#and the black haired woman using her powers to control him (and failing)

[missqueenpancake]

Being a lunami shipper AND watching the new little mermaid film like

[phyx-m]

Beneath The Silk | True form Sukuna x Reader

🔗 Masterlist

Chapter 11: The Tragedy Of Want And Need

Content warning: smut, oral sex, fingering, angst, Sukuna POV at the beginning

🔗 Songs for this chapter:

The Wretched (Remix) - Nine Inch Nails Pleasant Smell -12 Rounds Want - Recoil

* * * * *

Chapter 10 | Chapter 12

* * * * *

Five years ago…

“Master, we will open the doors now.”

The King of Curses barely acknowledges his most loyal subordinate standing beside him, let alone their words. He is too preoccupied with his thoughts about today—a day he both despises and relishes.

With four arms supporting his formidable body, he sinks deeper into the throne, bracing himself for the monotony of the hours ahead.

The procession of miserable creatures about to crawl through the shrine’s doors, clutching their offerings, will be tiresome. All their pleading, the begging, the crying. All the shit, piss and vomit on the floor. Disgusting.

Yet, it’s the power that accompanies this spectacle that he truly savours.

Sukuna casts a wordless glance at Uraume, who nods in understanding. The doors slide open, and the wretched crowd spills inside.

It’s a wonder he has the restraint not to cut them all down instantly. He considers it, feeling the urge pulling within him. It would be so easy to mutilate every single one of them with a thoughtless wave of his hand.

Subconsciously, he rubs the pad of his thumb against his index and middle fingers on his upper right hand until he allows them to extend.

But then she steps into view.

No one accompanies her. She is alone and filthy.

An ill-fitting robe clings to her frail frame, and her long midnight black hair is slightly tangled. Still, with a bath and a good scrubbing, the bitch might look halfway decent. As she pushes through the crowd and reaches the base of the dais, she manages to stand her ground in his presence.

Interesting.

“My Lord.” She bows and exhales a slow, shuddering breath.

Sukuna taps one of the armrests, taking her in with vague interest.

“What do you have for me?” he inquires, his voice a low rumble. 

She raises her head, her eyes dark and murky, like thick, cloying mud.

“Myself.”

“Yourself,” Sukuna echoes, tilting up his chin.

“Yes,” she continues, her voice steady but soft. “I wish to serve you here, and if my Lord desires my body, he is free to have it.”

A flicker of mild revulsion crosses Sukuna’s face. The yawning need that cracked open inside of him two years ago is insatiable—a want that no amount of physical pleasure, whether from a woman’s cunt, his own hand, or the act of breaking someone’s body, can satisfy. But if he is to retain any semblance of control, he needs an outlet.

“Does the woman proposing to become my personal whore have a name?” he asks, leaning forward with a cruel smile cracking across his face.

She lifts her chin.

“Sayuri, my Lord,” she responds, then bows again in deference.

At least she has sense.

Sukuna glances at Uraume.

“Have her cleaned up and fed,” he commands, gesturing towards the dirt-stained woman. “Then send her to my chambers tonight.”

“Yes, Master.” Uraume moves toward the woman and guides her back through the crush and out of the central hall.

From just one look, Sukuna knows that Sayuri’s body would never truly satisfy him. She can try, but ultimately she will fail.

* * * * *

Present day, moments ago…

There are three things you know with absolute certainty.

First, you have a sister you love and would risk anything for. Second, in your father's eyes, you are nothing but a tool for his use. And third, Ryomen Sukuna is a monster—yet he just protected you.

The latter doesn’t sit well with you.

Even as you remain in the gloom of the central hall, with the heavy smell of copper in the air, Ren’s lips move in a blur. Yet, her words are lost to the daze you are trapped under.

He could have allowed that polearm to pierce and rip you apart. But he chose not to.

Why?

You watch as a horde of shrine attendants methodically remove every manner of broken body from off the floor—decapitated bodies, limbless bodies, bisected bodies, bodies with sunken craters. They carry them away, presumably to ready them for preservation and consumption.

He is a monster, yet he protected yo—

No.

It doesn’t sit well with you. A lot of things are starting to not sit well with you.

Turning to Sayuri, you see that she, too, seems lost. Her eyes, soft and unblinking, paint a blank expression. It’s clear why she’s so affected—she has just witnessed her lover being impaled before her eyes.

And you aren’t a fool. You know a rift has begun to crack between you and her. It began the moment you asked about Sukuna’s desires weeks ago.

As far as you’re concerned, she can have the King of Curses. You don’t want him anyway. That was never part of your plan. There has always been one plan.

"Are you all right, Sayuri?" you ask gently.

Her deep brown eyes meet yours. It takes some searching from her to you, but finally, she nods.

"Yes," she replies. "Thank you." Her voice is so small and fragile that it makes your stomach ache. 

