#Death does not halt previous actions

[cinhomi]

𝑈𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑡𝑙𝑒𝑑

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Han Jisung x fem reader

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: you and your soulmate in a random morning of May

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff, smut

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: descriptions of sexual intercourse, unprotected sex, no dynamic specified, vanilla, talks of death and afterlife

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.9K

“Ji?”

It's warm. The Sun’s rays penetrate the cream colored curtains of his bedroom and dance on your naked skin. The tree outside paints stunning shadows that turn into shapes that move with the light, in a psychedelic motion that molds with your bodies. A pantone of warm colors reflects everywhere and it's as if they're about to spill in your heart, too.

“Yeah, baby?”

His voice is barely a whisper, his breath tickles your ear. You can feel his hand move from your side to go up, up, until it reaches your neck and his fingers delicately close round it. You feel his bottom lip first, then the upper one, as he starts to leave little pecks on your nape, your jawline. The presence of his other arm is persistent, under you, dragging you closer until your back is flat on his chest. The pendant of his necklace starts to leave a print between your shoulder blades.

“Do you think there's life after death?”

He halts his actions. Jisung leaves another kiss behind your ear and inhales, hoping to get drunk with your scent. His hand caresses your cheek, and then travels down to your arm, finding your wrist, taking it close to his pretty mouth to rest there, to let him kiss it. He presses your digits on his lips and gives attention to each of them. It takes him a while to reply, but you give him all the time he needs.

“I like to believe that there is, yes.” his eyes close for a moment, it's almost as if he wants to memorize your fingerprints. “Where does this question come from, baby?”

When you turn around to face him you find his faint smile, his adoring eyes that trail from your chest, to your lips, to your own irises. There's a rebelling tuft of curly hair that stands alone on his head, and the mole on his cheek moves whenever he swallows. You caress the one placed on his collarbone, before taking a deep breath. “I just… I was thinking- when we die… our body remains here, right?”

Jisung nods and hums, brows furrowing slightly, trying to predict the path your thoughts will take.

“And, wouldn't it be sad if it all ended… like that? Or maybe- or maybe that's the beauty of it? In the end we really always kind of leave a piece of us here. Being it bones or ashes…"

He hooks the necklace he gifted you the night prior, twistes it in his hand and watches it shine. “I always feel like we're too big to just end with death, you know? I don't know if we actually reincarnate or if something like Heaven or Hell exists, but I don't want to- no, I can't accept the idea of disappearing from the universe completely.” he explains, all while bringing you close to him again, your breasts now against his chest, your leg brushing his glutes as he takes it to rest on his hip. “Do you agree?”

“Yeah,” you pout, your hands open to feel his muscles tense under your touch, “we are immense. Don't you ever think that, sometimes, you have strong feelings about something because you were connected with it in your previous life?”

Jisung nods, he leaves a kiss on the crown of your head. “For example?” he chimes in, resting his head on your pillow.

“Well,” you start, a hint of a giggle already threatening your voice, “maybe you're scared of bugs because in a previous life one killed you!” and a light slap can be heard on your shoulder as he shakes his head trying to suppress a smile.

“I thought you were about to be all cute and reference us… tch.” he looks at the ceiling, faking being offended.

“What do you mean?” and at your question his farce crumbles immediately, enamored eyes staring down at you.

“Maybe we're together now because we were lovers in our past life, too. No?”

All words die in your throat. There's a block forming in the pit of your stomach and your waterline starts to tingle.

“From the first moment my eyes laid on you, I knew you were the one. Sometimes I think I've known you all my existence, sometimes I wonder if we come from the same star.”

“Ji…” before he can see your expression you bury your head in his chest, “this is disgustingly romantic…”

He giggles. You look at him again just to get a glimpse of his gummy smile, maybe searching for the crooked teeth he had once. You miss it sometimes.

Jisung gets up on his elbows and in moments like these he seems bigger. His shoulders are up straight, chest popped up, slim waist twisted making the faint lines of his abs become curves. You'd look at his thighs and at his cock too, but grey cotton sheets cover it all.

“But it's true! It's true… I refuse to believe otherwise. We're together in every universe, baby.” his gaze fixed on yours. “Is it childish to think so?”

You shake your head, blinking slowly. Sunlight is still a bit too strong, your eyes straining from it, but the way it reflects on him, it's mesmerizing. Jisung takes your face in his hands and kisses you, tenderly, totally opposed to how he did it the night prior. It's so sweet, it's overwhelmingly sweet and you can't help but melt as his index finger caresses the corner of your eye, as his thumb taps your bottom lip for him to take between his. There's still a slight ache between your legs but it's a lovely feeling. There's still the smell of your juices, your panties by the end of the bed, his shirt hanging on the corner of his TV.

“I'll find you in every universe,” he whispers between kisses, “I'll be by your side, even if we become different things, I'll- I'll find a way, angel, I'll find it.” more urgently, his cold rings roam on your back, lifting you up enough to have his arms around you. It makes you sigh, it makes you whimper.

“I- I want-” you gasp, his tongue is under your jaw and it keeps on traveling down every valley of your body. There are soft but obnoxious sounds now echoing in the room. There's also a dog barking in the distance, few cars passing by, someone opening their shutters. “I want everything I lost to- come back to me, Jisung…”

His head is now on your belly, he stays there with his eyes closed. Jisung sighs. He kisses your belly button and goes even lower, almost disappearing under the covers.

“It will…” he inhales your smell, you, groaning against your navel, “it's already here angel. You may not be seeing it, but you're already surrounded by it. You said that, we just leave our bodies-” he checks on your expression quickly. “You feel it, don't you?”

He sees your eyelashes flutter and your head moving up and down. Jisung kisses your clit, and then your labia, and his eyes roll back when your soft sounds reach him. When your leg lifts and your knee presses on his cheek, nudging him away, big round confused eyes run all over you once again.

“Inside…” even if the sentence floats between you too, Jisung understands. He comes up and the way the freshly clean cotton falls from his figure reminds you that time at the lake, when he came out from the water to make love to you under a willow. He's hard, you feel it against your thigh.

“Need me to stretch you?” he's whispering, he's kissing your left shoulder. As you shake your head, his tip is already catching in your entrance.

“It'll be okay baby. I know you miss them, but your heart is big,” his cock slowly slips inside you as he speaks, “your heart is big and I love you for this reason.” and then you find yourself full, of him, of his sweet words, full of light and sorrow and sadness and cheesecake. You feel so many things, it's only natural that some tears threaten to spill from your eyes, but Jisung kisses them all away, but Jisung hushes you and rolls his hips deeper into you, with the same rhythm of the tap of your kitchen sink, that broke two days ago. Later he’ll call someone to fix it.

When your palms glide on his back you feel bumps, formed as long streaks. You close your eyes, you touch them like a blind person reading braille, you try to read him. It's written “I love you” all over. He adores it when you hold him flush over you, when your nails cling to him as he thrusts into you, adores your delirant praise, hushed under your breath.

Jisung drags his voice in long moans, you feel them hot on your neck, they alternate with hisses while his eyes squeeze shut and fight to stay open, to witness how your own face moves. They reverberate in your chest and your heart is being caressed. What was warm light now is scorcingly hot directly against your bodies, a sheen of sweat making you sparkle. It's such a nice day, you should grab coffee together later. Take his sunglasses maybe. His hoodie. His soul. He doesn't mind.

“Baby…” it's hoarse now, it'll sound melodic again when he's calm, “baby you are my everything-” his hips pick up speed, they falter, his thighs burn. When you wrap your legs on his lower half, when your heels press on him they stutter and Jisung chokes on his own words. You feel the tell-tale throbs in his cock, you feel the way his hands grip the flesh of your hips, and your walls closing around him.

“Ji- baby, look at me, look me in the eyes-” it's afternoon already. He lifts properly, both hands on the sides of your head. Jisung looks you in the eyes. Jisung, he tells you that he loves you repeatedly as he feels his high so close he thinks he's going to pass out. Your pussy sucks him in whenever he retracts his cock, he hears the change in your voice. You'll go on a walk together tonight.

He does as you asked, never closes his eyelids. He's like a god falling apart, stilling into you, orgasm crashing over him like a tidal wave. It's him, it's his expression that makes you arch your back, it's him greedily covering every millimeter of skin he sees with his wet lips, it's his praise, his “baby”, his cum deep inside you. You exist. In that moment you're sure you exist because Jisung breathes life into you, because when you come for him he circles your clit and smiles. You die and then you're alive again.

Jisung stays there for a while, he keeps smiling, teeth grazing your chest and collar bones as you both start to giggle. You feel the ache again and it's comforting.

"I don't care about dying, angel. I mean, I don't want to, but… it's okay because I already knew happiness, you know?” he closes his eyes.

It's a hot day of May and few butterflies appear to do their dance in the air. It's a hot day of May and you discuss about life and death like it's nothing, like you talk about the weather. It's a hot day of May and it's easy to love, to exist, to accept the end of existence. It's just a day like the others, and that's beautiful.

“I know.” your reply comes before a sigh. You'll have to say goodbye to coffee and think about lunch. “You have to tell your mom I need her kimchi recipe, okay?”

a.n.

life is beautiful, please live it to its fullest and enjoy every moment, even if it brings pain, even if it seems dark, please cherish it. life is beautiful and you deserve to think so. I love you, take care of yourself.

[epickiya722]

Another thought coming in, this time about how Riko and Yuji are similar in ways that has me in my feelings and I am definitely going to ramble about it.

They're both such tragic characters. Bright eyed kids who despite their positive personalities, life is unfair to them. Yet, somehow they adapt the best they can.

Raised by a single person who is family to them, whether not blood related (Riko and Kuroi) and blood related (Yuji and Wasuke, Yuji's grandfather). Parents? Gone. Riko's died in an accident and Yuji's, well, his mother is dead and maybe his father (his whereabouts aren't really clear, but I figured he's dead).

Both have expressed they're loners, however they are sociable and can get along with those around them.

"Vessels" that are doomed to die. Riko, merging with Tengen would mean her no longer existing. Once Yuji consumed all of Sukuna's 20 Cursed Fingers, he is sentenced to be executed. And they both had accepted this, even though they question it and it's not something they want to do in the first place.

Riko and Yuji were born into those roles, being a "vessel" wasn't something in their control from the start. Riko was found to be a match as a Star Plasma Vessel and Yuji was created to be Sukuna's vessel/"cage". Those roles that they were forced into came with dire consequences and somehow those roles of theirs, even being a "vessel" is halted by a Fushiguro.

Riko is killed by Toji, just as she makes the decision to not merge with Tengen. Sukuna uses the Binding Vow he had on Yuji to force control over his body to switch into Megumi's body. Riko's was done voluntarily on Toji's part while Megumi becoming Sukuna's vessel is involuntary on Megumi's part.

These actions lead into even more chaos. With Toji killing Riko, Tengen later evolves into something more curse than human, something Kenjaku wants for the Merger. Sukuna switching to Megumi's body allows him to use his technique, the technique he uses against Yorozu who possessed Tsumiki (Megumi's sister) and kills her and later against Gojo.

Also, something else. When they have died (Yuji once in the beginning, he gets revived), it's right in front of someone (who are black haired, have eye color changes from manga to anime and can summon creatures with their techniques). Suguru witnesses Riko's death, Megumi witnesses Yuji's.

It's also something of how they die/"die" that kind of foils. Yuji dies by his heart being taken out. Riko dies by being shot in the head. I think of that saying how you should think your head, not your heart. Yuji, though he does follow his heart, also thinks logically sometimes, evident in battles. He does show he is smarter than what he even gives himself credit for. With Riko, she is more emotion driven than logical. (That's not to say she's dumb, which I doubt she is.)

Also, speaking of Gojo, he's heavily involved with Riko and Yuji's roles as vessels.

He had been one of the two (along with Geto) to protect Riko until it was her time to merge with Tengen. During that time, Gojo grows compassion, and not just towards Riko as later he displays that traits to his students, Yuji being a notable example.

When Riko dies, Gojo expresses sorrow and grief and even suggests killing the Star Religious members because they were celebrating her death. In a similar manner, when Yuji dies (Sukuna ripping his heart out), Gojo expresses distraught and anger, even mentioning how he should kill the Higher-Ups who orchestrated the very mission that could have killed Yuji (as well as Megumi and Nobara, but their focus was Yuji).

Gojo's time with Riko changes him and his time as Yuji's teacher displays that change.

And...

It's also funny to me how similar their names are to the previous MCs of JJK 0. (Okay, I know Rika ain't like a MC-MC to some, but she is to me!)

Riko -> Rika

Yuji -> Yuta

...

I'm not done, let me touch on how they're opposite.

Riko is a non-combatant and seemingly has more knowledge about jujutsu. Yuji is a newcomer and is an combatant. Riko is a girl, Yuji is a boy. Riko has long, dark hair. Yuji has short, light hair.

[dangans-ur-ronpas]

Chapter 12

UH OH

SEE HERE FOR GENERAL WARNINGS AND FIC SUMMARY

Some pre-chapter notes:

trying to move away from writing toko like chunsoft and adding more to her character (she's traumatized she wants to be loved but she's going about it in the worst way) but in the end none of her actions are condoned. she's fucked up still sorry but written in a more sympathetic light i hope?

syo WILL be in this fic but i do my best to make her hand-wavy explanation ambiguous (fuck whatever canon says about 'textbook split personality' btw)

@moonlighttogami and @tokiwigiwi :)

Content warning tags: implication of stalking/blackmail, Toko-expected creepiness, use of violence, character death

< previous - from start - next >

He’s not sure how much time passes when the door opens again.

“Finally,” He huffs, not bothering to turn. “Took you long enough. Honestly, how long does it take-”

He halts, as the intruder steps into the room, and quickly clicks his handbook shut. These weren’t Makoto’s footsteps. And - he surreptitiously covers his nose - that wasn’t Makoto’s smell. But he knows whose it was.

“...Toko. What do you want.” He turns and glares at the girl who has intruded on his space. She fidgets where she stands, a thin shadow of dark purple. The smell of her has grown stronger over the past few weeks, and hangs around her like a miasma.

“M-master Byakuya…”

He feels a full-bodied shiver of disgust run over his skin. “Don’t call me that.”

She ignores him, and carries on. “A-about last night…”

Right. To be completely honest, he was hoping that he had scared her enough the night before to make her leave him alone entirely. But he’s not surprised either; if she had the nerve to blatantly try and look at his secret, it wasn’t surprising that she had the boldness to try and confront him like this.

“What about last night.” He says stiffly, and she jumps as if shocked.

“I-I know about your eyes!” She blurts at last. “A-and, I know Ch-Chihiro knows it too…I, I heard you t-talking about it i-in the b-bathhouse last night…”

He feels his lip curling, revolted. Of course she had eavesdropped; she was quickly proving to be one of the more annoying stalkers he’d ever had the displeasure of dealing with. The number of people who were aware of his condition was also rapidly increasing against his will. At this point he might as well do the same as Fujisaki and announce it out loud.

Fukawa continues in her irritating stutter. “A-and…y-your envelope…” He freezes immediately, suddenly latching on to her every word.

“What did it say?” He demands, and she flinches - shivers? - arms crossing over her torso.

“I-if I t-tell you, y-you won’t w-want anything to d-do with m-me anymore…” She mutters, seemingly to herself, and he feels another wave of revulsion roll over him.

“Out with it. I already want nothing to do with you, but if you don’t speak up now-” 

What will he do? He tries to come up with a threat that can hold actual weight, but they all sound pathetic, even to himself. If only Makoto were here, he could at least get him to chase her away…how long does it take to talk to three people, anyways?

Ironically, it’s Fukawa who saves him from having to think of something. “I-I know you’re r-really mad at m-me for r-reading your secret last night,” She continues, and she’s swaying slightly, as if drunk. “U-um, I-I promise n-not to t-tell anyone! About your eyes, o-or your envelope…a-and, I’ll t-tell you mine, t-too.”

“I’m not interested.” He says flatly. “Tell me what was written in my envelope. Now.”

She shakes her head instead. “I-I know th-there’s no way for you t-to have r-read yours yet, right? S-so only I know!” The light catches on her spectacles, and it gives the illusion of two, illuminated orbs on her face. “W-which makes me m-more special than M-Makoto, or Chihiro, right?”

She sounds deranged. Her voice is pitched with desperation, and she’s breathing heavily. She takes a step closer. “I-I know all your s-secrets, and once y-you know mine…s-so you can r-rely on me, m-more than Makoto, o-or Chihiro?” Another step, and the floorboard creaks. “I-I’ll do better than th-them! And, and I can accept you f-for all your secrets, s-so, you don’t n-need them, I promise!”

“Stay back.” He snaps, shifting backwards. The revulsion was curdling, mixing with fear, and crawling down his back like something physical, like the vile, unwanted sensation of fingernails, tickling over his skin. He hates this irrational panic - she was just a girl, and a pathetic one at that - but here he was, shying away anyways, unable to discern her next move, her intentions. “I’m warning you-”

She lurches forward, and he takes an inadvertent step back. His back meets the bookshelf; he was trapped. “S-so don’t get scared,” She says, though these words really only have the opposite effect on him. “D-do you remember the news, a few y-years back? A-about Genocider S-Syo?”

Genocider Syo? The name sounds familiar, but it takes him a moment to place where he’s heard it before. It was a few years before he enrolled at Hope’s Peak, while in transit to some social gathering or another; Pennyworth had left the car radio tuned to the local news. 

“The serial killer?” He asks aloud, as he subtly searches the shelves behind him, trying to find something to use as a weapon. The tip of his index finger catches on the spine of a large, plastic-bound copy of some textbook or another, and he leverages it slowly out of the shelf, feeling sweat beginning to slicken its cover.

She nods eagerly, her braids bouncing. “I-I knew you’d kn-know about it,” She sounds relieved, somehow, voice breathless. “Y-you know, th-the first place Syo turned up was the town w-where I was b-born…i-it was my f-first crush that was the f-first victim, y’know?”

It clicks together quickly for him. The radio announcer had described bloody and ugly scenes of murder, the displayed corpses of young men and boys, all attributed to a mysterious killer with a penchant for stabbing their victims. And now standing before him was a clearly-deranged, unwell girl, well-known for her romance novels, and apparently obsessed with him.

“I-it’s okay!” She says hurriedly, as he presses himself closer to the shelf. “Sh-she only c-comes out when I-I’m really t-tired, o-or if I see b-blood…b-but, I c-can control her! I am controlling her, I promise!” She steps forward again, and this close, he can see the sickly flush on her face, the shine of sweat - tears? - down her cheeks. “I’ve b-been working s-so hard, s-so she won’t h-hurt anyone again…so it’s o-okay! I c-can be good! See?” She hiccups slightly, she must be crying. He can’t imagine why. “S-so now we can be equal, r-right?!”

She staggers towards him again, and he reacts before he can even think twice about it, yanking the book from its shelf and swinging blindly. The edge catches her across the face, whipping it sharply to the side with a sickly crack and a squeal - there’s a crest of blood, splattering up the length of the book, he can feel a few warm drops splash his hand, the skin crawling where it landed - and she crashes against the shelves with a shriek, stumbling.

“Why?!” She wails, hands shooting to her face. She sounds genuinely distraught, and she shakes as she scrubs at her nose with her palms. “I-I told you m-my biggest secret, a-and I kn-know yours…w-why won’t you tr-trust me?!”

“Trust you?!” He laughs, mirthless and a little frenzied, pitched wildly with his thudding heart. “You repulse me.” He steps forward now, book still clutched in his shaking hand. “Why would I ever trust a murderer in a killing game?”

She flinches as if his words were more physical blows, stumbling away from him and knocking against the shelf. A few books rain down, thudding open on the floor. “I-It’s not me,” She babbles, clutching at her head. “S-Syo - she’s j-just s-someone else, she’s in m-me, b-but I can c-control her, I p-promise - sh-she’s not me, she’s not me, she’s not!”

It sounds vaguely like some dramatized description of a split personality, though Byakuya had never heard of any such disorder that matched Fukawa’s apparently extreme case. Whatever the girl had going on would probably warrant its own DSM volume, but he wasn’t particularly interested in that. “I don’t care if she’s a ghost that’s possessing you or a secret twin taking your place. I want nothing to do with either of you.”

“B-but-”

“Get out.” He snarls, chest heaving. “If I hear anything - anything - on my condition, I will make you wish you were dead.” She doesn’t move, and he feels his teeth clench enough to creak. “I said, OUT.”

She darts, stumbling and stepping through one of the piles of boxes on the floor, completely breaking through the lid. Whatever was inside it stays looped around her ankle as she kicks the lid off, and clicks against the floor as she sprints away, her sobs fading as she goes.

___

For safety, he blocks off the door to the library with the chair, jamming it beneath the handles.

Then, he waits for Makoto, pacing, agitated. Really, how long could it take to accompany one person to talk to three people? His clock in his handbook stated that hardly an hour had passed since Makoto first left, and ten minutes since he sent Fukawa away. Surely, he had to be coming back eventually?

Not that there was anything keeping Byakuya in the library, other than his own uncertainty regarding his safety. Considering that he knew Fukawa’s alternate identity, and her apparent infatuation with him, it would be foolish to make the trek back to his room alone.

He stops pacing, frustration and restlessness boiling over. And returns to the files, shuffling through them, handbook held aloft to read the names printed on the edge of each folder, ignoring the ones that clatter to the ground after he shoves them haphazardly back. Finally, he comes across the one he's looking for, and slides it out of the shelf.

The front of it is stamped with the title in silver: ‘The Murder Cases of Genocider Syo: Top Secret’. He flips it open.

The text is interspersed with images of the victims before and after their unfortunate encounters with Fukawa. He can’t make much out about them, other than the fact that all the murder scenes seemed similar enough; photos of pale bodies, stretched out as if crucified, splattered with blood. Their faces, which must have been twisted with agony, are merely dark smudges.

“...As with the other cases, at the scene of the crime the word ‘BLOODLUST’ was written with the victim’s blood,” Alter Ego reads aloud. “The scissors used in the murder were apparently custom-made, with every pair left at each murder scene seeming to be of the same material and construction…”

How vile. He flips through the pages (one of which is annoyingly wrinkled, and furthermore, smudged with dirt), reading through the victim's descriptions. There was a sort of morbid curiosity that drew him to read further, even as his stomach turned with the knowledge that he could end up like one of these men; pinned like a butterfly for the killer to admire and laud over.

He snaps the file shut at last, feeling nauseous, and sinks down with his back against the shelf, suddenly exhausted - the adrenaline from Fukawa’s confrontation is gone, leaving behind a bone-deep fatigue. Sluggishly, he categorizes what he knows:

One: Fukawa was also Genocider Syo, a notorious serial killer who targeted young men.

Two: Fukawa both knew he was blind, and the contents of his envelope. He reaches into his pocket and feels for it, the paper now crinkled and warped. He still can’t bring himself to try and use Alter Ego to read its contents, but so long as Fukawa knew…there was little he could do about it.

