractions is renowned for his confidence and flirtatious charm, which can sway almost anyone. But his ego is severely wounded when he encounters the loyal bodyguard of a high-profile target, someone completely immune to his usual tricks, during a high-stakes mission. Frustrated by his failure yet captivated by her unwavering resolve, he finds himself unable to stay away, drawn to the challenge—and to her—in ways he never expected.

Jongho

‣ The Anchor [Coming soon]

The steadfast foundation of the Black Pirates is renowned for his unfaltering strength and calm under pressure. As the gang's moral compass and protector, he's always put duty above all else. But when a rival gang's attack threatens the life of their kind-hearted hired doctor, he begins to realise that his priorities extend beyond just his brothers. Torn between his loyalty to the gang and his growing feelings for her, he faces an agonising choice: protect his family or save her.

Voila, my loves! As promised, I finally managed to come up with a little something for this comeback teehee. I hope you're as excited about this as I am! Truthfully, I just returned from a 10-day trip in Shanghai and am back to work on Monday already - which means I might not be able to write much until the following weekend but I will do my best to get the parts out ASAP!

Super excited to hear your thoughts on the concept! Do let me know which member's summary enticed you the most!✨ and of course, just leave a comment if you'd like to be tagged for when the parts are released!

General ATEEZ Tag list:

@aurasblue @marievllr-abg @itsvxlentine @minghaoslatina @huachengsbestie01

@evidive @weedforthoughtz @minkiflwr @cheolliehugs @ho3-for-yunho

@the-kpop-simp @itstheghostofmypast @vantediary @green-agent @skzline

@sharksandminhos @writingwieny @heyitsmetonid @tinyteezer @hollxe1

@pandabur666 @vampzity @tournesol155 @lilactangerine @oddracha

@haven-cove @idfkeddieishot @vic0921 @vnessalau @apriecotte

@bangtannie7 @vtyb23 @khjoongie98 @scuzmunkie @anxiousskylar

@bunny4yungi @zl-world @bethelighthalazia @tsunchani

All Rights Reserved © edenesth

DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR OTHERWISE REPURPOSE ANY OF THE WORK HERE.

[tofusfortbhk]

Tbhk Ch120 Analysis:

(Warning: Spoilers)

#1: Teru did not kill Kou on accident or by reflex.

I’ve seen this take on tumblr and Twitter and I disagree. As much as I like the poetic irony of Teru’s violence towards supernaturals causing him to hurt whose he’s sworn to protect from them, I think it’s wrong.

As Teru blasts Kou, Teru is already upset.

Comedy moments in the manga aside, this is the 1st time we’ve ever seen Teru visibly devestated. Prior to this he has always, consistently approached supernatural danger with whimsy and lighthearted cheer. Even when there were dire stakes:

Teru after realizing Aoi was essentially dead after coming getting kidnapped by Number 6. (Ch70)

Teru in ch79, after learning his baby brother went into the notably deadly Red House. (Ch79)

Teru after getting betrayed and apprehended in the Clock Keepers’ boundary. Where they’re supposed to be “undefeatable.” (Ch109)

The uniting factor is that Teru had some level of control. That there wasn’t any true danger/death. He’s gonna get Aoi back, he had faith in Kou to not succumb to the house’s wishes, and you can’t die in boundaries (applies to when the gang got jumped by Num 6 too).

Here, Teru is devastated — not bc Teru is sacred that Kou may get hurt (active threat) but bc Teru knows Kou is already dead.

Look at how Teru walks to the well immediately.

Teru isn’t falling to his knees like “Wait, I didn’t mean to kill him. What have I done?“

He walked there immediately. With intent.

He’s not acting like someone who’s killed his brother on accident. On reflex. He’s acting like someone who knows. Who’s already grieving. Who’s checking for confirmation.

Confirmation that his little brother died in that well. Has been dead.

This isn’t a boundary or fictional world. That is the real Kou — just of a different timeline — and in this one he died. No control, no games, no convenient truth. And Teru couldn’t protect him.

[callme-holly]

Can you do gang with reader under anesthesia and she forgets they’re dating <33

����𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐟𝐮𝐥 [𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐚]

𝐚/𝐧 : this is a little messy im so sorry. the idea tho is top tier and if my head wasn't so messy rn i coulda cooked up something great <33

Darry Curtis - 

Darry would probably be both amused and concerned. He wouldn’t leave your side at all, and when you finally come to and turn to look at him with the most confused expression ever, he can’t help but chuckle. When you ask who he is, he’d be very calm and patient, speaking to you in the most gentle voice ever and answering all your questions (even the absurd ones).  Despite his amusement, he is very glad when the anesthesia starts wearing off and you finally recognise who he is.

“You’re my boyfriend?” Your eyes widen a little in surprise, and you tilt your head, earning a small laugh from Darry in response. He nods, reaching over to brush a loose strand of hair away from your face. “Sure am, darlin’... How’re you feeling?”  You nod slowly, still a little in shock, your words still slightly slurred. “Much better now I know that.” 

Sodapop Curtis - 

Soda wouldn’t know whether to be hurt or amused by your sudden behaviour. When you finally wake up, squinting at him and asking if he’s your “super hot doctor,” he’d be a little stunned for a moment before bursting out into laughter.  He will tease you the whole time and find your reaction to figuring out he’s you’re boyfriend far too amusing. He won’t ever let you live this down, that’s for sure. 

“Are you my doctor?” Soda freezes at your question, tilting his head slightly, before bursting out into laughter, shaking his head. “No, baby. I’m your boyfriend.” he replies, only laughing harder at the confused expression on your face.  “No way,” you slur. “You’re way too good-looking. How’d I pull this off?” 

Ponyboy Curtis - 

Pony would be totally flustered when you don’t recognise him. He’d try his best to stay calm about it, but the second you ask who he is, he’d get a little worried. He’d do his best to reassure you, trying to patiently explain that he’s you’re boyfriend, not a super young doctor, but you’re disbelief has him stumbling. When the anesthesia does wear off, he’d be so relieved, and he'll probably blush anytime someone brings it up.

“Wait… you’re my boyfriend?” you slur, narrowing your eyes supiciouly at him. “You look pretty young.” Pony swallows heavily, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah… I mean, we’re the same age.”  You lean a little closer, squinting in disbelief. “You age well then…” 

Johnny Cade - 

Johnny would handle the situation with nothing but patience and care. When you don’t recognise him at first, he’d be a little hurt, but quickly gets over it when he realises you don’t mean it. He’d sit close beside you, reassuring you that he’s your boyfriend and chuckling every time you deny it. 

“You’re really cute,” you mumble, blinking up at him. “Are you my nurse?” Johnny flushes slightly, shaking his head quickly. “No, y/n… I’m your boyfriend.” Your brows furrow, and you lean back, pausing for a moment before shrugging. “Lucky me.” 

Dallas Winston - 

Dally would be a little caught off guard at first. He’d probably assume your joking and might play along, but when he realises you’re deadly serious, he gets a little defensive and will try to jog your memory. You forgetting he’s your boyfriend is a big blow to his ego. He will tease you about it for the rest of your life, and the second you wake up, he’ll be all smug like he wasn’t freaking out two seconds ago.

“Who’re you?” you slur, looking up at him suspiciously. “You’re not my boyfriend. My boyfriend is way tougher than you.” Dallas raises a brow and chuckles. “Oh yeah? And what do you think I am, some sweet country boy?”  You can only stare at him for a moment before shaking your head. “You’re to pretty lookin’ to be tough.”  And, for once in his life. Dally is speechless. Pretty? Yeah right… “Damn, doll. They really messed you up, huh?” 

Steve Randle - 

Steve wouldn’t know whether to be amused or annoyed when you don’t recognise him. He’d probably find the humour in the situation, making a saractic response, but there’s still a petty part of him that’s upset by your lack of recognition. Once the anaesthesia starts wearing off, he’ll be incredibly relieved, checking you’re okay and you feel fine before giving you a hard time (all lighthearted, of course; he can’t be made at you.)

“Are you sure you’re my boyfriend?” You ask, looking him up and down with an incredulous expression. Steve smirks, leaning back a little and crossing his arms. “Yeah, baby. I am. What did you forget about me or something?” “No.” You retort sharply, narrowing your eyes. “My boyfriend just isn’t greasy and covered in car oil.”  Steve snorts and shakes his head, grasping your hand gently. “You’re lucky I like you…” he whispers. 

Two-bit Mathews - 

Two would not be hurt in the slightest. The second you ask who he is, he can’t help but laugh loudly, playing along and cracking jokes. He is entirely unbothered by your confusion and will spend the entire time trying to convince you into believing some wild stories. When you finally do figure out who he is, he'll act all smug about it, teasing you more until the anesthesia finally wears off.

“You’re telling me that you’re my boyfriend?” you ask, words slurred and confused. Two-bit grins widely, crossing his arms and nodding. “You bet, baby. I’m the best you’ve ever had!” You squint, looking a little doubtful. “I don’t know… You seem kinda goofy. My boyfriend is actually funny.”  He can’t help but laugh, pressing a hand to his chest, feigning hurt. “Well… If that ain’t a way to treat the man of your dreams, I don’t know what is…”  

[starguardianniom]

Billy and Lighter

I love their dynamic so much.

Freaking Lighter of all people sees Billy as his worthy rival.

Ngl but I legit think it's because Billy is the only one he can fight without being afraid of passing out.

Given Lighter faints at the sight of blood and that Billy is an android, if Billy gets hurt he will probably leak oil, but no blood, which is perfect for Lighter.

I honestly, half-seriously thinks that's the sole reason Lighter considers Billy is rival, because he won't risk embarassing himself if he manages to hurt Billy while fighting as Billy has no blood for him to faint to.

But he also does respect him given he thinks highly of him and actually likes him like a brother too.

They playfully tease one another but you can also clearly see that Lighter has a high opinion of Billy and is also happy for him to have found happiness somewhere else too, and that's so wholesome, my heart.

I was pratically screaming of joy in my head the entire time yesterday when I speedrun the chapter (I had the day off lucky me so I used it to clear out chapter 4 entirely yeah!).

I took so many pictures, will upload them this weekend, now I need to go do that certification exam to get my people to level 50, given I need to level up pretty much everyone I have right now (Billy, Anby, Nicole, Corin, Soukaku, Ben, Anton, Seth, Jane and Lucy are the characters I currently have the game refuses me Piper and just sended me a lil army of Corins, Anby and Soukaku, now I have Anby and Soukaku to M4 and Corin to M3, though it gave me Billy M2 and Seth M2 thank god) I'll be at it for a while.

But honestly I expected Lighter to be a bit more mean toward Billy and feeling superior to him but it seems like I was worried for nothing, Lighter loves Billy and Billy loves him back, though I'm pretty sure Billy also thinks that he wasn't able to escape Lighter entirely given he now has Anby around. XD Lighter keeps forgetting things and Anby keeps forgetting the line between fiction and reality, I imagine Billy must be used to Anby because he had to spend half his time reminding Lighter of stuff all the time. XD

I swear Billy had it better than Lighter back then, given he was the Champion that means he was the strongest of the Sons of Calydon, which means he's stronger than Big Daddy, and Big Daddy is most likely the one who raised and taught Caesar how to fight, so if she didn't get the title of Champion back then, then Billy was most likely strong enough to beat her too and Big Daddy. But then he left. But he also got to meet Lighter before that, but Lighter is weaker than Caesar but still has the title for some reason, so it's a bit murky there as to why they needed 2 champions.

I think Billy wanted to leave or something happened that made him leave and then Big Daddy brought in Lighter to pick up his title but Billy sticked around long enough to make sure Lighter was up for the job given they have a good brotherly friendly rivalry relationship together so once Billy thought Lighter was ready he gave him his title and left. And then Caesar got to be the new boss of the Sons of Calydon when Big Daddy retired, and was strong enough that she was able to beat Lighter apparently.

But the title of Champion is basically being the number 2 of the gang, so if the leader isn't around it's most likely the champion calling the shots and making sure everything is alright and settling disputes and what nots, but since Lighter is pretty scatterbrained, most of the duties went to Lucy while Lighter is just now extra muscles, since Lucy is pretty much the one making sure everything is alright and being the brains of the Sons, but she clearly doesn't have the strenght to be the Champion because Lighter is the one with that title.

So I imagine Billy used to handle negotiations and relations and other stuff with Big Daddy before he left and probably used to be deadly efficient, in some parts of the story he is a lot more aware and shrewd than he presents himself most of the time, such as asking us about the H.D.D and asking why we'd bother to be proxies when we could have done so much more and get a much more lucrative job, or when he was ready to sell us out to PubSec to save the Cunning Hares and himself pointing out that the Cunning Hares could get their record cleaned if they reported a proxy, which was a very smart way of thinking given their situation back then. He is also knowledgeable about the Outer Ring, so he is way much smarter than he acts too.

I do feel like Billy is seen as a superior predecessor to Lighter and while Lighter doesn't resent Billy at all for it he also feels the need to prove himself to him in some way to live up to his "brother's" legacy.

Lucy probably didn't have much to do until Billy left and Big Daddy retired. Then she basically became the second half of the Champion title in the Sons of Calydon, being the brain to Lighter's brawn, but Billy before them had the title on his own to the point that he is still feared today by other people in the Outer Ring.

It does beg the question of what was Billy like back then, probably less happy and more brutal and having the mindset of a weapon maybe, but he was still cared for a lot.

I also like to think that Big Daddy called him Billy Kid because he honestly saw Billy as "his" kid when he bought him from a group of drifters, now I really want the whole story, if they release Big Daddy and Lighter, give them more content with Billy, I need more, Hoyo!

[banananutmuffin28]

HCs On Surviving Squid Game And Dating Kang Sae-Byeok & Ji-Yeong

A/N: I love them too much, your honor. @insane-hag, @eremikas-bby. Warnings: Very briefly and mildly suggestive

⋆You lucky, lucky bastard. Somehow, you managed to get not one, but two hot women after you?

⋆Even when they were supposed to be competing against you, they both always watched your back.

⋆One time, the three of you were squished into one mattress. It wasn’t exactly…comfortable, but hey, you got to have two pretty women pressed up against you, and that was a win in your book.

⋆Sae-Byeok keeps you away from Deok-Su and his gang.

⋆Ji-Yeong threatened Gi-Hun that if he let you get hurt, she’d be taking Sae-Byeok and you out of the team.

⋆The night before Marbles, a group of men in black uniforms had infiltrated Squid Game and knocked out some of the guards.

⋆Then, they took their outfits and pretended to be working for the game.

⋆Squid Game had always been under their radar, but they never had the clear, solid proof to truly prove that it was real. So, when Gi-Hun had ran to them in a fit of fear, their interests were peaked. They had to turn Gi-Hun away, pretending to not believe him so that they could track down where he would go.

⋆And now, they’re trying to be careful and aiming to shoot in such a way that it only looks like they killed the contestants. During the clean up, some of their moles will bring the “dead bodies” to a hospital.

⋆And, that’s how you, Sae-Byeok, and Ji-Yeong managed to all make it out alive.

⋆You had woken up on an unfamiliar bed, and demanded to know where Sae-Byeok and Ji-Yeong were.

⋆The nurse beside you had anticipated this reaction, seeing as the two women you were urging to see had woken up before you and demanded similar requests.

⋆She told you that they were safe, and ordered you to stay and rest.

⋆The first time you saw them both again outside of the games was in that very same hospital.

⋆You bolted toward them, completely tossing the nurse’s words out of the window.

⋆Fuck the gunshot wound on your head, you needed to make sure that they were okay.

⋆Sae-Byeok was holding back tears when you and Ji-Yeong fell into her arms.

⋆Ji-Yeong was openly crying though.

⋆Eventually, Sae-Byeok pressed her face into your neck, and you felt your collarbone grow wet. You tried to move your head, but Sae-Byeok’s gripe on you wouldn’t budge.

⋆Don’t worry though, you kept her secret.

⋆By the time you were released from the hospital (and the police station since you were all forced to give your testimonies), Sae-Byeok took you two to see her brother.

⋆Cheol was elated to see her, and it was adorable to see the normally stoic woman melt into her little brother’s embrace.

⋆But, when Cheol turned his gaze to you and Ji-Yeong (who Sae-Byeok had called her “very special friends”), you suddenly felt like you were under a microscope.

⋆Though he took kindly to Ji-Yeong, he gave you the stink eye.

⋆The kid looked you up and down, scrunched up his cute little face, and then simply walked away.

⋆Never had you felt so utterly roasted by a child. He didn’t even say anything!

⋆In an attempt to make you feel better, Sae-Byeok pats your back and tells you that he’ll warm up to you eventually.

—

⋆Since you’re dating two women who had been through hell and back, you’re extremely protected on both sides. Especially so if you’re a WLW (WLWLW?) throuple.

⋆They don’t want to ever risk losing you.

⋆Both Sae-Byeok AND Ji-Yeong will throw hands if someone gets your order wrong.

⋆Lord have mercy on the worker who does.

⋆We already know Sae-Byeok’s resting bitch face is terrifying, but when she uses it to its full potential?

⋆There’s a 50/50 percent chance the worker will collapse onto the floor.

⋆If Sae-Byeok’s death glare doesn’t do the job, then Ji-Yeong will.

⋆That girl may be short but MAN is she fierce.

⋆She will not stop demanding that they fix your order STAT.

⋆Think of her as an angry, deadly chihuahua (who may or may not sack someone in the face if the situation calls for it).

⋆Oh, and if someone purposefully tries to mess with you? Like, a random ass man stands up trying to intimidate you while also cussing you out?

⋆Don’t be surprised if Sae-Byeok and Ji-Yeong come home late that day.

⋆Shhh, don’t worry about it, they were just throwing away a dead body “taking out the trash.”

⋆Oh hey, look! Ji-Yeong bought fried chicken for dinner! Now hurry up and get some plates and don’t pay attention to the red stains on your girlfriends’ jacket.

⋆When you pressed for more information, Ji-Yeong just gave you a peck on your cheek and brushed you off.

⋆”It’s just ketchup!”

—

⋆When you guys sleep, you’re always sandwiched in the middle.

⋆Your face will be sandwiched in Sae-Byeok’s chest while Ji-Yeong will wrap her arms around your waist.

⋆Usually, Ji-Yeong’s hands will wander, her fingers dancing along the hem of your shirt.

⋆That little minx

⋆Her hands might caress your chest, or move down to rest on your thighs.

⋆When you inevitably blush, Ji-Yeong will simply pull away innocently.

⋆”What’s wrong, baby? I’m just trying to cuddle you.”

⋆(Sometimes Sae-Byeok notices the exchange and both your girlfriends will team up on you.)

⋆She would press one hand to the back of your head, keeping your head sandwiched between her breasts.

⋆The other will sink down to grab your ass.

⋆Might bite you once or twice. Or five.

⋆She’s just marking her territory.

—

⋆Sometimes, Sae-Byeok accidentally wakes you up at night by squeezing you tighter than necessary.

⋆Some part of her is scared that she’ll lose you two somehow, whether that be from her loan sharks or from enemies slinking back to enact vengeance.

⋆Sometimes, her mind will take her back to Squid Game, to when Ji-Yeong chose to sacrifice herself so that Sae-Byeok could live.

⋆Of course, you can’t have your girlfriend be so sad, so you kiss her nose and tell her that you and Ji-Yeong are right here.

⋆Your talking will wake up Ji-Yeong, who will crawl over to Sae-Byeok and flick her head affectionately.

⋆”You idiot, do you think you’ll lose us that easily? We all managed to survive Squid Game and our own personal hells. Don’t worry so much.”

⋆Then, before Sae-Byeok can retort, Ji-Yeong will wink at you and then pounce on Sae-Byeok, peppering her with kisses.

⋆You grin and join the dog pile.

⋆Sae-Byeok will grumble and try to weakly fight back.

⋆Her attempts are only half hearted though, because deep down she secretly loves it.

⋆(She’ll never admit it. But, that’s okay because you and Ji-Yeong already figured it out a long time ago).

⋆Eventually, your movements will die down and all three of you will lie down on top of each other.

⋆Ji-Yeong kisses you both on the lips and then ushers you to go back to sleep.

⋆You oblige, nuzzling into the crook of Sae-Byeok’s neck as you squeeze Ji-Yeong’s hand.

⋆You’re content.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

I came back from the movie theaters (Fnaf Movie) My lord I FREAKING LOVED IT THE WHOLE THING IDC AHHH Ahem-

I saw that requests are open, SO a Platonic Headcanon Request if you don't mind, Fnaf (Movie) Animatronics with Gender-Neutral (17-soon to be 18) Reader as the new security guard? or maybe tags with Mike and possibly Abby? (Reader ain't tall just-idk 5'2 maybe I am projecting-)

(I know this request doesn't make sense because of the tiredness due to staying up late because of excitement. Feel free to delete this ask if its too complicated)

bonus: If you want to, You can also Include Chica's Cupcake

Have a nice day/night, From 📞 ☕ (PhoneCoffee) Anon

Oh I can definitely work with this ^^

......

When you started working at Freddy's overnight, you hoped this would be your last summer job ever before you turned 18.

"Steve" said it was all pretty straightforward: watch the cameras and make sure nobody broke in.

Easy as pizza pie, right?

Well, when you realized one of the animatronics very subtly moved from their usual spot, you wanted to check them out for yourself.

Plus, sitting in the office for six hours every night would def get boring as hell.

So you head to the main stage area, finding the whole gang mysteriously gone--Foxy included.

Then you get surprised by them emerging from different places in the pizzeria, eyes glowing a sinister yellow as they surround you, wary of your intentions.

"O-Oh hey..um..Fazgang?" You try your best not to look so terrified.

Surely someone was controlling them, right? They couldn't possibly hurt you.

Yet they stop and collectively realize "wait, isn't this a teenager? And why are they working this job??"

But since you're not wrecking anything in the pizzeria (or screaming bloody murder unlike the last guard), they spare you and are just very chill overall.

You now start to believe all the rumors of them being haunted by little children.....although not even that scares you.

On the second night, you learn that they can understand simple drawings--and that's how you pretty much communicate with them and build up trust.

While Bonnie is regarded as the "most aggressive", he was a real sweetheart who let you shine his guitar and hugged you tightly to express his thanks.

Alas you haven't found a way to stop it from constantly short-circuiting when he strums it...but you vow to figure something out.

Chica was equally as sweet, although for some reason Carl the Cupcake made you feel nervous.

The way he can be on the plate one moment and then disappear the next makes you worried that he'll sneak up on you and bite your ankles off.

But as long as Chica's around, that won't ever happen.