What you will eventually do to Sukuna will destroy her.

“My Lady, why don’t you return to your chambers, change into something more comfortable, and rest? Sayuri and I will check on you later.” Ren suggests as she surveys your kimono with a heavy stare. During the attempted assassination, you were thoroughly sprayed in a deluge of Sukuna’s blood, and it’s still warm.

“Are you sure?” you ask, eyes drifting between the two.

They nod. Sayuri is a little more hesitant.

“Okay,” you say, “I’ll see you both shortly.”

You turn and leave, moving through the quiet corridors and back to your chambers.

As you walk, the weight of the past few hours presses down heavily. Despite the adrenaline pounding, rest is all you need right now. Yet, you know it won’t come easily unless you coax it out.

And it’s a damn shame you know exactly how.

Fantasizing about Sukuna from the other night—how he looked, touched, and spoke—while you pleasure yourself will work like a charm.

Cum for me.

His words.

Pressure throbs between your thighs, and it appalls you how easily thoughts of him get you wet.

Wrong, it’s so fucking wrong.

You walk faster. The door to your room comes into view, and you hurry toward it, wanting to slake your growing need. You slide it open with one gloved hand.

“My Lady.”

Your eyes close the moment Uraume’s cool voice slithers down the corridor.

You turn to face them. They stand at the end of the passage, hands clasped within the folds of their kimono, as still as a statue.

“Yes?” you ask, heart still racing.

“Master Sukuna requests your presence, now.”

Your jaw tightens in response until it’s almost painful.

“For what reason?”

“He wishes to share a meal with you.”

* * * * *

Standing at the door to the private room in your soiled kimono, your agitated hands fidget with your charcoal gloves, pinching and pulling the fabric.

You remind yourself not to be nervous. You have done this before. Meals are straightforward. Nothing more, nothing less. Nothing has changed.

So why do you feel so nervous?

You don’t have time to dwell on the thought as Uraume gently slides the door open with a soft click.

Across the room, the King of Curses’ eyes find yours.

Red, red, red—

Breathe.

He glowers from a cushion at the far end of the low table, holding a kiseru between the large fingers of his upper right hand. Behind him, the garden door stands open, allowing the pale mid-afternoon light to spill in, casting his frame in silhouette.

Evidently, he hasn't changed either, still wearing the same blood-soaked kimono. The dark, muted blue fabric is stained with a purplish hue, and the tear where the polearm pierced him reveals a glimpse of his chest.

With obvious reluctance, you stare at it, remaining in the doorway.

“Excuse me, my Lady,” Uraume says, moving around you and inside.

They head to a separate low table, where you spot a tray of various dishes. Curiosity has you surveying them. Rice and vegetables for you, human flesh and organs for him, cooked and cut into small, bite-size pieces.

Unnerved, your eyes drift back to meet four red ones.

Slipping the kiseru into his mouth, Sukuna stares at you unblinking, waiting to see if and when you’ll move from the spot in the corridor, you have so stubbornly rooted yourself in.

He inhales.

Tiny wisps of smoke escape the pipe, and curl upward before disappearing into the damp air behind him.

You take a small step inside.

He exhales a soft, murky cloud, his enormous body relaxing.

Both feet cross the threshold, and a subtle twitch pulls at the left side of his mouth.

You slide the door shut, move toward the cushion set out for you and kneel, knees seeking the plush material. Even with Sukuna sitting across the table, it’s clear he looms over you.

Once settled, a silence descends on the room, broken only by Uraume’s preparations off to the side.

A heartbeat or two later, your husband finally speaks in that low, intimidating voice of his.

“Hungry?”

The word makes your stomach convulse. After Sukuna demanded your presence in the central hall this morning, you hadn’t had the chance to eat.

“Yes,” you murmur, “I’m famished.”

He leans back, giving you a condescending look.

“Famished? How fortunate for you. Uraume has prepared your usual bland meal.” He flicks his lower left hand dismissively toward the food tray.

You pull up a fake smile, only to let it drop immediately.

“Just because I’m not eating something dead doesn’t mean my meal is bland.”

It’s been the longest stretch without eating meat, and you miss it. Desperately. But you refuse to put anything resembling it into your mouth while at the shrine—just in case it’s human.

Sukuna rolls his eyes.

“Tch, idiot,” he grumbles while removing the kiseru from his mouth. He taps the pipe against a small lacquer receiver, depositing the fine ash into a neat pile before placing it on the table.

A breeze rolls through the open garden door as Uraume brings the food over. A mix of pleasant and acrid smells assaults your senses, making you blanch. Sukuna’s meal is placed first, then Uraume glides over to your end of the table, sliding down yours.

“Thank you,” you say.

Looking at the plate, you frown slightly. He’s right. Your food is bland, but you’ll never admit that.

You pick up your chopsticks and glance across the table. Sukuna mirrors your action, holding his own pair in his upper right hand.