That brought him to three: Fukawa was apparently obsessed with him. That was clear from the start, but he underestimated how dangerous her infatuation was. What she wanted from him was, apparently, some kind of romanticized relationship, if her mutterings about mutually sharing secrets and calling him ‘master’ was anything to go by, but nothing that could possibly be built on equal footing. Not if she was trying to leverage the envelope’s contents and his blindness against him.

He pauses at that. Did Fukawa know he was capable of using Alter Ego through his handbook to read? If she did, then there was no point in her trying to hold it over him. But then that meant she might try to manipulate him in other ways, the most simplest being blackmail. For that, he’d need to silence her…

And to do that, I would need to kill.

He drums his fingers against the hardwood floor. It’d be hard, but he could do it. She was already fixated on him, it should be easy enough to lure her somewhere and take care of her, either with a blunt-force weapon or strangulation - stabbing was too messy with the blood splatter - but the real difficulty then was how to conceal his tracks. 

He thinks for a moment of Maizono, and how she had swapped rooms with Makoto solely for this intention. He thought her foolish then, but in hindsight, it really was an impressive display of quick thinking…though, it wasn’t one that he could copy.

What if he did it in a shared space? In one of the empty classrooms? People hardly went into these rooms, and it’d be harder to pin down the culprit. But he’d have to be fast about it, and careful; anyone who sees him or Fukawa entering that space, or leaving it, could easily identify him as the suspect. It’d have to happen at night.

But, she’s also smarter than she looks… He rubs at his temples now, frowning. She might see the similarities between this and Maizono’s attempt, and realize it’s a trap. I can’t risk that. It’d be easier if I could easily pin it on someone, but the amount of people who might be stupid or willing enough to let themselves be used…

The list was very short. Makoto, who was already a non-option. Yamada, who was too closely allied with Celeste to be trusted. Hagakure, who was too paranoid to be easily led into anything anyways...

And Chihiro.

He’s suddenly struck with the realization that if he succeeds, the others die. It would not be just one person’s blood on his hands, it would be multiple, including those he chooses not to directly involve. He hesitates, for an instant - and then lowers his hands slowly, a sense of defeat settling over him.

He’s already failed before he even started. This game could only have one winner, and if he could not fully commit himself to that role and accept the consequences of it, then he was never a real competitor to begin with. Circles within circles. He was back to the start.

Frustration isn’t something he’s unfamiliar with, but it’s been a long time since he’s felt so overwhelmed with it, as he tilts his head back, knocking it against the shelf as he stares blankly at the brown fog of the ceiling. And then slams a fist against the floor, hissing venomous, ugly curses under his breath. If only he had his eyes, again - he wouldn’t need to be so concerned with such things, wouldn’t need to waver - and yet.

Where the hell is Makoto? He thinks numbly, exhausted with it all. He was sick of being left with nothing but his nerves, and how long did it take to talk to just three people anyways?

Thump, thump, thump.

A rhythmic banging snaps him out of his thoughts. For a moment, he thinks it’s coming from the door, and clumsily pushes himself up, while fumbling for something, anything, to use as a weapon - his hands find the hard, stiff cover of a case file, still on the floor - and stares down the door, waiting for someone to break through it-

But nothing. The chair that’s stuck under the doorknob hasn’t even budged, from what he can tell. The banging continues, and he realizes it sounds more like hammering than knocking. It wasn’t even against the library door.

Construction? Hagakure did mention hearing construction sounds earlier. Was Monokuma building something again?

The sound ends, replaced by footsteps approaching his door. He tenses, taking a step back, but a moment later, the footsteps patter down the hall and away, fading out of earshot. 

He stays where he is for a long moment, caught between terror and curiosity. Curiosity wins out, and he steps slowly to the door, hesitating once more with one hand on the chair.

But before he can even do anything, the air is pierced by a blood-curdling scream, and he throws the chair away, yanking the door open-

Only to be met with the sight of Chihiro Fujisaki’s corpse.

< previous - from start - next >

[endlesslystarlitskies]

Lost and Found - Part 16

A/N: And here it is! The final chapter. I hope you guys like it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Please let me know what you think, and thank you to everyone who followed the story all the way to the end. You guys are awesome! 

Also, I do not speak a lot of Spanish, so forgive me if the Spanish Title I put in here does not make sense and feel free to correct me! 

Genre: Horror, Action, Adventure, Romance, Slow-Burn,  

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x Named Reader (Named but not Described)

Summary: Ella was one of the missing hikers who was kidnapped by the villagers. She narrowly escaped being sacrificed, but her friends weren’t so lucky. Managing to survive out in the woods with her previous skills and knowledge, she runs into Leon, and that meeting begins the longest, most dangerous adventure of her life as she tries to help him save the girl she saw being taken into the church. What will happen along the way? Only one way to find out.  

Warnings: Canon typical violence and gore, Death, Murder, Monsters, Suicidal ideations mentioned

Word Count: 5,429

Chapter 15  Alternate Ending  Story Masterlist

xXx

Leon watched as the sun began to rise above the mountains, feeling the warmth hit his skin as the breeze gently brushed his hair from his eyes. It was a peaceful morning. One that made everything happening out in the world seem so far away for just a few, quiet moments. 

The events of Spain had been over six months ago, now. Leon had succeeded in his mission to rescue the president's daughter, Ashley home safe and sound with her family. Leon returned back home after being praised and congratulated by The President, all his words meaning nothing to him as he just wanted to be left to himself for a bit.

His mind drifted to Luis’ lab, and of a file that had been on one of the tables that hadn’t been there the first time he had gone to the room. It had a purple marking on it, which suggested it was from The Merchant, who was nowhere to be found as they escaped from the Island, Leon having the file securely in his possession.

Inside the file were research notes labeled “La Plaga Durmiente”, as well as notes from Castro himself. The notes spoke of a parasite that had been engineered under Saddlers approval and Castro’s direction. The parasite would remain dormant inside the host after being injected, undetectable and giving the host no symptoms as its hold grew stronger with each moment it was there.

However, engineering the plaga this way had it and Saddlers hold on it weakened, meaning it would take much longer for the parasite to gain enough control over the host to take over their mind and body, and Saddler’s power over it was unpredictable and unreliable if the parasite wasn’t fully connected. This made Saddler doubt its validity and halt its experimentation. 

Researchers worked tirelessly to figure out a way to strengthen the plaga without its normal symptoms becoming present within the host, and after a while, they had. Taking a tiny piece of the section of the Amber the plaga had been inside, they determined the strong connection between the two to be the perfect way to give the parasite the strength it had lost, plus more, allowing it to take over the host’s mind and body with Saddler’s influence in seconds, provided the parasite had enough time to completely bond with the host. 

The piece of Amber was then placed inside a red casing, which gave it an ethereal glow. To further hide the piece of the Amber for its protection, it was inlayed into a necklace, giving it the appearance of a gem and hiding its true nature. This engineered parasite was then put to the side, waiting for the perfect test subject to use it on. 

Castro found that test subject in a female hiker, who was on a trip with her three friends to get away from the stress of the real world. He was intrigued by her strength of will when villagers kidnapped the group of four to sacrifice for the ritual, and it was then, as he watched her fight against her attackers and do everything she could to save her friends, that he knew she would be perfect. 

Being overwhelmed by the numbers and the surprise of sudden attack, the girl was knocked unconscious after reaching for the others, and it was then that the plaga was injected into her body. Keeping up the guise of the ritual, the woman was taken with her three friends to the Altar, where Castro allowed her to escape after sacrificing the others, watching her run and disappear into the forest. 

He watched over her for four days, and when news of an outsider who came to rescue the President’s daughter reached his ears, he knew he had the ideal test to show Saddler that his idea- his creation- would be useful to them in ways they had not originally foreseen. Castro had been prepared to artificially set up a way for the outsider to stumble upon the girl, and take her with him on the journey, but there ended up being no need for him to do that. 

The woman found the outsider all on her own, and without influence, offered her aid to him, refusing to sit idly by as a young girl was taken. 

It had been perfect, in Castro’s mind. The outsider would get attached to the woman, and little would he know, she would be the very thing that would destroy him and prove the Parasites usefulness to Lord Saddler.

The two initial meetings after that were Castro checking in to make sure the woman was not showing symptoms of having the plaga within her body, as well as a way to test what would happen if the plaga was within close proximity of the Amber inside the red casing, wondering if he could use it to speed up the plaga’s progress within its host, though he had no way to know if it worked. However, the plaga did remain hidden, neither the woman nor the outsider aware of what resided inside her. 

Unfortunately, the girl became a nuisance to Lord Saddler, who didn’t hold confidence in the engineered plaga and feared the risks of letting her roam free when his control was not guaranteed, and Castro was ordered to kill her. Deciding to do the ritual out of symbolism and respect for his creation, he took the woman to the altar, where he regretfully prepared to sacrifice the host, and in turn, the parasite. 

Castro’s faith was restored when the outsider came for the woman, abandoning his mission and leaving the President’s daughter vulnerable in order to save her. With that proof, he was able to convince Lord Saddler to keep her alive, to be insurance in the event they were unable to take care of the outsider themselves. 

After his success, and despite the doubts of those around him, he followed after the woman closely, keeping an eye on her and making sure that she continued to remain undetected. A wolf in sheep's clothing. 

Castro became arrogant, however, believing that enough time had to have passed and he could use the necklace himself to make the parasite show itself, giving him control over the woman and taking care of the outsider to impress his Lord. 

That was where Castro’s notes ended, but Leon could fill in the rest. 

Ella defeated Castro, killing him and temporarily weakening the connection between the Amber and the Parasite, slowing its progress within her. She continued to fight hard against horrors she had never faced before with a smile on her face and a quip ready at the tip of her tongue to bring light to an impossible situation, not once letting fear stop her as she worked towards her goal to save both Ashley and Leon. To make up for her belief that she had failed her closest friend.

Even once the parasite made itself known, Ella defied all odds as she fought it and Saddler’s strong hold on her, giving Leon the opening to inject her with the medicine given to him by The Merchant, temporarily weakening the parasite long enough for Leon to defeat Saddler once and for all. Ella had done what she had set out to do, saving both Leon and Ashley and making sure they could return home, despite only being an unassuming civilian- a baker- who had been thrust into the middle of something she could have never expected, or truly understood. 

She was a rarity in the world; A bright light that didn’t go out even when faced with horrors that could bring even the strongest to their knees, and Leon hadn’t been able to help himself as he grew closer to her in ways he hadn’t known was possible for him anymore.

Leon was brought from his thoughts when his cell phone went off, and he pulled it out of his pockets, looking at the caller ID. He smiled softly, before he answered it. 

“Hey, you almost done?” He asked, her voice filling his ear as she responded excitedly. 

“Yup! Just finished finalizing the sale of the bakery and getting my mo-ney!” He chuckled, turning away from the view he had been focusing on for the past few minutes as he gave his full attention to her.

After getting rid of the parasite, Ella had almost died, but like she had time and time again, she fought to survive. If Leon hadn’t destroyed the Amber inside the necklace, he knew she wouldn’t have made it, as the parasite would have been too strong. 

The combination of the broken Amber, the medicine the Merchant had given him, and Ella’s strong will, were the only reasons she had survived the procedure. 

The explosion Ada had mentioned had gone off soon after, and then it was a race to get off the island, Leon carrying an unconscious and barely breathing Ella in his arms as Ashley stayed close behind them. Everything that had happened after leaving the island ran through Leon’s mind right then, remembering how close he had come to losing her.

xXx

Using the jetski Ada had left them, Leon raced towards land, Ella fighting against unconsciousness once more as she leaned against the blonde’s back, her arms weakly wrapped around Leon’s waist. Ashley was right behind her, the young girl's arms caging her in with her hands gripped onto Leon’s body armor to keep Ella from falling into the water. 

Ashley did everything she could to keep her awake, afraid if Ella fell asleep, she wouldn’t wake up again. 

Ella had managed a smile when Ashley pointed out the island they had just left, explosions going off and completely destroying everything on it. At least if Ella didn’t make it, she would die knowing that the parasites couldn’t hurt anyone ever again. 

She wanted to take a minute to watch it burn, but she had a feeling Leon wouldn’t go for that idea, just focusing on Ashley talking about how much she was going to change her life when she got home. How she was going to appreciate the little things more and do everything she had been too scared to do before. 

Ella wished she had the strength to respond, but she was also happy to just let Ashley talk, her words making Ella’s heart warm. They had done it. Ashley would get to go home, and while the events of Spain would forever haunt her, she’d get to live her life, and move forward. It was everything Ella had fought for, and Leon had fought for, as Ashley had stopped being just a mission for him a long time ago, even if he didn’t show it very well. 

It was obvious if you knew what to look for.  

“Look at the sunrise! Isn’t it pretty?” Ashley exclaimed after a moment, and with her help, Ella sat up, feeling the warmth on her face as she looked at the beautiful view. 

“Yeah. . .it is.” She murmured. She loved sunrises. They were always beautiful and had the ability to make everything seem to stop for just a moment. It was peaceful. 

Resting back against Leon, she did her best to stay awake, but she was exhausted, and she couldn’t help herself as she fell asleep. 

xXx

Leon sat in the chair by Ella’s hospital bed, listening to the consistent beep of the heart monitor as he leaned forward with his elbows resting on his thighs. 

Ashley and Ella were both admitted, Leon refusing to let them admit him as well. He didn’t need it. 

Ashley had convinced him to let them at least check over him, and while he was pretty bruised up and had a few cuts that needed cleaning (especially the most recent ones), he was relatively fine. 

Ashley was checked out and given fluids for dehydration concerns, but she received a clean bill of health an hour or so later. Leon had already contacted Hunnigan and informed her that Ashley was safe and in the hospital, and they would be arriving at their location at any moment. 

Ashley was getting much needed rest in the room she had been given, it being right next to Ella so she wasn’t far. 

Ella was hooked up to an IV and covered in fresh bandages, her body having almost completely shut down after the procedure, but she was stable now. 

Leon couldn’t describe the feelings that went through him when he felt her already weak hold around his waist loosen and heard Ashley’s panicked calls of her name as she tried to wake her once more. They had probably given the hospital staff a good scare when he rushed in with her limp body in his arms, Ashley screaming for help, but they had moved quickly despite it.

The nurses and doctors had been worried about the many injuries she was covered in, as well as the dehydration and signs of malnutrition, but their biggest concern had been her weak pulse and shallow breathing, and she was rushed behind the door and out of her companions' sights. 

After getting Ashley admitted and checked out, Leon waited for an update on Ella, every second that passed by furthering his anxiety and making him fear the worst. It took a while, but eventually the doctor arrived with an update, and now here he was, waiting beside her bed and watching the steady rise and fall of her chest. He knew it would be a while before she woke up. After everything she had been through, he wouldn’t be surprised if she was out for a week as her body recovered. He just needed a minute to really accept that she was alive after all the close calls. 

He now knew how she had felt after he had been thrown down the hole, and why she had needed to embrace him when she woke up. That fear and worry didn’t go away easily, even when you knew they were okay. He had gotten a taste of it when he arrived at the cell and saw her lying there unmoving, but it was nothing compared to the way he had felt now. He was scared that at any moment, her heart would stop, his ears tuned into the heart monitor.

“How is she doing?” Leon was brought from his thoughts when Ashley’s voice sounded, and he looked towards the door to see her standing there, sitting up. 

“You’re awake.” He had figured she’d be out until her father, or his men arrived, as she had needed the rest just as much. 

“Yeah, I couldn't really sleep.” She admitted, and Leon nodded in understanding. Ashley took a seat beside him, looking at Ella for a few moments. 

“She’s going to be okay. The doctor said she just needs to recover and get her strength back.” Leon explained in simple terms, remembering the doctor’s update word for word, but not thinking it was necessary to go into all the details. 

“That’s good.” Ashley breathed as she seemed to relax, having clearly been worried herself and needing some positive news. She was quiet again after that, though she broke the silence a little bit later. 

“Mission accomplished, right?” She chuckled softly, and Leon looked at her. 

“Mission accomplished when you’re home safe.” That had been his mission all along, after all. It was one Ella had taken on too, and he knew if she was awake, she’d be saying the same thing. If he didn’t make sure she got home, Ella would scold him. 

“Thank you for saving me.” She murmured sincerely, looking between him and Ella. 

“Don’t mention it.” It was his job, after all, though he knew it had become more than that. 

“You know, I could put in a word with my dad. Have you assigned to my detail, if you’re interested?” She offered, having gotten closer to the blonde and almost thinking of him like a protective older brother. 

“You don’t need me. You proved you could handle yourself. Even if you could use a lesson in knife safety.” He joked, making Ashley laugh lightly. She appreciated how caring Leon was. “But Ella might want you to put in a good word for her.” He remembered the look she had on the lift, recognizing it well. It was one of someone who had been forcibly made aware of the horrors out there- somehow who couldn’t sit idly by and do nothing as they continued to happen. 

“You think so?” Ashley asked, having not thought about it before. She could see it, though. Of course, someone who would put their life on the line over and over again for someone they didn’t know, despite having no reason to, would want to make a life out of helping others. Ashley would remember to do as Leon suggested. 

When her father’s men arrived, Leon had to leave the room and give them a debriefing of what happened. Watching Ashley refuse to leave, and then explain why, had been quite entertaining, the girl daring them to try and take her by force as she crossed her arms and stared them down. 

“I’m clearly safe with Leon, so there’s no rush, right? She helped save my life. I’m sure my father will understand.” And that was how there were secret service men posted outside of Ella’s room where Ashley was sitting inside, all wearing annoyed expressions but having no choice but to wait. Leon had been amused, smirking to himself as he watched the scene and giving the men a shrug when they looked at him, not knowing what it was they wanted him to do about it. 

They didn’t have to wait long anyway, because a couple of hours later, Ella woke up. She had been disoriented and confused, but once she saw Leon and Ashley beside her, she relaxed a little, the two explaining what had happened after the nurse checked her out.

“What do you mean you didn’t let the doctor’s check you out more thoroughly? Are you crazy?!” Ella asked in disbelief. Leon needed it just as much as she did after everything. 

“That can’t seriously be what you’re most concerned about right now.” Leon deadpanned, and Ashley was laughing behind her hand to keep from being too loud, though it wasn’t working, especially as Ella continued. 

“Of course it is! We’ve spent the last few hours being attacked by horrifying monsters and infected with guns and rocket launchers, a crazy cult trying to take over the world with parasites- that we all had by the way- and you’re too cool and badass to let the doctors make sure you don’t. . .I don’t know, have any internal bleeding, or a serious concussion?! I can’t believe I ever let you call me reckless wh-” Ella had been cut off by a kiss, Ashley’s laughs halting immediately as she turned around with wide eyes, before a smug grin came to her lips. She knew it. 

“Is that going to become a habit? Not that I’m complaining, but I rant a lot.” Ella murmured after a moment, only receiving a smirk in answer. 

“Okay, well. I hate to interrupt but I’ve got some angry agents standing outside and I don’t think we can keep them waiting much longer. I just wanted to be here when you woke up.” Ashley spoke up, turning back around to face Ella who looked up at her. 

“I’m happy you were. Take care of yourself, and promise me you will go after that intern position you were too scared to apply for before.” Ella remembered everything Ashley had told her on the ride to the hospital, the young girl smiling before she nodded. “Good. You’ll do great.” Ella didn’t have a single doubt about it. Ashley leaned down then, pulling her into a tight hug, and Ella happily returned it. 

“Thank you. For everything.” The blonde murmured as tears welled in her eyes, wanting Ella to know how much she appreciated how she had always made sure to comfort and reassure her, being one of the only reasons she was able to be so brave throughout everything. 

“Of course. I’d say anytime, but let’s not ever do this again, okay?” Ella joked, making Ashley laugh lightly as she nodded in agreement. She definitely wasn’t planning on it. 

“I almost forgot-” Ashley stated in excitement as she pulled away. “I managed to keep this hidden from the hospital, but here.” She held out a cloth, Ella’s brows furrowing as she took it from her. She realized something was inside, and Ella unwrapped the cloth, before her eyes widened. 

“My knife!” She exclaimed excitedly. It was broken, but she could get that fixed easily. 

“Yeah, I grabbed it after I went down there. I figured you’d want it after. A memento.” She shrugged, and Ella gave her a grateful smile. 

“Thank you.” She hummed, as Ashley had been right. The Merchant had helped save her life, after all. This was one of the first things he had given her, and it had saved her life quite a few times on its own. She was happy to have it back. 

“I’ll give you guys some more time, okay? The guys will get over it.” Ashley assured, and Leon nodded appreciatively. “Hey, we’ll keep in touch, alright?” Ashley told Ella, who nodded, happy to hear that. She wanted to make sure Ashley got home safe too. 

With that, the blonde left, leaving the two alone. 

“Here, let me hold on to that for now.” Leon offered, and Ella looked at him as she handed it over. She was sure he would do a better job of keeping it hidden than her considering she was now wearing a hospital gown. He didn’t have his other weapons, and she assumed they had been taken by the hospital staff. 

As she watched him pocket the knife, her eyes took in the bandages on his cheek and forearms as she remembered it was her who inflicted those, and more, on him. 

‘I’m sorry about-”  

“Don’t. We both know that wasn’t you.” Leon didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t want her to feel guilty over something she had no control over. 

“But I should have known that I was infected! It had to have happened when I was captured by Ramon, right? Or maybe Castro did it when I took him out? I mean, how did they do that without me knowing? I just feel so stupid. . .” She sighed, before looking at Leon. It was then she saw something in his eyes, her brows furrowing. 

“What?” The man was quiet for a few minutes, before he reached into his pouch, pulling out folded papers. 

“This was in the lab. I think the Merchant left it.” He told her as he handed them to Ella. Leon had read it while she and Ashley were sleeping, and he knew its contents were going to upset Ella. He hadn’t known whether he should give it to her or not, at least not for a while so she could recover, but he knew that would be wrong. She had a right to know. 

Ella unfolded them, before taking a few minutes to read their contents. She was silent as she processed, her eyes full of tears that threatened to spill over at any moment.

“The whole time?” Her voice cracked, and she swallowed the lump in her throat. “I was a pawn the whole time?” That was what Castro had meant when he tried to say she wasn’t as clever as she thought she was. She didn’t escape. 

He had let her go. 

She had done exactly what he had wanted her to do. Even meeting Leon, going with him, and getting close to him, had all been a part of Castro’s plan to kill him if no one else could. And she had almost succeeded. If it weren’t for Ada and Ashley, she would have killed Leon, who had refused to fight back. 

“Hey,” Leon started, gently taking her chin and making her look at him. “You killed him, all on your own, and that wasn’t part of his plan.” He reminded her. 

“Yeah but Saddler still controlled me and I a-” 

“You fought it.” He didn’t let her finish, because it wasn’t important. She had enough unnecessary guilt as it was, and he wouldn’t let her add to it. “It was there for five days, and you still fought it. If it weren’t for you, we wouldn’t be here right now. Don’t forget that.” His words were sincere, and Ella looked into his blue eyes as if searching for a hint of doubt. She didn’t find it, and she nodded, appreciating Leon immensely. 