Although Foxy looks quite dangerous, you try your best to patch up the hole in his chest using some spare parts from backstage while being oblivious to the deadly Freddy mask saw trap in the corner, something he's grateful for.

He even sang you a little sea shanty as thanks!

Freddy was the first to be suspicious of you, but after seeing a drawing you made of him, he grows to like your presence, too. Especially after how nice you've been to his bandmates.

So you definitely survived more than five nights at this place--longer than anyone so far.

When Mike gets hired and comes in for his first shift with you, he's surprised that a teen is training him.

He suspects this was some lousy summer job you were forced to get and thinks you're gonna act miserable the entire time you work together and not actually teach him shit.

But as it turns out, you love your job!

You show him the Fazgang during their "showtime" performance and assure him that while they may look creepy, they're not bad at all.

And while you're not getting paid extra to do simple maintenance on them, you still enjoy trying to keep them in tip-top shape (especially Foxy, who needs repairs the most).

Mike seriously thinks you shouldn't be doing that as it's not in the job description AND it could be dangerous.

Even if you have expertise in robotics, he still thinks it's not worth losing a limb or finger to those complex contraptions.

Like he almost did after getting near a springlock suit.

But you just teasingly remind him who the trainer is..and he goes quiet.

Foxy overhears this, and you see him snickering from behind the Pirate's Cove curtain, amused by you basically schooling this 25-27 year old man.

Unfortunately he startled poor Mike, who looks over quickly.....only to find the fox standing in his usual position, acting completely normal.

"Was he just laughing at us...?"

"Nope." You play dumb, shrugging. "Must be his voice box malfunctioning....c'mon. Let's see if we can fix that."

Least to say, you're not gonna let him sleep on the job anytime soon.

[deathbxnny]

Have I watched/read JJBA kinda. Is it my new hyper fixation yes. Anyways Giorno Giovanna, Jotaro Kujo, & Jolyne Cujoh with a reader (platonic or romantic idc) that’s like Firefly and her stance is just Sam but it’s called Iron Maiden!

(＃＞＜)

JJBA characters with a Firefly-like! Fem! Reader | Jolyne Cujoh, Jotaro Kujo, Giorno Giovanna

As someone who can easily say that JJBA is their favorite anime, I absolutely love this idea, Anon!! I made this a romantic hc, so I hope you'll like it!<33

Content: Vague mentions of chronical illness, mentions of potential future death by illness, angst, hurt/comfort, sfw

Reader is fem/afab in this, but no pronouns are mentioned!

((Not proofread))

》JOLYNE CUJOH

Jolyne met you in jail as a cell mate, one she quickly found a lot in common with, especially regarding your rather special stand abilities. But your illness is what really drew her to you and made her determined to keep you safe after you became a couple. Her heart ached knowing you were stuck in a prison, when you should be out there experiencing life as much as you still could, but alas, you were here with her, and she tried to make things easier for you with her presence.

She was left stunned however, when you were attacked by some stand users and quickly found out that you perhaps didn't need the extensive help and care she had given you after all. Sam, your stand, was more than enough to destroy any enemy in sight, something she found absolutely awesome. Jolyne would absolutely cheer you on from the sidelines, completely forgetting that she had to fight too.

It makes her proud to see how strong you are despite your potential deadly fate and hopes to stay at your side until the end.

》JOTARO KUJO

You both were childhood friends turned lovers, and so he was very much aware of your condition from day one. He watched as your illness progressed to become worse and worse until you were left unable to walk properly anywhere. But what hurt the most deep down was that you always remind me so gentle and calm with him anyway, despite his rather aloof and indifferent personality. His mother often teased him playfully for being so soft with you and only you, but he'd just stubbornly deny it every time.

With that said, anyone that hurts you is practically dead before they know it. He doesn't play around when it comes to your health or well-being, and so it does come to some sort of relief that your stand is extremely powerful. It made protecting and keeping you safe a lot easier when you could just do it yourself, too. This doesn't mean he won't keep his eyes on you at all times anyway.

Jotaro is somewhat in denial about what's most likely going to be your early passing due to your sickness, despite his rational mind. He doesn't want to think or hear about it, as it hurts too much to lose you as well.

》GIORNO GIOVANNA

Giorno met you through Bucciarati, and whilst you weren't directly a part of the gang, you were still an important person in it due to your stands immense strength. You immideatly introduced him to it through a battle against an enemy stand user, which made him take interest in you initially. You were gentle and soft-spoken, so it was definitely a contrast he quickly became infatuated with over time. But what really got him about you was that you were able to do all these great things despite being gravely ill.

It served as a reminder that life was cruel, and yet Giorno wasn't phased by it. In fact, he hoped that once he was successful with the mission of overtaking the boss, he'd eventually be able to get you the medical care you needed. He was determined to find a way to stop the illness or at least make life better for you, so you became another goal for him to fight for.

You can always count on him for anything and everything, that's for sure. He loves you greatly and wants to show you that by staying by you even when things get worse. So if you inevitably die, then he'll be there until your last breath.

[tbhimnoteasyonmyself]

WHAT THE FUCK IS UP WITH PHEE?

(and other equally puzzling things)

An EXTREMELY EXTENSIVE Post-Episode 10 Analysis/Theory

So, okay. Episode 10 was A LOT. Like... A LOT, A LOT. And a lot of this lot seems... Weird as fuck. So many odd choices were made in the narrative.

Top's drugged manipulation; White pulling info about shrooms out of his ass; Fluke becoming a victim of involuntary drug abuse ghosts of his past and begging for mercy after "all he did to Non"... But nothing beats Phee's OOC moments in ep.10 while he's alone with Jin.

Which is what compels me to make this post. Because this series has been nothing but the richness of detail and now suddenly... It's all over the place? Call it wishful thinking (or Last Twilight trauma) but I don't think so. And it mostly comes down to: Phee. And whatever his "agenda" is.

PS: All screenshots of the show I use (and I will use a lot) will have been brightened because this show is FUCKING DARK, BOYYYYYY and I don't think y'all deserve to force your sight at 3AM to enjoy my posts.

WHAT HAPPENS AND WHY IT'S SUSPICIOUS

So? What does Phee say and do when he's alone with Jin in ep.10 and why am I suspicious of it?

It's hard to say for sure. But we can base ourselves off of 3 things: what we hear him say, what Jin replies to him and the flashbacks (no, they're not just there to fill in time for this very short episode, they serve a narrative purpose).

So let's do this analysis following the order in which things are shown to us, shall we?

First of all, we get a short flashback. The events are as follows:

Phee and New go to see the gang's film

New approaches Phee and they talk

New and Phee decide to try and figure out what happened to Non by infiltrating the group

New and Phee join the gang's school and start asking questions

Jin decides to leave Thailand

New suggests going to Por's mansion for the goodbye party

Phee questions New in the lab about his decisions

New suggests using their homemade drug on the group as a truth serum

Phee asks if the drug is deadly and New denies it

Although we don't hear Phee tell this to Jin, Jin does reply very angrily something along the lines of "and you just let him carry on with it? why didn't you stop him? what the fuck is wrong with y'all???", so we can assume we've been shown what Phee told him.

So far, it's very unsuspicious. We've been shown these events before in the actual flashbacks so we can be fairly sure all of that is true.

It starts to get suspicious, however, when Phee replies to him: "There's so much more that you don't understand. About Non, and Tan".

And I think Jin feels the vibe too because, the man standing on his tall pillar of morality and righteousness /s, says he'll give Phee another chance to cut the bullshit and tell him everything. And so Phee sighs and the dreaded narration of ✨New's Murderous Adventures✨ starts.

So Phee tells Jin (and consequently us) that:

Phee and New set up a bunch of cameras to spy on the gang

New drugged the drinks

It was supposed to end when everyone was high at the party but New didn't follow the plan

New deleted the camera files

Phee kept drugging the group

Por's injury wasn't an accident but a trap that he thinks New set

New's drug enhances people's inner fears

Phee "never thought New would be so cruel with Uncle Dang"

New drugged Top at the temple

New must've left the hard disk for White to find

By the time he figured New's plan, there was nothing he could do about it (and we see him looking distressed at New's arrival at the house)

Now, here we have some interesting things. Let me list them for you.

Why would Phee keep drugging the group after Por got hurt?? If, as he claims, he didn't mean for people to get hurt, why would he keep people on drugs while a man is dying on the couch? Especially when the guy you're on a revenge mission with is ELIMINATING THE CONTENT OF THE CAMERA RECORDINGS!! That sure isn't gonna help anyone survive!

How does Phee know about Top??? He and Jin never saw Top arrive at the house. For all they know, that bro is lost in the woods. Right??

HOW THE FUCK DOES HE KNOW WHITE GOT THE HARD DRIVE??? There's no signal in the woods. We've established that. When White tells Tee and New about his actions they're ALONE. The only other person there is LITERALLY THE MASKY (I'm calling the masked person that for convenience, it's shorter. besides, it seems the fandom has been calling them that anyways, so... yeah). So how does he know? How does he know???

And in that same fucking sequence: THE MASKY TRIES TO HURT NEW!!! But if New told Top to hurt everyone who hurt Non, why would he hurt him??? And why, my friends, WHY would he SAVE TEE, when he's the only witness of those events??? It would be so easy to just say the masky killed Tee and he couldn't save him... Is it 4D chess??? Is it a different masky??? Or, is it simply not true that New did that?

It's very confusing, weird and suspicious. But let's wait it out, guys, because there's more to PheeJin in the temple.

After this odd-ass narration, they're back to having a convo. Which goes as follows:

Jin (very validly) asks Phee what the fuck is wrong with him and New

Phee says he'd never allow them to go if he knew New was going for murder instead of just confessions ("you can hate me if you want but I never wanted anyone to get hurt, I swear" or whatever he said)

Jin asks if Tan is New and Phee is Non's boyfriend

Phee confirms Jin's suspicions and even adds that "p'New came back from England"

Jin asks if they ever saw the group as their friends

Phee says they wanted to infiltrate the group to find the truth because they didn't know shit about what happened to Non and it's haunting them (good choice of words there, very subtle /s)

Phee explains his motivation, stating he told Non to "get lost and die"

Jin confesses to recording the child grooming revenge porn tape and posting it on Twitter (-_-)

Jin explains his motivation, saying he respected Non's relationship (by constantly making moves on him?) but couldn't stand him cheating on Phee (so he one-upped him by committing not one but two actual severe crimes?)

Phee appears to be mad and disgusted so he says "Fuck. So we both were the ones who hurt Non?", gets up and starts pacing (oh no! the big boy is angy~~~ /s)

Jin gets up like a sad wet cat

Phee randomly finds an axe and takes some exposition out of his ass by stating "this must be Tan's axe that he keeps as a spare. But it's good"

Phee breaks the gate

So by this point Phee's whole speech sounds a bit insane, considering the type of person we've seen he is. Not to mention he just INSTANTLY calms down upon finding an axe and just decides to move on. Like ??? Excuse me??? If that ain't weird then idk what is. Like, sure, Phee is a very confusing and confused character (as better explored by @crysta1ized in this post). He seems to have his heart divided between many things and they could all be pulling at his strings there. HOWEVER, we have to remember Phee's also THIS guy:

Does this look like the kind of person who would just move on after a (perceived) treason? Does he??

And, the thing about this is that it gets worse.

After the scene cuts back from the house, Pheejin are lost in the damn woods (parallels to New and Tee? mayhaps, man, mayhaps...) These are the events there:

Phee is back to supporting Jin's weight with his body while they walk (which makes no fucking sense bc Jin hurt his SHOULDER which is a part of his UPPER BODY so there's no reason why he couldn't walk on his own but okay, sure)

They make no progress walking for a while, even despite trying to mark the places they've already been at

Jin is very upset that Phee's not very good at navigating through unknown forests at night

Phee, however, is very understanding and says: "Jin. I told you that I would be the one who would protect you. So I'll get you out of here" then PROCEEDS TO HOLD HANDS with him and continues with: "Right now, our friends are waiting for us to help them. So, you must stay strong. Believe in me"

Jin nods (because, despite trying to play the apathetic bitch, he's a softie and very much has feelings™)

PheeJin finally find the exit of the fucking forest

DO Y'ALL SEE HOW SOMETHING'S VERY WRONG WITH PHEE HERE??? Bro's not just acting weird (that would be fine, we love weirdos. *looks at New and winks* <3), he's abnormal. He's not acting like himself.

So, before I jump into trying to make some sense out of all of this, I'll just add the last scene of PheeJin alone in ep.10, last anyone come tell me I missed it:

They're arriving at the mansion

Jin falls down

Phee abandons the axe to help him

I don't think this one is particularly relevant to analyse Phee's character in this episode (although the axe is certainly relevant for other plots and our dear 9th person) but it's there. After this, they're back in the house with everyone and Por's rotting corpse.

PHEE IS HIDING THINGS

So what the fuck happened, really? Well, a lot. Some are easier, I think, to interpret, some aren't but regardless, there was a lot going on with Phee. To make this very complex thing a bit easier to understand, I'll start from the things I think are a bit easier to explain and/or are more solid and then I'll move from there towards the rest of this mess. Okay? Ok- (gets shot bc I hate John Green).

One thing for me that's nearly set in stone is that Phee, at the very least, isn't telling Jin everything. If he was, then the flashbacks would've started with PheeNon's falling love montage but they don't. They start at the cinema. Plus, Jin has to ask if Phee is Non's boyfriend and Tan is New, like he's piecing things by himself. If Phee had told him that, he wouldn't need to ask. AND Phee would've have referred to New as New during his whole monologue but he did not. He kept saying "Tan". He only started doing so after Jin asked the question and he confirmed Tan was New.

Curiously enough, he also never mentions the antidote he knows exists and KNOWS New brought along. And that neither of them ever used on the others.

The million-dollar question here is then, naturally: why? Various reasons, I believe.

1st of all I think we have to account for the feels. Phee is definitely in a weird ass zone with Jin but it's something. And he feels that something (whatever it is. believe me I could make an entire post about that shit, it's so fucking complex, man, and it only gets worse this episode). He likes Jin, even if he tries not to or if he dislikes that he likes him. It's undeniable. So yes, of course, he doesn't want Jin to hate his guts more than necessary.

But also... We cannot forget why Phee himself is there: to find out what happened to Non. And what does he get out of the conversation he has with Jin? That's right. A confession.

Now, I don't think it's the confession he expected if his reactions are anything to go by:

I mean... If this is not the face of a man thinking "well, shit", then idk what it is. And also because, idk if it's a subtitle error or not, but he seems to ask "what did you three do?" when he's inquiring about the events of the past, so...

Someone is being excluded.

Still, I think it's super possible he was hoping to get something out of it. After all, even if he assumes Jin is innocent in his actions, I don't think he's excluding him from having knowledge of what went down. That would make his positive bias even sillier.

So yeah, sure, I bet Phee feels genuinely guilty and it hurts him to be in the situation he's in and he definitely wants to be in a good place in terms of his relationship with Jin, especially because, as he said, he doesn't know if they can get out of the temple. But also... As Ta (Phee's actor) himself said in an interview: Phee can be really manipulative (I can't find the damn interview rn but, during my search, I found @raelle-writing had also mentioned it in this post, so I think it's enough to say I didn't dream that shit). You know... 2 things can be true at once.

Which brings me to the next part:

PHEE IS LYING

That whole talk of "I never thought he would hurt you", "if I had known I wouldn't have let you come", blah, blah, blah. That's some major BULLSHIT.

Phee knew exactly what New was capable of. At least, on a subconscious level. After all, if my friends started being murdered, my 1st assumption would not be that my best friend did it. Unless, of course, my best friend was spiralling down to madness, constantly using drugs to see his dead brother and answering shit like this:

With a smirk on, when I ask him if the absynthe is gonna kill our friends. Because yeah, sure, I guess the green won't kill them. But you can't tell me this motherfucker wouldn't. He definitely would. And if we can infer that, so does Phee, who has been living with him as his close friend for the last 3 years.

In fact, the very fact that he feels the need to ask whether or not the drugs will kill the gang is proof enough that he, to some extent and, whether or not he's aware of it, KNOWS that's, at least, a possibility. Knows that's something New would do.

So yeah, he's perhaps not just lying to Jin (but also to himself) or not intentionally lying, but he's lying nevertheless. Phee knew this was a possibility. He knew New was capable of stuff like that. And when he pieces the story together, that's him admitting, even if no one realizes, that he knew it. And that he let it happen, in fact, because he never tried to stop the drugging. Or talked to New about what was going on (you'd think if he had that he would've told Jin in that situation). His biggest weapon is his knowledge and he chose not to swing the sword sooner. How very Fluke of him, isn't it? Especially because now 2 people are dead and that's on New, right? Right???

Not necessarily.

NEW IS NOT A MURDERER (initially)

You see, for all we see New is fine with death and murder in episodes 9 and 10, he makes it clear his nº1 goal is to figure out what happened to Non when he gets in front of a fucking firearm to harass Tee into talking.

So why would he talk Top into murder? Why would Top attack him?? Why would he kill Uncle Dang?? And why, on the goddamn Earth, would he eliminate the recordings in the house when his whole motivation is

(Thank you, hallucination Non <3) to expose them??? Especially when the only other person who knew about the hidden cameras was Phee. It makes no sense! Sure, he might've contemplated the murder, but on a later phase of the plan, I think. The priority was, always, to get them to confess on camera so he could later use the recordings to expose them to the country and clear Non's image. 'Cause we cannot forget, while the people close to Non don't buy the bullshit TV news sensationalist story (and, therefore, are searching for the truth), the rest of the country thinks Non is a slut who ran away with mafia money and his teacher (because, like @delululover explains in this post: Asian culture tends to normalize grooming of older teens and even blame them for the situation).

So what are we seeing when Phee narrates the events? Well, probably just Phee's guesses.

He thinks New is deranged and has drugs and that Top is missing and now they're being attacked by this person, who is conveniently wearing a mask. So he guesses that's Top. Plus, he doesn't know New was attacked by Masky in the middle of the forest.

He knows, like everyone else, that New had the hard drive. And, when Top and New go out in the woods with the bike he remains in the house. So, it's possible he saw the hard drive there where New left it before he went out.

And, because the only 2 people remaining in the house, as far as Phee knows, are Fluke and White, and New DEFINITELY wouldn't want the drive to get into Fluke's hands, he must've assumed New wanted White to find it (which may or may not be true but it's irrelevant, I think).

And, yes, calm down, I can hear you scream: "But how did he know White watched the video???" And the answer I bring you is very simple: he didn't. He has no idea. And the best part is: you only think he knows because you know. But Phee never says that. He says New left the hard drive there for White to find. And that's it. He never mentions a video whatsoever.

Now, is it convoluted? Yes. Absolutely. But we have to think this is Phee we're talking about. He's the guy who always thinks he has the upper hand (a.k.a thinking he can save Non or that he's not falling in Love with Jin). It's almost impossible for him to think he's in the dark as to what is happening to them. After all, in his narrative of his life, he is the hero. And, I know, lots of people in the fandom see it that way as well, so... It's not impossible to imagine that's what the story is trying to sell us. It's trying to make us believe Phee knows. When in reality, I think, it's more likely that Phee's the embodiment of this meme:

Okay. But then if New didn't do it, then who did? Because something is obviously going on with Top, right? And Uncle Dang IS very much dead. So what the fuck is that all about?

THE SECRET 9TH PERSON? ENTITY? THING?

As discussed several times by several people in this fandom, there's a very high possibility that there's someone else with them in the woods.

@blmpff points out the existence of various versions of the mask here. @subtextsays points out the crutches in the bathroom scene with Top here. There's this shit:

Whatever it fucking means (besides the fact that it gives me the hibbie jibbies). Someone is also obviously taking care of the Janta cult because there's fresh food in the offerings.

@raelle-writing also points out here that New is also seeing stuff even though our favourite insane motherfucker has got (and has been using!) the antidote.

And, as of episode 10, as @babyangelsky pointed out in this post, when PheeJin are lost in the damn woods, the cuts on the wood Phee supposedly make keep changing.

Which makes both of us question if they're all the same cut or even all done by Phee.

So, I think this is enough to speculate Phee could very much just be misinterpreting the whole thing and attributing guilt to New when, in fact, someone else has been causing the deaths.

Now you may question who and that's all very fair. You should even. But that is not what this post is about and, frankly, thank god, because this is already a monstrous creation.

So let's pick these cuts in the wood and use it as a segway to the last part of this, shall we?

PHEE IS AS BENEVOLENT AS A GREEK GOD

So Phee's mad. Super mad. He's passing around and cursing.

Jin, the only person he probably genuinely thought didn't do anything, is the one who recorded and posted the video.

And then Phee finds an axe. And, suddenly, Phee changes. Why?

Well, we have to look at it with what urges Phee to talk in the first place (besides his feelings and his wants): Phee is losing hope. He states it himself that he doesn't think they're going to be able to get out of the temple. So, he talks. Sure, he doesn't say everything but it's the closest to being honest with Jin we've ever seen him be.

And then their whole reality changes. Because Phee found an axe. And it all comes down on him: they are going to get out of there. And what now?

As @yellingaboutkp states in this post Phee is not only hard to read for us or confusing to the other characters (Jin mainly). He's also hard to read and confusing to himself: "...is Phee still playing Jin? It seems like he's trying to, but the more time he spends with Jin, the harder it's getting to stick to the plan."

Thus, what we see at the end of their time in the temple and alone in the woods is a mix of things, I believe.

Phee needs to feel like he's in control again. And with the original plan being ruined and Jin knowing too much (and there's no way he's not gonna speak, in fact, it's the very first thing he does when they arrive at he house) he's simply not. So when he tells Jin everything is gonna be alright, he's also trying to tell that to himself. He's trying to reassure himself that they're gonna get out of that huge mess. And, perhaps, in saving Jin also finding some redemption because, according to his own narration of the events, he let New go too far (as Jin points out).

Phee also knows more now. And maybe, if he was able to get Jin to speak once, without even having to force anything out of him. who knows if he cannot do it a second time in front of the cameras they've set inside the house? So he's trying to follow the script and manipulate him into trusting him, like he always has been trying to do. Except this time he's more bitter about it. And this, alongside with reason 1, is why these two scenes feel so different:

And lastly: Phee knows the catastrophic effects his words and actions had on Non when they broke up. He knows the consequences of his rage. It's the entire reason why he's there. Because he failed at being a good boyfriend the 1st time. Does he really want that to happen again? Does he want to fail Jin too? There's a reason (besides the story itself and his need to justify himself to Jin) why we see that flashback of his break-up with Non in this episode. And I believe this is it. (so yeah, I understand it might be frustrating to see Phee be more benevolent to Jin who fucked up big time than Non who didn't do anything, it is EXACTLY because he wasn't benevolent to Non that Jin is getting princess treatment)

So, in conclusion: Phee is fucking confused. And it carries on being that way for the rest of the episode. Phee calls New out but he doesn't seem to care too much about Por being dead on the couch. He helps Jin on the ground, but he doesn't say a thing about Fluke pointing a gun at Tee. Sure, he does ask for the gun at a certain point but isn't that just more of Phee's desperate need to get control back?