“Thank you.” She murmured, Leon giving her a small smile in return. She didn’t have anything to thank him for, but he wouldn’t argue. Ella looked back down to the papers in her hands, and after a moment, she ripped them up. Once she was done, Leon held out his hand. 

“Feel better?” He asked her in a soft voice, and she nodded, putting the shredded pieces in his palm. “Good. You should rest some more.” He suggested as he crumpled the pieces in his fist. He wanted to stay, hating leaving her by herself, but that would just cause problems with his job and he promised Ashley to stay with her until she was home. “They said you’ll be here for a few days. I have to make sure Ashley gets home, but I’ll be back, I promise. I left my number as an emergency contact, so you can call me if anything happens.” 

“You don’t have to-” She started, but Leon didn’t let her finish. 

“You have no phone, no money, no ID, and no way home.” Ella was left without an argument, because he was right. She had nothing on her.  “I’ll be back. Just get some sleep.” He told her, and Ella relented.

“Fine, but get some rest yourself, okay? As you’ve so kindly pointed out, I’m not going anywhere.” She couldn’t believe he had refused in the first place. He needed it just as much as her, if not more.

“I’ll get some rest when you’re home safe.” Ella had to refrain from rolling her eyes. He always had to come in with those cheesy action hero lines, acting like he wasn’t human. She was sure he’d pass out on the plane, deciding not to argue it. 

“Sure. Just get Ashley back home already.” She chuckled, though her appreciation was shown through her tone, and he nodded, before reluctantly leaving. 

xXx

After that, Leon did as he had said and made sure Ashley got home, going through the motions of being thanked and congratulated by her father, before he went home himself. He cleaned up and got into a new change of clothes, before he made the trip back to the hospital, where he stayed with Ella until she was discharged. 

It was in front of her apartment after he had gotten her home, where they split ways, both deciding to go no contact for at least a little while. It was Leon who had suggested it, because he had been through something like this before and knew that ‘the after’ was the hardest part, and that it was something you needed to go through by yourself for a bit.

Ella hadn’t argued, having already been thinking along the same lines and knowing it was for the best. She was glad Leon had been the one to suggest it. Ella needed time to really process what had happened and grieve Alice and her friends. She had to decide where her life was going afterwards, and whether it included Leon, and in what way. 

Leon had to give himself time to do the same.

He had given her his number, telling her to give him a call if she decided to. Ella had pulled him in for one more kiss that he had happily returned, before he left, the interaction possibly being the last with her. 

When he was finally home and had gotten some much needed rest, he thought about everything that had happened. He had thought of what Ada had said when they were on the boat, about him only thinking he had changed, and he wondered if she was right- if Ella was his way of learning whether there was any truth to that- and he decided to explore that possibility if he was given the chance. 

That chance came four months later, and he and Ella had been in touch ever since.

“Hey, Earth to Leon. Are you there?” Ella’s voice sounded from the phone, and Leon was pulled from his thoughts once more. 

“Yeah, sorry. Just thinking.” He admitted, coming back to the present.

“About what?” She asked curiously as he heard her get into her car.

“Nothing. I’ll-” Leon was cut off as his phone beeped, and he looked to see who was calling him. Seeing it was Hunnigan, he paused, before decidingly hitting the ignore button. Whatever it was was going to have to wait. 

“Where’d you go this time?” Ella asked exasperatedly. 

“Sorry, that was work.” 

“And you forwarded it, right?” Her tone was suspicious.

“Yeah, don’t worry.” He assured her with a small chuckle. 

“You better have. Plane tickets are expensive, you know.” 

“I offered to come to you, or pay.” 

“Yeah well, I’ve got to move there anyway when I start my training for the D.S.O, so I figured I might as well get introduced to the area beforehand, and I didn’t need you to pay.” Ella had decided that she couldn’t sit by and do nothing as B.O.W.’s continued to wreak havoc around the world, and with Ashley’s recommendation and praise, she was able to earn the President’s favor, getting assigned to the division that dealt specifically with those situations, after her training of course. 

Leon didn’t know how he felt about it, as he didn’t want Ella to be put into the same situation as him, but it wasn’t his choice, and he knew she could handle herself. She had proved that much. 

“Anyway, I just called to let you know I’m right on schedule. I’ll see you around four?” She questioned hopefully. 

“Yeah, see you then.” He confirmed, a small smile on his lips as the call ended and he looked at the phone.

This time, it had been different.

xXx

Leon opened the door to his apartment, barely having time to react as Ella suddenly launched herself into his chest, wrapping her arms around his neck. He had caught her on instinct, taking a moment to steady her before fully returning the embrace. 

“Sorry, I just missed you.” She hummed, pulling back to look at him. “And your emotionally stunted facial expressions.” Leon gave her his signature unamused look that she had missed just as much, and she laughed, before leaning in to press a kiss to his lips. “Are you ready for me to drag you around this entire city so I can get a feel for it?” She hummed after pulling away just a bit, an excited smile on her lips. 

“Hm.” Was all he gave before he lifted her up by the back of her thighs, returning his lips to hers as he moved over to his couch and laid her down on her back, leaning over her.

“This is not getting you out of it, I hope you know that.” Ella chuckled, but she was in no hurry to move from that spot as he looked down at her. 

“That’s fine. I’m just glad your breath smells better this time.” He joked with a smirk, and Ella gave him an incredulous look. 

“Hey, you kissed me, thank you very much! And you knew very well that all I had were mint leav-” He cut her off with another kiss, Ella’s words being muffled just like their first as she returned it, her chest exhaling in a sigh. 

“You did that on purpose.” He seemed to like working her up just to cut her off with a kiss,  and she knew it was going to become a habit.

“It worked, didn’t it?” She glared halfheartedly. He knew that if there was anything left of his old self, it would be Ella who helped bring it back.

End 

 A/N: Sooooooo I am going to be posting an Alternate ending, and I’m sure you can guess it’s going to be sad. Check it out if you’re one for angsty endings! See you guys! 

[randomfoggytiger]

Arcadia Analysis: Their Worst Nightmares and Trauma Responses

In my previous Arcadia posts, I made the case that the mailboxes were leitmotifs, Scully was NOT upset about the repercussions of Diana or One Son (or anything at all), and that it was Mulder who was the one struggling and upset with “married life” in suburbia. Now, we round it all up with the climax of Arcadia: Mulder’s and Scully’s worst nightmares actualized (if briefly and with good endings) and their trauma responses to it. 

Here we go! 

To begin, Scully calls the forensics’ team for a full sweep “tonight” while Mulder runs off to arrest Gogolak (the leadup to that is in my analysis of Mulder’s actions in Arcadia here.) However, stomps on the stairs alerts her to an intruder; and she stops the call to get her gun.  

When she goes to retrieve her weapon (hidden in her personal drawer of neatly folded laundry-- an apt descriptor of her life) and finds only an empty holster 

Scully begins to internally panic. But she REALLY panics when she’s mugged from behind. 

Scully’s personal nightmare is invasion of her personal spaces: her body (by her abduction, cancer, and constant recapture) and literal home invasions (first in Squeeze, then in Duane Barry; now in Arcadia, and eventually in Orison.) 

Her flailing only stops when she recognizes Big Mike, who motions for silence 

and begins to intermittently explain that he’s been hiding in the sewer protecting her and Rob/Mulder from the monster. As he does so, Mike shoves furniture to reinforce the bedroom door... and starts to drag her dresser near the closet. 

He ignores her pleas to “just give me the gun” and promptly shoves her into the closet, 

barricading her in before the monster can break the bedroom door down.  

Scully is now trapped in the place of her most traumatizing experience: her imprisonment by Donnie Pfaster. She goes absolutely silent, fully concentrating on grasping the door handle and turning it repeatedly, attempting to break free. 

Her efforts are halted when the monster knocks the door down and Big Mike begins firing her gun at close range to seemingly no avail 

while furniture is being tossed around him weightlessly. 

When Big Mike yelps, she ducks back, but not completely into the shadows--

until he is thrown violently against the closet door, screaming as the monster proceeds to beat him to death. 

(Her wedding ring is given a clear shot as she does so. ~Symbolism~ similar to a previous shot explained in my analysis here.) 

Scully’s response to trauma-- flight-- is crippled in this circumstance; so she cowers, watches garbage mixed with blood splatter on the door slats, 

and begins to go into shock as Big Mike’s lifeless head splats against the blinds.

Meanwhile, Mulder is escorting his prisoner back to the Petries’ when he stops dead in his tracks-- 

the Petries’ door is wide open and the house is completely still. 

He immediately launches into investigative mode, cuffing Gogolak to the mailbox and running into the house. 

His horror mounts when he sees ketchup-red footsteps leading through the door,

up the stairs, and deeper into the house. 

Mulder’s greatest fear has always been the inability to prevent losing someone he loves. Obviously, it stems back to being frozen while Samantha was abducted, unable to respond to her screams for help; but it also bleeds into his close calls with Scully’s safety (on the job, her abduction, coma, cancer, etc.) He fights tooth and nail to prevent someone being taken from him ever again. 

But his first trauma response-- freeze-- blooms in the face of the escalated wreckage around him: stains on the carpet, the walls; pictures askew, footprints straight to the bedroom.

As he ascends the stairs, he keeps flickering back in and out of a trauma response; but when Scully won’t respond to his calls, it begins to solidify. 

Because-- fight as hard as he might-- when Mulder feels like he can’t do anything, when it’s irreversible and all hope is lost? Mulder freezes, shuts down. Just as he did in One Son (hate that Diana took advantage of that moment, YUCK), in Drive, The End, Emily, Redux II, Elegy, The Field Where I Died, Herrenvolk, Oubliette, One Breath, Ascension-3, etc.; and just as he will in Milagro, Amor Fati, Sein und Zeit, Requiem, and Three Words (and more!) 

Speaking of Milagro, in a scene eerily similar to that episode (which happens a few episodes after this one), Mulder slowly makes his way through the heart-stopping crime scene, 

mouth open, 

eyes popping, barely breathing, 

panic climbing as finds no sign of life. 

He’s about to hyperventilate when Scully calls from the closet, 

whereupon he SPRINGS into action, 

grasping at her dresser in an attempt to quickly free her.

(Also, the musical cue picks up from dreadfully calm to tensely upbeat, highlighting his adrenaline kicking back in and underscoring his deliberate calm as he tries to draw out responses from Scully.) 

He quickly pivots to tearing the door slats away when he hears the hollow shock in Scully’s voice, his movements becoming choppier in response to her distress. 

Mulder halts his efforts when he hears screaming outside, 

and dashes away, deeming Scully safer in the closet than out. (She then continues freeing herself, knowing Mulder’s propensity to run headlong into danger without the wherewithal to protect himself.) 

When faced with the tulpa looming over Gogolak’s dying body, 

Mulder freezes, allowing the monster to tramp menacingly towards him (proving Scully’s determination to get out of that closet to be correct.) 

Before the tulpa can kill him, Gogolak dies, which causes his creation to crumble to dust (and ketchup and garbage) at Mulder’s feet. 

He blinks-- “reawakening” from his paralysis-- 

and stares at the remains in disgust. A fitting end to his nightmare of a stay in this neighborhood (analysis of his very-not-good-time linked here~.)

Scully arrives a moment too late (of course), 

and seems at a loss to make sense of it all. 

And thus, their stay in Arcadia comes to a close (after, of course, Mulder tries to fix the mailbox, which is explored more in previous analyses)-- their jaunt into the American dream punctuated with a reenactment of their personal nightmares. 

Hope you enjoyed! 

[oc-aita]

AITA for roping a group of people into a very dangerous situation?

I (48NB, she/they) have organised a group of 28 people who believe they are competing for the prize of a sentient building (43NB, it/its), but are actually taking part in an arcane process I am studying, on how the previous god came to be.

Firstly, I am running off of incomplete information on how this process is even meant to work. I am doing it partially as magic research, and partially, to ascend to deific status myself. I fear I may have gotten things wrong with my incomplete data, making this whole ordeal even more pointless.

Even with the limited amount I know, I knew there was a high likelihood of the deaths of others involved in this. A few have died already, with me having a limited hand in a few, through my influence of luck (a power I have.) Others were out of my control.

The other host of this show, the building, does not know the full extent of what is going on. I have documents that it sees as holding power, despite them meaning nothing, simply being lies told to it by its previous "owners". Despite my dislike of this past manipulation, I have let it continue to believe in the power of these, thereby benefitting from it.

I have also been working with one of the contestants (20NB, he/she/they), who I temporarily incapacitated and took something from both to study and to bribe them to work with me by giving it back. I recognise this as manipulative, but if they want to stop working with me they can at any time, though the deification itself will not be halted regardless of their actions. He understands that he is simply helping this succeed and not be in vain.

Either way this has reached a point of no return. I am fairly sure I already know what the answer here is. I have my regrets, but given the nature of this process it is now too late, and seeing how far I had already gone, I'm beginning to doubt I'd have had the sense to quit anyway.

[bemuseing]

@longerhuman​​ — from an old starter from the old blog

“  after  being  hurt  by  the  world  so  much,  they  began  to  see  the  demons  within  humans.  So  without  hiding  it  through  trickery,  they  worked  to  express  it. ”  —  dazai  osamu,  no  longer  human.

(     STARTER FOR  @bemuseing  !!!  )

“  ryūnosuke,  ”      his  intent  is  made  clear  before  a  proper  sentence  could  be  formed. previously,  the  executive  stood  side  by  side  with  his  subordinate,  but  the  cold  muttering  of  the  younger’s  name  seemed  to  flick  a  switch  between  the  brunette’s  oozing  eyes  of  nothing  -  ness. allowing  not  a  single  second  for  a  response  ,  his  darkly  -  clad  body  spun  to  the  left,  heels  of  his  boots  digging  into  the  cold  ,  expensive  tile  that  covered  the  hallway’s  floor.

each mannerism  is  skilled,  practiced. he  halts  his  stride  down  the  headquarters,  partially  bandaged  face  craning  downwards  with  the  tilt  of  his  chin  to  peer  at  his  protege. those  ominous,  oozing  orbs  of  abyss  that  hid  the  world’s  void  being  them  scan  the  younger  up  and  down  as  if  sizing  him  up  ,  pushing  him  into  the  place  of  a  prey  to  his  predator  without  permission.

a  bandaged  wrist  cracks  out  from  underneath  the  coat  that  hung  idly  from  his  shoulders,  shooting  towards  the  ravenette’s  scalp  quicker  than  a  flash  of  lightning. long,  nimble  fingers  tangle  through  the  somber  stringy  mop  on  akutagawa’s  head  until  he  caught  a  fistful  of  hair. dazai  is  not  cut  out  to  be  a  mentor,  not  a  good  one  ;  he  does  not  know  how  to  mold  someone  into  being  of  worth,  since  his  world  is  drained  of  color,  void  of  worth. the  young  executive  resorts  to  basing  his  methods  on  the  ones  he  was  given  by  the  port  mafia  boss  himself,  utilizing  mori’s  methodology  to  do  the  work  that  he  wasn’t  cut  out  to  perform.

(  “  it’s  for  your  own  good. ”  )  

his  bruised knuckle (  it’s  not  sterile,  nor  is  it  gloved. his  hands  are  coated  with  dried  blood  from  an  earlier  endeavor  of  the  day. despite  the  mafia  boss’s  mimicry  ,  there  are  drastic  differences. dazai’s  hands  will  never  be  as  bone  -  chillingly cold  ,  his  voice  won’t  hold  charismatic  charm  to  the  same  extent. )  yanks  upwards,  forcing  the  other’s  head  back.

(  “  stride  with  a  purpose,  even  if  you  don’t  have  one. ”  )  

(  “  it’s  for  your  own  good,  osamu  -  kun.”    )  

it’s  for  your  own  good,  akutagawa.

“      straighten  your  posture, ”      there  isn’t  an  ounce  of  emotion  in  the  noises  that  escape  his  dry  lips  ,  as  if  it  were  an  auto  generated  response  spoken  without  a  single  moment  of  consideration. “    you  can’t  expect  to  omit  a  fear  factor  if  you’re  hunched  over  like  some  social  recluse.  tell  me,  how  do  you  intend  to  ever  move  up ?   ”

The moment that he heard his name leave his superior’s mouth, he instinctually sensed what was coming. If this action were to have been performed by a strange adult back in the slums of the city, such a person would most likely already be missing their hand by now.

But he was no longer in the slums, thanks to this very person.

For a very brief moment, two pairs of jet-black eyes stared at each other.

Then merciless fingers took hold of his hair; every muscle in the boy’s body tensed up and his teeth ground together, holding back the overwhelming urge to respond violently. Even if he were to lash out, as the ingrained response screamed for him to do, it would do no good against this person.

Dazai snaps the boy’s head back, with not a jot of care; forcing Akutagawa to straighten his back and shoulders. Posture had never mattered before now; rather, keeping one’s head down was advantageous to help avoid unnecessary conflict, which in his previous world could make the difference between life and death. The crouch, the shoulders curled forward were a long-held habit. Natural, even. But neither were acceptable anymore.

With a great effort, after a tightly-strung second of silence, he answers.

❝ ...I understand, Dazai-san. I’ll do better. ❞

The executive’s question gave him pause. To move up in the ranks of the Port Mafia? At the moment, such a thing seemed a distant goal on the horizon. This very interaction proved he lacked far too much.

He gave the only answer that he knew how to give.

❝ I’ll prove myself. Cut down the mafia’s enemies. ❞

[ausetkmt]

Nov. 21, 2022Updated 9:18 p.m. ET

Alabama’s governor issued a sweeping order on Monday suspending all executions in the state and calling for a review of Alabama’s execution process following a series of problems delivering lethal injection drugs this year.

The move by Gov. Kay Ivey, a Republican, comes four days after prison officials said they had been unable to insert one of two intravenous lines into Kenneth Eugene Smith before his death warrant expired at midnight. That episode was the third time this year in which Alabama executioners failed to reach a death row prisoner’s veins and the second time in less than two months that the problems forced the state to call off an execution.

“For the sake of the victims and their families, we’ve got to get this right,” Ms. Ivey said in a statement. In a reference to the William C. Holman prison, which houses the execution chamber, she added: “I simply cannot, in good conscience, bring another victim’s family to Holman looking for justice and closure until I am confident that we can carry out the legal sentence.”

Ms. Ivey said she had asked the state’s attorney general to withdraw Alabama’s two pending requests for execution dates and seek no more until the investigation is over. It wasn’t clear if Steve Marshall, the attorney general, would comply with the request. Mr. Marshall’s spokesman, Mike Lewis, said the attorney general had read the governor’s comments “with interest” and would “have more to say on this at a later date.”

Ms. Ivey ordered prison officials to conduct a “top-to-bottom” review of their execution protocols, but she also said she did not believe that prison officials or anyone in law enforcement was at fault, blaming the problems instead on “legal tactics and criminals hijacking the system.”

Lawyers for death row prisoners often make a flurry of appeals shortly before an execution in order to try to delay or halt it. In the two most recent executions in Alabama, those appeals stretched into the night, meaning that, once the Supreme Court dismissed them, prison officials had less time to carry out the executions before the death warrants expired at midnight.

Defense lawyers and prisoners’ advocates were critical of the claim that they and their clients were at fault for the difficulty accessing veins, which in some cases has taken several hours.

“It was Alabama’s torturous and failed effort to establish IV access that led them — forced them — to call off” the executions, said Maurie Levin, a lawyer for death row prisoners who does not practice in Alabama.

She noted that more experienced lawyers often take on death row cases as an execution date nears, in some cases finding problems that previous lawyers missed and winning court orders or reprieves that halt executions.

“It would be foolhardy to condemn actions which can help us avoid executing innocent people,” Ms. Levin said.

A range of factors, including a prisoner’s weight, past drug use and age, can make it difficult to access a person’s veins, said Dr. Leonidas G. Koniaris, a professor of surgery at the Indiana University School of Medicine who has written extensively on lethal injections. The average age of the people on Alabama’s death row is about 55.

Some people also just have smaller-than-average veins, Dr. Koniaris said, and restraints on a prisoner may also complicate the procedure. When prison officials cannot easily access a vein, they often turn to inserting a central line, which is larger and longer, into the neck, chest or groin.

Alabama’s executions came under scrutiny this year following the July execution of Joe Nathan James. The death chamber staff struggled for hours to access his veins and, according to a private autopsy, sliced into one of his arms in what is known as a “cutdown.” Then, in September, executioners were unable to insert an intravenous line into the veins of Alan Eugene Miller before the death warrant was to expire.

Mr. Miller and Mr. Smith were both returned to their cells and are among only a handful of people who have survived an attempted lethal injection execution. In a similar 2018 case in the state, prison officials were not able to insert a line into Doyle Lee Hamm, who survived the episode and died of natural causes in prison last year.

Commissioner John Q. Hamm, who is in charge of the state’s prison system, said he supported the review and that “everything is on the table” for consideration, including how the state responds to last-minute appeals, the timing of executions and the “equipment involved.”

[lovlorne]

ミ☆ ⦙  I'M GONNA DIE?! ﹙ bloodxhound ﹚

       It’s not the wealth of knowledge piled atop the many shelves of the central library that has given him reason to visit, but a woman whose whereabouts he’s been tracking for the better half of the day. Pop idol Bonbon, currently at large — and presumably the last person to have spoken to her talent agent, before he was found dead. Many mysteries gyrate the man’s death, leaving not only the detective but also the forensics at a loss. What he seeks from the singer are answers to help arrange the puzzle, what he finds inside the building however is a woman who reeks of guilt.

       It’s her furtive movement upon spotting him that opens the floodgates of suspicion. Barely able to address her by name and divulge his identity, she begins her flight, crazed and desperate, breaking through a window before the detective has the chance to stop her. Running past bewildered library visitors, he reaches the now glass-less casement and sticks his head outside, half-relieved to see the jump hasn’t rendered her crippled or worse.

         A rush of adrenaline has his heart beating like a war drum, droning inside his ribcage as he too takes the leap, out the window, down fifteen feet onto the concrete, a practiced roll softening his landing. No thought governs his actions, only the dogged desire to capture the fleeing idol. A hound after the hare, a canine chasing its prey. Across the lawn they run, to and out of the property gate, down the busy sidewalk, outmaneuvering people like obstacles on an agility course. Her pace is fast, but uneven, tempered with exhaustion. Whatever advantage her nimble physique could’ve held over his bulky build, it ceases to matter as he erodes the distance with time and tenacity.

          He drives her into a dead end, path blocked by a small building, which she attempts to climb. Halting the attempt, he seizes her shoulder, spinning her around roughly.  “Miss Chen,”  he snarls, chest heaving with the exertion it took to catch her.  “Don’t try anythin��� funny or I’ll break out the cuffs. You’re in police custody now.”  His dark eyes narrow at her, look of violence about him, despite him harboring no ill intentions.  “What happened to your—”  A gasp puts a premature end to his question, a flinch breaks off his hold.  “You’re—You’re bleedin’! H-hold on.”  With waning severity, he turns away, rummaging for first-aid supplies in one of the pouches strapped to his belt.

———— 💘┊   CRACKED, JAGGED PRESS-ON NAILS   pepper the floor amidst her ascent, only to be crushed come the pirouette of her body, twirling to face the wolf. while heart heaves, lilac irises rapidly scan surroundings, giving genuine thought to potential escape options. for a moment, her lips part, hot breaths hovering just off the tongue with little vocals to concoct anything conversational.    ( if i scream and cry, would that get attention? would people distract this guy long enough for me to get away? )   

that heart rate, for as fast as it thrashed, seemingly settles with growing bemusement as he fusses over her deteriorating state. again, lips sashay, but their pace is consistent with previous panic, leaving it far too indecipherable to eyes unprepared for nonverbal communication. while she gives great consideration to ignoring scrapes and lacerations and making another run for it, she simply stands, head askew as she glances his way.    ( yeah, running through glass does that. aren't you hurt too, dude?! what are they feeding these people... )   

but there she stands, suspicious, but trapped with tail tucked. when aid initiates, her face lightens slightly. reception to his assistance is... begrudgingly appreciated with a little nod, and only the occasional hiss and flinch, but her fidgeting yet remains. her trembling dominant hands' digits dance, an inhalation taken to steady their stance, before she gestures in one swift move and stares at the officer expectantly.

[dotieeee]

The Dream That Got Away

Chapter 2

Pairing: Dark!Morpheus x You (no Y/N!)

This is a multi-chapter fic — updates will be erratic, but I’ve outlined almost everything in this fic, so you have my word I’ll complete this

*******************************************************************************************

Link to the Masterlist

Overall Warnings!! Take heed:

Morpheus is DARK – in canon, he changes for the better (or at least, tries to – but we don’t do canon lol, so he goes even more batshit crazy) cue obsession, manipulation, possessiveness, powerplay

18+ ONLY – explicit scenes will be present, some explicit language

DUB-CON and NON-CON scenes

Character death (sort of)

Creator vs Creation drama

And other dark stuff that may be added in the future

This chapter’s warnings:

implied death

You have been warned!! Proceed with caution!!!

*******************************************************************************************

Chapter 2: Some Words Are Better Left Unsaid

Link to the previous chapter

Trust no one.

Hearing the voice in your head was enough to rouse you. You sit up from the couch groggily and make a mental note to stop taking so many naps in the library. Not that you needed much of them anyway – unlike humans who needed hours and hours of rest during the night, dreams and nightmares like you were built differently. You get drained like the humans do, sure, but unlike your slumber, their sleep provides them with the dreams that guide their actions in the Waking World; yours were more for restoring the dreaming powers Lord Morpheus has shared with you for your duties, and as such, there were no dreams in them.

Although apparently, that voice in your head seems to have worked itself around that exception.

Having spent an entire night curled up on the sofa, your ankle-length dress now had creases where you had laid on it. You try to smoothen them out by running your palms all over the dress, only halting when you notice that you were stepping on something. Realizing it was the blanket you had woken up wrapped in the other morning, you bend over to pick it up. You were with the Dream Lord the night before that. He was so kind to have allowed you to continue reading and even kept you company. You assumed then that he was the one who gave you the blanket. Now, it seems you have fallen asleep with it again last night.

Was he here last night? Why would he – 

Before you could complete that thought, you hear rapid footsteps approaching.

“Good morning, Mera. I didn’t expect to find you here this early.”

“Good morning, Lucienne!”

Lucienne halts her steps when she sees you. Thankful for her presence, you flash her a wobbly grin. The way her eyes flash to the blanket currently in your hands does not escape you.

With a raised eyebrow, she asks “You didn’t sleep here last night, did you?”

You run your fingers through your hair, embarrassed. “Actually, I did. I wanted to talk to you last night, but I saw you were busy, so…”

“Oh? What did you want to talk about?” she quips curiously.

Oh, nothing much. I just wanted to tell you that I’ve been seeing things and hearing voices in my head, that’s all. You can’t say that, though, and still walk off and be called completely sane and normal. Waving her off, you say “Ah, it’s nothing. Forget about it. I guess I was just bored.”

She gives you this pointed look like she wanted to press you further, but you’re relieved that she doesn’t. “Anyway, if you need to talk, come and find me during tea break. I’ve got to be going, I need to report to Lord Morpheus about…an important matter.”

“Okay,” you say, “Tea later would be nice.”

“And Mera? A few of your regulars have dropped new books. They’re on the pile in the New Arrivals section. Have fun!”

You mouth “thank you” to her as she gives a quick nod of farewell. You watch her walk off and disappear in the maze of shelves on the way to the throne room. Before heading off to work, you decide to take a quick detour to see the new books she mentioned. It always delighted you to see that your dreamers have benefited from your visits – they inspire you to hone your craft, as you inspire them in their daily lives.

***

You land gracefully on a sunny white sand beach with calm waters in Wilbur Maxwell’s dreams. 

Wilbur Maxwell, one of your regulars, is a sensitive young man with his head in the clouds. He’s secretly a hopeless romantic, too, if the visions he often conjures in his dreams are anything to go by. Before he got inspired by you to finally pen that would-be novel that was bothering him, he was poised to be a politician, following in his father’s footsteps. He despised every single thing about his father’s dirty world, however, and with your nudging, he abandoned the political party and went on to write what would be one of his bestsellers.

It began at a masquerade party. You found him in a corner, drink in hand, alone and sulking, looking at the couples on the dance floor with faint disdain. You marveled at the amount of detail he put into the dream – he had such a vivid imagination; you almost didn’t have to make any adjustments yourself. You were feeling a little bit playful then, so you figured, why the hell not? With the flick of a wrist, you changed your appearance – donning an elegant, jewel-crusted auburn-red gown and a matching mask that partially covered your face, save your lips, painted red, and eyes, which you changed to a striking forest green. Everyone in the dream halted their dance to ogle at your figure – but you had your eyes only on Wilbur, who stood from his seat, walking towards you in a trance. You danced in his arms with all the people watching. He didn’t care – his focus was on you. And when he tried to remove your mask, you coyly let go of him and made a run for it. Sensing your playfulness, he gave chase. Playing your part, you led him to the gardens of that unknown mansion, and to the labyrinth of tall bushes that you conjured for added flair. You masked your presence at that very moment, letting his imagination do the rest.

Several weeks later, a book materialized in the Dreaming – a romantic murder-mystery novel centered on a young man, who, after falling in love with the ghost of a woman trapped in a mansion, ended up solving her decades-old murder, finally giving her peace. Wilbur aptly named it “The Red Lady.”

Right now, it seems, he was drafting a new one. Your current appearance to him is that of his new main character, and in this scene, you had to walk with him, your hand in his, on the shore, discussing life’s mundane details while enjoying the cool sea breeze. You just hadn’t anticipated that he’d go off his current draft – he swoops in on your space in an attempt to steal a kiss. You swiftly step away from him, deducing that he was unhappy with the current scene and was trying something new. Deciding to play along, you run into the woods nearby for him to chase you. You can feel it start to work for him, fueling his creative plot-weaving abilities.

Look, the voice whispers in your head warningly.

The dream takes a turn for the worse. The sky, formerly clear and blue, turns gray and threatening; the wind blows, colder, harsher; the woods grow thicker, their branches growing thick vines with razor-sharp thorns. You try to control the scene to make it less frightening for your dreamer, but it wouldn’t relent. You look around wildly to find the source of the power now taking control of the dream, and in the middle of the thicket, with his billowing black robes, is Dream of the Endless, eyes silver with a fury you’ve never seen in him before.

“My Lord!” You call to him, sprinting in his direction. “Please, we were only trying to improvise a scene!” He seems to simmer down a little as you pause before him, blocking his view of Wilbur.

“He tried to kiss you,” he says coldly, eyes training back to the human in question. You turn briefly to Wilbur – thankfully he hasn’t scampered off in fear, merely observing his surroundings, unaware of the wrath directed unto him – before turning to face your master.

“My Mera, you are aware of my rules – you, and my dreams and nightmares, are forbidden to form such dalliances with mortals.”

 “I swear, it wasn’t like that at all, sir. I was merely helping him draft this scene.” You give him a pleading look, adding, “You know I would never break any of your laws.”

 At your words, your Lord’s posture relaxes a little. He looks at you softly, eyes now back to their normal ocean blue. “My apologies, sir,” you say, almost whispering. “I did not mean for it to look that way. Please…” Around you, the forest slowly reverts to its original state – the vines around the trees recede, the wind stilling and the sky mirrors that of your creator.

“You have nothing to apologise for, my dream. Perhaps I got carried away in my anger.”

Morpheus never intended for you to see him in such an irate state, let alone reveal himself to you in this dream. Lucienne had alerted him of the improper advances this mortal has been making on you, and while he was aware that you were only doing your job for the Dreaming – forhimforhim – the way he saw that man almost steal your first kiss left him a bitter taste in his tongue. He doesn’t want you suspecting him of tailing you, seeing as he already gave you quite a scare in the gardens last night. Having watched you plead as you did, however, stirred something else in him. He’d have you desperately pleading breathily underneath him as he pins you down – 

“Sir?”

Wrenching himself reluctantly from his train of thought, he resolves to control himself better in your presence.

“Move on to another dreamer, my Mera. You will aid Wilbur Maxwell with his novel at another time.” There is no room for argument in his tone, and he watches you disappear to obey his order. His gaze hardens at the sight of the mortal, who seems to be looking for you, wondering where you’ve gone. Morpheus turns to leave as well, but not before he blows sand in Wilbur’s direction, sentencing him to a month of nothing but excruciatingly vivid, horrifying nightmares in his sleep.

***                                                                                                        

There was nothing more you’d like to do than to crack open one of those new arrivals in the library, but you find yourself walking aimlessly around the kingdom after this rather rough day. Your mind is filled with thoughts about the dreamers you just visited – there were more nightmares than you can remember ever working with, and you had to step aside to let them take over, as much as you disliked them. You admit they were necessary for humans to face their real troubles in the waking world, but that didn’t mean you agree with some of the nightmares’ bizarre and often extreme methods.

Then there was that dreamer right after Wilbur – poor Amelia Devitt, who you were supposed to nudge into taking pharmacological studies; your mind was so preoccupied you didn’t know whether your goal was achieved, or you pushed her further into her alcoholism. 

You let out an audible groan of frustration which seemed to attract a couple of onlookers in the town plaza you find yourself in. Dragging your feet along the cobblestone path on the way to the thick forest that lay ahead, you reflect on the reason behind your abysmal performance today.

Who else? The Voice nastily remarks.

You know you couldn’t blame the Dream Lord for the bout of rage you witnessed him in in Wilbur’s dream; you conclude that you may have been shaken by the sight, but only because you weren’t used to seeing him like that. He was always warm, gentle, and caring around you, so seeing a momentary lapse in his mood doesn’t mean that was his true nature, right? He’s an Endless after all, a king, you tell yourself, and seeing a subject of his almost break his sacred laws might’ve forced him to act the way he did. You firmly believe that he had every right to react in such a way.

Which begs the question: why was he there in the first place?

The whooshing sound of a breeze shakes you out of your reverie – looking around, you realize you’ve reached the path to Cain and Abel’s abode. Continuing down the path, you mentally shrug and decide to visit them. As you reach the archway to their sprawling mansions, you make out the figures of Cain and Abel huddled together in the middle of the garden, and a third figure, tall and imposing, clad in all-black.

Dream of the Endless has his back to you, seemingly holding a conversation with the two brothers. They alert him of your arrival, so he turns to face you, the ghost of a smile adorning his regal features.

“What brings you here, my little dream?”

“Uh, I’m-I was just…walking around…and decided to come by and…well, visit,” you let out in a stammering mess. You avoid his eyes and stare at his hands instead, his ire-filled expression still fresh in your memory. “Hello Cain, Abel.” You nod politely and wave at them both.

Abel, waving back, “Hi, Mera! I’m glad you dropped by! We were just about to invite Lord Morpheus in for tea. We’d love for you to join us –”

“You addlebrained sod, we’ve no time for tea, not when there are nightmares running about!” Cain, ever the sharp-tongued brother, smacks Abel on the back of his head. Turning to you, he says “Hi there, Mera! So glad you could come, it has been a while. We’d love to chat and all, but we have work to do. By your leave, Lord Morpheus…” Cain grabs ahold of Abel’s arm and starts leading him away.

“Wait, did you say ‘nightmares?’” you ask him curiously. Was this somehow related to the increased number of nightmares you encountered in the dreams of mortals? Cain pauses and turns on his heel, opening his mouth to respond, but Lord Morpheus cuts him off.

“There are nightmares on the loose, not just in this realm, but also in the Waking World. I’ve asked Cain and Abel to scout the area and report sightings of wayward nightmares in the realm directly to me through Jessamy.” Seemingly at cue, Jessamy breaks free from inside Dream’s coat and perches on the tree above them. 

“Exactly. Apologies, Mera, but do come by next time for tea and biscuits when you feel peckish! Let’s go, Abel.” Cain drags his brother along, by the ear, this time, mumbling something about “doing his job for him.”

“So sorry, Mera! Perhaps another time, eh? You could bring Lucienne!” Abel calls to you, waving goodbye. You wave back rather dejectedly, watching them disappear into the thick of the woods that surrounded their land. You hear a loud swoosh over your head, indicating that Gregory has followed them in search of the missing nightmares.

You and the Dream Lord are now completely alone.

“Come, my Mera. Let us walk together to the palace.”

You hesitate, but he stays motionless as if waiting for you to follow. You relent, pacing beside him in slow, careful strides.

You walk in the woods, side by side in silence for quite some time, until Dream breaks the awkwardness between you two.

He glances sideways at you in a teasing manner, he says “It seems you’re rather put out that your visit to your friends was cut short, my little dream.” Changing to a more serious tone, he adds, “Unfortunately, it was a necessary move, for we’ve had an increasing number of rogue nightmares, and they could be quite a handful.”

“It’s alright, My Lord. You’re only protecting the Realm, after all.” You reply politely with a small smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“I can sense something else is bothering you.” When you don’t respond, he goes on, “I fear my conduct in Wilbur Maxwell’s dream may have brought this about. You must understand that while my wrath may have been misplaced, both your actions almost led you to a compromising position. I am merely looking after your well-being.”

You swear you could’ve heard the voice in your head whisper the word “lies” but you mentally push it back with force. How could you think so differently of him? “I am eternally grateful to you for always keeping me out of harm’s way, my King. I’m truly sorry if I ever thought differently. Looking back, I can see now how you had every right to stop the dream. I overstepped my boundaries.”

Dream halts completely and faces you with a satisfied look. “Indeed, you may have. Nonetheless, your apology is accepted.”

You look around to see where your steps have brought you: you’re now in your favourite garden within the palace, bathing in the warm glow of the orange sunset. The cherry blossom trees, whose leaves were still green on your last visit, now bloom with delicate pink flowers, the petals now falling gracefully on the garden grounds. The most obvious change was the blooms in the flower beds: they’re now abundant with rows upon rows of tiny, lovely red flowers on tall stalks, their radiance even more enhanced with the rays of the setting sun. You can feel your face light up in pure awe of the beauty around you. A breeze sends a flurry of cherry blossom petals in the air, and a wayward lock of your hair gets in your face. Before you could move it away, warm, soft fingers tuck it behind your ear and linger momentarily on your cheeks, tracing imaginary lines, before withdrawing.

You look into your creator’s features and see that mysterious glint of emotion again, the same emotion you’ve seen in him when you first opened your eyes.

“You should get going. It’ll be dark soon.” He vanishes in an instant, leaving a trail of fine sand in his wake. 

The Voice is back, but instead of words, it just lets outs a single scream that you swear the entire Dreaming could’ve heard.

***

Even after a few days, you’re still listless, as much as your try to deny it. Your thoughts keep drifting back to that moment in the garden you had shared with your Dream Lord. And the scream in your head that followed. His actions towards you were growing more and more bizarre by the day, and you just desperately needed someone else with whom you could share these bothersome thoughts and help you come up with a single, rational explanation. 

There is one, said the Voice. But you refuse to entertain it. He couldn’t be, no.

You’re in the library at the moment, sitting on a desk with a book you couldn’t concentrate on, hands in your head in complete frustration. You can’t keep talking to yourself like this, you berate yourself.

You were in dire need of a friend.

Immediately, Lucienne’s face pop into your head. It’s just that you were reluctant to unburden yourself on her – she is loyal to the Dream Lord, almost to a fault. Mervyn the Pumpkinhead is also out of the question – he might just think you’re being paranoid and brush it off. Cain and Abel might be able to help, but you know they wouldn’t appreciate being dragged into any kind of business that involved the Endless. 

Deciding to go to work, you put the book back and head to the sea of dreams, hoping it would be enough of a distraction. On the shore, you see two of your fellow dreams engaged in light conversation. You recognize them as the sisters Candor and Nuros, dreams who inspire honesty and humility. They rarely go their separate ways, even when visiting the dreams of the humans. You’ve seen their handiwork too – they were an impressive duo.

With a sudden stroke of inspiration, you approach the sisters to say ‘hi.’

“Candor, Nuros – hi, it’s me, Mera, do you remember me?”

They both turn around to face you with controlled smiles. Nuros speaking first, says, “Of course, we remember, Mera. How do you do?”

“I’m well, thank you,” you reply, feeling relieved they didn’t turn you away. “And you? And Candor?”

It’s Candor that replies next. “We’re doing very well, thank you. Is there something you needed?”

You choose your words carefully. “Well, I just wanted to ask if…maybe we could – I mean, I could go with you to work, and be…friends?”

At the last word you mentioned, the sisters look at each other, the smile fading from their faces. Candor opens her mouth to speak, but Nuros raises a hand to her to stop her.

“Mera, we’d love to, we really would, but –”

“We’re not allowed to!” Candor suddenly bursts. She clamps both of her hands to her mouth, seemingly surprised by herself. Nuros’ eyes dart around in a panic as if making sure no one’s watching, before chastising her sister with gritted teeth.

“Candor!”

“We have to –”

“What do you mean, you’re ‘not allowed?’”

You take a step forward with outstretched hands, indicating that you mean no harm. “Come on, guys, please. Please, tell me…”

Nuros’ face regards you apologetically. Quietly, she tells you “I’m really, very sorry, Mera, but even talking to you like this…”

Candor suddenly leans forward to grab your arms and pull you closer. “There are things we can’t really tell you, but –”

“Candor, no!” Nuros violently grabs her sister and pulls her away, and Candor was forced to let you go.

“What can’t you tell me? What in the Fates is going on?”

“Mera, just stay away from us, please! We don’t like you. There. Are you happy now?”

Nuros’ words feel like a slap in your face. Tears in your eyes, you look pleadingly at her sister, Candor, who seems shocked at her sister’s sudden outburst. Before being pulled by her sister to the waters, you watch her mouth ‘I’m sorry’ with an emotion you recognize as pity.

Blankly, you wipe your tears away just as they fall, feeling even more alone than ever.

***

Feeling despondent at your botched attempt to find someone to confide in, you make your way back to the library, seeking Lucienne’s council. Lucienne instantly reads the crestfallen look on your face, gesturing for you to sit before her desk, before excusing herself to make you both some tea.

She comes back later with teacups, a pot of tea, milk, and sugar, plus an assortment of teacakes on a tray. She pours the tea for both of you, then adds sugar and milk to yours. She always knew how you liked your tea. Gently, she pushes the steaming cup towards you, urging you to take a sip. Only when you’ve taken a couple of sips and set it down on the saucer does she say. “Talk.”

It takes a while for you to do so. Finally, you let out a deep sigh.

“Lucienne, do the other dreams hate me?”

Judging by her raised eyebrows, she wasn’t expecting this question. “What made you think so, Mera?” She places a teacake on another saucer and sets it beside your tea.

You mumble your thanks and nibble on the sponge halfheartedly. “I tried asking a couple of them a while ago if we could go work together, but they turned me away. Said they didn’t like me.”

“Oh? Did they say why?”

“No, I didn’t get to ask them that. They left in quite a hurry.” Toying with the teacake, you add “Come to think of it, I’ve interacted with the others, but they were always either… curt with me or just plain dismissive.”

You peer at Lucienne’s face, and you could tell she’s weighing in on your observations. Speaking your mind, you add, “Maybe there’s something wrong with me.”

Empathically, she replies, “Mera, there is absolutely nothing wrong with you.” She clasps your hand on the table with hers in a comforting manner. “I know you, and you are a wonderful dream. I’ve read in these books I sort what you do for others. You should give them time to get to know the Mera that I know, and you’ll get them on your side eventually.”

Finally returning her smile, your heart is filled with gratitude for her consoling words. “Thank you, Lucienne.”

She lets go of your hand, letting you finish the now half-eaten cake on your plate. When there were only crumbs left of it, she asks, “Are you feeling better?”

You give her a small nod, finally relaxing into your chair and sipping your tea. “Lucienne?”

“Yes?”

“I have one more question if you don’t mind.”

“Fire away.”

Choosing your words carefully, you begin: “Would you know why the Dream Lord has been acting…strange around me?” You note how her eyes narrow in a fraction of a second before she puts on a blank expression.

“How do you mean ‘strange?’”

You open your mouth to finally spill the thoughts that have been plaguing you for days on end, but there is something in you that stops the words from coming out. You couldn’t very well recount your moments with the Endless without voicing your suspicion. So, you end up saying, “You know what, I’m probably just overthinking things. I’m sure it’s nothing.”

Lucienne nods in understanding, even though you could read that she wanted to get the truth out of you. “If it helps, Lord Morpheus has been dealing with more runaway nightmares than usual. That might explain his moods as of late.”

“Oh yeah, so I’ve heard. He’s been working harder than ever.” You respond. 

“Mera?”

“Mm?”

 “Are you sure there is nothing else you wish to tell me?”

 I’d like to ask the same thing, says the Voice.

 Shaking your head with a smile, you reply, “No, I’ve kept too much of your time as it is. Thank you for the tea and the cake, Lucienne.”

 “You are most certainly welcome, Mera.”

Taking that as a sign of dismissal, you get up to your feet, offering to take the used cutlery back to the kitchens. 

Your heart feels lighter than it did before your much-needed chat with Lucienne, but while her words and her presence were kind and comforting, you’re still brimming to the lid with want for answers. And you know just who to get them from.

***

You’ve been trying to find Candor in the dreams of the mortals for the last three days on top of your regular Dreaming duties. You’ve gone three days without rest, but you couldn’t give up, not when you’ve potentially found someone you suspect had the information you seek. You’ve felt traces of her presence, along with her sister’s, a lot of times in the dreams you’ve visited, but every time you thought you were close, you find that she had already gone. Navigating the waters for that long and too short a time in between the dreams was starting to take a toll on your body, so with a heavy sigh of defeat, you will yourself back to the sea of dreams, intending to call it a day.

Until a pair of dainty arms snatch you backward with surprising strength, making you land on your side on a hardwood floor.

“What the fuck –”

“SShh!!”

The hands that snatched you back to the dream cover your mouth with urgency. Looking to the owner of the hands to give them a piece of your mind, your choice of swear words is caught dead in your mouth as you stare into the eyes of the dream you’ve been looking for tirelessly for the past three days.