And we see this all come down to the preview of the next episode and what it's probably going to mean:

Phee finally has got things under his control again. But this means, surprise, surprise, that Phee's gotta make a choice: to shoot (and stand on New's side) or not to shoot (and stand on the gang's side). Which, of course, metaphorically is a choice, in good romance and BL fashion, between 2 lovers: Non and Jin. But also, in good storytelling, as, once again, @raelle-writing (can't help myself, Rae's posts are FIRE 🔥🔥 sksksksksks) explores better in this post: a choice between the past and the present; continuing to drown in grief and a wish for revenge or choosing to move on and heal.

And, as I (YES, if I'm gonna tag a bunch of people and their works, YOU BET, I'm gonna link my own stuff) explore in this post about White's identity and role in the story (and other people in the fandom have commented as well), I'm inclined to believe he's gonna pick the gang, Jin, the present, healing. Because this is a story about the damage caused by cycles of violence and grief. And a story about how, the only way to stop them, is to choose not to participate in them by letting go.

(and also because we already have characters who represent different choices like Non, who was always stuck in the future because he kept getting deeper and deeper into shit, thinking tomorrow would be better; or New, who is very obviously stuck in the past, unable to let go of the things he didn't do, the things he didn't prevent and only ends up losing more and more as a consequence)

CONCLUSION

Thank you for your time and attention. Feel free to comment and discuss this with me. And I'll see you either on my next long-ass monologue or next Saturday as we watch episode 11!

All the love 💜💜💜

PS: Shout-out to the group chat, including, but not limited to: @ayansbff, @cyberstalking and @squishysquadstuff who have listened to me ranting about this post since Saturday and told me to eat when I was too focused on writing it. Your patience was fundamental in carrying me through this monstrous project (it took me 10 hours to write all this) 💜💜💜.

[alittlebitofloveliness]

Well since you said it…

Ponyboy Curtis head canons and, if possible, cherry head canons 😁

I'll do Cherry later this weekend, but for now here's some Ponyboy headcanons!

-Has tried to quit smoking multiple times, usually because Darry wants him to, and never succeeded. The second he gets even the tiniest bit stressed he’s got a cigarette lit and back in his mouth. At this point he's pretty much accepted he's locked in for life

-Had to get glasses and HATES them so Darry pulled some overtime and got him contacts

-Worries a lot about Darry, not just because he tries to carry too much roofing at once and regularly hurts his back, but also because he’s terrified of what could happen if Darry was to somehow slip off a roof

-His middle class school friends think he’s REALLY cool (like Pony, they’re all a bunch of nerds) and Pony loves it because the entire gang very much does not

-His school friends are also TERRIFIED of the gang, like they see Two-bit or Steve coming to talk to him and hightail it out of there. They’re even scared of Johnny which Ponyboy thinks is hilarious (he doesn’t realize that Johnny’s dark gaze and bruises are terrifying to someone who doesn’t know how he got them)

-Thinks Curly Shepard is the funniest person alive and is determined that Curly never find that out

-Cannot for the life of him figure out why Johnny and Curly don’t get along

-Tutored Two-bit in English so he could finally graduate

-The gang is split between those who are determined to be a good influence on Pony and those who aren’t. Dally and Two-bit are the bad influences, Johnny tries to be a good influence, and Steve claims to not give a fuck but is the best influence of all in that he’s never let/asked/encouraged Pony to take part in illegal activities 

-Pony thinks Curly Shepard is good looking in a dangerous way. Real good looking in fact.

-Is NOT afraid of girls no matter what that Johnny Cade says (I mean it man I ain’t SCARED of them, they just don think like us, and quit you’re laughing, it ain’t like you have any luck with girls either-)

-Is TERRIFIED of Tim Shepard 

-Is also terrified of Angela Shepard because even though she has the same eyes as Curly, her's are like a snakes, all cold, emotionless and deadly, whereas Curly’s are always twinkling with ether mischief or anger

-He’s actually really good at stealing things (Two-bit taught him well), he just doesn’t do it often because he feels bad about it. But if a shop employee is rude to him he’s no holds barred and could leave with like half the store under his coat

-Can get away with literally ANYTHING in his English class after he gave Mr. Simes his theme, and uses that fact to his advantage

-Regularly falls asleep in his math class but manages to talk his teacher out of calling Darry every time

-He and Darry have the same taste in literature and regularly share/discuss books. It bores Soda to the point where he jokingly tells them to go back to arguing all the time because it was at least more entertaining to listen to

-Steps on peoples heels when he walks behind them

-HATES country music so fucking much and if Johnny plays that goddamn country record ONE more time-

-Is determined to make sure neither of his older brothers find our just how much time he spends with Curly Shepard

-Cut the blond out of his hair as soon as he possibly could, even though it made his hair shorter than he liked because he hated the light colour more than he hated the short length

-Has the worst poker face known to man but is actually decent at poker (because he cheats, but unlike Sodapop he’s good at cheating so he rarely gets caught)

[edenesth]

01. The Captain — By Order of the Black Pirates

An 'Ice On My Teeth' Comeback Special Series

Pairing: gang leader!Hongjoong x fem!reader

AU: gang au

Word Count: 18.1k

Summary: The Captain of the Black Pirates—respected, feared, and unmatched in strategy—lives by his sharp mind and unshakable resolve. But his carefully constructed world begins to crumble when a grave mistake leads him to torture an innocent suspect nearly to death. Haunted by guilt, his quest for redemption takes an unexpected turn, awakening a part of him he never thought existed: a desire to protect and care for someone.

Genre: angst, hurt/comfort

Trigger Warnings: violence, torture, abuse, blood, scars, mentions of murder and SA, language, contains dark themes in general

SERIES MASTERLIST | ATEEZ MASTERLIST

The dim glow of lantern light flickered across the room as the gang leader held the letter between his fingers, turning it over with a scrutinising gaze. His brow arched slightly, the ivory wax seal bearing the unmistakable insignia of the White Serpents—a gang notorious for their cunning and deception, their pristine image masking venomous intent. Silent but deadly, serpents poised to strike. And Hongjoong knew them well.

"Well?" His voice was calm, almost amused, as he studied the coded message in his hand.

Yunho exhaled sharply with a shake of his head, frustration etched across his face. "She's stubborn. Won't admit to a thing. Twenty-four hours, and still nothing."

The Captain's smirk widened, dark amusement playing in his eyes. "Really? Even with this treacherous letter in her possession?" He tapped the envelope lightly. "Twenty-four hours… that's impressive. No dog has ever lasted that long." His tone was laced with mock intrigue. "Perhaps she's an especially loyal one. How interesting."

He leaned back, nodding toward the heavy iron doors leading to the basement, his voice low and confident. "A tough one to crack, no doubt. But they all crack… eventually." The distant echo of chains rattling and the creak of the doors opening sent a chill through the air. The game had only just begun.

Let's see just how long you can last.

The room was dim, suffocating in its silence, the air thick with tension and the metallic scent of damp stone. Your breath hitched as consciousness clawed its way back, and the cold, unforgiving chill bit at your drenched skin. You blinked through the sting of icy water clinging to your lashes, your trembling gaze rising to meet the source of the voice that shattered the oppressive stillness.

"Congratulations, miss!" The sudden, mocking boom made you flinch, fear coiling tighter around your chest. "You're the first to last a full day in these chambers. How very impressive!"

The man before you was smaller than the one who had been 'questioning' you earlier—a tall, lanky figure whose blows you could still feel—but this one's presence was far more terrifying. Cold authority radiated from him, his smile a twisted mockery of warmth. He stepped closer, his sharp eyes gleaming with dark amusement. "I trust my boys have treated you well."

A shiver tore through you, body wracked with uncontrollable tremors—whether from the bitter cold or the malice in his voice, you couldn't tell. His grin widened, and the false politeness only made it worse. "Fear not, my lady," he purred, his tone soft and deadly. "I'll treat you even better… until you decide to be honest, of course."

Your heart sank into the pit of your stomach, despair crashing over you. You tried to shake your head, but your body was too weak and cold to offer feeble resistance. And yet, you knew—this was only the beginning.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you wished for the thousandth—no, the millionth—time that this was all a nightmare. The cold seeped into your bones, but it wasn't just the chill that made you tremble. It was the gnawing fear, the hopelessness that clung to you like a second skin.

How did it come to this?

You replayed the events over and over in your mind, searching for an answer, but all you found was confusion. Just a day or two ago, you had been weaving through the bustling port, arms laden with imported goods for your employer. The crowded streets were alive with noise—merchants shouting, sailors hauling cargo, smugglers slipping through the shadows. You had only wanted to return to work, unaware that fate had already marked you.

Then it happened. A sharp turn into an alley. The sudden grip of rough hands. Black-clothed men cornering you like wolves circling their prey, eyes sharp and merciless. Their accusations—espionage, treachery—made no sense. You tried to explain, voice trembling, but they didn't listen. Not until they tore through your belongings and fished out a letter—one you had never seen before.

The blow came swiftly, a fist to your face, and the world went dark.

Now, here you were. Broken. Bleeding. Trapped in a nightmare you couldn't escape.

"P-please… I d-don't know who the Wh-white Serpents are," you stammered, forcing your swollen eye open to meet the man who seemed to command the room, his presence suffocating. "I s-swear…"

Hongjoong's tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek, his irritation barely concealed behind a mask of feigned calm. "You know," he said, his voice laced with a dangerous softness, "I was really hoping you wouldn't say that again." He exhaled in a mock sigh, his patience wearing thin. "Now you've left me no choice."

With deliberate steps, he moved toward the glowing embers at the far side of the room. The fire crackled, and your breath hitched when he wrapped his hand around a hot branding iron, its tip glowing ominously.

No, please...

Panic surged through you, and tears spilt uncontrollably down your cheeks. You didn't even have the strength to sob anymore. You could only watch in frozen terror as he turned back, the iron in his grasp radiating heat and menace.

"Come on," he cooed, voice deceptively gentle. "I'd really hate to ruin such pretty skin. All you have to do is be a good girl—tell me what this blasted letter says. Tell me the name of your boss." His grin was sharp, dangerous, but beneath it, you sensed his patience was threadbare.

The White Serpents. The name alone ignited his fury. Their faces were always hidden, their identities a mystery. Even their leader remained a ghost, a phantom in white. And that infuriated him more than anything—an enemy he couldn't see, couldn't predict.

And now, you were his only lead.

The room seemed to shrink under the weight of his frustration. The dim light flickered over the cold stone walls, shadows dancing like spectres of every soul that had suffered here before you. His grip on the branding iron tightened, the metal searing hot in his hand, glowing with menace. He didn't want to take this step—truly, he didn't. But the memory of how they found you replayed in his mind, solidifying his certainty.

You were guilty. You had to be.

He clenched his jaw, recalling the chaos at the port. The Black Pirates were in the midst of a crucial covert operation, tensions strung taut like a wire. They had been waiting for the White Serpents to make a move, for the elusive spy to slip through their defences. The streets were crowded, the perfect cover for deception.

Then there was you.

A simple girl, or so it seemed, navigating the busy market with unsuspecting ease. Unbeknownst to you, the real spy—the one they had been hunting—moved silently through the crowd. In a calculated move, the informant slipped the coded letter into your bag and vanished into the sea of bodies before anyone could catch him.

Hongjoong's men, sharp-eyed and vigilant, saw the handoff. They reacted swiftly, believing they had caught the elusive spy. You were cornered in the alley, fear etched across your face as you begged for understanding, your confusion only cementing their suspicions. The letter was damning enough. Evidence was evidence, and the Captain trusted his crew's intelligence.

But now, staring at you—broken, trembling, tears staining your bruised cheeks—he felt the edges of his certainty fraying. You persisted in your pleas, clinging to innocence with a desperation that should have crumbled by now. And yet… you hadn't.

"Last chance, woman," he said coldly, his voice like a blade drawn slowly from its sheath. The heat from the iron radiated, the threat palpable. "There will be no going back from here. I'm sure you know that."

He meant the words as a warning for you, a final offer before he left mercy behind. But deep down, perhaps they were a warning for himself, too—a foreshadowing he didn't yet grasp.

You shook your head weakly, trembling from exhaustion and terror. Still no confession. Still the same maddening persistence.

Hongjoong raised the branding iron, holding it close to your battered face. His eyes burned with something dangerous, something teetering between anger and frustration.

"Well then," he murmured, his voice low and dangerous, the finality in his tone sealing your fate—or so he thought.

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The air in the torture chamber hung heavy with the acrid stench of scorched flesh, mingling with the damp chill of the stone walls. His cold, calculating gaze never wavered as he watched you, unconscious and crumpled on the floor, your body trembling even in unconsciousness. The mark of the Black Pirates seared into your back, raw and angry, a testament to the brutality you'd endured.

"That'll scar for life," one of his men muttered, a mix of awe and amusement in his voice.

Hongjoong let out a low, humourless chuckle, his eyes dark with unrelenting resolve. "For life?" he echoed, tilting his head slightly. "How optimistic. I doubt she'll live long enough to see the next sunrise if she continues to be this stubborn."

His voice was void of emotion, laced with a chilling indifference that sent a shiver through even the most hardened of his men. He didn't enjoy this—not exactly—but he had no patience for weakness. If you wouldn't talk, you were nothing but a liability, and liabilities were dealt with swiftly.

He turned away for a moment, tossing the branding iron back into the fire with a careless flick of his wrist. Embers exploded in every direction, but he paid them no mind. "We've wasted enough time on her," he said, voice cold and final. "If she doesn't confess after this, end it. Finish her."

The room fell silent, save for the crackling of the fire, the finality of his words hanging in the air like a death sentence. One of the guards nodded, his expression stoic. "Of course, boss."

Hongjoong motioned toward the bucket of dirty water beside you, its murky surface rippling with the slightest movement. "Wake her," he commanded, his voice devoid of mercy, anticipating the agony that would soon follow.

The guard lifted the bucket with ease, the liquid sloshing dangerously close to the rim as he approached. Without hesitation, he tilted it, the filthy water cascading over your battered body. The moment the contaminated water hit your wounds, especially the fresh burn, your body convulsed violently.

A scream ripped from your throat, raw and guttural, piercing through the oppressive stillness. It wasn't the kind of scream that came from fear—it was the sound of pure, unfiltered agony.

The Captain didn't flinch. He stood tall, arms crossed, watching with a detached curiosity as you writhed on the floor. "That's better," he muttered, almost to himself. "Now, let's see if you're ready to talk."

He crouched down beside you, his face an unreadable mask. "Final chance," he said softly, almost tenderly, as if mocking your suffering. "Who sent you?" His voice dipped lower, dangerously calm. "Or would you prefer to die in this filth, unloved and forgotten?"

The only response was the ragged sound of your breath, broken sobs wracking your body. His patience was wearing thin, and though he was a man known for his control, he was ready to end this.

A shuddering breath escaped your lips, each gasp searing through your lungs like fire. The icy water clung to your battered body, every drop seeping into your open wounds, amplifying the unbearable pain. Your vision blurred, the dim room spinning into shadows and smoke, but you clung to the fragments of your thoughts, the last remnants of who you were.

This is it, you thought, the realisation settling over you with a strange, hollow calm. This is how it ends.

You didn't know why these monsters had dragged you into their nightmare, why they believed you were a spy. You didn't understand the cruel fate that had brought you here, only that it had. And now, there was no escape. The man before you, with his cold eyes and cruel smirk, had made that clear.

Your body trembled violently, not from the cold but from the acceptance creeping into your heart. Death will be a mercy, you thought. Better this than more agony.

Closing your eyes, you let the numbness wash over you, a strange kind of peace taking root beneath the layers of fear. You thought of your friends—the laughter shared over simple joys. You thought of your family, their faces blurred by memory but still holding warmth. And you thought of your employer, the one person who had seen worth in you when the world turned away. You prayed they would not grieve too long. You prayed they would find solace.

I'll watch over them, you promised silently. From wherever I'm going.

The wet, acrid air filled your lungs, heavy and suffocating. Every second stretched into eternity, and you waited for the final blow, the one that would release you. Your heartbeat slowed, the frantic rhythm giving way to a dull, distant echo.

And then, the room grew deathly quiet.

Hongjoong remained crouched, studying you, his iron grip on control unwavering. He didn't speak immediately, and that was almost worse. The silence pressed down, a suffocating weight, as if the world was holding its breath.

"Still nothing?" His voice was soft now, eerily gentle, like a predator savouring the last moments before the kill.

You didn't respond. Couldn't. There was nothing left to say. You were ready for the end.

And then, with a slow exhale, you heard him murmur almost to himself, "What a shame."

The gang leader let out a long, slow breath, his head shaking slightly, a humourless smile curving his lips. His eyes lingered on your broken form, slumped over, trembling and soaked, but utterly still, as if you had already crossed into death's grasp. Your eyes fluttered shut, the last spark of defiance extinguished. With a heavy sigh, he rose to his feet, dusting off his coat with deliberate care, and with a curt nod, gestured toward his men.

"Finish it."

The words were cold and final, slicing through the room like a blade. One of the guards stepped forward, the metallic click of his gun cocking echoing in the dim space, followed by the low scrape of his boot on the wet floor. Hongjoong turned his back on you, jaw tight, waiting for the shot to ring out, waiting for the moment to pass so he could move on from this wasted effort.

But then— footsteps. Quick and urgent, echoing down the stone stairway.

"Wait."

The voice was calm but firm, cutting through the tension like a sudden gust of wind. The room froze, the guard's finger hovering over the trigger as all eyes turned toward the stairs. Yeosang emerged from the shadows, his usual cool composure replaced by something unsettled. His sharp gaze darted toward your barely conscious form before locking onto his captain, his face unreadable, but his unease unmistakable.

Hongjoong's brow lifted in mild curiosity, though his patience was wearing thin. "What is it, Yeo?" he asked, voice clipped as the Phantom strode forward, his expression grave.

Yeosang leaned in close, his voice low but firm as he murmured something into the gang leader's ear, too quiet for the others to hear. Whatever he said, it landed like a blow. Hongjoong's entire posture shifted. His jaw clenched, his fists curling and uncurling at his sides as he processed the whispered words.

The room held its collective breath.

After what felt like an eternity, the Captain straightened, his eyes dark with a new kind of frustration, though there was no mistaking the glimmer of something else—regret? Anger? It was impossible to tell.

His voice, when it came, was sharp and decisive. "Release her."

The room erupted in a flurry of confusion, but no one dared question him. The guard with the gun hesitated for only a second before lowering it, stepping back. Another moved to untie the chains binding your wrists, the cold iron clattering to the floor as your limp body crumpled forward.

Hongjoong's gaze never wavered, his face carved from stone as he watched you collapse. His men obeyed without question, though their confusion was palpable, the tension still thick in the air.

As you slumped to the ground, barely conscious, he let out another breath, slow and controlled, his eyes narrowing in thought.

"Take her to the infirmary," he commanded, voice icy but steady. "And keep her alive."

His men exchanged uncertain glances but quickly moved to obey, lifting your frail body with care as they carried you out. He remained rooted, his eyes lingering on the bloodstained floor, his fists clenched once more as Yeosang watched him silently.

"I hope for your sake," Hongjoong muttered under his breath, "this wasn't a mistake."

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The heavy oak door to his office slammed shut behind him, the echo reverberating through the grand but cold space. Hongjoong paced across the dimly lit room, the fire in the hearth casting flickering shadows on the walls, but offering no warmth. His hand shook slightly as he poured another shot of whiskey, the amber liquid splashing over the rim. He didn't care. He downed it in one swift motion, the burn doing little to drown the bile rising in his throat.

Wrong person.

His brother's words replayed in his mind like a curse, each syllable a dagger to his pride.

"Hyung, we got the wrong person. She's not the spy—the real one escaped. This woman was just... there. A scapegoat."

He squeezed his eyes shut, his jaw clenched so tightly it ached. The whiskey glass slammed down on the desk, the sharp crack of glass against wood making his men just outside the door flinch. But none dared to enter. They knew better.

His fists balled at his sides, trembling with suppressed rage—at Yeosang, at his crew, at himself. The sight of your bloodied form flashed in his mind, the raw agony in your voice as he pressed the searing iron into your skin. He could still hear the echoes of your pleas, the desperate, broken words you had whispered over and over: I'm not who you think I am... please...

He should have known.

How could he have missed it? The way you had looked at him, not with defiance or guilt but with pure, unfiltered fear and confusion. He was Kim Hongjoong, the Captain of the Black fuckin' Pirates—his instincts had never failed him before. Yet this time, he had been blinded by rage, by the need for control, and it had led him to commit an unforgivable mistake.

His knuckles whitened as he gripped the edge of the desk, the polished surface groaning under the strain. No amount of wealth or power in this city could erase the image of your battered, broken body lying on the cold floor. The branded mark he had burned into your back would scar, not just on your skin but in his mind, forever.

The Black Pirates were ruthless, yes, but not reckless. Innocents were not meant to be collateral unless there was no other choice. This... this was different. It was unacceptable.

He let out a low, bitter laugh, hollow and laced with self-loathing. "How could this happen?" he muttered to no one, his voice cracking. "I'm the one who doesn't make mistakes."

But this was a mistake. A fatal one, if Yeosang hadn't intervened.

The storm inside him raged on, unrelenting. No amount of whiskey could drown it, no fire could warm the cold knot in his chest. For the first time in years, Kim Hongjoong felt something foreign and unwelcome searing through him.

Regret.

He sank into the leather chair behind his desk, elbows on his knees, head bowed. His hands covered his face, shaking as if he could scrub away the guilt, the shame. But it was branded on him now, just as deeply as the mark he had scorched into your skin.

After what felt like hours, he remained in his office, standing by the window, the golden light of the waning sun casting a sharp contrast against the deep shadows in the room. His gaze pierced through the glass, locking onto the tall, black gates of their mansion—gates that symbolised power, control, and security. Yet today, they felt like bars of a prison. He imagined how those gates must have looked to you, cold and foreboding, as you were dragged inside, far from the life you knew, thrust into a nightmare you hadn't earned.