“Candor?!” Her name comes out muffled from your lips, her hands still on your mouth.

Candor, wide-eyed and fearful, places her index finger to her lips as slowly removes the hand muffling your speech.

“I heard you were looking for me,” She says in a hushed tone.

“Yeah, fucking finally, but why are we whispering?”

“We could be overheard –”

“By who?” You hiss.

“Never mind that, we don’t have time! Do you want to hear what I have to say or not?” You open your mouth to argue, but she cuts you off, continuing: “Remember how I said we weren’t allowed to talk to you?”

“Yes, but Nuros said –” 

“I know what my sister said, but that was just a front. The truth is we’re all scared out of our wits to even look at you. We’ve been around eons longer than you have, so we know his true nature.”

“Who? Who are you talking about, Candor?”

“The Dream Lord.” Candor says in a haunting, subdued voice.

“Lord Morpheus?” You let out in a disbelieving whisper.

“Yes, now stop interrupting me. Haven’t you ever noticed how he acts so differently around you? The fact alone that he talks to you should be enough proof.”

“Wha – I thought… you mean, he’s not like that around you?”

“Never. Not with anyone. The newer dreams think it’s favouritism, and they’re sort of… jealous,” She rolls her eyes. “But us older ones know better. He’s planned something else for you right from the very beginning. That’s why he’s been pushing away anyone who tries to get close to you – because he doesn’t want the truth out.”

A pregnant pause falls between you as you try to digest what she has divulged. Her eyes still hold fear, but there is also something else in there: concern.

“There is no one to push away, Candor,” you manage to let out. “Save Lucienne and him, I have no one else close to me…”

“Well, doesn’t that tell you he’s been doing a pretty good job?”

Inwardly, you give her a point for that. Looking at the lacquered wooden floor you’re sitting on, you ask, “Candor, what truth?” But she doesn’t elaborate.

Be quiet, the Voice whispers.

“Candor?” You glance up at her face, but you realize she’s frozen in fear, eyes focused on whatever has materialized behind you.

“I hope you have a good explanation as to why you’re slacking off, Candor.”

You both leap to your feet in a hurry and turn to face Dream of the Endless, stonily honing on your companion, waiting for a response.

“L-lord Morpheus…w-we were just… talking –”

“About what?” he pushes on, seemingly restraining his annoyance.

“We were brainstorming, my Lord,” you burst out, glancing sideways at Candor, a silent plea for her to go along. “We were thinking of partnering together for a more specific, potent dream, sir. That’s all. We’re sorry if it looked like we’re shirking our responsibilities.”

The Dream Lord’s eyes focus on you with a raised eyebrow.

“Candor, leave us.” He commands without even looking at her. You watch as she gives a small bow before hastily disappearing from the dream.

Slowly, he takes a few steps forward to you in seeming contemplation. He appears to be looking for traces of deceit in your face, but you bravely hold his gaze, no matter how close you are to passing out.

Moments after, you see a flash of concern in his eyes, his eyebrows slightly furrowing. “You’ve over-exerted yourself again, my Mera. Get some rest. I shall take us back to the palace.”

“Yes, my Lord.” You meekly reply.

Before he takes his pouch of sand out from his coat, he gives you a warning.

“There are two sides to a coin. This applies to all my creations, including Candor. While it is true that she inspires truth in the dreams of humans, she carries the ability to inspire falsehood as well. Many mortals have been led to their destruction at her mere touch. Tread lightly with her, my little dream.”

Without warning, you’re encased in swirling sand just as you collapse in exhaustion. The last thing you feel before losing your consciousness are hands, firm but gentle, holding you close to a warm body as if they’d lose you at any moment.

***

Get up.

This is the second time the Voice has woken you. Cursing in the name of the Fates, you get up from a bed that isn’t your own. The first thing that gave it away is the sheets – made of finely spun silk and dark as the sky on a starless night – they’re so soft on your skin, like how you imagine an angel’s feather would feel. Then the pillows, which you could swear are fluffy clouds just stuffed in a black silk pillowcase; the mattress, which seems to have been molded perfectly to fit your figure, enticing you to lay on it for just a few more minutes –

If it wasn’t for that screaming in your head telling you to get out get out get out. You agree with it for once; scrambling on your feet to get as far away from this room as possible, you barely make out the symbol carved on the headboard that might’ve clued you in as to who the owner of the bed was.

***

It’s been days since you’ve last seen Candor. During work, you’ve tried squeezing in more visits to other dreams in the hopes of sensing her presence, but the ones you’ve been in only contained the faintest of her trace like she hadn’t been there in a long time. Candor had left you with more burning questions than answers, but the Dream Lord’s unexpected pop in may have scared her to near death, causing her to lie low temporarily. Growing worried about the first (dare you say) friend you’ve made, you asked the other dreams you’ve met in passing if they’ve seen her lately. Like always, however, they’ve been quick to push you away, if not with a little more hostility.

Having come from a bit of light reading from the library, you set out to work. You hope to finally see Candor again, if not only to find out what she has been up to after the conversation you’ve had which was halted abruptly. As you reach the shore, you make out a figure huddled close to the waters, hugging their knees to their chest. Nuros.

You approach her curled-up figure cautiously – your last meeting was disastrous, so you wanted to avoid the same kind of confrontation. You kneel on the sand beside her and call softly, “Nuros?”

She slowly faces you, with tears streaming down her face, her body shaking with controlled sobs.

“Mera…” It’s all she manages to get out before bursting into a fresh fit of crying.

You place a hand on her shoulder, not knowing what to do. You’re thankful she doesn’t swat your hand away, so you both stay in that position until you hear her swallow, seemingly wanting to talk. She opens her mouth, but no words come out in her grief-stricken state.

“Nuros, what happened?”

“It’s Candor. She was banished to the darkness.”

***

Link to the next chapter

Taglist:(I realize I forgot to include one AND ask if anyone wanted to be added lol) just lemme know please if you want to be added, too!

@wt-fxck

@sandman-33

Author’s notes:

Please engage, like, reblog, comment, send predictions, etc, I’d love feedback from everyone!!

I’d like to thank @queenshelby @endlessdreamqueen3 encouraging me to pen this baby

Also, fellow Dark!Morpheus fic writers whose work I’ve thoroughly enjoyed and keep rereading

Thank you!!

Post date: 10/29/22

Edit date: 10/30/22

[wonda-cat]

The End of Las Nevadas; A Beautifully Made Stream with Nothing to Say

(All names are in reference to the characters unless stated otherwise.)

While glossy, well-shot, and technically impressive, the Las Nevadas Finale leaves a lot to be desired in ways I haven't seen anyone mention—sporting flaws in its foundations that stretch farther than just its story development.

In no particular order, I'll be breaking down each part one-by-one to hopefully shed some light on things I've felt alone so far in noticing.

Pacing

This stream was undoubtedly beautiful; making great use of snappy transitions, a fantastic set of shots, and several well-edited montage sequences. cc!Quackity's lore has always been lovingly and painstakingly crafted. However, while it is stellar in the visual and editing department, it still stands to grow with regards to its pacing. Previous episodes have suffered from slow pacing in some areas, but this episode seems its polar opposite.

Each scene and line races past, only to be bogged down with extremely elongated establishing shots that could've been trimmed in half. Every plot moment doesn't give itself time to breathe and exist as it cuts to something else that speeds by just as nauseatingly. The ending especially reflects this as, once Quackity has lost another life and the country is damaged, there's a few speedy lines of closing exposition and... that's it.

That's how it all wraps up. It doesn't let the audience take in what happened or question if it's something repairable or even wonder how Q would react to the fallout. We're just told the result, flat and plainly, and then it's closing credits.

On the flip side, the scene where Ranboo and MD talk takes up an absurd Ten Minutes of the runtime (time which could've been used to develop other plot beats, which I'll mention later) where they don't mention much of anything important. It drives the story momentum to a grinding halt.

Scenes which did take their time to breathe were Calamity Duo's intro scene, the moment where Punz and Purpled negotiate, and Charlie's speech to Q in the hotel, followed by Q's death.

Music

Even with these moments of pacing brevity, there's still the prevailing issue on top which is this stream's use of music. Previous Las Nevadas episodes have executed their music cues well when they were necessary (all of cc!Quackity's montages excel at this), and it was because they understood the necessary balance between when to add music and when to leave the scene silent.

Music, when used effectively, can aid the tone of a scene. However, when used clumsily, it can fight against the tone set by the dialogue and actions of the characters. Oftentimes, silence can be more effective than any music ever could be because it leaves the dialogue and story to speak for itself and allows the audience to exist in the moment with the characters.

Throughout the entire stream, there was not a single moment of silence. Every moment was accompanied by music and about half were in active odds with its tone.

The most prevalent of these were the pieces accompanying Quackity's visit to Charlie's grave, Quackity's death, and Charlie's speech, all of which would've greatly benefited from silence, as the music ends up distracting from the moment, drawing more attention to itself than it should.

Story

While other Las Nevadas episodes have followed the standard Three Act structure, this one... does not. A conflict is introduced on Quackity's end and is never followed up on. There is no second-act low point; the period where the protagonist should be at their most hopeless.

And because there is no main-staying conflict (even harking over from previous episodes), the climax of the stream feels especially weak. Although it does call back to previous hanging plot threads, like Charlie's disappearance, Dream's quest for revenge, and Quackity's plans to open the casino, it still leaves the stream feeling meandering and pointless.

It says an awful lot that I've seen more discussion over a single speech and two lines of dialogue ("How to BE human. How to THINK like humans.") than any other aspect of its story.

By breaking its content down step by step, the sheer bare-bones development becomes apparent—The episode opens with a flashback, which delivers information the audience already knows. Then we're introduced to the grave scene, which hints at an off-screen moment between Charlie and Quackity that is never called back to (something which centers around the key to the city, an item which has no significance other than to be inserted into the episode for merch purposes.)

Again, it re-establishes information the audience already knows—Quackity cares a lot for Charlie. Then we introduce the main conflict; Quackity opens the country and no one visits. Thus, he makes a plan to genetically engineer citizens.

However we never see them used practically to solve this problem, so the conflict initially sparking this development turns the solution pointless. Then we get a scene of Punz convincing Purpled to aid Dream to torture Quackity by using Charlie to get to him. This sets the stakes.

(It also implies that Dream's offer to Foolish didn't go through? I suppose this is yet again another moment relegated to off-screen development, which would've only benefited the audience to actually see, unless this plot development is later touched on in Volume Two. I won't hold my breath.)

Then we get an... unrelated scene of Ranboo and MD that doesn't develop the plot—something which was most definitely added last minute (probably at cc!Ranboo's request.) Suddenly, we jump to post-Charlie's shift in character, where Dream appears with Punz and Purpled with absolutely no buildup.

During this scene, Quackity calls on Foolish for help and all the genetically engineered citizens are released and instantly solve the conflict at hand, quashing the tension flat. Then Charlie has his speech, throwing both Purpled and Quackity from the hotel. All of this, concluding on Las Nevadas' destruction (which turns out to not matter because... we were told so through exposition), and Quackity decides to forgive all of his enemies.

If picked apart, it becomes obvious just how thinly stretched the plot is and how many vital scenes of buildup are simply missing entirely. We never get a scene of Charlie coming back to himself and having his intentions twisted by Dream—even if the reveal implies Charlie was aware of everyone's motivations to use him from the get-go. We never see a moment of Dream and Purpled's trek to Las Nevadas, signalling to the audience of their arrival and amplifying tension.

We never get time to settle on Quackity and Charlie's reunion, which was rushed through (another unfortunate thing, since it's been highly anticipated for almost a full year now.) We never see how the genetically engineered citizens actually solve Q's population problem.

All of this is Necessary buildup to bring cohesion to the narrative, and would've even alleviated a lot of the pacing issues. It is especially egregious how script-driven and transplanted the slime army was to the story because it was introduced solely to dig Quackity out of a narrative hole. The conflict of Las Nevadas' population seems contrived specifically to put a roadblock in the way of Dream succeeding in his plans, because the audience is more than aware of how perfectly capable he is of this.

Therefore the conflict and Quackity's decision to create genetically cloned citizens feel as if they were puppeteered cartoonishly to be an easy solution to a later narrative conflict. All of which, unfortunately, decimated the tension of the scene because there was no time for Quackity to realistically feel in danger.

Dream

It goes without saying that Dream used to be one of the most intimidating and formidable villains in the story's history. Just the simple act of him logging on used to fill thousands of audience member's hearts with fear. However, with the unending bout of lore hiatuses and the dragging on of the Prison Arc, followed by another period of nothing, it has left a damper on the formidability of him as an antagonist.

This was dug even deeper with his rather lackluster attempt at revenge on Quackity, which goes wrong in a very... flat way. Since we're never shown what Charlie was told to do, believe, or say, the audience is left in utter confusion as to what Dream planned to use Charlie for to begin with. Even if he was only meant to emotionally toy with Q, Dream doesn't say a thing to Charlie, who stands behind Quackity and does nothing for a good few minutes.

Then when the slime army comes to attack, Dream just... gets instantly overwhelmed? And instead of going after Quackity again once the hoard is dead, he just resigns to blowing up Las Nevadas a teeny tiny bit.

Certainly not a Doomsday attempt, which is what the audience has come to expect at this point—overkill. That is Dream's specialty. However, he doesn't.

Once the destruction is over, Dream doesn't pursue Quackity further, despite going to LNVs with the sole intent of capturing him, dragging him off, and torturing him to death; along with destroying everything and everyone he loves. In the end, this is yet again the script pupeteering the actions of the characters.

The writers need Dream to not succeed, or else they can't carry this conflict over into Volume Two. And if that's not what they're planning to do then the question of why this happened will only multiply.

Charlie and Quackity

The dramatic shift and decay of this pair's respective characters and relationship is this stream's second greatest detriment, just shy of its empty story content. Quackity's decision to create a genetically engineered body of citizens because he misses Charlie and wants people who are "just like him" is startlingly out of character, shatters the perception of Dap Duo's friendship foundation, and presides on a logically flawed premise.

Quackity is a character who is naturally protective of those who are weak, innocent, or who remind him of himself. He goes out of his way to self-sacrifice for them, and this is especially true with Tommy and Charlie. Quackity knows that true friends are rare for him and are something special and meant to be cherished, even if he closes himself off, pushes them away, and pretends not to care.

It is possible to buy Quackity missing Charlie enough to create copies of him, however this has no real buildup. There's no turn to the more extreme and dramatic to overcome his loss. And worst of all, it is specifically the loss that is de-emphasized in favor of a short-term solution to a problem wholly manufactured by the script to later solve the central conflict.

It comes out of nowhere and is gone just as fast. On top of it, its implications are troubling as Quackity has shown an urge to control things, but never to this degree and not this heartlessly. This change for the worse can work, certainly.

A gradual change for the worse or the better is what character development is all about. However, this change is instant, jarring, and again, has no buildup. The cruelty of this action is also never addressed and Quackity's inclination to it is never foreshadowed (most likely because it was never meant to be dwelt on, as it's only added to the story to thwart Dream's plans.)

There's also the deeper implications of Quackity genetically cloning beings that are meant to be "like Charlie." It implies that Quackity has always seen Charlie as someone mindlessly obedient and disposable—someone who is more like a pet, than an actual friend, when we were consistently shown otherwise.

Quackity started off initially planning to use Charlie's naivety to his advantage to get him to spy for him. However, as time went on, he formed a genuine connection to him, and thus dropped this initial plan. Instead, because he came to trust him and care for him as a friend, he chose him as the inheritor of all his work. In a backwards way, he tries to teach Charlie everything he knows.

Not manipulate him, not lie to him—tell him exactly how Quackity himself sees the world and how he wishes Charlie to see it too; because he wants Charlie to be safe and because he wants Charlie to keep his nation safe. He comes to see Charlie as someone human, and when Charlie is hurt, Quackity dives in after to save him at the potential expense of his own life. When Charlie dies, it destroys Quackity.

How could it not? That was his first true friend he'd made in a long, long time. However, with this new development, it shatters what was previously established, showing that Quackity only ever saw Charlie as someone who could be made again, who was nothing but a follower (despite teaching him to be a future leader); someone who he never saw as human.

There's also the majorly overlooked issue of him searching for the perfect follower in "someone just like Charlie." Sure, Charlie was naive and went along with many orders, but he consistently questioned Quackity. He consistently took apart the logic of his arguments, his lessons, his ideals.

He laid them down, piece by piece, in a way that left Quackity to question himself. Charlie was never a perfect follower, and Quackity knew that. He made mistakes, he disobeyed, he never once stopped asking "Why?"

If Quackity knew him well enough by then to be destroyed by his death and disappearance, then why did he expect that making another version of Charlie would create someone perfectly obedient and mindless? Why did he see Charlie in this way when both him and the audience knew otherwise?

Then we have the issue of Charlie's dramatic shift in characterization. Because we were never shown what went on between Charlie and Dream, we have no reference for how or why this shifted Charlie's demeanor. We have no reference for his epiphany or how he "woke up."

Even if it's imperative for Charlie's realization about Q to remain a secret for a plot twist, it begs the question of why Charlie ever greeted Q at the restaurant or decided to stay with him when he knew that Quackity was "a bad person" from the get-go (something which he knew Quackity was aware of already feeling. In Charlie's only POV stream, he asks Q if he thinks of himself as a good person and Quackity replies "I don't know." It's not something Quackity needs to be told, because he knows and he struggles with those thoughts already.)

As pointed out before, Charlie has always been capable of questioning Quackity's rules and reasoning, so why not tell Quackity about how terrible he thought he was all those months ago? Why not be upfront with him, as he was about everything else? If Charlie never actually liked Quackity or anything that was happening, why would he proclaim to trust him upon first instinct?

Why would he live in denial of Quackity's mortality, as if hoping he'd stick around forever? It also seems especially out of character for him to go out of his way to physically hurt Quackity—someone who once risked his life to save his; someone who only ever wanted to protect him and trust him and give him everything he'd ever worked to earn (regardless of the means.)

There's simply not enough buildup to warrant that sort of payoff because we never got to see that change occur in Charlie.

The (hollow) Theme of Revenge

In the previous Las Nevadas episode, we were shown Quackity's gradual change for the better under Charlie's influence. Despite being his leader and mentor, it was Quackity who had the most to learn from Charlie, who questioned Q's morals and lessons in a way that Quackity had to confront. Quackity, like Tommy and Wilbur and Tubbo and many others, was taught "lessons" stemming from violence.

They were physically hurt by people who were stronger than them, who did this as a way to force them to grow. However, the things learned from this practice were traumatic and unhealthy and actively stumped their growth on their journey to being better, kinder people. It was only because Charlie opposed Quackity in a non-violent, non-confrontational manner that Quackity was more susceptible to learning and growing and doing so without closing himself off and being afraid.

He effectively learns that revenge is never worth the price in one of the most powerful scenes in Quackity's entire arc; where the two friends talk as they stand on the Needle's balcony and overlook the country. The question is asked if revenge is ever worth it and Quackity finally, after so long, answers truthfully—"No. It's not."

To finally hammer this home, Quackity loses Charlie because Purpled decides to seek revenge for a previous misdeed. He sought revenge and he succeeded. It finally rings clear, that because Quackity had acted in the same way Purpled had in the past, he is forced to see himself from another perspective—from the eyes of someone who reaps what they've sown.

He can ask himself, again, was this worth it? Quackity again says no, and doesn't seek out Purpled to repay the favor because he finally sees what Charlie had tried to tell him. This is a perfect demonstration of this theme, and I'd argue, it is the only well-executed moment regarding revenge in the entire Dream SMP storyline.

Unfortunately, this is all horribly undermined by the later development of Charlie returning and violently killing Quackity (someone who'd never wronged him further than his dishonesty and opportunism, both of which he regrets.) Quackity's selfless act of diving into danger to save Charlie is purposely ignored; repaid by a callous, out-of-character act of revenge, which serves nothing. That's not even getting into the issue of Charlie's act of revenge belonging solely to Purpled, because despite Purpled's actions being tied to Quackity, they are not Quackity's fault.

If this logic were applied appropriately in every aspect of the story, then Quackity would not be considered at fault for the Butcher Army—it would be Techno, because he "started it." Shifting the blame of the cycle of vengeance onto the person who caused the initial injustice also completely undercuts the actions and responsibilities of every person involved in sustaining a conflict. It also de-emphasizes the strength and kindness it takes for someone to forgive and be the one to end the cycle.

While Quackity's death is poetic and well-shot, it says nothing. Charlie follows the lessons he himself had questioned to be flawed, despite having free will. And if this was because of Dream's influence, we will never know because it was never shown.

To add insult to injury, this act of violence is what forces Quackity to change for the better, and give everyone who wronged him a letter of reconciliation. This destroys every other moment the Dream SMP has laid out thus far regarding its collective theme of violence; that it will never teach anyone anything good, useful, or healthy. It will only cause trauma and hurt and leave people to unlearn the good and moral code they carry with them.

Instead, the message here is that violence was actually Quackity's wake-up-call, instead of the perfectly fitting scene between Q and Charlie of the two simply... talking, as friends. Violence being Quackity's "teacher" is much less powerful and it's intensely at odds with the rest of everything established in his arc.

For the sake of spectacle and shock, we've received a message of revenge so hollow and meaningless that it manages to say Nothing At All.

Minor Issues

These have no bearing on my opinion of the stream, but I haven't seen anyone point these out yet.

During the Calamity Duo flashback, the ending of it is a smash-cut to the destruction of Las Nevadas. The destruction shown in the clip doesn't match what actually happens nearly an hour later, with the former taking place at night and containing more fire than explosion. Quackity was also never physically present at the destruction, so it's a mystery as to why that little tonal shock was included to begin with as it spoils the ending of the episode (even if it may have been obvious going in.)

Purpled's motivations for kidnapping Charlie were because he... wanted to kill him. Okay. Why not just kill him when you first found him? Why not kill him at any point on the way back to your hideout? Why did you have to kill him in a very specific location where Quackity would never see it? Wouldn't it hurt Quackity worse if you killed him around Las Nevadas where Q could find him quickly? Even if Purpled was afraid of Q being notified via chat message, he didn't have to bring Charlie all the way back to the main area to do that.

During the montage where Quackity gives letters of reconciliation to everyone, he leaves one where Wilbur had sailed away. This implies that Tommy told Quackity that Wilbur was gone. Again, yet another scene that happened off-screen that would've only benefited the audience to actually see.

Conclusion

While beautiful and well-made—as cc!Quackity's streams always are—the issues with story, pacing, music, and characterization leave this stream a disappointing sendoff for the end of Quackity's character in Volume One.

It is painful to see it end like this, as Quackity is my favorite character, second only to Tommy. That isn't to say there isn't something to like in this episode, but it is a far cry from the height of its predecessors.

I hope to see better from him in the future, if there ever is better to come.

[bluexiao]

Omg! I saw your request is now open. May I now request for Scara? It can be a continuation for the dendro vision holder reader. The plot is like the reader is healing the enemy because it is her job as a healer like Barbara's way of thinking in her hangout event about the treasure Hoarder and Scara is like "wtf r u doing? Why r u healing the enemy?" And maybe I hint of jealousy? Idk I'm sorry if it's a little bit confusing but I hope u understand. I'm really glad you also find this interesting.

#unexpected.

THEMES. fluff. jealous? scara:). kind of cute.

NOTES. this is real fun to write hehe. we love a flustered and jelly scara<333 you may see this as a continuation of my previous dendro reader headcanons but either way is fine and applicable^^

SCARAMOUCHE definitely did not expect this to happen.

“Are you… healing the enemy?” his eyes wide and his lips curled in disgust, not towards you but more towards the treasure hoarder that just attacked the camp, glaring at him with a gaze of intimidation, one that he usually uses to his underlings whenever they are not doing what he expects them to do. However, in spite of directing that kind of gaze towards you, he found himself unconsciously not doing so. “You and your companions have the guts to ambush our camp like that. You must have a death wish, don’t you?”

“Shh, Scara, you’re scaring the poor guy.” you interrupted him when he’s got more insults to say. This did not sit right at the Harbinger at all.

“Are you also defending him? Them?” he retorts. “Perhaps you fancy this kind of guy? I don’t see any reason why you should be acting this way.”

He hears your sigh and watches you stand to turn his way, a questionable look on your face. “If I fancy this guy then I wouldn’t be thinking of surrendering them to you after I heal them of their wounds.”

“Then why are you even wasting your time and your abilities? Your words are contradicting, Y/n.”

He feels a hand brush up on his and before he could swat it away out of impulse, he halts when he sees that it was yours, his shoulders relaxing in an instant. The Harbinger felt the sudden calmness and warmth that radiated from you towards him, flowing through his veins like a flash of lightning.

“Scara, are you perhaps… jealous?” you carefully say but just as fast as he calmed down, he perks at the sudden question and immediately retaliated.

“Are you-I’m not j-Of course I’m not!” he sputtered and tried not to. However, it was fairly obvious that it probably made you chuckle on your own and reached out for his other hand, squeezing both gently, or more like reassuringly.

“Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me. But does that mean we’re dating now?” there was a certain joy in your tone that made him even burn in embarrassment. However, before he could even respond, both of your attention turned towards the treasure hoarder behind you and he was about to stop the man from running away when a polearm makes him halt his actions, the blade close to his face as you glared at him almost the same way the harbinger did earlier.

“You just interrupted our moment, behave yourself, will you? Now, where were we?”

Well that was unexpected. It looks like he just earned himself a date.

[joonsdiary]

worth fighting for (09)

pairing: jungkook x female reader genre/warnings: royalty au, historical au / humour, an unhealthy amount fluff (suave general jeon is back so beware), a wee bit of angst / tw: mentions of blood and knife, a tiny bit of action, mentions of death, and just an inordinate amount of mutual pining word count: 7,663

summary: fresh out of the perils of war, jungkook didn’t think that his task as the newly appointed general would be to look after you.

— previous ; next ; series masterlist

nine.

Lulled by the steady rhythm and speed the carriage is marching, Jungkook fights the urge to shut his eyelids tight. He’s engulfed by the coolness of the afternoon winds, which does nothing but bring him tranquillity. It truly isn’t the ideal scenario when he’s battling against himself to stay awake. There’s still a bit of land to cover before the surrounding plunges into darkness, so he can’t quite afford the luxury of a nap, no matter how tempting it sounds. Though there’s truly no one else to blame for his exhaustion but himself.

Perhaps if he hasn’t been staying up late, preoccupied with thoughts of a promise, of your hand in his, of you. His task of protecting everyone keeps him up, sure, but it’s a mere pretence to the real reason behind his sleep-deprived eyes. It kept him up even more when everyone started taking notice, though; he never much liked being the center of attention. Worrying is Jungkook’s duty, and he resents that anyone would fret over him.

(He hates to admit it, but his heart swells—rather disconcertingly—with happiness when it comes to you negotiating a way for him to catch up on his sleep.)

“Weary are those who bear the troubles of their lover,” Jimin suddenly quips, his words unravelling unprompted. He stayed quiet for most of the trip, choosing to give Jungkook some undesired solitude with his thoughts. He never finds it beneficial to be mulling over his feelings for a long time, so he welcomes the conversation.

“What are you blabbering on about this time, old man?”

Jungkook spares him a glance before shifting his attention back to the dirt road, holding the reins tighter. The horses follow his command to gallop faster; maybe this way, the constant jolt of the ride would keep him vigilant.

“Just an observation.” Jimin nudges him softly, a sign that he knows Jungkook’s retort is meant in jest. “Tell me what ails you, General. I may be of help.”

Jungkook’s lips turn into a half-grin. “Does sightseeing bore you already?”

“Yes, in fact.” Jimin sighs in a way that makes him think he’s slightly inflating the truth. “I’m tired of looking at trees. As much as I am a person of nature, I’ve seen enough these past few weeks to last me a lifetime. I can manage without looking at them for a minute. Indulge me, will you?”

“There is nothing to indulge in.” Maybe he shouldn’t have been too quick to assume the conversation with Jimin will be anything but ordinary.  “Both of us have to focus. Otherwise, one spook might send the horses clamouring and would put us all in danger.”

“And here I thought we’ve grown close enough to share whatever it is that’s bothering us.” If there’s anything he’s learned about Jimin, it’s that can be rather persistent if he so chooses.

“Alright,” Jungkook straightens his back. From the corner of his vision, he sees Jimin lean closer towards him. “There’s this stable boy who’s always badgering me to share my feelings.”

He says the last word with an affectation of disdain in his voice, knowing it would send Jimin sulking, which means he’ll turn quiet. Fortunately for him, he’s right.

Unfortunately for him, peace only lasts a moment.

“I can see why the princess hates you,” he mutters under his breath, though audible enough for the General to hear.

Jungkook almost halts the horses in their tracks when he hears Jimin’s nondescript statement. He doesn’t take it to heart when you say it, simply because believes you’ve fallen into this habit of saying it on a whim. But coming from Jimin, who heard it from you, it’s a whole different story. He doesn’t know the context around enough to conclude whether you were being serious or not.

“You’re pulling my leg, aren’t you?” Jungkook squints suspiciously. Jimin merely shrugs, giving him a furtive glance.

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

Jimin doesn’t give him the courtesy of following up on his declaration. The unfounded claim is enough to shake his drowsiness away as his mind frantically searches for anything amiss during the past twenty-four hours.

Has there been anything he said you took offence to? Is it because of yesterday, when he almost scolded you for being hurt and not telling him about it? How is it that every time he thinks he’s got you all figured out, you turn the opposite direction and he completely misses the mark?

Jimin’s chuckle does nothing to calm the distraught brewing in his mind. “She told me during this morning’s spar.”

Jungkook hadn’t been present that time, so he has no way of verifying.

“What do you mean?” he asks, clearly miffed. He’s past the point of pretending not to care much about what you thought of him, even if he’s aware Jimin might taunt him because of it.

“I believe elaborating further would break the confidentiality I promised,” Jimin furrows his brows in contemplation.

Jungkook is about to protest when the carriage’s window opens, and a voice comes through behind them. “Excuse me, gentlemen. Not to interrupt your lovely chatter, but I do hope you know we can hear everything you’re saying.”

“Miyoung!” Jimin exclaims, turning to the young lady with sudden enthusiasm. “Would you like to learn how to drive a carriage?”

“What’s this about?” she asks, glancing between the two men.

“General Jeon needs to rest, and I need someone to  keep me company.”

Jungkook narrows his eyes at Jimin’s dazzling grin. It’s a wonder how he ended up a mere stable boy; Jungkook reckons he needs a career switch into matchmaking.

His eyes widen in belated recognition. “I don’t need—”

“Why didn’t you ask me? I want to learn,” your voice comes through, cutting Jungkook off. Jimin laughs beside him, turning to ask you the same question. You exclaim yes without waiting for him to finish before saying, “I don’t want to be stuck inside this moving box with him.”

His jaw slackens in bewilderment and Jimin leans closer to whisper deviously, I told you so, in his ear. Your propensity to tell him one thing and mean another always, without fault, confuses the life out of him. Has he always been this foolish towards somebody he’s pining for? Perhaps.

Despite his heavily unsubstantiated reputation among women in the palace—he’ll never forget the fact that Jimin thought of him as a philanderer—he’s not exactly the master of anything that has to do with courtship, romancing and the likes.

(Not that he’s trying to woo you or anything of the sort; that’s absolutely not the case at all.)

But his experience with Lady Siyeon told him as much; being too forward is never the right way to go. The one time he tries to be direct about the way he feels, he’s catapulted right into the sky like a measly rock. Although the event of his rejection happened even before the war broke out, the wounds are fresh enough that they should deter him from trying again.

However, Jungkook recognizes that he does have a decent chance. Circumstances be damned, he’s confident that he’d be able to tell you—

“General Jeon?” Jimin questions warily. Jungkook halts the movement of the horses with one tug of the bridle before handing the reins to him.

“There’s a small village we’ll pass through, which indicates we’ve crossed the border,” he explains, and Jimin nods in recognition.

“I’m aware; it’s the area your battalion used as a refuge during the war.”

Jungkook’s eyes are wide with surprise. “It’s not that well known.”

“Han told me.”

Jungkook immediately grins with recognition. “Now that’s a name I haven't heard in a while.”

“We’re from the same hometown, and we both got back, he just wouldn’t shut up about you and what had happened.”

The edges of Jimin’s eyes wrinkle in amusement at the memory. Jungkook can tell there’s a certain kinship shared between the two. “He made it sound like you all didn’t almost die.”

“To be fair, I do owe him my life,” Jungkook smiles fondly. No matter the type of accolade the king gives him, he would not have made it this far without his men to support him, and the lives of countless others. Including the life of his brother. He isn’t much for sentiments when it comes down to it, but it does make him appreciate the people he currently has around. “Which reminds me, we should all get that pint of ale you keep telling me to drink—the three of us.”

Jimin chuckles heartily, before nodding in agreement. “That’s a promise.”

“You better hold on to that; I do not take lightly to others not arriving when they’ve promised otherwise.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Jimin teases. “I bet it’s the ladies that do all the waiting on you,” he pauses to raise his voice, “am I right, Your Highness?”

The window promptly slides open, amplifying Miyoung’s giggle from inside the carriage. “I ask a friend out to the theatre once, and I become the resident jester for everyone’s amusement,” your voice comes through, sounding almost petulant.

Jungkook turns back with a grin. “I thought we weren’t friends?”

“Hush, this wouldn’t have happened if you had said yes,” a string of ooh’s resound from both Jimin and Miyoung. Jungkook knows they don’t miss a beat when it comes to teasing you, which he can relate to a certain extent. “Now tell me why we’ve stopped, General Jeon.”

He turns to Jimin instead. “Part of the reason why I chose this path is that I know they’ll allow safe passage. We’ll get there shortly, so I’m sure it’s enough time for me to catch up on the sleep you’re all forcing me to take, right?”

He doesn’t wait for Jimin’s answer as he steps off the front of the carriage before making his way to the door. He opens it and sticks his hand out. “Lady Miyoung, I believe Sir Jimin requests your presence.”

He hears her stifle a laugh but plays along either way as she takes his hand while stepping out. Before you could do so much as to protest the new arrangement, Jungkook shuts the door firmly behind him. Within a few seconds, the wheels turn, propelling you forwards.

And so begins the long silence between you and him, stretching seconds into minutes upon minutes. Jungkook did not fancy you the book-reading type, given how much he knows you’re fond of the great outdoors, but you’ve certainly poured all your attention into the world between each page.

He quietly watches as your eyes dart quickly from one page back to the previous one, then back again to the current section, before glancing at him from between your lashes. Your gaze falls as quickly as he catches yours, and Jungkook concludes, with an indiscreet smile, that you’re merely hiding amongst the text instead of reading them.

He lets you continue your fictitious act, either way, and soon you’re turning the paper rhythmically and with purpose. Jungkook basks in the comfort of your presence, and he can’t help but laugh to himself because since when has it been this calm between the two of you?

And he really shouldn’t, but fatigue beckons him closer to the edge of slumber, daring him to jump in. He knows it’s endgame if he lets his neck drift back into the seat, sinking into its comfort…

Seeing your beaming smile snaps him back into the realization that whatever insecurity he has is futile. And if he would just—take my hand, Jungkook.

Your whisper enchants the empty halls of the palace, boring life into the otherwise barren space. Dawn is set to arrive, but the sun takes its sweet time, not wanting to outshine the moon just yet.

This is the rendezvous. The declaration of forever that Jungkook has evaded over and over because wherever duty commands, he follows without fail.

Take my hand.

He refuses, all but confirmed with a headshake.

What is the meaning of this?

A faceless man takes his stance beside you. A king. The king of all nations, crowned by your matrimony to him. He hasn’t forgotten.

You dare perform an act of vile sin before me, daring to covet what’s mine.

Your hand reaches out for his one last time, but before he can grab it, a dagger pierces through your back. Straight into your heart.

He tries to move forward in an attempt to save you. He’s done it so many times, so why couldn’t he do it now? But his feet are intertwined into the wooden floors, like large old trees heavily rooted within the soil, bound by choices he’s made.

Blood pools around you, painting the white fabric of your dress different shades of crimson. You utter his name with finality. Jungkook.

“No!”

“Jungkook?”

His bleary eyes flutter against the light as he struggles to focus on his surroundings. When he comes to and his vision sharpens, he sees you—alive, breathing, the evening sunset kissing your skin with the utmost care and delicacy.

He has a hard time believing that he’s no longer asleep.

“A dream?” you inquire with a crease of the brow, tainting Jungkook’s otherwise celestial image of you.

“It was more so a terrible nightmare,” Jungkook mumbles, rubbing the sleep away from his moistened eyes. He must have cried or had been close to doing so. “How long was I asleep for?”

“Long enough,” you point towards the window, the curtains parted enough to witness the colours of the sky gradually change its hues.

His body feels lighter as if a great deal of weight has been lifted from his shoulders. He’s uncertain if it’s due to the scenery blossoming before him, or the fact that the horrid nightmare stayed as such and does not reflect reality.

He looks down on his feet before lifting each one carefully. Would the choices he makes here, in full consciousness, have the same outcome as they did in his mind? He’s heard of foreboding premonitions stemming from visions, but only after visiting fortune-tellers or shamans.

“Is everything okay?”

There is gentleness in your voice, causing Jungkook’s gaze to linger far longer than he would like. He nods wordlessly, too preoccupied with the thought that he might have neglected something…

Of course! The urge to know what you truly thought of him gives him enough bravery to ask. The courage might be spurred on by Jimin’s statement earlier, or the clarity brought about by his nightmare; the fear of losing you.

Whatever your answer will be, he’ll graciously accept. And no, it couldn’t wait until tomorrow or later in the evening.

“W-what are you looking at me like that for?”

Jungkook has been around you long enough to recognize the expression you wear when you’re bashful: Eyes that shift around to look anywhere but his direction, cheeks that are dusted carmine like blooming May flowers. Even the way you clasp your hands, wringing your fingers together—he’s seen them all. He’s willing to move mountains if it means he’ll figure out your exact thoughts at the moment to warrant such a look on your face.

“I think you owe me a favour,” he says as he leans forward. You visibly stiffen, falling back into the seat as Jungkook continues. “For all the times I’ve gone against your father’s words and taught you how to wield a weapon.”

Your nose wrinkles, giving his proposition a great deal of thought. “What sort of favour?”

“A simple one. All you have to do is be honest with me.”

You watch him with wary eyes, and Jungkook can see the uncertainty beneath them. You nod, nonetheless.

Jungkook moves closer, overcome by a rush of bravery. It’s different this time when he’s sure of his feelings and has control over the reins as opposed to when he was running blind the past few weeks. The sleepless nights certainly did not help, but what else is he to do when he’s battling against himself? He has poured his affection into the stone tucked safely near his heart, and he will not be hasty to hand it to you unless he’s sure.

“Do you still—” he inches closer— “hate me?”

He tries to come off playful, not wanting to make it seem like your answer means a great deal to him. He knows only of what you’ve told him when you were battling a severe illness, but he’s no fool to cling on to the words of a lady trapped in delirium. Moreover, you’ve been quite insistent on declaring your disdain for him, for reasons unknown to him.

You swallow deeply, pressing yourself further into the seat. Jungkook watches as your lips move to say something, but no sound escapes between them. The more time passes in stillness, the more Jungkook’s confidence grows. In between these four walls, he is not compelled by duty but rather guided by the will of his heart.

He can’t help but grin triumphantly as he finds his answer in your quietness. There is neither a snarky retort nor an ill-tempered agreement to his inquisition. He’s quite certain that if you truly cannot stand to be in the same room as him, you would have pushed him away by now.

Jungkook collects the victories he can because he knows the next time he steps out of this carriage, it will not be his hand you will seek out to hold, but another. For he knows that to be in love and be reciprocated for it is a rare delight rather than a ubiquitous occurrence.

If only he realized it sooner.

                                    *  *  *

You marvel at Jungkook’s extraordinary achievement—you certainly did not think him to be capable of surprising you any more than he already has. Yet he’s held you breathless once again, unable to anticipate the sort of question he was to ask of you. What is even more astonishing is that you are certain he means to question you in jest, no doubt another one of his schemes to toy with you.

Your choice of staying silent only puts a big smile on his stupid face.

“I’ll take that as a no,” he says softly before giving you the room to finally breathe.

He is right—you did not hate him, not really, no. The statement is meant to replace a phrase you utterly dread to say or even think; a contrived euphemism of some sort. But what does he honestly expect you to say? No, I don’t hate you, I’m hopelessly in love with you. The last time you tried that, he thought you ate the last piece of his snack. You almost roll your eyes at the thought.

On the other hand, you can’t bring yourself to say yes, either. Jungkook’s eyes are eager, determined; you know you’ll never be able to tell him a lie with a straight face and not get caught for it.

The respite is rather brief, however, as Jungkook shuffles in his seat, hands roaming the inside of his coat pocket. Your eyes widen at what materializes in his hand, recognizing the trinket.

“General Jeon, tell me you didn’t…”

“And because you were honest with me, in a way, I believe a reward is warranted.”

Jungkook’s smile melts your heart in a puddle as your mind runs in several different directions all at once. The desires you’ve worked hard to suppress wash over you, the floods carrying you far away from all sensibilities. You let it take you away.

“May I?”

The sound of his voice startles you, but you nod in a daze anyway, unsure of what he’s asked. You did not have to guess for long, however, as he claims the space you occupy once more. He doesn’t give you time to react and in less than a second, you feel his hot breath against you, alleviated by the coolness of the silver wrapping around your neck. His fingers dance carefully above your skin as your hands clutch your stomach in hopes of silencing the flitting of butterflies within them.

A feeble attempt, of course, because you’re certain he can feel your blistering pulse beneath his fingertips.

You hear the metal click into place and you breathe out slowly, trying to rid your senses of Jungkook’s scent—of burnt firewood, of damp soil after a day’s worth of rain, all mixed into a slight hint of soap underneath it all.

“Done,” Jungkook leans back, though close enough to still spot the small scar just below his lower lip with clarity. You trace the jade between your thumb and index finger as his steady gaze meets yours.

“I’m—uh,” you croak, only realizing how dry your mouth is. Jungkook’s eyes flutter towards your lips, perhaps lingering a bit too long, before catching your gaze once more. “Thank you.”

Though it’s challenging to form words when his gaze is disarming, it isn’t all that difficult to gravitate towards him. It feels as natural as leaping off a branch from a tall oak tree; there is no fear, because you know he’s in the bottom, waiting to catch you safely.

Jeon Jungkook, the object of your desires and the bane of your existence, all at once, wants to kiss you.

The air grows thin and you feel the rush of heat make its way from your neck to the summit of your cheeks. He slowly tilts forward, and you presume he’s trying to gauge your reaction but you don’t make a single movement that signals rejection. His hands remain a steady presence on your shoulder, unmoving since he gave you the necklace.

He whispers your name, softly, delicately, all pretext of formality stripped with ease. You’d let him kiss you a thousand times over if it means you’ll be able to hear your name uttered with such fervent need. What must it feel like, his lips on yours? And no, not like the last time.

You don’t even want to remember the last time.

The last time was a mishap, born out of your lack of functioning limbs. This time it’s no simple accident and there wouldn’t be a need for apologies after. You’re certain he wants to—just as much as you do. Your curiosities will finally be answered.

But before you can cave into your desires, the vehicle stops, and your lips land squarely on his shoulders instead.

“Whoa,” Jungkook falls back into his seat as he steadies you between his arms. Outside, the horses whine in discomfort as Jimin tries to calm them down with soft tugs to their reins.

“Are you alright?” Jungkook asks, half-worried and half-amused at your current predicament. You wince, placing your palms over your face. The pain you feel is next to nothing compared to your mounting shame.

“Yeah, fine, just…” there’s a certain degree of difficulty with you and currently finishing sentences, it seems. He reads you perfectly, despite your lack of words, and removes your hand against your face.

“There’s no need to feel embarrassed,” he says with reverence, turning your palm over and placing a kiss on the inside of your wrist. “That will simply have to do for now.”

Your entire body blisters with searing heat. For now?

“How are you so confident that you’d get another chance?” you huff, not wanting to let him know of your disappointment at a missed opportunity. At this point, he needs to know that you simply would not allow yourself to bend to his whims.

(Despite wanting quite the opposite.)

He merely grins. “There will be one. I’ll make sure of it.”

His self-assurance is disarming. You bite your lower lip and respond with silence, unsure what to say to such a statement.

Although more pressing matters need to be tended to, namely the reason as to why your vehicle has halted.

“General Jeon,” Jimin’s voice echoes from the outside, his tone unsettling. “I think it’s best if we choose a different way.”

You and Jungkook share a worried glance before he promptly steps out, with you following close behind.

“Your Highness, maybe you shouldn’t…”

You hear Miyoung’s warning because you’re unable to absorb anything but the sight before you. The area could not have been inhabited by more than one hundred people; a small village similar to the ones you’ve travelled over a fortnight.

The difference is there are no delighted innkeepers to welcome you, or children running about. No merchants in sight, no hagglers, no customers milling about, no one. There is nothing left of the village but burnt, scorched homes, devoid of life.

“I don’t understand…” Jungkook mutters in confusion, and you notice he instantly places his hand on his weapon.

“General, I thought you said this would be a safe place for us to stop,” Jimin approaches, eyes wary as he speaks.

“It is…it was.” The stillness in the air sends a cold shiver down your spine.

Three pairs of eyes immediately dart towards Jungkook, and all of a sudden you feel all the blood drain from your face. Nervousness pools in your stomach as Miyoung immediately rushes to your side and takes your arm in hers.

“During the war, the villagers provided some of our men with shelter and food as some tended to their wounds, including me.”

Your brows knit in confusion as your mind is unable to comprehend Jungkook’s confession. Why would these people help cavalrymen who are not their own? Jungkook did not elaborate and instead drew his sword.