He clenched his jaw, fists curling at his sides as the weight of his guilt continued to press down on him. One mistake. One mistake. That's all it had taken to bring you here. A mistake from his men, from him, and it had led to your torture. His throat tightened as those cruel memories clawed at him: your ragged pleas, your broken body, and worst of all, his voice—cold, detached, ruthless—demanding answers you didn't have.

Remorse surged through him, an agonising tide that refused to ebb. His own words echoed in his mind, venomous and unforgiving: "Be a good girl and tell us what this blasted letter says." His stomach twisted, the taste of bile bitter on his tongue.

He turned away from the window, squeezing his eyes shut as he clutched his head, fingers digging into his scalp as if the pain could drown out the memories. But it only intensified the haunting vision that consumed him: his mother's lifeless eyes, staring into nothingness, wide with fear and betrayal. She had died for nothing—used, discarded, and left to rot by men who saw her as collateral damage. All for debts that weren't hers to pay.

He had been just a boy—useless and powerless—as he watched her lifeblood seep into the dirt, all because of his degenerate father, who had left them behind with nothing but mountains of debt. The loan sharks had spared him, a mistake they didn't live to regret. Hongjoong had spent years rising from the ashes of that helpless child, becoming the monster who hunted monsters, the leader who swore to tear down anyone who preyed on the innocent.

Yet now, here he was, no different from the men who had taken his mother from him.

He slammed a fist onto the desk, the sharp crack splitting the heavy silence. His breathing was ragged, uneven, as his mind spiralled into the past. He had sworn not to harm the innocent.

But he had failed. He had repeated the very sin that had shaped him.

They weren't heroes. The Black Pirates were thieves, smugglers, outlaws. But they lived by one code: never harm those who didn't deserve it. They stole from the corrupt, the greedy, those who exploited the powerless. They were not saviours, but they were not supposed to be butchers either.

And now, because of his blindness, you lay broken and scarred—an innocent woman caught in the crossfire of his rage.

His hands trembled as he dragged them through his hair, staring blankly at the dark wood beneath him. His reflection in the glass across the room looked unfamiliar—haunted, lost, and consumed by a regret that would never fade.

How can I ever make this right?

The oppressive silence in the room was broken by a familiar deep voice, one he always sought when the weight of leadership became too much. "She's stable," Seonghwa said, his tone calm yet sombre.

Hongjoong exhaled a breath he hadn't realised he was holding, relief flooding through him like a tide that couldn't quite wash away the guilt. "Stable," he echoed, the word offering little solace.

His brother stepped closer, the soft creak of the floorboards the only sound between them. "They've patched her up... but I don't think some of the scars will ever go away." His voice dipped into something quieter, almost apologetic. "Especially not that mark."

The gang leader winced, his fingers tightening into trembling fists. The brand—his brand—seared into her back, a permanent testament to his cruelty. "The mark," he muttered, voice hoarse with regret. "She'll carry it because of me."

Seonghwa leaned against the edge of the desk, folding his arms, watching him with a measured gaze. "Because of us," he corrected, though the words offered no comfort. "But this isn't like you. You don't make mistakes like this."

Hongjoong let out a hollow, bitter laugh. "And yet, I did. I fucked up. She begged, Hwa." His voice cracked, raw and ragged. "She begged, and I didn't listen."

The eldest's face softened, but he didn't look away. "Regret is pointless if it doesn't drive change," he said quietly. "We can't undo what's been done. But maybe... maybe we can still make it right."

Hongjoong looked up, his eyes hollow but desperate. "How?"

Seonghwa met his gaze, steady and unwavering. "By giving her a choice. Her freedom. Protection if she wants it. You can't erase the scars, but you can make sure she's never harmed again."

The Captain's jaw clenched. "And if she wants nothing from us? If she wants nothing to do with the Black Pirates?"

"Then you let her go," Seonghwa replied simply, his voice steady. "With the assurance that she'll never have to fear us again."

Hongjoong leaned back in his chair, tension coiling in his shoulders. "I don't deserve forgiveness."

"No," the Gentleman agreed softly, his voice firm but kind. "But it's not about what you deserve. It's about what she does."

The words hung in the air, heavier than any weapon, cutting deeper than any blade.

Hongjoong dragged his hands through his hair, the tremor in them betraying the turmoil within. "Tell them to keep her comfortable," he whispered, voice barely audible. "And... let me know when she wakes up."

Seonghwa inclined his head, moving toward the door but paused before stepping out. "You may never forgive yourself, Joong," he said, his voice softer now, "but that doesn't mean you can't try to do better."

As the door clicked shut behind him, the leader was left alone with the echoes of his guilt—and the faintest, most fragile glimmer of hope.

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The quiet hum of the infirmary filled the air, broken only by the soft rustle of sheets and the faint crackle of the oil lamp on the bedside table. Hongjoong stood frozen in the doorway, his eyes locked on your still form lying on the cot. The sight twisted something deep inside him, the sharp pang of guilt slicing through him once again.

"Hyung?" Jongho's voice pulled him from his reverie, soft but laced with surprise. "Why are you here?" His brows knitted together in confusion as he stepped closer. "Seonghwa hyung said to only inform you when she's awake. She's not—"

The gang leader cut him off with a subtle shake of his head. "I had to see if she's okay... for myself." His voice was low, almost a whisper. "You're dismissed. I'll take over."

Jongho hesitated, his eyes searching his leader's face, filled with concern and something unspoken. "Hyung..."

"I won't..." Hongjoong's voice faltered, his throat tightening. "I won't hurt her any further, Jongho."

The youngest sighed softly, the tension in the room heavy between them. "That's not what I—"

"I know," Hongjoong interrupted, closing his eyes and swallowing hard. "It's fine. Just... go thank the doctor for me."

Jongho lingered for a moment, his gaze lingering on the Captain's worn expression. Finally, he gave a respectful bow of his head. "I'll be nearby if you need me."

With that, the Anchor left, the door clicking softly shut behind him, leaving Hongjoong alone with the stillness once more.

He stepped forward, the floor creaking beneath his boots, and sank into the chair beside the bed. His hands trembled as he clasped them together, resting them on his knees. He could barely bring himself to look at you, the bandages wrapped around your body stark against your pale skin, the ghost of the agony he had inflicted still lingering in the air.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, the words breaking like fragile glass. "Fuck, I'm so sorry."

The apology felt hollow, inadequate, but it was all he had. He sat there, staring at you, hoping that somehow, even in sleep, you might hear him. But the only response was the steady rise and fall of your chest, the rhythmic proof that you were alive.

Alive, but not whole.

He leaned back, his head tipping against the wall, the weight of everything crushing down on him. For the first time in years, Kim Hongjoong—the feared Captain of the Black Pirates—felt utterly powerless.

His eyes, unwilling to linger any longer on the bandages covering your wounded body, drifted downward. There, beneath the cot, something caught his attention. A crumpled, dirt-streaked tote bag sat neglected, its once vibrant fabric marred by careless fingerprints—his men's fingerprints.

He furrowed his brows and leaned forward, retrieving the bag with careful hands as if it might break apart at any moment. The stitching was amateur but charming, the drawings simple yet endearing. Scrawled in bright, cheerful lettering at the centre were the words Marigold Gift Shop.

It looked so out of place here in the dim and sterile infirmary, like a splash of sunlight drowning in shadow.

He set the bag on his lap and gently pried it open. The contents were jumbled, chaotic, but it was clear that everything inside once held meaning. Trinkets, small souvenirs from the port—a handful of seashells, a hand-painted keychain, and a delicate glass charm in the shape of a flower. These were not the belongings of a spy.

He reached deeper and pulled out a tiny notebook, its edges worn from use. His fingers brushed over the cover before flipping it open. The pages were filled with neat, dainty handwriting—simple lists:

Small wooden carvings

Candles (lavender & sea breeze)

Handmade bookmarks

Seashell jewellery

It wasn't just a list of purchases—it was a routine, mundane, innocent.

Hongjoong's throat constricted, and his hands trembled as the realisation struck him anew: you had been working. You had been on an errand for your job at the Marigold Gift Shop when they dragged you into their nightmare.

His vision blurred, his breath catching in his chest.

You had no idea who they were. No idea what danger you had stumbled into. You were just there, in the wrong place at the wrong time, and it cost you everything.

Hongjoong squeezed the notebook shut, resting it against his forehead as though it could somehow absolve him of the crushing guilt. People must be looking for you—your friends, your family, your employer. The ones who had sent you on this errand, trusting you would return safely.

And now, what could he give them? A broken, scarred version of the vibrant soul they had lost. How could he face them? How could he return you to them like this?

He sat in silence, the only sound in the room the steady rhythm of your breathing and the occasional drip of water from the infirmary's ceiling. His gaze lingered on the crumpled tote bag resting on his lap, its cheerful colours muted beneath the grime. His fingers traced the fabric absentmindedly before he noticed the bucket of clean water and a spare rag near your cot.

For reasons he didn't fully understand, he stood and reached for the rag, dipping it into the water. The cloth came away damp and cool, and he squeezed out the excess with slow, deliberate movements. It was a strange sight—Kim Hongjoong, feared leader of the Black Pirates, bent over a bag, carefully wiping away the dirt and grime.

He worked in silence, the world narrowing to this singular task. Each stroke of the rag against the fabric felt like an apology he couldn't utter aloud. Slowly, painstakingly, he cleaned the tote, rubbing away the stains until the bright colours began to peek through again. The cheerful drawings and stitched patterns reemerged, fragile yet resilient beneath the care of his steady hands.

Piece by piece, he began to arrange your belongings. The trinkets were cleaned and carefully set back in place—each seashell, the delicate glass flower charm, the hand-painted keychain. He smoothed out the tiny notebook, the pages no longer crumpled but straightened with the same precision he reserved for the most critical of plans.

As he worked, he felt a strange lightness settle over him. He hadn't noticed the small smile tugging at the corners of his lips until it faded, replaced by the weight of reality as his gaze shifted back to you.

The bag, now pristine, sat neatly on the table beside you, a quiet testament to his care—a care no one, not even his brothers, had seen in years.

He stood there for a long moment, staring at you, at the bandages wrapped around your broken body, and the regret clawed at his chest again. His smile had vanished entirely, replaced by the grim determination that only guilt could bring.

How could he make this right? How could he even begin? Would you ever be able to forgive him, or himself, for what he had done?

The questions lingered unanswered in the stillness as he sat back down, elbows on his knees, hands clasped tightly together.

He didn't know the answers. All he knew was that he had to try.

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The world swirled in an agonising haze as your consciousness began to claw its way back. Every inch of your body screamed in pain, each bruise, cut, and wound making itself known like fire crawling beneath your skin. It was almost impossible to grasp the full weight of the agony—how could anyone describe the sensation of pain this overwhelming? It was a deep, suffocating thing that made every breath feel like a battle.

You tried to open your eyes, but even that small movement was an assault on your senses. The brightness behind your eyelids was too much, the pressure of it sending a wave of dizziness crashing over you. When you managed to blink, your eyes watered uncontrollably, the effort alone nearly too much to bear. The burn on your back, the curse of that mark—his mark—lingered like a red-hot brand, the pain compounded by the memory of it being tainted with filthy, contaminated water. You couldn't even tell if the pain had dulled or if it was just the agony of everything else making it seem like the worst of it. Even if you didn't die from your injuries, you were certain that infection would claim you before long.

Slowly, with a whimper that barely escaped your cracked lips, you arched your back, instinctively trying to relieve the burning pain from the mark. The movement was weak, your body screaming in protest, but the sensation was a small reprieve. As you forced your eyes open again, blinking over and over to get your bearings, your vision began to sharpen, and the haze of confusion began to recede, bit by bit.

The white ceiling above you was a sharp contrast to the hellish basement you had been trapped in. A sterile smell filled the air, the kind that only came from a medical facility. You were no longer in that filthy, oppressive place. Were you safe now? Had someone rescued you? Was it the authorities? Or perhaps your friends, your family, or your employer had noticed you were missing and raised the alarm? Had they found you in time?

You desperately hoped for any answer that could bring you some sense of peace, but the sight before you shattered that hope in an instant.

Turning your head slightly, you froze. The tears that had started to retreat at the thought of safety now rushed back with full force. There, sitting in a chair beside your bed, was the man who had nearly ended your life.

His face was shadowed in exhaustion, his posture slumped slightly as if he'd nodded off in his seat. His presence hit you like a blow to the chest, a knot of raw fear twisting in your gut. The man who had tortured you, who had burned you, who had broken you was right there. The man who was responsible for every inch of pain you'd endured.

Your breath hitched in your throat, and despite your body's desperate need to remain still, the fear surged within you. You couldn't help but tremble, a silent cry of terror rising in your chest.

But even in your panic, something else stirred—a strange, foreign confusion. He was here. In this room. But he wasn't hurting you. Was he... watching over you? Was this some new kind of torment? A psychological game? The thought made your head spin.

Tears fell down your cheeks as you tried to shift, but your body refused to obey. You were broken in every sense of the word, and now, trapped by your own fear and pain, you couldn't make sense of anything. All you knew was that the man who had caused all of this—the man who had dragged you into this nightmare—was right there, inches away from you.

And you had no idea what it meant.

Your attempts to keep your sobs quiet failed, the soft, broken sounds escaping against your will. Each tremor in your chest seemed to echo in the sterile room, and despite the pain, your body recoiled in fear as you saw him stir. His brow furrowed, eyes fluttering open slowly, the grogginess of sleep fading as he registered the sound—and then, his gaze locked with yours.

Panic surged through you, your breath hitching violently as his dark eyes met your own, wide and trembling, your irises blown out with terror. You wanted to scream, to run, but your body betrayed you, too weak and broken to do anything but sink further into the thin blanket covering you. All you could do was shrink back, the ache in your body drowned out by the overwhelming fear coursing through your veins.

Hongjoong froze, his expression unreadable for a heartbeat. Then, he sat up straighter, slowly, deliberately, as if trying not to startle you further. His jaw clenched, and for a second, the silence stretched unbearably between you. He raised his hands carefully, palms facing you in a universal gesture of peace, his movements measured and cautious, like one might approach a wounded animal.

"Hey," he began softly, his voice low and careful, as though it might shatter you further. "It's okay. I'm not going to hurt you."

You didn't believe him. How could you? The fear in your eyes deepened, your body curling instinctively beneath the covers, though every movement brought fresh waves of agony. Your eyes darted around the room, seeking escape, seeking anyone else—but it was only him.

He sighed, a heavy sound filled with something that almost resembled regret. He stayed seated, keeping his hands up, as if showing he was unarmed would make any difference to the scars he had already left on you. "Nobody will hurt you again," he said, and his voice trembled, just barely. "That... that includes me."

You watched him, breath ragged, your body trembling with the effort to stay still. He swallowed hard, the guilt written in every line of his face as he continued, his tone thick with something you couldn't name—shame? Guilt? Desperation? "I know this is all very confusing, and you have no reason to trust me, but we made a mistake. I made a mistake."

He paused, his throat bobbing as he swallowed again, struggling with the weight of the words. "You're not who we thought you were. And for that—for everything we... I put you through—I'm sorry."

His apology hung in the air, but it did nothing to ease the terror in your heart. It sounded sincere, but sincerity didn't erase the pain, the scars, the nightmare that still lingered in your mind. It didn't change the fact that this man, who now sat before you looking so remorseful, had been the one to destroy you.

Tears continued to stream down your face, and all you could do was stare at him, disbelieving and broken, the word sorry echoing hollowly in your mind. He had taken everything from you, and now he expected that word to make it right?

The silence stretched between you, fragile and suffocating, as you lay there—shattered, terrified, and unsure of what came next.

As if your body had decided to break the unbearable silence itself, your stomach let out a loud, insistent growl. The sound was jarring in the stillness, so absurdly out of place that it caught both of you off guard. You gasped, clutching the thin blanket tighter to your face, cheeks burning despite the pain radiating through your body. Humiliation and fear clashed within you. Would he be disgusted? Would he regret sparing you? Was this the moment he'd change his mind?

You couldn't help but brace yourself.

But instead of anger or disdain, he simply blinked in surprise before his lips parted, and he mumbled softly, "Oh, right. Stupid me. You must be starving." His voice carried a gentleness that was almost foreign, as if the words were meant more for himself than you.

The wooden chair scraped lightly against the floor as he pushed it back, the sound startling in the quiet room. He stood slowly, the motion casual, almost hesitant. "I'll bring you something to eat," he said, the words so ordinary, so kind, that they felt unreal.

And then, just like that, he walked out of the room, the door closing quietly behind him.

You lay frozen, staring at the spot where he'd been moments ago, unable to comprehend what had just happened. Your mind spun in confusion, trying to reconcile the man who had tortured you with the one who now spoke softly and promised food. Was this some twisted game? Was he really going to bring you food—or was it laced with poison, a final, cruel trick?

But if he wanted you dead, why not just finish it when he had the chance? Why tend to your wounds, only to kill you later? The questions swirled relentlessly.

You bit your trembling lip, tears pricking the corners of your eyes again. He could have killed you. You had seen it in his eyes that day—the moment he gave the final order. You had accepted it then, surrendering to fate, your body succumbing to the darkness.

Yet here you were. Alive.

Still shaking, you turned your head to the door, trying to comprehend the reality before you. Was this real? Was he truly changing—or was this a prelude to something worse?

The confusion and fear gnawed at you, but beneath it, a glimmer of something unfamiliar lingered.

Hope.

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"Here," he said softly, holding out a spoonful of chicken soup to your lips. The aroma was heavenly—rich and savoury, exactly what your starved body craved after days without food. Your stomach clenched painfully in response, desperate for sustenance. Yet, despite the temptation, you frowned and turned your face away.

He sighed, his hand lowering slightly but not withdrawing entirely. The bowl in his other hand trembled ever so slightly as if he wasn't sure what to do next. Finally, he set it gently on the table beside you, the warm liquid inside rippling quietly.

Eyes trailing after his movements, you caught sight of your bag resting there. It wasn't in the state you remembered—no longer a crumpled, filthy mess. It had been cleaned meticulously, every stitch visible and tidy, the fabric now free from dirt and grime.

His voice interrupted your thoughts, soft and almost hesitant. "Oh yeah, your bag. I... got busy while you were sleeping and cleaned it up."

You clutched the blanket tighter, sceptical. Him? Cleaning your bag? It was absurd.

"Everything inside too," he added, a small smile pulling at his lips. "You have some pretty cool stuff."

Your eyes widened, heart racing. He touched your things? Against your better judgement, you reached out, wanting to verify the state of your belongings, only to let out a sharp cry as pain flared through your body with the movement.

He was beside you instantly, his hands hovering, unsure whether to touch or retreat. His face twisted in something that looked suspiciously like hurt when you recoiled, sinking back into the bed to avoid him.

Clearing his throat, he asked, voice soft, "You want your bag?"

You nodded timidly, watching him closely. His small smile returned, gentle and relieved. "Let me help you," he murmured, pulling his chair closer. He placed the bag on the bed between you both, unzipping it carefully for you to see inside.

For the first time since waking up, your eyes softened. Everything was as he said—clean, neatly arranged. Trembling fingers reached out for the glass flower charm nestled inside, your favourite trinket. But before you could touch it, your stomach betrayed you again with a loud, desperate growl.

Humiliated, you drew your hand back, shrinking into yourself.

He chuckled softly, reaching for the bowl again. "I know you don't trust me, and you shouldn't," he admitted, his tone gentle and sincere, "but I can assure you, this is safe to consume." To prove it, he scooped a generous spoonful and took a bite himself, letting out an exaggerated hum of satisfaction.

You swallowed hard, the sight and smell tormenting you. Still, you hesitated when he held out another spoonful.

"If you won't eat it," he said with a sigh, "then I'll finish the rest." He raised the spoon toward his own mouth as if to follow through.

Before he could, you opened your mouth quickly, and his grin softened. Gently, he fed you, the warm broth sliding down your throat like liquid gold, soothing and comforting. The flavours were simple, yet after days of deprivation, it felt like the most luxurious meal you'd ever had.

He remained calm, every action slow and deliberate, offering care despite your fear and mistrust. His patience was unsettling, yet... somehow, in that moment, the terrifying man you had known felt like a distant memory.

But the pain in your body lingered. And so did the scars.

Hongjoong felt a warmth he couldn't explain swelling in his chest as you finished the final spoonful, the empty bowl resting between you both like a fragile truce. His eyes softened as he watched you, vulnerable yet still defiant, the faintest remnants of tears glistening on your lashes. He reached forward, hand poised to wipe the corner of your lips, but before he could, a sharp knock on the door shattered the moment.

He blinked, and it was as if a mask fell into place. The softness in his gaze vanished, replaced by the cold, commanding demeanour you knew too well. He set the bowl on the table, the clink of ceramic against wood too loud in the heavy silence. Straightening in his seat, shoulders squared, he uttered a firm, "Come in."

You shrank back into the bed instinctively, your body curling as far from him as your injuries would allow. The door creaked open, and another man stepped inside—his brow raising slightly when he noticed you were awake.

"Hyung," he said, his tone both respectful and urgent, "you're needed at the meeting. To discuss our next steps, now that the..." He hesitated, casting a brief glance your way, as if unsure how much to say in your presence. "The actual spy remains at large."

Hongjoong nodded, the authority in his posture unwavering. "I'll be there. Thank you, Jongho." His voice was clipped, businesslike, a stark contrast to the gentle tone he'd used with you only moments before. "Summon the doctor. Have her checked thoroughly and ensure she's comfortable."

The man named Jongho gave a short nod and left without another word, the door clicking shut behind him.

For a moment, the Captain remained seated, his back straight, tension radiating from him. Then, as if reminded of your presence, he turned to you once more. His expression softened, just for a second, as he offered the faintest smile—fleeting but genuine. "It's okay," he murmured, his voice so low it was almost a whisper. "No one will hurt you again. I won't let them."

Before you could react, the smile vanished, his face hardening once more as he rose to his feet. Without another glance, he strode to the door and exited, the soft thud of his boots fading into the distance.

You lay there, staring at the closed door, heart racing, mind spinning. The man who had nearly destroyed you had just promised your protection. And despite everything, a single, terrifying thought whispered through your mind:

I believe you.

The room felt unnervingly quiet after his departure, the air still heavy with the remnants of his presence. You stayed frozen for a moment, listening to the silence, your pulse still thundering in your ears. Slowly, cautiously, you shifted beneath the blanket, every movement sending fresh waves of pain rippling through your battered body.