“I’m going around to see if anyone survived and ask them what happened. Your Highness should stay here with Jimin and Lady Miyoung,” he instructs.

“No,” is your immediate answer. “You absolutely mustn’t go alone. It’s not safe.”

Jungkook scoffs. “How many times will you undermine my abilities in combat?”

“It’s not that— let Jimin come with you, at least. It’s safer to look out for each other, rather than going alone,” you try to reason with him, but Jungkook merely shakes his head.

“And leave you here alone without protection?”

You roll your eyes at his familiar statement. Jimin must have sensed another argument incoming, so he steps in between the two of you. “How about you two reconnaissance together, since you’re both always worried about each other? I’ll stay here with Miyoung.”

You and Jungkook both look at Jimin as if he’s said something reprehensible. But if you’re being honest, the idea isn’t really all that terrible—Jimin’s capable enough to be left alone with Miyoung, and you’re sure you aren’t going to be a liability towards Jungkook. Surprisingly, he agrees to Jimin’s proposition, but instead of a short sword, he instructs you to bring your bow and arrow instead.

You glance up at the lavender sky. There isn’t much time to linger about listlessly, so you agree to his condition.

//

“If only I’d known we were going to be in perilous situations multiple times, I would’ve suggested bringing more men instead,” he mutters. You can’t help but nod in agreement as the gruesome sight unfurls before you. Guided by the torch in one hand, Jungkook illuminates the area, shedding light on the horror that occurred.

Fragments of homes, burnt crisp right down to their foundations. Pitch black ashes and bright red liquid flood the narrow streets at every turn. Your stomach twists at thought of a possible massacre that the people had to have endured. Despite seeing it for the first time, you’re sure this is not the work of a simple house fire. If so, would the village be devoid of people—or even more frightful, of dead bodies slain in the process? Your unease grows as dusk deepens into darkness.

“You say the people here helped our soldiers…” you attempt a conversation, hoping it would quell your anxiousness. “Why would they, if they’re Northerners?”

“I’m not sure exactly why, either,” Jungkook pauses, eyes quickly searching left and right, before resuming his quiet stride. You follow closely beside him.

“I heard a physician say the lady who managed the land was related to someone on the throne, and that she was against the war. So she helped anybody she could. I do remember being looked after alongside the person I was fighting against at one point,” he grins ruefully and shakes his head.

“She was also a healer, and apparently took care of me, but I don’t remember. The only thing I did was sleep for days due to my wounds. I did recover nicely after that, but I never did thank her. The only thing I did was…bury more of their people in gunpowder explosions.”

He stops walking, and he glances at you with a wistful grin. “Apologies for rambling on. I haven’t really talked about my experience with anyone… not even my own father.”

You shake your head at his apology. “I can only begin to imagine what you experienced out here, and I’m not going to pretend I know what it was like. But I am well-versed in the art of keeping all my emotions safely sealed within a glass bottle,” you chuckle sheepishly. “And I know that recounting your experiences to someone who will listen without conviction can be gratifying.”

You’re well aware of the hypocrisy within your words, hidden between your eagerness to comfort him. You know you’re not doing yourself any favours with the pretence that your affection for him is anything but. Your fingers skim over the stone nestled adjacent to your heart. One would truly be slow-witted if one did not deduce the meaning of Jungkook’s actions. He means to pass it off as a mere gift, but what almost followed afterwards doesn’t elude you. You did not think yourself to be that dense.

But how could you possibly relay your emotions to him after what happened? Are you expected to wait for Jungkook’s vow of “next time” before taking action?

Perhaps if your feelings did not always proliferate every time you see him—like sand within an hourglass, always trickling, piling up on each other until it becomes overwhelmingly full it has to reverse its course and begin once more—then maybe it wouldn’t be so difficult to explain to him.

You watch the gentle flicker of the torch’s blaze in Jungkook’s eyes. For no more than a split second, you thought of giving up the welfare of your entire kingdom—the plans of union, of matrimony, everything—just so you can stop the torment and let yourself get swept away.

How terrifying.

“Since when were you so wise?” he squints with suspicion, and you scoff at him.

“I’ve always been sensible,” you cross your arms defensively. “Presumably, you’re too dense for my words to process in that hollow brain of yours.”

If there was a hint of seriousness in your conversation, you’re fairly certain your remark dispels any of it. Rather than debate, however, he suddenly pats the top of your head.

“I don’t want to admit it so openly, but you have a knack for knowing just the right words to say to make me feel better,” he says, offering you the widest grin. You flinch away from his touch and walk ahead of him.

“A-anyway, you might have had a two or three-year head start in life, but that doesn’t mean I’m far behind in intelligence.”

“I wouldn’t dare scorn your wit, Your Highness,” Jungkook says, yet the tone in his voice tells otherwise. You crane your neck in his direction just in time to see the barest hint of a smile.

And not too far behind him an inconspicuous shadow in the distance. The brightness of the crimson flame makes the darkness indecipherable, but your hunch is almost always never wrong.

You quickly dislodge your bow and arrow, pointing it towards the direction of the unknown figure without hesitation. Jungkook doesn’t question your movements either as he spins around and unsheathes his swords with a quickness you did not know he possesses.

“Reveal yourselves,” you command.

There is no reply apart from the raging howl of the wind, causing the torch to sway with a force that almost knocks it out.

Two bodies emerge from behind one of the burnt houses, clad in similar dark garments, with one of them donning the insignia of a golden dragon on their chest. Jungkook sharply inhales, but your focus doesn’t stray from the two men as your grip on the bowstring tightens.

“What are you doing here?” Jungkook demands.

A familiar sense of unease floods your senses as you recall the mercenaries who attacked you during the early days of your travels. But you promise yourself the outcome will not be the same, that you’re better prepared this time. Taking down two potential attackers, if it comes down to it, would not be a formidable task for you and Jungkook.

“We should be asking you the same question, Southerners,” one of the men answers—the one with the golden dragon—before turning to you. There is something sinister in the way his gaze pierces through yours as his lips quiver into a menacing grin. “I wouldn’t release that arrow if I were you.”

He signals to someone, and soon enough three more men reveal themselves, seemingly holding two people captive. Once their torches illuminate the figures, your heart sinks in recognition.

“Unless you want your companions dead right here, on this spot.”

Both Jimin and Miyoung’s hands are tied behind their back, but thankfully it doesn’t seem like they were hurt badly. You’re sure Jimin put up a fight, evident by the wounds on the corner of his lips. He smiles at you dejectedly, mouthing, “I’m sorry.” You shake your head mutely in response.

You turn to Jungkook who gives you a look of assurance and certainty, as if to say, Trust me, which puts your heart at ease. You nod, a silent agreement, and contempt fills your veins as you regrettably lower your weapon to the ground. Jungkook follows.

You try not to let fear show, even if it lingers on the back of your mind. One wrong move can potentially cause your friends to be slain as a result of your careless action. Therefore you choose your words carefully, and you speak in a calm manner. “How do you know where we’re from?”

“No sane citizen of Tuo would dare wander in these parts; not after what happened,” he raises his arms and motions in the air as if to boast the slaughter that befell the villagers.

“And what happened here?” you inquire, not missing a beat.

The man’s grin doesn’t leave his lips as he walks towards you leisurely, taking his sweet time. He carries himself in a manner that’s different from the others; a person who can command someone to move only when he tells them so. You don’t doubt that he speaks for them, as well.

Jungkook steps in and immediately shields your body with his before the man gets any closer. “His Majesty, King Min Hwan expects us as his guests, we merely got lost along the way.”

“Ah, unfortunately, the old king is maimed and his son currently sits on the throne.”

Your eyes widen in surprise, unaware of a simple but vital piece of information.

“And who are you to relay such sensitive insight with certainty? Are you part of the King’s guard?”

“You could say that,” his lip twitches furtively. Unfazed, he pulls you away from Jungkook’s grasp who flinches and aims to draw his sword. You raise your hand as you shake your head calmly.

“I’m fine, General Jeon,” you assure him, making no attempt to free yourself from the man’s grasp.

“I do regret to inform you that the king who currently sits on the throne made no such announcement of your presence, guest or otherwise. Therefore, I believe you’re currently trespassing, Your Highness.”

He kisses the back of your palm, and it takes all your will not to stab an arrow right through his chest. With one nod from him, more men unveil themselves from within the darkness, and you helplessly watch them surround Jungkook. He did not protest, even as they forced him to his knees and into the ground. They confiscate any weapon he has on him, and yours well.

“You people are far more docile than I anticipated. His Highness will be thrilled,” he says as his grip on your arm becomes tighter.

You’re not one for pleading. But with Jimin and Miyoung bound, as well as Jungkook overpowered, you are left with not a lot of choices. Resistance will only bring harm, so you can only hope that he’s someone who can be reasoned with.

“Please, I’m sure an arrangement can be made to amend this…simple misunderstanding.”

He laughs almost sardonically. “She begs! The prince—or should I say king—will be delighted, indeed.”

“If you’ll only let us meet him, whichever king you currently answer to, I know he will sort this out without getting anybody hurt.”

“It’s useless reasoning with you because…” Jungkook intervenes, clutching his stomach as he makes an effort to stand upright. “Because you’re him, aren’t you?”

You turn to Jungkook, whose eyes, filled with indignation, are directed to the man in question.

“Min Yoongi.”

At the mention of the name, the men surrounding Jungkook grab him by the collar before striking one blow to his cheek, and another on his stomach.

“Stop!” you wrench away from his grasp, and immediately rush to Jungkook’s side. The men surrounding him did not block your way, and it unnerves you to realize that your actions can easily be controlled by him.

He merely chuckles in apparent amusement. “You say that with confidence as if you’re sure it’s the truth.”

Jungkook sneers as he leans his weight into your body, allowing him to stand back on his feet. “The crest on your clothing is nearly unmistakable. I also only mentioned that we are guests, but you referred to her as—”

“Your Highness,” your eyes widen in belated realization as you look back at him. How his choice of language managed to elude you is vexing.

But is it truly him, Min Yoongi? The man you’re supposed to be married to; a symbol of unity and prosperity in both lands, the indication that the constant war spanning multiple generations is over.

It seems out of the ordinary for him to be parading around the border. Did he purposefully seek you out? If so, how would he even know that out of all the places you can go to, it would be here?

“Hm, perhaps I was being a little too careless,” he rubs his chin in deep thought. But he doesn’t seem as if he’s truly fazed by Jungkook’s recognition of him. He quickly shrugs and waves his hands off dismissively after a short pause. “You have to go easy on me here a little. After all, it is true that I did not expect you to be here. What’s more, is that no one is allowed to step foot in this village. Therefore you are trespassing.”

The unhurried and casual tone in his voice plants a seed of doubt in your mind as to whether he’s earnest with his assertion of your intrusion. Though he doesn’t leave you guessing for long and makes his intentions clear when he not-so-gently peels you away from Jungkook.

However you imagined Min Yoongi, it never came close as to whoever it is that stands before you. His eyes study you as a predator would; a viper ready to sink its teeth and deliver a deadly venom into the flesh of its prey. But you level his gaze without an excess of trepidation, matching your confidence with his.

“The punishment for which is death.”

In an instant your composure crumbles, knees buckling beneath you. Yoongi grabs you by the shoulders, chuckling. “A little too early to be kneeling, don’t you think?”

He turns to his men, but you can't make out what he says even though he’s in front of you. Your attention is focused on his waistband. Within the loop of silk fabric, on his right hip, your left, is a small dagger. The only thing you hear is the rapid beating of your heart, pounding wildly against your ear, against your ribcage, against your fingertip.

You slowly reach for it with your hand, and just as he turns to you—

“You’re one sly fox, aren’t you?” he says languidly, his calmness beginning to irritate you. Liquid drips onto your knuckles, and you realize he’s grabbed the weapon by the blade inches before it met his face. His grip on the object tightens, and you wince as he takes the dagger from your grasp.

“What would your father, that useless fool…” he pauses, lifting your chin with his bloodied hand. He presses the tip of the blade against your neck ever so softly, before dragging it across your skin. You inhale once, the metallic odour filling your senses as you hold your breath. “What do you think he’d do if you returned to him without a body?”

“Don’t you dare hurt her!” Jungkook struggles to free himself. You can but only watch helplessly as they strike him repeatedly into submission.

“Please,” your lip quivers as you plead once more. “I don’t think it’s necessary to go this far.”

Yoongi neither mocks nor does he laugh as a response, and there’s a hint of odd curiosity within the furrow of his brows. His silence wills you to continue.

“We truly didn’t mean to overstep any boundaries. We were just— General Jeon said he was familiar with the area, so we thought we could stop by safely before heading into the main city where the palace is.”

Yoongi retracts the blade from your neck and wipes the blood off using his sleeves. He pulls out a leather flask and takes a swig before pouring the rest on his injured hand, inhaling sharply as the liquid makes contact with the cut. You remember the cotton handkerchief in your pocket, and you linger on the thought of giving it to him. But before he tears off the edges of his outer robe, you quickly shove the item in his palm.

He stares at his hand, then at you; a look of doubt and disbelief is well-read on his face. When the blood soaks the linen thoroughly, he decides to wrap it over his wound like a makeshift gauze.

“So you’re the famed General Jeon,” Yoongi finally says as he tightens the handkerchief, pulling the loose edges with his teeth. “Seeing as you’re not an old man, I’ll take a guess that you ascended the ranks and replaced the elder Jeon. Your father, presumably.”

He turns to address Jungkook, crouching down in front of him. You wonder how Yoongi knows about him just from the mention of his last name. But you didn’t have to wonder for too long.

“You probably got the title for killing my brother, right?”

Your eyes widen in panic, thinking that Yoongi would try to exact revenge against Jungkook. “Wait—”

“Ah, I’m a bit jealous, honestly,” he chuckles. “I wish I could have seen that gunpowder when it exploded in his face. Tell me, was it as rewarding for you to have the final massacre that ended the battle as it was for me to hear that my younger brother died in the process?”

You step backwards in utter disbelief. How could anybody be cruel enough to celebrate the demise of their sibling?

Then, as if being struck by lightning, you realize the bleak situation you’ve put yourselves into. How can you be so naïve as to believe that your father’s idea of peace-keeping will bring anything but more chaos?

Tears swell in the corners of your eyes, collecting all the frustrations you harboured within the hour. Jungkook musters the energy to respond, and with his head hung low he says, “I don’t find solace in killing, not even my enemies.”

“How honourable. I guess that’s how you became a general. It’s certainly not from your skills,” Yoongi says with clear disdain in his voice. “I mean, you got the one person you’re supposed to protect captivated. Honestly, I was going to applaud you for killing the mercenary I sent. But it all still led you back here, in a position that benefits me the most. It just took a little bit longer, but it worked out in the end, didn’t it?”

“You bastard!” Jungkook lunges forward, aiming to grab Yoongi by the neck. A valiant effort on his part that only ends in frivolity.

Yoongi merely scoffs as he stands back up. “That, I am.”

The idea that he’s responsible for the attempt at your kidnapping evades you. That he would try to do so when it’s clear that your destination is here, within his kingdom in the first place; you struggle to find a sane reason as to why.

Yoongi moves beside you, seizing hold of your wrist. You stand in defiance this time, twisting your arm loose from his iron grip. “What did you mean to accomplish by sending those men? Your Highness?” Your patience of being overtly courteous with him wears thin. “Min Yoongi!”

He inhales sharply through his teeth. “Unfortunately we’re both pawns in this war, thus we have our roles to play. I have mine. You…you’re simply the means to an end.”

Whatever he’s reluctant to reveal with his words, you’re willing to find within his eyes. In between the callousness of his expression lies both doubt and remorse.

Or, at least that’s what you’re inclined to believe. You’d rather create an illusion in your head that he does not mean for any of this to happen; that the person you’ve sacrificed what little freedom you have in order to be married to is not a tyrant. For the sake of your kingdom, your people, Jungkook—Min Yoongi simply cannot be a tyrant.

Perhaps you are naïve, after all.

“Take them away.”

a/n: it’s finally here! i’m so so so happy to be releasing this chapter after almost a year of hiatus. i’m sorry for leaving without saying much. i found my relationship with this website/tumblr in general start to become toxic for my own mental health (ie. expectations i had for myself, feeling burnt out, etc.), so i had to delete the app and just stay away for awhile. when i got back there were a few messages of encouragement and just overall kind words (even likes/rb’s!!) throughout the months that i wasn’t here, which gave me all the courage i needed to finish this chapter.

nevertheless, hope you enjoyed reading! ♡

[make-me-imagine]

Scenario Game Requests: Nov 15 D: Haldir is protective of you because he harbors a secret crush + Nov 12 N: Haldir surprises you with a kiss because he is in love with you + Nov 21, S: Haldir hugs you so hard he almost knocks you off your feet to cheer you up.

Requested by: Two Anons and @groovyfluxie

Pairing: Haldir x Gen!Neutral Reader

Triggers: Brief non-graphic mentions of blood and death.

Genre: Teensy bit of angst, mostly fluff.

Words: 1.3k

General Taglist: @criminaly-supernatural and @caswinchester2000 Lotr Taglist: @ta-ka-shi-ma

I don't know if this is good, or if its a bit rushed and dull. I just wanted to get some requests done.

You cursed to yourself and you hid in a small cavern, staying as quiet as you could, hoping you had managed to lose the band of orcs you had run across, and had run from.

Checking the wound on your leg you were relieved it was not too deep, though it did make it hard to walk. Sliding down and sitting, you remained silent and you listened to your surroundings. A few moments passed before you began to think about the events that had occurred throughout the day.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"I just don't understand why you don't trust me Haldir" you said with anger laced in your voice as you quickly walked down the steps of the palace.

"I do trust you Y/n" Haldir's gentle voice said from behind you as he followed you.

You spun around, causing him to stop abruptly "It doesn't seem like it. Any time there is danger, no matter how small, you get in my way as though I cannot handle it."

"I am simply protecting you."

"I do not need protecting! I can handle myself Haldir, you know that I am skilled enough, I just don't understand why you can't let me prove it." You spun back around and quickly left, Haldir watched as you did, not continuing to follow you.

After your argument, you agreed to go on a solo scouting mission to check the surroundings lands outside of Lothlórien. It was supposed to be simple. But, with your luck, you managed to run into a band of orcs. You were able to kill most of them, but being alone, you could not handle all of them, so you had to flee to save your own life.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Now as you sat in the damp dark cavern, you thought of how angry Haldir might be. Would you be proving his point? Or yours? Either way, you felt annoyed that you ended up getting stuck in this situation at all.

You wanted Haldir to see your potential, your strength. To see you. Your feelings for him almost made you desperate for his attention and approval. Yet he still felt like he had to protect you.

Having heard no sign of any orcs, you rose slowly as you began to leave the cavern. Making your way back towards Lothlórien, all the while wondering what you would say to Haldir when you saw him.

- - -

Haldir paced in front of the gates anxiously. When he found out you had gone on a scouting missing alone he felt his chest tighten. He always went with you. But his mind kept flashing back to your argument. You thought he was protective because he did not think you capable. In reality, it was because he had feelings for you, well beyond your friendship. He knew you were fully capable of taking care of yourself, but the fear that he might lose you was stronger. So he often took charge and stepped in, stopping you from having to fight, but you only saw it as an insult.

Haldir let out a defeated sigh as he looked up to the sky. You were late. You were supposed to return hours before. It was taking everything in his being not to chase after you, to go look for you. That urge was too strong, and as Haldir gave into it he began to walk towards the exiting path of the palace, but halted when a figure appeared out of the darkness.

You stopped when you saw Haldir approaching, and he stopped when his eyes landed on you. You saw his eyes rake over your figure, a small frown appeared as he spotted the dirt, blood and grime on your clothes.

You let out a breath before you began to approach him, as he moved to meet you you spoke before he could "There is a large band or orcs moving on the outskirts of Lothlórien, I've already alerted the guards at the outer gates."

Haldir, though having heard what you said, ignored it "Are you alright, you're injured."

"I'm fine Haldir. Just a small wound to my leg, nothing to worry about, I had it handled and I was smart enough to know I could not take on all of the orcs, so I made my escape."

Haldir could hear the defensiveness behind our voice, you were still upset, and probably more so now that you returned injured when you were surely trying to prove a point. A small sad smile spread across his face as his emotions rose, he suddenly reached out, pulling you into a hug.

You staggered as you were pulled forward so suddenly feeling as though you were about to fall over, but Haldir kept you steady. You also found yourself speechless as Haldir wrapped his arms around you tightly. You had known him long enough to know that he was not a hugger, not that you were complaining. You hoped he could not feel your heart hammering heavily in your chest.

As he pulled away, he saw the confusion and shock in your face from his actions. He smiled, amused before he spoke "I am glad you are alright. And before yo saw anything else, let me speak." As you remained silent, he continued "I never act protective over you because I think you cannot handle yourself. I know you can. I simply-" he hesitation for a moment, trying to gather himself "I am protective because of how much I care for you, I act out of my fear of losing you."

You stared into his eyes as he spoke, seeing the apprehension and fear behind them. He did care for you. But you failed to see that it was anything more than friendship.

You spoke quietly "I care about you too Haldir, but trust me that I can handle myself. I will not be so careless as to let myself killed. "

He sighed, realizing you were still not understanding him. It was almost painful. Figuring that there was only one way to make it obvious what he meant, he used his courage while he had it.

Haldir grabbed you again, and for a moment you thought he was pulling you in for another hug. But your mind went blank when, instead of his arms wrapping around you, his lips crashed against yours as he kissed you fervently.

His hands continued to grip lightly around your arms as he kissed you. He was not sure how long he had his lips against yours before he pulled away. He watched as your eyes fluttered open, your gaze wide as you were clearly surprised.

Haldirs voice was quiet as he spoke "I do not care for you simply as a friend anymore Y/n. My fear of losing you is not the same as losing a friend. It is the fear of losing someone I love, without them ever knowing I love them."

You opened your mouth to speak, but remained speechless. You had been wrong, so wrong. "Haldir I-" you were unsure of what to say.

"It is alright Y/n, I do not need you to humor me if you do not feel the same."

"No Haldir, I do." Haldir looks at you in surprise "I just....I never thought you had seen me the same way."

Haldir smiled lightly "And I thought the same. We were both blind to the others feelings it seems."

"So it does" you replied quietly.

Haldir could not stop himself from gazing at your lips again, having now kissed you once, he could not stop the desire to do it again. He saw your lips curl into a small smile before he moved to meet your eyes, seeing you watching him closely.

A small smile spread across his face as well before he reached up, lightly placing his hand against your cheek before you both met in a kiss. This one more gently, slow, and careful. Both of your thoughts erasing the days previous argument and fears, now solely focusing on each other.

xx

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[limitlessgojo]

Blood Bound: Blackened Bond (Ch 17)

Warnings: Action, Coarse Language, Fighting, Descriptions of Blood, Death, Gore, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Japanese Mythical Folklore, No Major Character Death, !Character Suicide!

Previous Chapter: Non-Standard

Next Chapter: 百鬼夜行 - Hyakki Yakou

Word Count: 3k

Tags: Kamo Noritoshi x Reader, Soulmates AU, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Fem!Reader

Taglist: @lessie-oxj @rizzo-nero @whoreuc @fkngkumiko @isl3t @gojoussunglasses @onepotatostand-blog @s-t-f-u-b-i-t-c-h @sunaswife @lordguameow @track5enthusiast @nayydoesthings @a1hina

Notes: If you want to be tagged for every update, and specify if you're okay with NSFW posts or not, please mention it in the comments below ty ❤

Extra Notes: PLEASE CHECK THE TAGS!!! This is one very loaded Chapter. Some might get triggered over the graphic depictions of violence. This is close to a bit of gore.

Chapter 17: Inferno: Flames of Hell

You wake up in the infirmary. Hiroki had healed you beforehand. You abruptly sat up, looking around the room, before finding him, cleaning some medical tools. “Thanks Niichan.” He smiled as he came over to hug you and messed up your hair.

“It’s okay. I didn't think Satoru would push you this hard. He’s a good teacher for you, much as I hate to call him a good teacher. Did you consider going to Tokyo Jujutsu Tech instead? You could’ve gone ya know, we wouldn’t hold you back.”

You mulled it over. “I think I’m staying here. I’ve settled in and everyone around me is amazing. They’re like a second family to me.”

He smiled before looking a bit annoyed. “Yeah well, glad you like them at least. Someone’s been waiting all this time for you. Rude if I don’t let him see ya, right sis?”

Hiroki walked over to the door and opened it, revealing Noritoshi with one hand up as if to knock.

Your mouth opened and closed.

“Y/n.” He was still so determined. What makes him have so much faith in you? You looked back to Hiroki, but he only gave you his trademark "Get your shit together" look and waved you off.

You walked up to Noritoshi by the doorway, and he stood back to let you through. You both ended walking quietly side by side in the hallway.

Noritoshi smiled, you didn’t run away from him for once.

"Y/n, can we… talk if you're up for it?" He asked quietly, a small sad smile on his face.

You took a deep breath, turned to face him and were thrown into a vision.

◇◇◇

"They've found us, run for it, love." Hotaru dragged you away from the small inn you were both staying at.

You stumbled after him and ran off. A member of the Abe clan had seen the both of you in the midst of fighting curses at an abandoned shrine. They tried to chase the both of you down, but you both fought back and ran further away until they’ve lost sight of you.

But currently, you are facing a much larger problem. A shadow in the distance. Just the silhouette of the curse was enough to etch despair deep in your bones.

With four large arms, two faces and a gigantic body, Ryomen Sukuna could be identified easily. You grabbed onto Hotaru and tried to push you both forward with your technique.

"Uraume. After them. I've heard rumours about a fated pair. It seems as if they are the ones." Sukuna smirked.

"As you wish." Uraume quickly caught up to the both of you.

They quickly froze your escape path, sealing you both in a circle of ice. Hotaru held you as you activated Inferno to break the ice and continued running. You were both dangerously running low on cursed energy. Especially as Hotaru had just fought over a dozen of curses.

"Hooh?? The woman does have power. I want her." Sukuna's eyes lit up madly. He shot a flaming arrow, forcing you to push Hotaru behind you.

Sukuna focused and slashed both Hotaru from behind. Uraume shot shards of ice towards you, but Hotaru shifted your positions.

You watched in horror as your lover took the attack for you. He was bleeding profusely and even his technique couldn’t help him from anemia.

“No no no no no, stay with me.” You screamed at him.

“Misaki, my love, for you I’d burn down the world, travel across thousands of miles, and kill anyone who tried to hurt you. I love you and I’m sorry we can’t be together much longer.” He teared up while cupping the side of your cheek.

“No, don’t go.” You leaned down to press your lips against his, trying to give him a bit of air. But it wasn’t enough. His hand fell limp and he breathed his last. Kamo Hotaru died in your arms.

"Hotaru, no." You sobbed out painfully, hugging his cold body to your chest.

"The talk of the town huh? You must be the soulmate pair judging by the marks on your hands." Sukuna stepped up with Uraume right behind him.

He was a terrifying sight upclose.

You froze as he knelt down and lifted your chin, "What a beauty you are. I wouldn't mind playing with you for a while and having you all to myself, before eating you up." He licked his lips lavisciously.

"So young, and such soft skin." Sukuna's hand trailed down your cheek and squeezed along the curves of your trembling body.

You never felt more dirty in your life. A man other than your lover, touching you like this. "Be my toy, would you? Your lover is dead after all. Why not humor me?" Sukuna jeered. He didn’t care about your silent sobs, even relishing in how you looked right now.

Utterly destroyed. With a monster claiming he wants you for himself.

He grabbed your chin roughly and forced a kiss on your lips. You snapped out of your shock, feeling your anger overcome your fear.

‘I'd rather die than let him have me.'

And so, you pushed Sukuna and Uraume far away and built a solid air barrier around you and Hotaru.

You thrust a hand out and an oil lamp came flying your way. It broke in front of you. Inferno was activated to spread the flames quickly. 'We are meant to stay together, my love, even if it means death.' You quickly slit your throat with a harsh cut, not wanting to die a slow death in the flames.

You choked out blood as Sukuna came near. He shattered your barrier easily with Dismantle, reaching for you. You panicked. You weren't going to die in time.

And you did the craziest thing you could think of. Activating Niflheim simultaneously with Inferno. Freezing everything around you, except for the still burning flames consuming you and Hotaru.

It didn't help too much. Sukuna produced flames out of his hand, while Uraume easily manipulated the frost.

Lightning shot out of your hands dangerously in your confusion. You don't know what you just did. But it didn't matter. You were quickly losing consciousness.

Crimson splattered onto the ground and over Hotaru’s corpse. You burned past the limits of your cursed energy, releasing bolts of lightning.

Sukuna’s hand reached out and activated his reverse cursed technique on you. “Not so fast.” He looked angry.

He was able to seal the cut, but with the last of your energy, you used Inferno on your body, bursting into flame before Sukuna and Uraume.

They were forced to back away and stared as you and Hotaru both turned to ash, the heat an insane temperature they couldn’t approach.

Sukuna threw his head back and cackled, "The lengths people go to for love. What fools Jujutsu sorcerers are!"

◇◇◇

The vision ends. You and Noritoshi gasp harshly. The hallway is covered in ice.

You slowly realized you unconsciously activated Niflheim. You swiped your palm through the air. All the windows along the hallway simultaneously opened.

The vision was far too vivid.

You covered your throat with your hands as though to stop a wound from opening, remembering how the dagger dragged through your neck bones. The flames felt painful as they ate at your body without your cursed technique protecting you from them.

Noritoshi kneeled down and touched his gut. He felt the poison of Sukuna's slash and Uraume's ice eat his body. After his past soul had died. Hotaru's spirit watched the events transpire from above you. So he was able to see it from a 3rd person's point of view.

How Sukuna had wanted you. How you ended your life for him.

You staggered back from Noritoshi, face as white as a sheet, running for the bathroom with bile rising up your throat.

That vision was eerily reminiscent of how Sora-nee died in your arms. You were on the borderline of hyperventilating.

Noritoshi ran after you, “Wait!”. You stumbled into the girl’s bathroom, opened a cubicle door and vomited everything out into the toilet.

The sounds of retching were loud even from outside. Noritoshi halted in his tracks when he saw that you’ve gone into the ladies room.

Fuck manners. If it was to take care of you, he doesn’t care about being gentlemanly or if he was called a pervert. He rushed in, wrapped his arms around you, pulled back your hair and rubbed soothing circles on your stomach.

You were vomiting pretty hard, to the point where it hurt your abdomen. “My dear angel, shhhh it's okay, I'm here.” You continued heaving and reached back with one hand to push him away. But Noritoshi was incredibly stubborn, not letting go of you.

“Noritoshi I literally smell like shit, please leave.”

“Nope. I don't care. I will take care of you. As your soulmate I’m responsible for you.”

Your eye twitched at that.

Both of you were still trembling from the aftermath of the vision. How terrible and cursed it was, that past life.

You closed the lid, flushed the toilet, then lifted it again. You leaned over with heavy breaths, but it looks like you’re done puking. Noritoshi just sat behind you, his hands stroking your belly, keeping your body warm.

It was nice. But he’s not yours anymore. It was only then you felt something wet on your shoulder. Noritoshi was crying.

“It almost… felt like I just lost you… My darling...” loud hitches of breath echoed in the bathroom.

You froze, not knowing how to comfort him at a time like this. You patted his head, and he leaned into your hand.

Even as you close your eyes, the images keep racing through the back of your eyelids. Flames. Blood. Lightning. Hotaru.

“I need to wash up in the sink.”

Noritoshi gave a soft grunt in reply, arms tightening around your waist. You stood up and half dragged him out of the cubicle. He never lets go. His arm is still around your waist, making you half waddle around the bathroom with him like a penguin with its child.

You brush your teeth with the spare toothbrush Jujutsu High has for its guests and rinse your mouth with several cups of mouthwash, the strong scent of mint hanging in the air. You spat it all out, but you still felt nauseous.

You turned and wiped away his tears with your sleeve. He bent down and tucked you under his chin, breathing in your scent. You were both alive. It was fine.

You pulled back when the door slammed open. It was Momo and Mai.

“......”

“.....”

The four of you had a stare off before realizing Noritoshi wasn’t supposed to be in there.

“Kamo kun, you’re in the wrong bathroom. Have you dumbed down so much you’ve forgotten?” Momo asked with wide eyes.

Mai stared at you and noticed how sick you looked. You just shook your head at her and quickly walked out of the bathroom, shrugging Noritoshi’s hand off of you.

'To hell with all this.', you thought to yourself

◇◇◇

"Wait!"

Noritoshi caught up to you in the hallway, grabbed your hand and turned you around to face him. He stopped caring about where he was.

"I'm never giving up on you. I won't, because I love you and I know that now."

You sniffed hard, tears running down your cheeks. You've had enough of this confusion. If you're being truthful to yourself, you missed him.

You missed Noritoshi and his kind words. His touch and his kisses. His soft bits of encouragement and picnic dates.

You want him back. It was just as Hiroki had said, you were pushing Noritoshi away without giving him a chance to explain himself.

But the vision completely broke you. You pulled your hand away, "Don't touch me. Don't follow me. Don't come near me." You whispered.

Noritoshi swallowed hard. "Why won't you let me explain myself?" But you just shook your head.

"Maybe we weren't what we thought we were." You didn't mean it, but you still forced the words out painfully.

Noritoshi flinched, "Why would you say that? You believed in us. I still believe in us. In you."

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, "That vision. Why did we have it? We could be dooming ourselves by staying together, Noritoshi, I can't do that to you. Maybe I am cursed to hurt the ones I love."

He scoffed. "Preposterous. They are our past lives, but they aren't us. We are different people with different choices. You’re not cursed Y/N, since when have you become so narrow minded?"

You stiffened. "Maybe I have always been so. I'm just tired of everything now. Plus I need to take down that damn curse, even if it kills me." You spun on your heel.

Something inside Noritoshi snapped. He now understands how it feels to be pushed away like an outsider. He grabbed your wrist, ignoring your angry whispers as he single-handedly dragged you back into his room.

This man was strong. Not even your hardest tugs threw him off balance. He slammed the door shut once you were both inside and you felt a bit shaken, not having any place to run.

"Why are you trying to do this all by yourself?! You may be a Special Grade Sorcerer, but that doesn't mean you're invincible! A war is not won by one person. Can't you trust me?" He hissed.

"Trust you? Trust you?! How about me? Big words from someone who didn't even want to let me meet or know the people he holds dear to him."

This was the most idiotic argument you had in your life. You didn't even mean half the words that you were saying. Just wanting to win a pointless argument you wished never existed in the first place.

"I thought you agreed to speak to me if that was still bothering you. You said we would work things out together." Noritoshi shook your shoulders.

You held your tongue not knowing what else to say. Noritoshi was still so sweet after all this mess. Pulling you into a warm embrace, patting your head as he cries into your shoulder.

"Will you stay with me at least? During the war.”

"Of course." You didn't even think as you agreed. Even Noritoshi looked surprised at your lack of reluctance. "I won't lose you."

You both stood awkwardly there, not knowing what to do. Noritoshi didn't want you to leave yet, wanting to bask a bit more in your presence. His mark cooled down as his hand slipped into yours.

But you stepped and turned away from him, ignoring how his fingers desperately clung onto the hem of your shirt. "I'll go then… Don’t want to intrude... "

"Would you like to stay for dinner and talk?" He called out hopefully.

"Thank you for the offer, but I'll be with Hiro-nii in my room." You purse your lips.

"I love you." He said once more. There was no room for hesitation in his voice.

You paused, temples throbbing heavily from the onset of a headache. Too many thoughts raced through your head and not all of them were good.

"I don't know what you heard the other day, but I will never take in any concubines. You're my one and only, Angel."

You only half believed him right now, his words going in one ear and leaving through the other. ‘People can lie. He is capable of lying.’ your shitty brain just makes every situation sound worse each time. This type of negative line of thinking was so unhealthy.

He must have understood your thoughts.

"My love please," he's begging you now. You turn to him, face full of confusion and hurt. You opened your mouth, and thought better.

This wasn't the best time to run your thoughts.

"I’m sorry for being in a really bad headspace right now. Are you willing to wait for me?" This time it was you who asked him this. Noritoshi studied your face before nodding. “That’s okay. As you have with me, I will do the same with you.”

You sucked a deep breath, eyes watering. “I’m scared.”

“It’s okay to be scared, we are just kids. We aren’t supposed to bear the weight of saving a nation this early on.”

“I don’t want to lose anyone anymore.”

“You won’t. We won’t.”

“I’m sorry for being such a pain. I know we need to talk about all of this, eventually.” You couldn’t help the whimpers that came out of your mouth.

“I love every bit of you. Even if you're like this… No... Because I understand how you feel. You have a right to be angry, because I held back a lot of things from you. But that doesn’t mean I don’t miss you or love you.” He carefully put out a palm facing up, allowing you to make a choice. You slowly put your hand over his.

“For real?” you whispered so quietly, he had to strain his ears to hear you.

“For real. Since when have I lied to you?”

‘Not once.’ you numbly thought.

Who knew a man could be so delicate. He held your hand lightly, not daring to squeeze it. Just a sign of openness and faith. He lowered his head towards you, eyes hooded.

You shivered as his lips brushed against the back of your hand. Soft, warm and plush. Like the first time he kissed you on the cheek. Shaky yet loving.

"Get some rest then, good night." You left the room.

He wondered if you still loved him now. Gone were the nights you soundly slept in his arms. He could barely pull himself together as he readied himself for dinner and bed.

Back in your room, you sobbed into your pillow. It hurts so much, because your faith in Noritoshi isn’t what it used to be. You wish for yourself to trust him like you did before. It’s frustrating.

There are times you wish you never heard that conversation. But that means staying ignorant to his familial affairs which won't do you any good in the long run.

Love is painful. Love feels like you've filled your lungs with water and you can't breathe. Sometimes it's like that icy inhale of the cold morning air on the winter solstice.

But it also keeps you going. The warmth of being in Noritoshi's arms earlier was more than enough to convince you to stay.

Blood Bound: Table of Contents

[dragon-kazansky]

Til death do us part | Helmut Zemo

Bodyguard AU! 🕶

Gender neutral reader

Collage by @realremyd

[Previous chapter] - [Next chapter]

Part 10

The very day the rest of the guards that Steve had contacted arrived. He gathered them for a meeting to brief them on the job. He was worried about the group that had taken you out of action for a while.

You had begun to suspect that Zemo knew exactly who they were and what they wanted, but he hadn't informed you about them at all. Since it wasn't deemed important enough for you to know, you didn't ask.

You had been excused from Zemo's side, reluctantly for him, to join Steve and Bucky outside.

The boys were stood with their hands behind the back watching the new lot get used to the grounds. It was important they knew their way around.

You came up beside Steve.

"Morning."

"Morning, Y/N," he smiles.

"How is it being Zemo's personal bodyguard?" Bucky asks.

You chuckle. "So far so good. No issues to report."

"And in the romance department?" Bucky asks, grinning like a fool.

"Non existent, Buck. Don't be silly," you scold him.

Steve is smiling.

"Not you too, Rogers."

"I'm sorry, Y/N, but I think Bucky is right. I honestly believe the Baron may have feelings for you."

"Why would he? He hated me when we met."

"You saved his life," Bucky reminds you, "that is plenty enough to change a point of view on someone."

You sigh.

"I suppose."

You knew it was probably true just from the way he had been treating you. You felt less like a bodyguard and more like a guest. Even you could tell he was reaching for any excuse to keep you near him.

You would just go back to being the professional you were and decline politely, having excuses of your own to do other things.

He was your boss.

"Nothing is going to happen, so no point in bringing it up any more," you tell them.

"You sound so sure of that," Bucky says.

"Because I am."

Neither one of them mentions it further. The new group finish their tour of the outside grounds, and it's here you decide to go back inside, leaving Steve and Bucky to show them the rest.

Bucky watches you go, feeling bad about teasing you, but also not because he knows it's true.

You pass Natasha on tour way back inside.

"Can I join you?" She asks.

"I don't see why not," you chuckle.

The pair of you walk in perfect sync as you head upstairs. The house is quiet as you walk your usual route.

"Are you not scared they'll come back?" She asks, looking at you from the corner of her eye. Natasha had been worried sick after you were rushed off to hospital. There hadn't been much word about your status until they all got back to the hotel. She was scared it was going to end badly.

Then they heard you were stable and she let out the biggest sigh of relief. It painted them that they couldn't all come and visit you, but Steve assured them you were on the mend.

You sigh softly.

"Honestly, yes."

Natasha didn't miss the way you reached u pro your shoulder for just a moment. Obviously it bothered you everytime that day was mentioned.

"But in here to do a job and I'll do it again if i have to. My life for his."

"It's a reckless job, isn't it?"

You smile softly. "Yes, it is, but it is also the most rewarding. We are duty bound to protect someone and I did just that."

She smiles.

"And I'm sure you'll be rewarded handsomely for it too."

You narrow you eyes at her, lips tugging into a frown.

"What do you mean by that?"

She laughs a little. "The Baron fancies you, perhaps your reward is, well, him."

"You too? Natasha, no! I just told Steve and Bucky off for this. Even if he does like me, I won't peruse it. I'm here to do a job, Natasha. He trusts me with his life."

"Maybe he just wants to keep you close to him."

"You're being ridiculous," you sigh.

The pair of you reach Zemo's office. You stop outside and turn to your dear friend.

"Trust me, nothing is going to happen here."

She looks sceptical, but Natasha doesn't say anything and just nods once. She gestures to the door and leaves silently.

You hold your head up high and knock on the door.

"Come in."

You open the door and enter. The door closes gently behind you, and then you make your way over to the Baron to stand behind him.

You ignore the way he watches you do so. You can feel his eyes on you as you pass him.

Helmut hides his smile as he looks back down at his work. He was glad you were here. He had missed your presence in the room. You had this calming affect for him and he noticed it greatly when you were gone.

He hadn't got very far with his work. For every time you leave him, his mind lingers on you. He wonders what you'll do, where you'll go, if you think of him as he does you.

Whenever he thought about that last part, his heart was skip a beat.

Zemo's thoughts came to a halt when another knock sounded at his door. He gave them permission to enter.

A maid enters. One you've seen around the estate. She is carrying a tray with a tea set on it. The maid approaches the desk and places the tray down. Helmut thanks her quietly and she then excuses herself.

Helmut pours himself a cup.

You admire the little tea set. It's all matching. All made from china. White with flowers painted onto them in an intricate design. Simple, yet classy.

Too busy admiring the teacups, you only just realise he is pouring another cup.

"Sit."

You glance at him quickly. He was obviously talking to you as you were the only other person in the room. Not wanting to argue with him, you take a seat opposite him, all while keeping your wits about you just in case.

Helmut places the other teacup in front of you. You stare at it.

"For you," he chuckles softly.

"Um, thank you, sir."

You accept it. You sip the hot contents of the cup and hum softly. It was very nice. You hide your smile behind your cup, hoping he wasn't looking at you right now.

Problem is, he is always looking at you when you're within his eyeline.

"How did you get into this line of work?" He asks, desperate to get you to open up to him. He wanted to know about you, hear you say more than a few words to him.

"Steve Rogers is a dear friend of mine. He was looking for recruits back when the agency was just starting. I told him I was interested, but I had no training. He assured me that was alright and introduced me to Natasha. She became my mentor. Everything I know, I learned from Nat. Within the first month of my employment, I received my first assignment. I've been a bodyguard ever since."

He smiled. This was progress. You were opening up to him and he was happy.

"Then I should thank Mr. Rogers and Miss. Romanoff," he says, smiling softly.

"Thank them?"

"If not for them, I wouldn't have such a hard working and efficient bodyguard."

"With all due respect, sir, you didn't think that way when we met."

His smile fades. Of course you wouldn't forget about that. First impressions are important and he had ruined it by thinking lesser of you.

You must really hate him for that.

Perhaps he didn't stand a chance with you after all.

"Yes, well, opinions can change," he said, lowering his cup onto it's saucer on the desk.

"Your opinion changed because I took a dee bullets for you. Your opinion changed because I did my job and saved your life."

Normally you would never talk back to your employer, but you wanted him to know how he made you feel.

"I apologise."

"Apologies are unnecessary when I'm doing my duty," you tell him.

"Do you ever not think of your duty?"

"No. When I'm working, all there is to think about is the job."

Helmut looks at you with a longing gaze, not that you see it as such.

"Are you happy?" He asks. The question startles you.

"Happy?"

"Happy doing your duty? Happy putting your life before others. Do you not think your life as important compares to those you serve and protect?"

You stare at him blankly.

"My purpose is to put my life before others. I do what I do because I'm good at it. It is my job to put myself before others in dangerous situations. I wouldn't want to do anything else. I'm here to keep you safe, sir."

Silence falls between you.

All you think about your job and for some reason he hates that fact. Right here in front of him, you aren't your own person, you're someone who lay down their life for whoever employs them.

Once upon a time he had happily felt the same, laying down his life for his country, but things changed. He changed.

"Anything you want, just say the word and I'll get it for you. I want you to be happy in my home."

Our home. He wanted to say our home, but that felt far too personal, even of you were living here now.

You put your cup down and stand up.

"If you'll excuse me, sir, I have to make my rounds."

You leave before he can say anything.

Helmut stares at your half empty teacup. He sighs. The most you had ever said to him, and he had only managed to upset you further. Judging by the way you left, he may have offended you.

His heart was going crazy.

"Why must romance be so difficult?" He sighed, sitting back in his chair.

He just wanted to know you. What a fool he was.

Sitting there in silence, he made a silent promise to make it up to you. He had a mission of his own now.

Helmut Zemo had accepted that he liked you, and now he just had to win you over. He would start tomorrow, when the day was fresh and today could be forgotten.

He was going to show you who he was underneath the title of Baron.

Helmut Zemo was going to win over your heart.

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