But you endured it, your gaze locked on the bag resting beside you. Trembling fingers reached out, brushing against its fabric, now pristine compared to how you last remembered it—torn, dirtied, ruined. Carefully, you pulled it closer, clutching it to your chest like a lifeline, tears welling up as you stroked the surface. Your fingers traced over the familiar stitches and doodles, remnants of happier times, of days spent working, laughing, living.

Were your loved ones searching for you? How frantic must they be, wondering if you were still alive, hoping, praying for your return? The thought broke something inside you, and you wept silently, the tears streaming down your face as you reached inside the bag.

Piece by piece, your belongings greeted you, neatly arranged—your keychain, your tiny souvenirs, even the little trinkets you'd collected on that ill-fated day. None of them bore the grime and cruelty you had last seen, each one painstakingly cleaned, cared for. Despite yourself, a hollow sob escaped your lips, and you hated how much it affected you.

At the very bottom of the bag, your trembling hand closed around the familiar worn edges of your notebook. You pulled it out, your tears falling freely as you held it close, opening the cover with a sniffle. Flipping through the pages, you found the list you had written, the innocent to-do list that had led you into this nightmare. Your thumb traced the ink of your handwriting—dotted with tiny stars and hearts—and you almost smiled through the pain.

But it wasn't your handwriting on the newest page. You froze, blinking through your tears as you stared at the words, scrawled in a neat, unfamiliar script:

I'm sorry. I will make it right again, I promise.

Your breath caught in your throat, a sob escaping that you couldn't suppress. He had written it. The very man who had branded you, broken you. And yet here, in this quiet, fragile moment, his apology was inked into your most personal possession.

It wasn't enough. It could never be enough.

But it was something.

The notebook fell from your hands, landing on your lap as you curled around it, weeping not just from pain, but from the deep, agonising confusion that tangled with it. You didn't know what to feel anymore. Hatred? Grief? Or some terrible, unbidden hope that his words weren't just lies?

As the tears blurred your vision, you whispered brokenly to no one, "Why does it hurt more now?"

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The days stretched into a haze of silence and uncertainty. You hadn't seen him since that moment when he fed you soup and scribbled his apology into your notebook. In his absence, Jongho became a constant presence—a quiet sentinel, always bringing what you needed but never lingering too long. Aside from him, the kind doctor, with her gentle hands and soothing voice, tended to your wounds, her care meticulous and soft. But it was always just Jongho and her. Never the Captain.

At first, you felt like a prisoner, wondering what the end of this strange hospitality would bring. Would they let you go? Was this kindness a façade before some darker fate awaited? But as the days went on, your thoughts turned inward, your hands finding comfort in writing. You filled parchment after parchment with letters—letters to your parents, your best friend, your employer. They were full of reassurances you weren't even sure you believed. I'm alive. I'm safe. I will come back. But the ink soothed you, even if you knew they might never be sent.

Today was no different, except for the soft murmurs between you and the doctor as she changed your dressings. Her hands worked deftly, the cool air brushing against your skin as she peeled away the layers of gauze and replaced them with fresh, clean bandages. You let your mind drift, thinking of the promise he had scrawled in your notebook. He said he'd make it right. But how? Will I get to leave? Will I ever see my old life again? And if I do… will I ever be the same?

The faint creak of the door interrupted your thoughts, and you looked up instinctively, expecting Jongho's usual unhurried entrance. But it wasn't the Anchor.

It was him.

Your breath caught, and you froze, eyes wide as you met the gaze of Kim Hongjoong. He, too, stilled in the doorway, his expression unreadable, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of something—guilt, perhaps? Regret? His gaze fell to your back, to the horrid brand etched into your skin, and you saw the way he flinched.

He wasn't the only one.

Your body trembled involuntarily, an instinctive recoil from the man who had caused you so much pain. The doctor, blissfully unaware of the tension thickening the air, glanced up with a warm smile. "Oh, you're here! I'm almost done, just give me a minute."

The gang leader nodded stiffly, but he didn't speak. He quickly averted his gaze, turning away as if the sight of you was unbearable. Perhaps it was. Perhaps it should be.

But not for the same reasons as before.

You watched him from the corner of your eye, clutching the edge of the blanket as the doctor finished her work, her hands light on your skin. She hummed softly, her presence a soothing balm to your raw nerves. But your focus remained on him—on the way his shoulders tensed, on the way he refused to meet your eyes again. When he did chance a glance, he caught your gaze, and you saw it clearly: shame.

His lips parted, but no words came. You wanted to demand answers. Why are you here? What do you want from me? But your voice remained trapped in your throat.

The doctor stood, packing up her supplies with a satisfied smile. "There we are," she said brightly, glancing between the two of you. "I'll leave you to rest now." She nodded respectfully to Hongjoong before quietly excusing herself, leaving you alone with him.

The door clicked shut, and the silence between you thickened. You stared at him, your heart pounding, as he stood there, still and unsure. He finally spoke, his voice low and rough, as if it hurt to say the words.

"I didn't mean to... interrupt." He looked down, hands clenched at his sides. "I only came to see how you were."

You didn't know what to say. Under normal circumstances, perhaps a thank you would have been appropriate—but this wasn't normal, and he didn't deserve that. So you kept quiet, your lips pressed into a thin line, your hands fidgeting with the edge of the blanket.

He sighed softly, the sound barely audible, before clearing his throat and moving to sit beside you, just as he had that day with the soup. He settled into the chair with a quiet grace, attempting a small, hesitant smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. His gaze flickered to the books, papers, and pens scattered across the nursing table beside your bed.

"I hope Jongho managed to get you everything you asked for," he said gently, his voice low and careful, as if afraid to startle you. You nodded, but kept your eyes downcast, focused on your wringing hands.

His gaze followed yours, landing on the letters you had written—the stack of parchment covered in your careful handwriting. For a moment, you tensed, waiting for the inevitable backlash. Would he order his men to burn them? Would he scold you for daring to think of leaving, for daring to hope?

But instead, his voice was soft. "Would you like me to deliver them?"

You froze, lifting your head slowly, your wide, disbelieving eyes meeting his earnest gaze. He gestured toward the letters with a slight movement of his hand. "The letters," he clarified. "I could send them for you."

Your disbelief must have shown on your face, the way your brow furrowed and your lips parted slightly in shock. He saw it. He felt it. And it cut deeper than he expected. Of course, you still saw him as a monster. Why wouldn't you? He had given you every reason to believe that. If he wanted to change that, he would need to do more—much more.

He closed his eyes for a moment, steadying himself, before looking at you again with an expression that was raw and unguarded. "Look," he began, voice heavy with something that felt dangerously close to regret. "You're not trapped here, in case you're wondering. You're free to leave whenever you want."

You blinked, your heart racing at the words. Could you believe him? Could you trust that freedom was within your reach?

"It's just that…" He trailed off, searching for the right words. "After everything we—I've done to you, the least I can do is help you heal. To nurse you back to health, to give you what you need. I need to make it right. That's all I want. For you to get better, to return to yourself. And if there's anything you need to make that happen… just say the word."

His voice dropped to an almost pleading tone. "So tell me—do you want those letters delivered? Is that it?"

You stared at him, searching his face for any trace of deception, any hint of insincerity. But all you saw was honesty. Whether or not it was real, you didn't know. But the sincerity in his tone, the earnestness in his eyes—it was undeniable.

And you couldn't lie to yourself. The letters were what you wanted. To set your mind and heart at ease. To reassure your loved ones that you were still alive, still here, even if only barely.

So you nodded.

He exhaled slowly, as if relieved, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you saw a glimmer of something softer in his expression. "Okay," he said simply. "I'll make sure they're delivered."

You struggled, the words stuck in your throat like stubborn stones, not fear this time—but something else. Something unfamiliar and unsettling. You nodded again, the gesture small and hesitant, and to your surprise, he seemed to find it… endearing. His smile softened further, and though you wanted to resent him for it, there was something disarming about the warmth in his expression.

Noticing the way you hesitated, as if wanting to speak but unsure how, he shifted in his chair, intertwining his fingers and leaning forward, careful in his every movement. He stopped just short of your space, close enough to offer comfort but far enough to avoid overwhelming you. His eyes, soft and patient, held yours, and the corners of his lips tugged upward in that same gentle smile—a silent reassurance: I won't hurt you. It's okay.

He seemed aware of how much he was smiling, almost as if surprised by it himself. His eyes glimmered with something that felt out of place in a man like him—genuine kindness. It struck you then, how foreign that smile must have been on his face, as if it had gone unused for too long. You wondered who he had once been, before this life of cruelty hardened him. And you hated that part of you, the part desperate for softness, wanted to know.

"It's alright," he said softly, his voice gentle and warm. "You don't have to be afraid. Just tell me—what do you want?"

The tenderness in his tone felt unreal. This was the same man who had once stood over you, cold and unyielding, ready to snuff out your life. And yet here he was now, speaking to you as if you were fragile, precious even. It was maddening. Confusing. And yet, damn you for being nothing more than a frail human aching for kindness, your guard cracked, just a little.

You didn't know why you asked it, why this question had been sitting in the back of your mind, waiting for its chance to escape. But when you finally spoke, your voice was soft, barely above a whisper, trembling with vulnerability. "Your name."

He blinked, caught off guard. For a moment, silence stretched between you, his expression shifting from surprise to something softer, almost regretful. And then, in that quiet space, he realised the truth: from the very beginning, through everything he had put you through, he had never once told you his name.

He sat back slightly, exhaling a breath he hadn't realised he was holding. "Hongjoong," he said, his voice steady but tender, as if offering you something sacred. "My name is Hongjoong."

Your lips parted, and though you had imagined feeling hatred for this name, it didn't come. Instead, all you felt was the raw ache of everything left unsaid.

"Hongjoong," you repeated, tasting the name on your tongue like a fragile thing, and the way you said it felt like the start of something neither of you could yet name.

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Hongjoong had made it a point to visit you every evening, just before the world outside your room fell silent for the night. At first, you dreaded those moments, unsure of his intentions or what he might say. But as the days turned into weeks, those visits became routine. He would sit beside your bed or across from you at the small table, his demeanour always calm, his tone soft and steady, and slowly, piece by piece, he unravelled the mystery of who he was, what this place meant, and how you had been drawn into their world.

His name, you learned, was more than just a name. He was the leader of this place, a sprawling mansion that served as the heart of a powerful syndicate—a gang, as you quickly realised. The people here, the ones who moved with deadly precision and cold efficiency, were his crew. Not just criminals, but men who had pledged their loyalty to him and each other in the face of a world that sought to destroy them.

You had been caught in the crossfire of a feud between two factions, mistaken for an enemy spy in a moment of chaos. It explained the brutality with which you had been treated, the mistrust that lingered until the truth emerged too late. "You weren't supposed to be hurt," he told you one night, voice thick with regret. "I didn't know who you were. If I had known..." He never finished those sentences, leaving the unsaid to hang in the air like a bitter aftertaste.

And now, the pieces fit. The puzzle you had struggled to solve finally made sense, but with that clarity came an unsettling reality: you were surrounded by criminals. Even if Hongjoong had promised safety, you were in a den of people capable of murder, of violence, of unspeakable acts committed in the name of survival and loyalty. It went against everything you believed in—your sense of morality, the honest life you had led until now.

Yet, despite your fear and discomfort, you knew you had no choice. What had happened could not be undone. The only hope you clung to was for a swift recovery, a chance to leave this world behind and return to the life you had once known.

As your injuries healed, you grew stronger. The sharp, constant pain dulled to a distant ache, and with the doctor's meticulous care, you were soon able to move around. Hongjoong had a proper room prepared for you—one more fitting, spacious, with large windows that let in the light. It was more comfortable than you dared to expect, but you knew better than to interpret it as anything more than a gesture of atonement.

Still, you couldn't deny the strange, unspoken connection that had formed between you and him. You wouldn't call it friendship—you couldn't. He was still the man who had brought you to the brink of death. But there was something. Something fragile, a bond woven through shared guilt and reluctant trust. You found yourself relying on him in ways that shamed you. You hated it, hated how you felt a strange sense of calm when he was near, as if the very person responsible for your suffering was now the anchor keeping you steady.

It was complicated. Confusing. And worst of all, it made you question whether the lines you thought were so clear—between captor and captive, between right and wrong—had begun to blur.

Unbeknownst to you, Hongjoong wrestled with the same confusion—especially about the emotions that had begun to surface lately. He couldn't shake the persistent need to be near you. It gnawed at him like an unrelenting tide, wearing away the walls he had built over the years. He told himself it was duty, responsibility. After all, he was the reason you had nearly lost your life. If he hadn't acted so quickly on false information, none of this would have happened. He reasoned that it was only right to take full responsibility, to ensure your recovery—physically and otherwise.

That logic gave him something to hold on to, but it didn't explain everything. It didn't explain why his eyes instinctively sought you out whenever he walked the halls or the strange calm that washed over him when he saw you safe. It didn't explain the warmth that bloomed in his chest when he heard your voice or glimpsed your rare, hesitant smiles. No, it wasn't just responsibility anymore. It was something deeper, something he wasn't ready to name.

After another gruelling meeting filled with discussions of crisis management and strategies to track down the elusive spy, the Captain's head buzzed with tension. His face remained a mask of cold authority, his steps measured, his shoulders squared. He passed his men without sparing a glance, his thoughts elsewhere. Always on you. The dining hall was empty, your room vacant, and the painting room—where you often sat doodling, lost in thought—was deserted. A strange, unwelcome worry tightened in his chest.

Relief only came when he pushed open the heavy library doors and saw you standing there. You stood in a sunlit aisle, the golden light streaming through the tall windows, bathing you in a soft glow. The light illuminated your features—now mostly healed, the bruises reduced to faint shadows, the cuts mere whispers of what they had been. You were beautiful, he realised, and the realisation ached in a way he hadn't anticipated. He closed the door quietly behind him, the sound muted, careful not to startle you. His steps were slow and deliberate as he approached, his heart inexplicably racing.

You were focused on a pressed flower bookmark tucked between the pages of a book, your head tilted slightly as you admired it, your fingers gently brushing the fragile petals. The scene was simple, ordinary. Yet it stirred something in him, an unspoken truth he wasn't ready to confront.

"Marigold," he said softly, his voice low to not disturb the tranquillity. "That's my favourite flower."

You looked up, startled at first, but your expression softened when you saw him. "Really? It's mine too," you replied, your voice steady, though a hint of curiosity lingered in your tone.

A small smile tugged at his lips, softer than usual, though it carried the weight of everything left unsaid. "It is? Then you should keep it," he said, nodding toward the bookmark, surprising even himself with the offer.

"But—" you began, gesturing toward the marked page.

He chuckled quietly, shaking his head. "I never had time to finish the book anyway. Can't even remember what it's about. Just take it. It's yours now."

Anything you want, it's yours.

For a moment, the silence between you stretched, fragile yet profound, like a delicate thread holding more than either of you dared admit. Hongjoong didn't know what this feeling was, only that it was growing. And being near you eased a part of him he hadn't realised was broken.

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The evening air was still, and the faint glow of the lamp in your room cast a soft halo beneath the door, a beacon that drew him to check on you one last time before retiring. He knocked gently, expecting the usual soft response or even a brief acknowledgement, but there was only silence. His brows knitted in concern, and he knocked again, the sound a little firmer this time. Still, no answer.

Then he heard it—a muffled yelp.

Panic surged through him. He couldn't wait. "I'm coming in," he called, his voice urgent but not harsh, and without hesitation, he pushed open the door.

The sight that met him stopped him in his tracks. You were sitting on the edge of your bed, your shirt halfway unbuttoned, exposing your shoulder and part of your back. The fresh bandage you had been attempting to wrap around yourself lay unravelled on the floor, a tangle of gauze mocking your efforts. Your face was flushed with embarrassment, and the moment you realised he was there, you scrambled to pull your shirt back up, your movements frantic and clumsy.

He didn't look away, not out of disrespect, but because he couldn't ignore the mark on your back. That cursed brand. Every time he saw it, it felt like a punch to the gut, a cruel reminder of his failure. If he could change one thing in his life, it would be that—undoing the moment that left such a permanent scar on you. He swallowed hard, his throat tight, before finally speaking, his voice softer than you'd ever heard it.

"Do you need help?"

Your immediate response was a firm shake of your head. "I'm fine," you insisted, though the tremble in your voice betrayed you. He could see it all: the mess of your hair, the exhaustion etched into your face, the slight tremor in your hands. You had been at this for a while, stubbornly trying to do it alone, and it was clear that you were anything but fine.

Hongjoong sighed quietly, stepping closer, each movement deliberate and gentle, as if afraid he might scare you away. "You're not," he said softly, without accusation, without pity, only quiet understanding. He knelt in front of you, eyes level with yours, and held out his hand, palm up, an unspoken offer. "Let me help."

You hesitated, biting your lip, your pride warring with the exhaustion. But eventually, you let out a shaky breath and nodded, your eyes downcast. He reached for the discarded bandage on the floor, his movements slow, deliberate, as if trying not to disturb the fragile air between you.

Carefully, he unbuttoned your shirt just enough to reveal your shoulder, his fingers never straying more than necessary. The moment felt intimate but not in the way that made you feel vulnerable. It was gentle. Respectful. As he wrapped the bandage around you with practised precision, his hands were steady, careful not to brush against your skin more than needed.

"You don't have to do everything alone," he murmured as he fastened the bandage, his voice like a balm. "I know you're strong, but you can let someone help you."

You didn't respond immediately, the warmth of his words sinking in as you sat in silence. Finally, you whispered, "Thank you."

He gave a faint smile, one you didn't see but could hear in the softness of his voice. "Anytime."

You finally turned to face him, your breath catching when you realised just how close he was. His face, so much softer now than the man who had once been your captor, was mere inches away. As if more modest than you, he quickly moved to help button your shirt, his fingers deft but gentle, avoiding your gaze as if giving you privacy in a moment that was anything but private. Your eyes, however, couldn't stop following the sincerity etched into his expression, hating the way it made your heart race. How could your body betray you like this, reacting to someone who had once been so cruel?

You swallowed hard, trying to banish those thoughts, and lowered your gaze. That's when you noticed his wrist peeking from the rolled-up sleeve of his shirt. It was the first time you saw them, the scars that twisted from his elbows to his wrists like angry, jagged reminders. Your brows furrowed, curiosity—and something deeper—propelling you forward. Without thinking, your hand reached out and grasped his as he pulled away, holding it gently.

"H-how'd you get these?" your voice trembled, more from the vulnerability in the air than any fear.

Hongjoong stilled. The small smile on his face faded, replaced by a haunting stillness. He pulled his hands back gently, as if realising for the first time he had no right to be near you, no right to touch you. He placed your hands carefully back in your lap, almost reverently, and turned toward the window, the fading sunlight casting shadows across his face.

A humourless chuckle escaped him, low and bitter, as he glanced at the scars on his arms before shifting his gaze to the darkened horizon. "Let me tell you the story of a boy," he began, his voice void of emotion but heavy with pain, "who had everything taken from him. Not that he had much to begin with—only a mother who loved him more than anything." His voice cracked, almost imperceptibly, but you caught it. "Even that wasn't enough for fate."

He didn't look at you, eyes fixed on the darkening sky, as if it held all the answers. "My father was a worthless drunk with a gambling problem. He left us with nothing but debts, and my mother… she worked herself to the bone, trying to keep us afloat. But it was never enough. The loan sharks came one night." His hands clenched into fists at his sides. "I was too young to understand what they wanted, why they were shouting at her. But I remember… I remember watching them beat her to the ground."

His voice dropped to a whisper, but it cut like a blade. "I watched them strip her, violate her, and when they were done, they slit her throat as if she were nothing." He exhaled shakily, his jaw tightening. "They left me there with her body. Taunted me. If they had known what they created that night… maybe they wouldn't have left me alive."

You sat motionless, your heart aching at the raw truth of his confession. Suddenly, everything made sense—how he had become this way, hardened and cold. You could understand now, even though it hurt to. Perhaps you would have become the same if you had endured such horrors. No one is born evil. We are all blank canvases, shaped by what we experience, by the pain life forces us to endure.

His eyes fell to the scars on his arms, and a bitter smile tugged at his lips. "These," he murmured, flexing his fingers as if feeling the memory burn anew, "are souvenirs from that night." His voice grew colder, distant, as if reliving the moment. "I remember their nails clawing at my arms, desperate to cling to life. But it didn't matter. Those bastards were never going to escape."

Despite the chilling edge in his words, you felt no fear. Instead, you saw the boy hidden beneath the armour, a boy the world had broken too soon. He turned back to you, his eyes no longer cold but filled with a deep, aching regret. "And that's why," he said, voice trembling with emotion, "I wish I could undo what I did to you. I swore I'd never harm the innocent, never become what they were. But I failed." His voice cracked. "I'm sorry. God, I'm so sorry. Nothing I do will ever make this right."

To his surprise, you reached out, your hand resting gently on his shoulder, offering comfort where he expected none. He turned to you, his eyes glistening with tears he refused to let fall.

"It's okay, Hongjoong," you said softly, your voice unwavering yet gentle. "Everyone makes mistakes."

And then you smiled—a small, genuine smile, brimming with forgiveness. It shattered something within him, but it also healed something far deeper, a part of him he thought was long dead.

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Things had shifted significantly between you since that fateful night when he first bared his soul, revealing the shadows of his dark past. Your understanding unlocked something in him, and in turn, you also began to open up. Little by little, you spoke more, smiled more freely, and allowed yourself to be vulnerable in his presence. Hongjoong, too, had changed. What once were brief visits to check on you became shared meals, quiet conversations, and the gentle ritual of him changing your wound dressings daily. It had become a routine—a comforting rhythm filled with tender moments, lingering touches, deep gazes, and countless almosts.

Almost kisses. Almost confessions. Almost something more.

Just a little longer, he told himself, fighting the constant urge to feel your lips against his. He needed to earn your trust fully before daring to take that step. He knew he didn't deserve you—but the heart wants what it wants.

But of course, just as he allowed himself to believe things were finally settling, reality reminded him otherwise. He should have known better than to think peace could last in his world. You and he had grown closer, but the life he led was never one to offer tranquillity for long. Conflict loomed on the horizon. An important meeting was fast approaching—a meeting arranged long before you had entered his life.

The Black Pirates, an organisation that had always operated with an exclusively male force, had struck a delicate negotiation with the Red Room, a renowned spy training facility specialised in producing elite female operatives. Though both syndicates had thrived independently, they saw mutual benefit in an alliance, especially as the shadowy threat of the White Serpents continued to grow. A treaty was in the works and was supposed to be one of Hongjoong's top priorities.

Yet, things had changed. You were here now, and part of him refused to leave you. The thought of being away, of leaving you vulnerable even for a moment, gnawed at him. So he made a decision: Seonghwa would attend the meeting in his place. The eldest, the Gentleman, was their best negotiator, and if anyone could secure a favourable outcome, it was him.

"It's set then," he said, his tone final. "Seonghwa will represent me for this." He leaned back slightly, eager to conclude the meeting and return to you.

But he should have known better than to expect it would be accepted without protest.

The moment the words left his mouth, Mingi's hand slammed onto the table, the force reverberating through the room. "Really, hyung?" he spat, his voice heavy with frustration. "You're going to send someone else on your behalf for something this important? I was already fed up with this nonsense, but enough is enough!"

The screech of the temperamental member's chair echoed as he shoved it back, rising to his feet, the fire in his eyes blazing. Yunho reached out, gripping his arm in warning, but Mingi shook him off, his glare fixed on their leader.

"No!" he growled, his voice rising. "When will this madness stop?! I'm sick and tired of you being distracted by her. At first, I understood—you felt guilty, like you owed her something. But now? You're letting it go too far! You've been wasting precious time hovering around her, growing soft! And now you're putting our work at risk. When does it end, huh?"

The room fell into a tense silence, the air thick with the weight of Mingi's accusation. Hongjoong remained seated, his fingers interlocked on the table. He met the taller man's gaze with a cold, unwavering stare.

"Sit down, Mingi," he said quietly, his voice calm, but the authority in it was unmistakable.

Mingi didn't move, his jaw tight, defiance radiating from him. "Answer me," he demanded. "When does it end?"

The room seemed to hold its breath.

"You think I'm neglecting my responsibility," Hongjoong said, his voice low, even, and far colder than before. He rose slowly, pushing his chair back with a deliberate grace. "You think I'm growing soft. Maybe you're right." His eyes, sharp and cutting, bore into Mingi's. "But everything I do is for this gang's survival. Including ensuring her safety."

Mingi scoffed, disbelief written across his face. "Her? She's not one of us. She's a—"

"Enough," Hongjoong snapped, the steel in his voice cutting through the room like a blade. He stepped closer, towering over Mingi now. "You question my judgement again, and it won't be this quiet." His voice softened, but the danger in it was palpable. "I trust Seonghwa to handle this. And I trust you to remember your place."

For a moment, it seemed as if Mingi might push further, but his best friend, the Enforcer's hand tightened on his arm, a silent plea. He growled in frustration and, after a tense beat, finally sat down, seething but silent.

Seonghwa's calm voice broke the heavy quiet. "I'll handle it, Cap. You've made the right call." He shot a glance at Mingi. "We all want the same thing: to be stronger, united. Let's not lose sight of that."

Hongjoong's shoulders relaxed slightly, though his eyes never left Mingi. "Good," he said, his tone final. "Then it's settled."

As the others filed out, Mingi lingered near the door, shooting one last glare at his leader before leaving without another word. The Captain remained behind, letting out a long breath, the weight of the confrontation pressing on him.

He should have known peace wouldn't last. But as his thoughts turned to you, one question echoed in his mind.

How much more would he have to sacrifice to protect you before it all fell apart?

Fortunately—and unfortunately—you had already found the answer to his unspoken question.

"Hongjoong," you whispered, your voice trembling as it cut through the stillness of the dimly lit library.

The soft glow of the lamps cast gentle shadows over the shelves, wrapping the room in an intimate quiet. Across from you, he sat, his eyes warm and attentive, watching you with that familiar, close-lipped smile—the one that always made your heart stutter. His expression was gentle, full of a quiet tenderness that you both craved and feared.

But tonight, that smile felt like a dagger. It broke something inside you, making what you were about to say hurt even more.

"Yes?" he responded just as softly, his voice a soothing balm you didn't deserve. He leaned forward slightly, the care in his gaze evident, as if you were the only thing that mattered in the world.

You swallowed hard, your fingers trembling as they clutched the delicate bookmark he had given you, your lifeline in this moment of unbearable heaviness. "I'm… I'm all better now," you began, the words sticking in your throat. "I wish to leave. I want to go home."

The change in him was immediate. His smile vanished, and his hand shot across the table, grasping yours before you could pull away. His touch was warm but trembling, desperate. "Wha—where is this coming from?" His voice cracked, panic threading through every word. He hadn't known how long he'd have you by his side, but he never imagined losing you this soon. He wasn't ready. "Was it Mingi? Did he say something to you? I swear to god, if he—"

"No," you interrupted, shaking your head firmly, your voice steady despite the ache in your chest. "He didn't do anything." You squeezed his hand, trying to draw strength from the contact. "I just… I think it's time. Time for both of us to return to our own lives."

His grip tightened, his eyes wide with disbelief. "No," he whispered, shaking his head as if refusing to believe your words could make them untrue. "You don't have to do this. You don't need to leave yet. The doctor—I'm having her work on something for the mark. You're not healed, not really."

You bit your lip, his raw emotion tearing through your resolve. You wanted to stay—God, how you wanted to stay—but the memory of that argument was too fresh. You had stood outside the meeting room earlier, waiting for him to finish, only to hear Mingi's voice raised in anger, accusing him of neglect, of weakness. And you had heard Hongjoong's silence—heavy, burdened. You couldn't be the reason for his pain. You couldn't be the weakness he couldn't afford.

"I heard it all," you confessed, voice trembling. "The argument. I know how much I'm complicating things for you." Tears blurred your vision, but you blinked them away. "It's not fair—to you, to them. We're from different worlds, Hongjoong. You and I… we were never going to work." Your voice softened as you finally named what had been unspoken: the feelings between you both.

His face crumpled, the pain etched into every line devastating to witness. "Don't do this," he begged, his voice breaking. "Please… don't."

You closed your eyes, trying to steady your breathing. "This is how we make things right," you whispered. "You wanted to fix what you did, to give me a chance at freedom. This is it."

Silence engulfed the room, thick and suffocating. Slowly, he let go of your hand, as if releasing it would break him entirely. His head bowed, shoulders slumping under the weight of your decision.

"Oh…" It was all he could manage, and the raw pain in that single word nearly undid you.

For a long moment, neither of you moved. The quiet of the library, once a sanctuary, now felt suffocating. You had made your choice, and you believed it was the right one.

So why did it hurt so much?

"I'm sorry," you whispered, standing from your chair. You hesitated, wanting to offer some kind of solace, but knowing it would only prolong the pain. "Goodnight, Hongjoong."

With every step you took toward the door, it felt as though pieces of your heart were left behind. And when you reached the threshold, you heard it—his broken, whispered plea.

"Don't go."

But you didn't stop. You couldn't. Because sometimes, love wasn't enough.

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As if running from you could change the inevitable, Hongjoong buried himself in work, pouring over plans and strategies like a man determined to forget. Meetings stretched longer, tasks multiplied, and he worked late into the night, ignoring the hollow ache growing in his chest. But no amount of work could silence the truth—or erase the memory of your soft, breaking voice.

He could only run for so long.

One day, the quiet was broken by Jongho's hesitant knock on his office door. The youngest cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably under the Captain's tired gaze. "What is it?" he sighed, leaning back in his chair, trying to mask the weariness in his voice.

Jongho straightened, his eyes darting to the barely open door behind him. Hongjoong followed his gaze and froze. There, framed by the narrow gap, was the unmistakable outline of your back.

"It's her, hyung," Jongho said softly, his tone more hesitant than usual. "She... she asked the doctor to give her one final check. To make sure she's fully healed." He paused, as if reluctant to continue. "She expressed her desire to leave."

The words struck like a blade, sharp and final. For a long moment, Hongjoong said nothing, his eyes locked on the empty doorway as if he could will you to return. But deep down, he knew there was nowhere left to run.

He had been a fool to believe that anything could make you stay. He put himself in your shoes for a fleeting moment, imagining what it must be like. You had a life beyond these walls—a life waiting for you to return. And even if you chose to stay, how long could he truly keep you safe in his dangerous world? How long before the life he led consumed you, too?

And even if, by some miracle, you stayed—would your loved ones ever accept him? A gang leader with blood on his hands and sins too deep to cleanse?

No. The answer was clear.

As much as it tore him apart, he knew this was the mercy you deserved. He couldn't chain you to his darkness, couldn't selfishly hold on when letting go was the only way to truly love you.

"You're right," he whispered, more to himself than anyone else. "You have a life of your own. I can't ask you to stay."

The Anchor remained silent, watching his leader with a rare softness in his eyes.

Men like him were never meant to love. Not after all the sins he had committed, all the lives he had taken, all the wrongs he could never make right. He didn't deserve you—not your kindness, your laughter, or the warmth you so effortlessly gave.

No matter how much he wished otherwise.

With a heavy sigh, he turned away from the door, his voice steady but hollow. "Thank you, Jongho. I trust you to make the proper arrangements for her departure."

The youngest hesitated for a moment, but when he met the finality in Hongjoong's eyes, he nodded and left quietly, the door clicking shut behind him. Silence settled over the room again, heavy and oppressive—until the door creaked open once more. The gang leader's head snapped up, irritation flashing in his eyes, but it melted away the instant he saw who it was.

You stood hesitantly in the doorway, peeking in like you weren't sure you belonged there anymore.

He shot up from his seat, his movements hurried. "O-oh, it's you. Come in..." His voice softened, and you offered a small, tentative smile as you stepped inside. He gestured toward the worn leather couch. "Please, have a seat."

But you shook your head. "No, I shouldn't stay long. I just… came to thank you for respecting my decision."

He exhaled, a bitter sound escaping his lips. "Don't thank me for that." His voice was low, laced with frustration, though not at you. "It shouldn't have taken me this long to agree. You were right." His lips curved into a smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. The pain there was unmistakable, and it clenched your heart painfully. "This… it has to end eventually. After all, I'm the one who did this to you. I can't possibly expect you to return my feelings—"

"Stop," you whispered, closing your eyes, shaking your head as if to ward off the self-loathing in his voice. Too late. You already had returned those feelings, and hearing him like this shattered you. "No, Hongjoong, don't say that. I just..."

He stilled, his gaze searching yours as you opened your eyes and met him, resisting the desperate urge to reach out and cup his face, to pull him into the comfort you knew he craved. But you couldn't. So instead, you smiled, soft but trembling, and extended a hand toward him.

"I'm feeling a little hungry," you said gently, your voice trembling just enough to betray your emotions. "Want to have dinner together?"

For a moment, he simply stared at you, as if unsure if he had heard correctly. But how could he possibly say no? Besides, this could very well be your last meal together. Everything else could wait—damn it all.

Until the moment you were safely returned home, you were all that mattered to him.

Just until tomorrow.

Jongho had arranged your ride back tomorrow.

Hongjoong couldn't pretend anymore. He knew this would likely be the last time he'd have you like this, in this fragile peace. So, tonight, he let the walls fall. He no longer resisted the urges that had haunted him for weeks. When he reached out to feed you, gently wiping a stray bit of food from the corner of your lips, you didn't flinch. When he tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his fingertips brushing your skin with a tenderness that made his chest ache, you didn't pull away.

And you didn't say a word. You just let him.

By the end of the meal, when he saw the glimmer of hesitation in your eyes—knowing you were preparing to retreat to your room—he acted quickly, grasping your hand before you could leave. His touch was firm but not forceful, and when he spoke, his voice was soft, almost pleading.

"Would you like to… walk with me?"

You looked at him for a moment, your eyes searching his as if trying to memorise everything about this moment. Then, wordlessly, you nodded. He led you through the grand halls of the mansion, out to the sprawling, maze-like garden, where the soft glow of lanterns illuminated the paths.

Your hands remained entwined the entire time.

The garden was silent except for the rustle of leaves in the breeze. He guided you to the centre, where a marble fountain stood, the gentle sound of water trickling into the basin adding to the quiet serenity. Clearing a spot on the cold concrete, he shrugged off his blazer, laying it down carefully before gesturing for you to sit. You did, settling beside him as the horizon stretched before you, bathed in soft, silver moonlight.

"This is nice," you murmured, breaking the silence, your voice almost lost in the cool night air.

He smiled, his gaze softening. "It is, isn't it?"

For a while, neither of you spoke. The dim lanterns cast a golden glow, wrapping you both in a warmth that felt almost unreal. Slowly, as if afraid you might slip away, he placed his hand over yours once again. This time, your fingers intertwined naturally, effortlessly, as though they had always belonged that way.

No words were necessary. Every touch, every glance, spoke of everything you felt but couldn't say.

Your heart raced as you turned toward him, only to find he was already watching you. His eyes were dark, filled with emotions you didn't dare name. He leaned in, bit by bit, closing the space between you. Your breath hitched, trembling, but you didn't move away.

"Just for tonight," he whispered, his voice rough and raw. "Can we be together? Just for tonight."

Your eyes burned with unshed tears, your heart aching with the weight of the unspoken goodbye. You nodded, your voice barely above a breath.

"Please."

And then, there was no more distance between you.

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The morning light streamed softly through the curtains, painting the room in golden hues. Hongjoong stirred awake, the weight of sleep heavier than usual, but a comforting warmth grounded him. Instinctively, he snuggled closer, burying his face into the inviting scent that had become his solace.

It took only a moment for the realisation to hit him. The feminine scent, delicate and intoxicating, filled his senses. His heart skipped a beat as he opened his eyes to find you still in his arms, your back pressed against his chest, your breathing soft and even.

For a long moment, he stayed still, simply taking you in—the way your hair spilt over the pillow, the peaceful rise and fall of your shoulders, the warmth that radiated from you. Leaning closer, he pressed a tender kiss to your bare shoulder, the memory of last night rushing back like a tidal wave.

Kisses. Endless, intoxicating kisses, your lips against his as if you were trying to fill every unspoken word between you. His fingers tangled in your hair, your hands gripping his shirt, neither of you willing to let go. The clumsy, desperate stumbling through those kisses until you landed on the expanse of his king-sized bed—so often feeling too big, too empty for just one.

Articles of clothing had been shed piece by piece, carelessly scattered across the floor. And then… pure, unrestrained bliss. The feel of your skin against his, the soft sighs and whispered names, the way your bodies moved together like they were meant to fit. It was a night he would never forget, and one he knew he could never have again.

He swallowed hard as reality settled in. It was bittersweet, finally knowing what it was like to have you this close, only to face the cruel truth that he would have to let it all go soon. His gaze fell on the mark on your soft skin, the one that started it all, and he sighed deeply.

It was the right thing to do.

He repeated the mantra in his head, clinging to it like a lifeline. You deserved more—someone who could give you the kind of life you were meant to have, one without fear, without shadows. Someone who wasn't him.

But for now, just for this fleeting moment, he allowed himself to be selfish. He tightened his hold on you, his arm curling around your waist as if he could stop time by keeping you close. He etched every detail into his mind: the way your warmth seeped into him, the way your presence calmed his restless heart, the way this morning felt like a fragile dream he never wanted to wake from.

Because soon, it would all be over.

And he would have nothing left but these memories.

His temporary haven shattered with a jarring intrusion. The door to his bedroom flew open, and Jongho rushed in, his expression a mix of concern and urgency. "Hyung, she's not in her room—"

The Anchor's voice faltered mid-sentence as his eyes landed on you, curled up in his leader's embrace. The man sat up quickly, pulling the blanket to cover you to your neck, his glare sharp enough to cut steel. Jongho froze like a deer caught in headlights, his usual composure obliterated by the scene before him.

You stirred at the commotion, blinking yourself awake. It didn't take long to realise what had happened. Your cheeks flushed a deep red as you scrambled to free yourself from the blanket and darted off to the attached bathroom. "Excuse me," you mumbled hastily, your voice barely above a whisper, before closing the door behind you.

Jongho stood awkwardly, visibly cringing under Hongjoong's icy glare. "I didn't mean to—"

"Out," the Captain growled, his voice low and dangerous.

The youngest didn't need to be told twice. With a quick bow, he fled the room, muttering apologies under his breath.

Hongjoong exhaled sharply, rubbing his temples as the weight of the morning settled on his shoulders. Deciding to give you the privacy you needed, he rose from the bed, grabbed his robe, and slipped it on before leaving the room.

As he stepped into the hall, he was greeted by none other than the Firestarter, leaning casually against the wall with a smirk plastered across his face.

"Had fun, Cap?" Mingi drawled, his voice laced with mockery. "Hope that pussy was worth everything."

Hongjoong's expression darkened instantly, his eyes narrowing into a glare that could rival a storm. "Speak for yourself, Song," he shot back, his voice steady but laced with venom. "Come mock me when you don't need an exiled noblewoman to save your ass time and time again."

Mingi's smirk faltered as Hongjoong took a step closer, his words cutting like daggers. "Don't think I haven't heard about your multiple near-failures. At least I haven't fucked up anything critical. Also," he added, his tone dropping into something bitter and final, "she's leaving today. I hope you're happy."

The weight of Hongjoong's words left Mingi speechless, his cool façade crumbling. His jaw tightened as he struggled to muster a response, but nothing coherent came to mind.

Clearing his throat, he straightened and forced a shrug, attempting to reclaim his composure. "About damn time. Good riddance," he muttered, though his voice lacked its usual edge. Without another word, he turned and stalked off, leaving the gang leader standing there, his chest tight and his mind racing.

As much as he loathed the confrontation, he couldn't help but feel a bitter sense of satisfaction. At least now, Mingi might think twice before throwing careless words around. But the victory was hollow, his thoughts quickly returning to you.

With a deep sigh, he leaned against the wall, his fingers tracing the edge of his robe. The hours ahead loomed like a storm on the horizon, and he knew they would be some of the hardest he'd ever faced.

ـــــــــــــــﮩ٨ـ

The air was thick with the weight of unspoken emotions as the black car idled behind you, its engine a soft hum against the gloomy backdrop. The overcast sky seemed to mirror the heaviness in both your hearts, the grey clouds threatening rain at any moment. You stood before Hongjoong, your trusty tote bag slung over your shoulder, dressed simply but beautifully, your hair pulled into a messy yet endearing style. You tried to smile, but it trembled at the edges, betraying the storm within.

Neither of you spoke right away, the silence filled with everything you wanted to say but couldn't. Instead, you reached into your bag, pulling out the glass flower charm—the delicate token you had cherished for so long.

"Give me your hand," you murmured softly.

He stepped closer without hesitation, his hand extended between you. The roughness of his palm contrasted sharply with the fragility of the charm as you placed it gently into his hand. His fingers curled around it instinctively, the same hand that once had only known destruction now cradling something so delicate with utmost care.

"For you," you said, your voice steady but laden with emotion. "It's no marigold, but—"

He cut you off with a bittersweet smile, the pain in his eyes unmistakable. "I'll cherish it," he promised, his voice quiet but resolute, as though the words themselves were a vow.

He didn't let go of your hand, his grip warm and steady. You nodded, returning his smile. "Good. Treat it with care," you said, stepping closer, your proximity making his breath hitch.

The scent of his familiar cologne wrapped around you as you leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss to his cheek. Your lips brushed against his skin as you whispered, "You did it, Joong. You made it all right."

His eyes fluttered closed, savouring the moment, the warmth of your presence etching itself into his memory. But then, as much as he wanted to keep you there, you pulled away gently, slipping out of his grasp.

Your backward steps toward the waiting car felt like a slow unravelling, each step tugging at the threads of his heart. He fought every instinct to run to you, to pull you back into his arms and beg you to stay, but he knew he couldn't.

As you slid into the car and shut the door, he stood rooted to the spot, his chest tight, his fists clenched at his sides. He watched helplessly as the car began to roll forward, taking you further and further from him until you were nothing but a distant blur.

"It's for the best," he whispered to himself, though the words felt hollow. "You did the right thing."

The sound of approaching footsteps broke through his haze of sorrow. Turning, he found one of his men standing hesitantly nearby. "Boss," the man said carefully, "we received an update from Seonghwa. His visit to the Red Room is going to be extended due to... undisclosed circumstances."

And just like that, Hongjoong was thrust back into the chaos of his world. He nodded, his voice cold and detached. "Got it. I'll speak with the others."

He turned and strode back toward the mansion, his steps purposeful despite the turmoil inside him. His men watched him carefully, unsure if the heartbreak would erupt into anger, but he remained composed, his demeanour unreadable.

Once inside, he glanced down at the delicate charm still resting in his palm. It caught the dim light of the hall, glinting faintly like the remnants of a dream. His grip tightened around it, not enough to damage it, but enough to ground himself.

It hurt—god, it hurt—but he found solace in the fact that he had been able to love again, even if only briefly. He didn't know how long it would take for the ache to fade, perhaps it never would, but one thing was certain: he would never forget you.

ـــــــــــــــﮩ٨ـ

The dim light of the room cast long shadows across the walls, the flickering of a single desk lamp providing the only illumination. The figure leaned back in his chair, his gloved fingers tapping rhythmically against the polished wood of the table. Before him lay a folder, its contents an intricate web of intel painstakingly gathered. At the very top, clipped securely, was a photograph of the Black Pirates.

The leader's face was circled in white ink—a mark of vulnerability disguised as power.

"Seems we've secured the Captain's weakness right from the start," the figure murmured, a sinister grin spreading across his face. His tone carried a disturbing mixture of amusement and certainty as he flipped the folder shut, the sound of paper against paper breaking the tense silence.

A subordinate stood nearby, his posture stiff, his eyes darting to the file with barely concealed curiosity. "Should we proceed then, sir?" he asked, his voice low but eager.

The figure chuckled, a sound devoid of warmth, and shook his head. "There's no hurry," he replied, his gloved hand resting atop the closed file like a predator savouring its next move. "Time is what we've got. Let them believe they've found their footing. Let them think they're safe."

He pushed the file to the side, leaning forward, his grin widening as his eyes gleamed with cruel intent. "We'll gather them all, one by one. No need to rush—it's always better when the prey doesn't see the trap until it's too late."

The subordinate nodded, though a hint of unease flickered across his features. "Understood, sir."

The figure reached for a glass of whiskey sitting untouched on the desk, swirling the amber liquid as if it contained the answers to every question. "Patience," he said, almost to himself, his voice low and reverent. "Patience wins wars. Let's see how far the mighty gang can go when their carefully constructed world begins to crumble."

He raised the glass in a mock toast, the light catching the golden liquid. "To the Black Pirates. And to the beginning of their end."

The room fell silent again, the only sound the faint creak of the leather chair as the figure leaned back, eyes fixed on the file. Somewhere, far from the machinations of this dark plot, Hongjoong might have felt a shiver down his spine. But for now, he was blissfully unaware, the weight of his loss still fresh, the memory of your departure his only torment.

And so, the game began.

Would you believe it? About 90% of this was drafted in a sleep-deprived state HAHA the first thing I do as soon as I get home from work is write this, so I genuinely hope this met expectations!

Are you or are you not surprised by the lack of a happy ending? If you know me well (especially readers who have been here since TWTHH), you probably saw this coming🤠

As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

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[ghoularaki]

Hello! Can I ask for yandere scenario with Mikey in which he and the darling made a childhood promise that they would get together/get married if neither of them end up finding a partner till they reached a certain age? To poor darling unfortunately never really had any luck with boys for some "unexplained" reasons and well the time is finally up and it came time for Mikey to collect his prize.

teddy bear

tw yandere mikey, bonten arc, noncon, mikey typical violence, possessiveness, forced marriage, marriage imagery/kink, dollification, hint of strength kink, unprotected sex, kidnapping

requests are CLOSED

It all started in elementary. An innocent era where time wasn’t much of a concept you could wrap your little brain around. Anticipating the relief of summer, not knowing how much you would regret wishing the months away. 

On a sweet spring day is when you met Mikey. A period before he went by said name, before gangs and despair. It was just you and him under the flourish trees, colors swirling in the world. 

“Manjiro,” he introduced with an outstretched hand and a tooth filled grin. 

You responded with your name with a shy demeanor, not used to such brightness. Clasping his hand to yours—so chubby and small—time before his hand could engulf yours. 

You two were instantly attached to the hip. If you were present, so was Mikey. Adults tried their best to separate you two in fear of stunted social growth, but anytime someone would detach your hands, tears spilled from Mikey’s eyes. You never saw a boy cry so much.

Though one day he stopped crying, stopped smiling so fully. It was that day, flowers waft in the air, he made such a silly promise. The exact age is fuzzy when he asked the damning question, but the words stay imprinted in your mind. “Hey y/n-chan, if we aren’t married by the age of 27, let's just marry each other.” The words were saccharine.

You had giggled at the question. At the time, neither of you understood the weight of marriage. And so, of course you agreed. 

“Pinky promise?” He raised his hand, pinky extended.

“Pinky promise.” You twirled your finger with his. Bound together. 

It all started in middle school. No blaring red signs wacked you in the face as you were always on the more reserved side. Boys never really did approach you especially when Mikey gained a name for himself. Though this never did bother you, at first. You were content with following him around like a lost puppy. This is when you met his less than savory friends. They weren’t mean, but you never really cared for swollen fists and bloody smiles. 

You knew it was best to avoid gang business for your sake and Mikey’s. He despised when you got involved. If anything you learned the hard way. It was when Takemichi (or Takemitchy as Mikey not so cleverly named him) arrived. He always loved to give those he adored nicknames, you were not an exception. His doll, he called you. The name made you huff, you were anything but. 

“That’s why you’re my doll. I don’t mind if you are roughed up, I will always fix you back up again.”

The words made your face so hot you could cook on it. 

He wasn’t wrong though. One too many incidents was the reason, you were forbidden to join any Toman meetings anymore. 

Calling upon his loyal followers, he stood above everyone else as he usually did. You sat at the top stair of the shrine, Draken standing right next to you. It was when Valhalla had not wavered and fallen. Kisaki was still at large.

It wasn’t much, but you so happened to get in the crossfire of Baji betraying Toman. An elbow to the face was all it took for Mikey to see red. He was silent. A deadly silence likened to a still sea right before whirling, twisting waves. 

He could have killed the man if it wasn’t for your laugh. Fuck, did it hurt and sometimes you could feel the phantom pain, but god was it fun. The adrenaline was addicting. You simply shot the blood from your nostrils and smiled crimson. Mikey was reminded of the time you ate cherries together, the red meat stuck between your teeth. You never looked so beautiful.

Since then, Mikey never let you go to another meeting. Instead he and Draken would walk you home before treading back. You kicked up a fuss at first, but with a glare from Mikey quickly shut you up. 

What Mikey wants, Mikey gets.

It truly started in high school. The death of Kisaki never sat right with Mikey. It haunted him. He wasn’t the same man he was from before. He was more subdued, angrier. Though you clenched your teeth in what could be mistaken for a smile.

You two started to drift. Mikey was falling and trying as you may to catch him, he twisted his body out of your arms. 

The skin that attached you two to the hip had rotted and collapsed. You became quite lonely for a short period, but that was quickly fixed. Without the intimidating presence of a whole gang backing you up, you were a whole lot easier to talk to. For once, a boy showed interest in you. Genuine, true romantic interest. Not the brotherly love Toman offered. 

In the down time before class started, you had been staring out the window watching the leaves decay into bright oranges and yellows. A knock on your desk startled you out from your daydreaming. Stood before you was a boy, a grade above you, the same grade as Mikey. He was tall with inky black hair and a puppy-like charm to him. He honestly reminded you of a German Shepherd. A blush adorned his cheeks as he asked you for your email. 

Just as shy, you offered your phone to him. Charms clicked together as you had plenty hanging off the flip phone, mainly of Kuromi and MyMelody. With a promise to shoot you a message, he sauntered back to class, obviously giddy. You felt the same. “OMG was the Y/n-chan asked out?” A classmate asked.

She was right across from you, watching the whole thing. You two weren’t particularly close, but you enjoyed her company.

You hid your face in your hands at the banter. She started to poke your arm as she giggled and you kicked your feet in excitement. 

Turning to her, you also giggled, “damn right I did.”

Others in the classroom observed the display you two created, also surprised at the boldness of their upperclassman. 

Though word spread fast. In the end, you received no reply. You tried not to be disappointed, but it was the first time a boy showed interest in you and he didn’t even have the decency to message you back. 

About a week later you saw him roaming the halls. He strangely seemed more subdued, no longer so puppyish. When he locked eyes with you, the boy scurried away. You were stunned, perplexed. 

All you could do was stand there, the gaggle of students brushed up against your still body. Leaning against a window of a classroom a few feet away, Mikey watched with blank eyes. Shivering at the innate reaction of being stared at, you caught Mikey’s gaze but he offers no acknowledgement of your locked eyes. He simply slunk back into the classroom.

Never in your life have you felt fear for Mikey. Sure, cautious as sometimes it felt like he was one inconvenience away from breaking something, but never fear. A girl at your age was scared of a cracked phone screen, asshole boys, missing an assignment, what to do with your life after high school, not your life. Mikey would never hurt you, right? As the days dwindled, you were less secure in the possibility he would prove you right. 

Taking a hint was never your forte. Forgoing whatever the blonde tried to communicate to you with silence, you chased after your upperclassman. The final bell had rung and you were quick to stuff your books in your bag as quickly as possible. You didn’t know much about him besides his name was Yokio and he was in the same class as Mikey. Racing to the upper level, you just hoped Mikey or Draken or really anyone from Toman wasn’t there as well. 

Luck had been on your side. In the classroom alone was Yokio, gathering his own supplies slowly. He looked up at the sound of rapid footsteps. His puppy dog eyes wide in what could have been terror. Snapping back to his bag, he fastened his pace.

“Yokio, why didn’t you message me back?” You didn’t care how desperate you sounded, you wanted answers.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were taken?” Was what he snapped back.

You scoffed out a laugh, “Taken? Who told you that bullshit?”

When he looked back at you, there was ire in his eyes and now you gawked closer there was a cut on his lip and he favored his left leg. Coming for answers, only left you with more questions. 

“Don’t act stupid, L/n, we both know you aren’t.” 

Your face twitched, perplexed. He slung his bag over his back and limped past you, subtly pushing you out of the way. 

“Go ask your fucking gangster boyfriend,” he seethed in your ear. 

You glanced up at him to which he ignored and made his way down the hall. Watching his form shrink, your knuckles almost bursted through your skin with how hard you were clenching your fist. It didn’t take a lot to piece together what was happening. How stupid were you for it to take this long to click. 

Stomping down the same path Yokio went down, you now had a different target. And you were pissed. 

It wasn’t a shock to see Mikey still on school grounds in the same lot that he met Takemichi surrounded by other Toman members. Today it was him, Draken, Mitsuya and Takemichi. Not caring about the audience you stomped right up to Mikey and pushed him so hard, he stumbled. 

“What the fuck!” You screeched.

All the boys’ eyes widen, never once have you lost your cool. Not like this. And more surprisingly, you were able to make the Invincible Mikey topple over. There is something to be said about a scorned woman. 

It had been ages since you talked to your old friends and you had thought you left off on good terms. Apparently not if Mikey is spreading a rumor you two were dating. 

You shoved again—this time Mikey didn’t move an inch, “who the fuck do you think you are?”

He was quick to grab your wrists, swallowing your delicate bones. You tried your best to squirm away but it was futile. 

“How about let’s talk about this civilly,” Draken butted in. For a violent man, he sure did hate inner conflict. 

“Yeah let’s talk civilly about the fact he’s spreading rumors that me and him are dating,” you seethed towards Draken but kept your sharpened gaze on Mikey. 

“You guys aren’t?” Takemichi squawked. Mitsuya elbowed him, muttering that he wasn’t helping. 

Mikey kept your gaze and said plainly, “I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

You scoffed, attitude dripped from your posture. He still had his hands on you and you finally ripped yourself from him. Biting your inner cheek, the taste of blood grounded you. You weren’t being crazy about this and you weren’t going to let Mikey dismantle you like this. 

“Then why did Yokio said to me, verbatim, ‘go ask your fucking gangster boyfriend?”

“Oh you’re on a first name basis now?” He was avoiding the question. 

Mikey slipped his hands in the pockets of his baggy pants. His posture screamed aloof. Though the way his jaw ticked showed he was growing irritated. Whatever friendship that was left was burnt out like a used match, never to relight. 

And you told him just that. 

The air shifted to something colder, sinister. He straightened his back to stand taller. For his short stature he made you feel puny. 

“Care to repeat that.” He was about to march to you, but Draken gripped his upper arm. The taller man shook his head to his leader, his bestest friend. 

“Alright let’s just leave this for today. We can talk about this more when we all cooled off, got it?” Ever the middle man Draken was, but you didn’t care.

“Sure,” you said and turned around. They all watched you walk away. Mikey knew he fucked up but at this point he didn’t care. You didn’t mean what you said, you were just angry.

You didn’t show up to school that day or the next or the day after that. You had transferred to a school in Osaka. 

The world had not been kind to Mikey. Maybe it was an act of karma or maybe he was simply cursed. The day you left was the final fracture in his glass heart. It all fell down after that. He pushed away his friends, lied through his teeth that he needed space. From his hands he built an empire of the most feared gang in all of Japan. Toman was nothing more than a childish dream.

The world was at his disposal and he thirsted for power. Yet, at the top, it was lonely. Some days he missed you, his friends and other days he resented both. How dare you leave him. He spent years trying to find you, but disappeared into thin air. You didn’t even have any social media from what he could find. It left him bitter but a smirk still crept up. Smart girl. 

Mikey was sure whatever luck he had, had run out years ago until Sanzu barged into his office. He nearly shot him for coming in so unmannerly, but kept the gun down.

“I found her!” His voice was boisterous, elated.

Sanzu honestly couldn’t give two shits about you, but whatever made Mikey happy he felt tenfold. 

“Where is she?”

“She’s back in Tokyo apparently to visit a dead relative,” Sanzu responded.

He waltzed further into his office and leaned up against the desk. Spying down at Mikey from underneath his nose, he watched the boss stare off with no indicator what he was thinking. Honestly, it was always hard to figure out what Mikey contemplated. Whatever you thought he was going to do, he did the opposite. 

“Prepare the room.”

Sanzu grinned so hard that his scars creaked. It was about to get fun around here again. 

Coming back to Tokyo was one of the dumbest ideas you have ever had and you were aware of that. You were precautious. Every step to instill your safety, you implemented it. You never used social media, you limited your internet access, kept inside, made sure not to stick to a schedule and stay the fuck out of Tokyo. Despite this, life happens. 

You knew your grandmother was growing old and it came to no surprise she passed away. If it was anyone else you would have lied to your family that you were too busy to come back home, but the thought of your grandmother’s grave barren left you weak enough to buy a bus ticket. 

It was true you were so busy you couldn’t even attend the actual funeral, only able to visit where she was put to rest a day later. You were sure your uncle would still be there as he was her caretaker. The thought of being exposed, out in the open with another person gave you comfort. Though very little as your uncle didn’t even own a knife. If someone came you were both screwed. 

You tried your best to toss the idea away. It had been years since you seen him and you were sure he had long since forgotten you by now. But, that small part of your brain itched and dug in that he doesn’t simply forget his possessions. 

No matter what, this was going to be an in and out operation. You will leave some of her favorite snacks, wish her goodbye and take the next train far, far from here. Maybe you could convince the rest of your family still in Tokyo to come to the countryside with you. The air was always better in Murakami. 

A polite voice on the intercom told you that your stop was coming up. The bus came to a slow stop as it sank to let the people on and off. Lifting yourself off from the uncomfortable seat, you picked up your small bag. Thanking the bus driver, you jumped off to be greeted to the cool, night air. You made your way to the graveyard, it was about a 10 minute walk from the bus stop. If you calculated it right, you had less than 20 minutes to visit her and catch the next bus. You honestly wished it was a shorter time period as being outside for that long of a period left you anxious. 

Clutching your bag, you walked briskly to the site. Maybe you could find a populated shop to reside in until the bus came. The more people, the better. The streets were sparse but enough that made you feel at least some at ease. Keeping your hood up and head down, you had headphones but nothing was playing. Again, you were doing everything to ensure nothing bad will happen. 

In no time, you were at the gravesite. There was no one here. A chill rushed down your back. Fuck taking your time, at this point you will overhand throw the snacks at her grave and high tail out of there. Seething, you abandoned the idea, knowing she would have beat you to kingdom come in the afterlife for doing that. 

“In and out, in and out,” you mumbled to yourself as you nimbly strutted. 

Pulling out packaged strawberry mochi and taiyaki from the pocket of your oversized hoodie, you were careful to place it down near the other snacks surrounding her grave. At least she wasn’t hungry. Slapping your hands together, you whispered, “I’m sorry this will be the last time you will see me. Maybe in a next life we will see each other again.” 

“Awww, how sentimental, Y/n-chan,” a sickly sweet voice chewed out. 

Snapping your head up, you see the second to last person you wanted to see. There in an obnoxious pinstriped suit and hair the same color of your grandmother’s gifted mochi was Sanzu, in all his unsettling glory. 

In your paranoia, you had kept tabs of Toman that then turned into Bonten. Even going as far to sneak onto less than savory websites to keep tabs on the gangsters. There wasn’t much, but you knew enough to fear the man before you. Back in the day, Sanzu was a fly on the wall, he was kind of just… there. 

But here, he was a neon sign of danger. You were in Tokyo for less than two hours and he was able to pinpoint your exact location. Curling your lip up, how naive you were to think what was in the past stayed there. 

Sticking your hands back in your pockets, you thumbed the knife stashed away. Your form pivoted towards Sanzu, staring him dead on. You weren’t going to be intimidated by this pastel troll. 

Eyeing the gun he grasped in his hand, Sanzu was flippant with how he scratched his head with it. 

“You don’t know how happy I am for your stupidity,” he mocked you.

You swiftly ignored the taunt and glanced at somewhere to run. There was a path a little further away that would lead you away from the bus stop but would bring you back to population, hopefully. Just as you were about to jump over the graves, Sanzu shot the ground where you would have landed. A scream bellowed.

You flicked your bouncing eyes to him. He must have been fucking insane to shoot out in the open like that. Sure the gravesite was empty but there were people nearby. Clinging onto the hope someone heard and would be nosey, you shook as Sanzu’s expression dropped. 

“I know I just called you stupid, but let’s not be hasty,” he raised his gun to you, “come with me with no complaints or I will bury a bullet in your fucking thigh. You’re lucky Boss wants you alive.” 

“Eat shit!” you frothed and made a run for it.

Having the advantage of his lanky form, Sanzu was quick to grab your hair before you could even move an inch. Hissing, you grappled onto his hand only for him to shove you away. You collapsed on the ground and grabbed the knife from your pocket. Flicking it open you were about to dig the blade into his calf when he pistol whipped you so hard your head bounced off the concrete. Blood poured from your head down into your bleary eyes, darkness crept in. 

“He never said, you can’t be hurt though. Dumb bitch.”

Whimpering, you winced at the light that pours and invades your eyelids. Flinching from the sudden light, you squinted as you looked at the window disturbing your sleep. It ebbed in slowly before it came rushing in. Everything fucking hurt, especially your head. You attempted to bring a hand up to touch the offending part only to be met with resistance. No, not resistance, you couldn’t move at all. 

Panic started to set in as you attempted to swivel your head to see where you were. The only thing you could move were your eyes and the slightest twitch of your fingers. Tears bubbled out as you sobbed in complete and utter terror.

A pathetic “help” lept from your throat but you might as well whispered it. Looking around with minimal movement you had, you saw you were in a pristine white, canopy bed. It was similar to the one you had in your childhood, the same one you shared with your favorite doll. The canopy was lacey along with the rest of the bedding, at least it was soft from what you could tell. 

Whoever tucked you in, had to courtesy to leave you in somewhat warm clothes. Glancing down at your body, you were clad in the same material as the bed. It was a sweet ivory, similar to a very short wedding dress. It looked and felt expensive. 

Just as you caught your bearings, the door was swung open. Whatever calmness you attempted to instill ranaway as the last person you wanted to stood in the door. With all your might, you willed your legs to work. All you could do was wiggle your toes. If Sanzu sent a shiver down your spine, you might as well abandon your whole nervous system as Mikey only stared at you. 

Your chest hitched, terrified of what was going to become of you. The man said nothing as he slunk further into the room. He looked completely different from the last time you saw him. His skin lost whatever tanned hue he had in his youth, his hair just as pale. His eyes were darker somehow and bags heavy underneath them. He also looked skinnier but you didn’t let that fool you. Even if he was skin and bone, Mikey could take out a hundred men. 

He planted himself next to you. Sitting on the edge, he leaned over to stroke your frozen cheek. His palm quickly became wet. 

“Oh my dear,” his voice was sweet, but his grip turned hard, “how stupid do you think I am?”

Your lips puckered out as he didn’t stop squeezing you until your jaw creaked. “Stop,” you breathed out. 

If Mikey wasn’t so close he wouldn’t have heard you. He leaned over you until you were nose to nose. “You think you are in the position to make commands?”

Locking eyes with you, he continued, “Do you know how long I have waited to see you again? You won’t run away again and I will make sure of it. I am bound to you and you to me. I mean we promised that didn’t we?”

Your brows furrowed before it hit you. That fucking childhood promise. He was still hung up on that?

“You… you’re insane,” you tried to put malice in your voice but it was so hard to move anything. 

“In sickness and in health,” he replied with no mirth. 

Pulling away, he climbed further onto the bed. Spreading your legs, he sat himself in between them. Truly panicking now, you tried to rip your ankles from his grasp but alas your muscles didn’t even twitch. 

“Please,” you begged, “don’t do this to us.”

Mikey laughed but it was hollow, “so there is an us now? I thought you were done with me since high school.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. We can be friends again, just don’t do this!” Working the words around your mouth was difficult and the headache was getting worse. 

“I think we have passed the point of being friends. I have waited my whole life for this and I’m here to collect my prize.”

Your eyes widened at the realization of the date. It was April twenty-eighth, two weeks since Mikey’s twenty-seventh birthday. You were doomed. 

Mikey ignored your internal crisis. His deft hands trailed down the outline of your curves until he met the hem of your dress. Slowly he lifted up the little gown until it was under your breasts. All you could do was whimper as you watched him take and take. 

He curled down to place a kiss on your tummy that was a phantom sensation. “My pretty doll,” he whispered into your skin. 

Fingers crawled back down until they met your just as white panties. He propped himself back up and used both hands to delicately tear the fabric away. A stuttering breath echoed in the room as he stared at your exposed pussy.

“My pretty, pretty doll,” he repeated. 

Subtly you tested again how much you could move, as he took his time to undress you like a present, the more sensation you gained in your limbs. Not enough to run away, but enough to retaliate. Knowing it was futile, you refused to give in so easily. 

Just as he was about to lean back down to plant feathery kisses on your pussy, you reared back your leg and kicked him in the face with all your might. 

It wasn’t enough to break his nose, but enough for blood to pool from it. Mikey lifted himself back up and locked eyes with you. As the blood dripped down to his lips, he licked it away and quirked an eyebrow up at you. An ‘what was that supposed to do?’ was written all over his face without even anything being said.

“You never knew when to give up, did you?”

With that, he pulled your hips up further onto his lap and bent your legs to your chest. Whatever gentleness he had was gone. His fingers ran up and down your exposed slit. You squirmed but he clenched down on your thighs until your circulation was cut off. Seeing you were done moving, he used one hand to hold you down and the other to pull down his pants and underwear. 

It was hard to see his cock from this angle and you were honestly scared to see what was about to force its way into you. Mikey crowded you so all you could see and smell was him. 

“I was going to work you through this but you just had to be a brat. It's okay, we have all our lives for me to show how much I love you.”

He tapped his cockhead against your hole, a silent warning. Fuck it stung as he bullied his way into your cunny. Tears bubbled up again as he carved his way inside you. For such a short man, his cock was long and thick. 

It could have been hours or minutes until his hips met yours. You never felt so full in your life. Clawing at the sheets, you felt yourself start to relax. Mikey seeing you were finally calm enough, he gave little thrusts. You moaned at the feeling. 

Taking the hint, he started to cant his hips. He slowly pulled himself out until it was just his tip and then slamming back in. A scream was punched out of you. Mikey laughed at the chain reaction. Putting more of his weight on you, his hand left one of your thighs to cradle your neck. It wasn’t enough to cut off your breathing but enough to keep you still. 

Mikey kept this rhythm of fucking into you like you were nothing more than cocksleeve. Keeping you close he rambled, “my doll, my possession, my thing, mine.” He seethed out the last word. 

The constant budging against your womb wiped your mind blank. At this point you just wanted to cum even if it was at the hands of him. Sensing you were both close, Mikey let go of your thigh to rub your clit. You moaned out at finally being stimulated. 

Mikey groaned out as you clenched down on him. “Fuck,” he moaned as he was coming up there with you.

After a few more pumps, he came right into you. Being filled with his cum spiraled your own release, shaking and whimpering. A few more spurts came out as you clenched down one last time. Mikey collapsed right on you, not removing himself from you. 

“You’re finally mine,” he breathed out relieved. Still coming down from the high, you spat, “I will never be yours.” 

Mikey slithered his hand across the mattress to come caress your right hand to his. Metal clinked against metal. Turning your head, you saw a ring on both your hands.

“My stupid doll, my naive wife.” 

[kaunis-sielu]

Lady Death

“Baby I’m fine.” Is the first thing that he says. It’s one of the worst things that he could say when you answer the phone.

“Steve?”
“I’m at Memorial.”

“What?” Memorial Hospital? He and Bucky were just going to go and do some check ins with the clubs in the area and hearing that he’s at the hospital is absolutely not what you wanted to hear. 

“I got hit, I’m fine okay? I’m fine but I do need you to come and pick me up.” You hear a slight tussle and suddenly Bucky’s voice is filling your ear. 

“He has a concussion so he doesn’t really remember the hit. It wasn’t an accident Doll.”

“What exactly does that mean?” You ask as you grab a sweatshirt, hospitals are always freezing, then grab your purse and hurry out the door.

“It means that I saw the whole thing and I know who was driving.” 
“Does he know?” You ask as you get into your SUV. 

“I don’t think so. I’m in the hallways, I don’t want him to know because I don’t need him doing something stupid.”
“Who was it Buck?”
“Hydra.” You figured. Your phone connects to your car as you start to back out of the driveway. 

“I’m on my way.” You tell him, “Stay with him? We’ll talk when I get there.” You tell Bucky who will follow your orders as if they were Steve’s, any of the Howlies will.

“I have Nat outside waiting for you. I don’t want you walking around without protection, not with Hydra lurking and apparently a hit out on Steve.” 

“You think it’s that bad?”
“I don’t know and I don’t like that.” Bucky tells you and you’re instantly more on alert. “You want me to stay on the phone?”
“Can you go back into his room and put the phone on speaker?” You just need to hear his voice, to know that Steve is okay, to know that he’s alive. 

“Of course.” You hear him moving before he says, “Steve, your woman is on the phone.”
“Baby!” Steve says happily, “Why am I here?”
“You were in an accident Punk.” Bucky says patiently, you wonder how many times he’s had to remind Steve that he’s been in an accident. 

“I’m on my way Honey.” You tell him, 

“Oh good. I miss you.” You can’t help the small smile that pulls at your lips, your husband can be so soft for you sometimes that it almost hurts. 

“I miss you too, about five minutes.” You tell Bucky who you hear hum softly, “Steve? What do you remember?”
“Leaving you and goin’ with Buck to check on some of groups.”
“He didn’t know what year it was or who the President was so the EMT’s made him come to the hospital.” Bucky informs you, you’re not surprised that the EMT’s would make him go to the hospital, those are pretty basic questions, “He didn’t forget about you though. Kept tellin’ everyone that he needed to call his girl.” God you love him.

“That’s good. I don’t think that I’d be okay if he ever forgot me.” You admit as you turn onto the street that the hospital is on, “I can see the hospital.” 

“I’ll let you go and let Nat know that you’re here.”

“Thank you.” You tell him hanging up then hop out of your car. You know that Bucky, and Steve if he wasn’t concussed, would have wanted you to stay in your car until Nat met you there but you just want to get to Steve. 

“You should be in the car.” Nat’s smoky voice says quietly from a few feet away and you pull your gun on her faster than she can blink. 

“I think I’ll manage.” You tell her coolly and she smiles a slow, deadly smile at you. 

“Well done. You’re not supposed to bring guns inside a hospital.”
“You’re also not supposed to fall in love with the leader of a biker gang when your father is a pastor but I did that too.” You tell her and Natasha laughs. 

“Touche.” You tuck the gun back into your bag and hurry into the hospital Natasha close on your heels. Bucky is waiting in the waiting room his helmet in his hands and when he sees you he looks over at the nurse, 

“This is Rogers’ wife.” He says and she gives you a nod then pushes a button to open a secure door. You follow Bucky into the ER and down a short hallway then to a room where Steve is sitting on a bed. When he goes to stand you hold out a hand to him

“Don’t you dare Steven Grant Rogers.” The nurse in the room gives a startled laugh and when you look over at her in surprise she says, 

“He’s stubborn, where were you this whole time? I could’ve used you.” 

“Steve, let the woman do her job.” You scold as Steve pouts over at you.

“Then come hold my hand Baby.” Steve flirts so you make your way to the opposite side of his bed and take his hand. He presses a kiss to the back of your hand while the nurse checks his eyes again, 

“Your pupils are looking better but we’re going to do one more CT scan before you can go. You have to stay completely still this time Mr. Rogers.”
“He was being stubborn.” Bucky tells you with an eye roll. 

“Steve, please behave so that we can go home okay?” You tell him softly and he sighs before you press a soft kiss to his jaw, “I’m going to have to keep you up tonight.” You whisper into his ear and he smirks over at you.

“You’ll still be here when I get back right?”
“Yea. I won’t go anywhere without you.” You promise, at least not until he can sleep then you’re going to take care of whoever went after your husband. Steve follows the nurse out of the room and you look over at Bucky. 

“Tell me that you’ve got them.”
“Sam’s got them.”
“Good.”
“You want Sam to take care of them?”
“No.” Bucky’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise, 

“No?”
“No. They’re mine.” You tell him fury evident in your voice and he gives you a little smirk. 

“I’ll let Sam know to keep him comfortable until you can sneak away from your very possessive and protective husband.” 

“As soon as he can sleep I want to take care of it.” You tell Bucky who nods then slips out of the room, his phone to his ear. 

When Steve comes back he pulls you to him and kisses you soundly. 

“I feel like you and Buck are plotting something.” Steve says softly when he pulls away, he rests his forehead against yours, “You are up to something.” He whispers. 

“There’s nothing you need to worry about,” You assure him, your hand carding through his hair at the back of his head, “I’ve got this my Love.” 

“What do you have?” He asks, 

“This.” You tell him, “You don’t have to worry about it okay?” 

“Baby?”
“No.” You whisper before pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “No, Steve.” The nurse comes back into the room followed by a man in a white coat. 

“Hello, I’m Dr. Johnson. I took a look at the scans, the concussion is minor. Here’s a sheet of instructions and you’re free to go.” He says passing you a couple of papers. 

“Wonderful. Thank you.” You tell him and he nods before moving back out of the room. The nurse passes you a sheet on a clipboard and you sign it before handing it back. Then you take Steve’s hand and leave the hospital with him. 

“You’re packing right?” He murmurs into your ear and you nod, 

“But Nat is outside.”
“Good. Where the hell did Bucky go?”
“He’s doing me a favor. Don’t worry.” You tell him as Nat falls into step with you on Steve’s other side. 

“They’re letting you out?” She asks coolly but you know that she’s just as relieved as you are that he’s okay and they’re letting him go. 

“Don’t be too disappointed Natasha.” Steve snarks and she laughs, 

“You’re following us home correct?” Natasha nods as you make your way to the car, you usher Steve into the passenger seat before you round the front of the car.

“Bucky said you’re going to take care of it yourself. You sure you want to do that?”
“Yes. You won’t change my mind.” 

“Okay. I am coming with you.” She says and you nod once before joining Steve in the car. 
“Now Natasha is in on your secret?” He asks and you start the car before looking over at him. You need to give Nat time to get on her bike, 

“It’s nothing you need to worry about right now Steve.”
“You’ll tell me later?”

“Yes, once you’re not concussed.” You promise him as Nat starts her bike. You ease out of the parking space and make your way home. 

The paper the doctor had given you said that he could sleep. Just to wake him every so often so after Steve falls asleep you slip out of bed, put on some clothes and head back out into the night with Natasha on your six.

The docks are cold and quiet at this time of the night. The lack of sound should be eerie but you just find it comforting. When you make your way into the basement of the large warehouse you’re pleased to see Sam and Bucky there with a man chained to the ceiling, his arms over his head while his feet touch the floor. 

“Hood off.” You command, your mask covering the lower half of your face. When the hood is removed the man blinks at you. Then he registers what he’s looking at, the mask across your nose and mouth looks like a skeleton’s, your hair is pulled back and covered by a black hood and he pales. 

“No.”
“Yes.”

“You’re Lady Death?”
“Yes.” You tell him calmly, “And you came for the only thing that I love. You tried to make me a widow, a life for your attempt at his death.”
“I’ll tell you who sent me!” The man pleads, “If you don’t kill me I’ll tell you.”
“You’ll tell me either way.” You assure him, “They always do.” 

And he does. 

Then you kill him. 

If he’d had his way, if Hydra had had their way Steve would be dead right now and you won’t let that happen. 

“Get rid of him.” You tell Bucky and Sam who nod before you go back out into the night. 

When you get home Steve is still asleep, thank god. You get ready for bed and slip into your bed next to him. 

“He dead?” Steve asks sleepily from next to you. 

“Yes.” You don’t bother lying. While he might be the leader of the Howlies you’re his left hand, the one that holds the gun. The police would never look at Steve’s sweet innocent little wife when they’re looking for a killer.

“You didn’t need to do that.”
“I protect what’s mine, just as much as you protect what’s yours.” You remind him cupping his face in your hand. 

“I love you.”

“And I love you. Now get some more sleep.” 

“Getting awful bossy on me Baby.” He teases and you laugh before kissing him again, 

“Don’t worry, I like it when you’re the boss better. I’m only stepping up because you were almost killed.”
“I’m fine.”
“Now. You are my love and my life and no one will take you from me. And anyone who tries won’t get a second chance.”
“You are my love and my life.” He tells you before curling his arm around you, “And if you think you’re sneaking off on me again you’ve lost your pretty little mind.” 

“I love you.”
“I love you.”

Tag list:

@foxyjwls007 @andahugaroundtheneck @also-fangirlinsweden @pagina16ps @annielr @princesssterek @valsworldofcreativity @dumblani @inkedaztec @loving-life-my-way @animegirlgeeky @shinycupcakebaker @eralen @sophham @gh0stgurl @wonderlandfandomkingdom @patzammit @abschaffer2 @capsiclesdoll @killcomet @sass-masterkittenmama

[autisticshadowthehedgehog]

It’s Sonic Gang Disney Movie Night! And it’s the Unstoppable Forces vs Immovable Objects! Let’s meet our competitors:

Knuckles “the last of his kind on a noble quest to protect a gem with trust issues, badass fighting skills, and a water-based spirit most of his lost culture was based around who wants to live out his fantasy of his people coming back and enemies turning into friends via continued applied trust” the Echidna who wants to watch Raya and the Last Dragon

Tikal “the curious and empathetic chief’s daughter who was really close with her now-dead grandma who yearns to return to a culture her people once had but have now abandoned and works to make peace with the dieties of her culture while being best friends with sentient water who wants to live out her fantasy of resolving her daddy issues and bringing her people and gods to peace” the Echidna who wants to watch Moana

Blaze “the heir to an entire kingdom with a lot of huge expectations placed on her by her deceased parents desperately trying to keep her deadly and dangerous powers under control which is an issue because they burst out when she’s emotional and she’s been repressing quite a bit of emotions only for an energetic, bubbly person to bring her out of her shell and prove that she can be herself without hurting anyone else” the Cat who wants to watch Frozen

Elise also wants to watch Frozen so two points for Blaze

Shadow “an alien scientifically created to be a living weapon meant to destroy who ends up befriending a little girl who teaches him to have humanity, after which he begins to appreciate life on Earth and fights to protect both it and the found family he’s pieced together for himself” the Hedgehog who wants to watch Lilo & Stitch

Sonic who wants to watch Wreck-It Ralph because he’s in it and things go fast

Amy Rose who wants to watch Sleeping Beauty because it’s “romantic” and “beautiful” but also so she can wait until the dragon scene and then start blasting “What I’m Made Of” and scare the shit out of everyone

Silver “was left alone in a barren wasteland for far longer than he wants to admit and honestly probably longer than he can remember who ends up finding one last bit of hope and who wants to live out his fantasy of bringing life back to his planet and seeing society grow around him as he finds a family of his own” the Hedgehog who wants to watch WALL-E. he’ll also settle for Lightyear he guesses

Cream who wants to watch Snow White because pretty princess sing to animals and spin around

Sally “the heir to an entire kingdom with some severe dead dad issues who ends up on the run as a child only to return and find her kingdom decimated by someone she once trusted who now has to raise a rebellion with her childhood sweetheart to dethrone the usurper and retake the land before he can destroy the entire environment” Acorn who wants to watch The Lion King

Vector who wants to watch The Great Mouse Detective and say “that’s what we do. we do that”

Shahra who wants to watch Aladdin. do i even have to

oh and Jet wants to watch Aladdin too but that’s just because he thinks stealing things is funny

Merlina actually does not want to watch Sword in the Stone it makes her uncomfortable however she will BITE someone if they don’t watch Coco next

Marine who wants to watch Finding Nemo because oooh water ooh australia oooh look at the fishies go. no she doesn’t have abandonment issues why do you ask

alternatively, Marine will make everyone watch The Pirate Fairy

Tekno who wants to watch Big Hero 6 because look at those robots go

Omega who wants to watch The Black Cauldron cause it has the most death in it

Rouge who would rather watch everyone argue than see any movie

Mighty and Ray just wanna watch Bambi guys

Big who wants to watch Fantasia because it calms him down. Omega does a quick ecosia search of Night on Bald Mountain and immediately likes this plan

Belle who wants to watch Pinocchio for obvious reasons

Charmy who wants to watch Peter Pan just to point at the tv when Tink is onscreen and look Belle dead in the eye and say “that’s you”

Espio who wants to die

Miles “Tails” Prower who can’t decide if he wants to watch Dumbo or Meet the Robinsons or if both will just bring up a lot of traumatic memories

and finally, Sticks the Badger, who wants to beat the TV to death with a wooden club and then burn Disney HQ to the ground

who will win!! vote now on your phones

[ccraccz]

Hi! It’s the sleepy reader anon, but you can just address me as Tea anon!

I know you already did my request so I have another one! Take your time for it and make sure to look after yourself! 🫶

Request: Headcanons of the Heartsteel boys with Female Reader who’s stronger than them? Like can pick them up. Throw them over their shoulder like a sack of potatoes and can win any play fights they have, due to their experience in fighting?

Stronger than you

Characters: Aphelios, Ezreal, Sett, Kayn, K'sante, Yone x Fem! Reader

WARNINGS: slight mentions of an ED (Aphelios) and fainting, Sett gets punched in the chest by S/o, mentions of Alune getting harrased by a drunk man, Yone is a workaholic and gets sick. Please read at your own discretion 💙💚💜🩷🧡❤️

Aphelios

He knew you were strong yes

You tell him every morning that you're going to the gym with Sett and K'sante

Your muscles are very visible when you wear sleeveless shirts and dresses, which he always thought was very attractive

He does believe that you're strong enough to carry him

But this was a stupid scenario

That day, he was very tired,his throat had been acting up, having been awake for two days straight, barely eating because he was focused on the deadline of the lyrics and the hurt was just too much

The note on the sheet of music he had in his hand blurred together to a big blob as his harsh mission to go to Yone's room, which seemed farther than usual, was becoming harder and harder to achive

You came out of the bathroom just as he tripped on his own feet and started falling to the ground

And you caught him

Checked up on him

He was deadly pale and quite shaky

You instantly knew what was happening and carried him back to his room, princess style

You were so warm to him

He instantly cuddled up to you and fell asleep

You were so worried for him and his health, so after placing him in his bed, giving a kiss on the forehead, and getting some snacks for him (placing them on his bedside table)

When you were about to leave, he reached out for you, and silently, barely audible, he asked you to stay with him

He wasn't really able to react in shock or anything

But he now knows that you can carry him

Please, he needs some more love 💙

Ezreal

Ezreal was really shocked when you caught him in just one of your arms

He had just came back from the airport, with the gang, and was just about ready to knock out

He was exhausted and that flight was uncomfortably tiring

But before anything, he had to see you

He needed hugs and kisses after all

So when you were sitting outside, waiting in front of the van to take the boys back to their place, he couldn't help but drop his bag and run towards you

Seeing this, you immediately stood up straight and opened you arms for him

The few last steps, he jumped

And just as he landed, you fixed how you were holding him to have him sit on just one of your arms so you could carry his bag and open the back door of the van

He was taken off guard because you were literally carrying him with one arm!!! How????

He wasn't really able to think much about it because after he nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck, his eyes instinctively closed, and he started lightly snoring

He's so cute 💚

Sett

You guys go to the gym together

Met there, confessed there, everything

So when your trainer was out sick and you needed some company in the rink

You decided to ask Sett you help you out

He, very happily, agreed to help you out

Though

He truly did not expect how strong you were

When you hit his gloves, your muscles popped out, being enhanced by your tank

He was so confused and attracted at the same time that he didn't raise his hands back

And you didn't notice that either

So you accidentally punched him in the pec

He fell down and just stared at you, blush covering his cheeks as you ask him if he's okay

He took off his gloves and dragged you out of the gym to fix some stuff 😏💜

Kayn

Kayn was being quite annoying, jumping here, yelling there

Rhaast wasn't any better

Yone seemed tired, Sett and K'sante were out doing some promotional videos, Ezreal was recording Kayn's bull and aphelios was in his room, probably planning a prank with his right hand (Alune)

So when you entered the scene and just picked up Kayn, throwing him over your shoulder and walking away to his room

He tried to fight back, thinking you were Sett or K'sante before he remembered that they were out doing their own thing

That's when he stopped and just hung around like a sack of potatoes

That us before you threw him onto his bed and laid on top of him 🩷

K'Sante

You were walking with the gang, behind them with K'sante beside you

Kayn ran forth, ezreal was hanging off of Sett's arm, aphelios and Yone were walking with Alune closest to the wall

The walk with K'sante beside you was silent

Only broken when Alune slipped away from being with Yone and Aphelios ro come talk to you

Though that only took a minute before you had to throw hands on a drunk man for touching someone he shouldnt

When K'sante saw that, he was about to act, but you literally threw that disgrace of a man onto the road, dragged him back, slammed him on a brink wall, and threw him into the trash can that was conveniently placed there

Alune had been pushed into his arms when that happened

When you turned around to Alune and the boys, you couldn't help but let a frustrated tear out

You sighed before comforting alune and calling an Uber to take her and aphelios back, asking the boys to bring something back for the three of you

K'sante had never felt so great full for you, but his thoughts were broken when he heard rustling

Well, he and the boys had some work to do

Yone

Yone had been working very hard

A little to hard for your comfort

So when you came over to go on your morning run with Yone only to find him still asleep with a red face

You knew exactly what happened

This has happened once before, and it was a few days after your graduation

That run could wait for later

You prepared a good, warm miso soup and some hibiscus tea to help with the cold

You were humming a rhythm that you heard coming from Aphelios's room when you saw Yone leaning on the wall, holding his stomach and softly groaning

You quickly put down the bowl of 'just now made' miso soup and rushed over to him

When he noticed you coming over, he tried to walk towards you only for his legs to give up on him and make him fall to the carpeted floor

But you caught him in time and carried him off back to bed while softly telling him that he needed to rest today, and tomorrow he could do his work

When you arrived to his room, you place him down on his bed, tucking him back in and kissing his warm forehead before whispering that you'd be right back

His glassy eyes watched you exit his room silently while he thought

'Just what did I do to deserve such a strong and wholesome lover...' ❤️

---------------------------

Note!

Hi hi Tea Anon!! Thank you so so much for the request, I really loved writing this request I was so sweet!!

Sometimes, I truly wish to be a muscle mommy but like,,, meh

I changed some stuff in the request, and I'm so sorry for all the trigger warnings. I just wanted to make sure not to make anyone uncomfortable in any type of way.

If I got anything wrong please do let me know!!!

Thank you so so much for requesting again, lovely!!! 🧡🧡🧡

( also I wrote this listening to Lost in silence. When I tell you I had to take a sec and clean my tears. Imma have to write some angst/comfort for myself bcs WAAAAA)

[djljpanda]

⚠️ !Warning! ⚠️ THIS GETS DETAILED!!!

Can you do another Mob AU Wally with a GN rebel reader. Like the both of them playing a game of cat and mouse by going at each other's throats about the reader joining the family. But in weird ( and twisted) way, it's all in good fun. And the both of them have a fair share of loses and wins in their little game. But when someone else enters their little game ( uninvited at that.. ) and ends up managing to hurt Wally. In one of the reader's genuine act of kindness and compassion they end up helping Wally by tending to him and dropping him off by his base so his ' Family ' can further take care of him. And for the next couple of weeks the reader goes off the grid for a bit and it's complete radio silence from them. That was until the person that managed to hurt Wally was in front of their base, tied up like a hog, with an apple in their mouth ( they have a basket of apples besides them ), but is still in semi good condition. I say semi because the only real damage on them is the carvings on their back. Said carvings read---

' I enjoy our little games together, so you better get well soon so we can play more them. Until then, enjoy this get well soon gifts I bought for you. '- From yours truly, [ Name ]

What will Wally do in this situation, how would he react, and how would he feel???

Oh man you and Wally have been going at each other for awhile now. You both don't hate each other but Wally can't just let you go and you understand but you want to do your own thing.

And yes this was a fun game you two play but it stopped becoming fun when someone else decided to join. You, Wally, and O/p (other/person) where all fighting each other but you and Wally team up just to get them off you guys back.

But during one of yours and Wally's game Wally got attacked. The attack was quick but deadly, you wanted to chase after the O/p but you couldn't leave him here so you helped him.

"Come on Wally your neighbors would have my head if you die here", you didn't want to say it out loud but you were worried for Wally not only because you will be killed by the Home family but who else will be like your partner in crime.

After making sure Wally was okay you dropped him off and rushed away. Ever since that event Wally was touched when he learned you saved his life. But when he tried looking you were nowhere to be found even other gangs, political members, even other rebels didn't know where you were at.

Wally was worried for you as too the O/p was missing too. Wally was doing his best to find you, it got so bad that his 'neighbors' had to ask him to calm down, as his injuries weren't even healed.

But after all that time Wally was told that there is something he may want to see. It was the O/p on the ground tied like a dead pig cooked pig as for the apple gaged in his mouth along with shiny red apples.

When the O/p was checked it was found that there were carvings on his back that had read, 'I enjoy our little games together, so you better get well soon so we can play more of them. Until then, enjoy this get well soon gift I brought for you, From yours truly, Y/n'.

Wally smiled at your words as his neighbors got rid of the O/p body. During his healing process he would eat the apples you gave feeling that they are the reason why he is healing. And he even wrote down your little note for him reading it over and over again. And now every time he is thinking of you he would get all flustered and now more than ever he wanted you in his family.

Once he was healed you guys went back to your favorite games of cat and mouse as well as tag. And yet Wally still knows that not said officially you are his neighbor.