The sight is strange. And despite his long, thick fingers, he handles the utensils with surprising delicacy, picking up a piece of tissue with care and dedication. His eyes narrow in strict concentration. It’s as if he’s a savant in the art of devouring human flesh.

Just how long has he been eating like this? Far too long, judging by the wicked look in his eye.

As the meat nears his lips, his gaze shifts to meet yours. He grumbles something wordless at your staring, and you quickly avert your eyes, refocusing on your own meal. You dip your chopsticks into the rice and slot it calmly into your mouth.

At first, the meal commences in heavy silence. There’s just the subtle clattering of ceramics and quiet, calm sounds from outside. But slowly, it’s interrupted by noises from Sukuna’s side of the table. 

Unsettling noises…

Crunching, squishing.

One, two. Two slices of sweet potato.

You resort to counting the vegetables piled on your plate to distract yourself.

Tearing, grinding.

Three medium carrots.

Sucking, slurping.

You shudder.

Five shiitake mushrooms, sliced into—

“Before we were wed,” Sukuna says suddenly between bites. You glance at him, and he continues, “Did you flaunt yourself like you did today, or am I just lucky?”

Apparently, he’s still annoyed that you wore your clan’s kimono.

“I was not flaunting,” you reply defensively. “And to answer your question, no, I did not.”

He slowly chews the meat rolling around inside his closed mouth, then swallows it.

“Then what trivial things occupied your time?”

You eye him skeptically.

“Pardon, my Lord?”

His gaze turns heavy and attentive as he stares down the table at you.

“Tell me what filled your days growing up in the Kasai household,” he says.

You stare at him, eyes darting between his dual visage, the black ink decorating his features, and the rigid line that makes up his mouth. There’s an expression there, one you haven’t seen before, one that confuses you.

Something slides into place.

What if I want to know you?

His earlier words claw their way back.

For some unknown reason, you hide your gaze from his, dropping it low to meet your gloved hands.

He can’t be serious. He can’t.

Discussing your time within the Kasai household is fraught with many dark things. Things that are filled with looming threats, abuse, submission, death.

Life was somewhat easier when your mother was alive, but everything began to unravel when she became pregnant with her third child. As your father eagerly anticipated the arrival of what he hoped would be a son—the next heir to the Kasai clan—the atmosphere grew oppressive. You and your sister were treated more like cattle than daughters—though, you bore the brunt of this dehumanization.

When you finally find the bravery, you lift your eyes again. Sukuna is waiting for an answer.

“My days were normal, quiet, filled with small comforts. Mostly, though, they revolved around duty and expectations.” You offer a flat response, carefully avoiding anything too complex or revealing. You have no intention of exposing your vulnerabilities like the other night.

He arches his eyebrow, and a lopsided smirk rolls up on his face.

It occurs to you that you’ve yet to see a genuine smile. One that isn’t mocking, sadistic or maniacal. You might even think him beautiful.

It’s a shame he’s the fucking devil.

“Are you telling me you weren’t an entitled princess?” he chuckles, loud enough that his mouth opens, flashing teeth.

You sigh, irritation seeping into your breath. He knows the truth and is just toying with you. The bruise your father left on your face the day of your wedding was a clear indication.

“I was not, my Lord,” you say, rolling your chopsticks between your fingers in an effort to distract yourself.

His smirk grows, four eyes narrowing into a sly glint.

“So, I presume you were the dutiful daughter always in the shadow of your more charming sister?”

Honestly, yes, but you didn’t care. Yuna was the more favoured one, the gem of the Kasai clan and for good reason.

“My sister is charming and deserving of the best life has to offer,” you state firmly.

Setting his chopsticks down, Sukuna leans away from the table, his smirk fading. He crosses his four arms over his chest and studies you intently as if troubled.

“And what about you?” He dips his chin in your direction. “The overlooked, perhaps neglected one? Is that your claim?”

His gaze makes you feel like a pitiful sight, stoking the irritation in your gut. You fidget with your chopsticks, his eyes dart, tracking the movement.

“Each of us has a role to play in the family, my Lord. I discovered what mine was a long time ago.”

Sister, protector, and tool—your needs and wants always come last. They always have and always will. Sukuna will never understand that. All he does is consume everything in his path.

A selfish, destructive, calamitous force.

“How sad,” he drawls, smacking his lips and leaning forward again, “it must have been terribly hard for you, growing up in such luxury, even if you had to wait your turn for leftover scraps.”

Your eyes narrow, and you take a deep breath as if the air could sustain the retort caught on your tongue.

“Perhaps, my Lord,” you say, deliberately placing your chopsticks down, “you’d understand if you ever experienced the denial of something you truly wanted, instead of simply taking everything without a second thought.”

Something dark crosses his eyes, like bitterness or something similar to torment. It's an emotion you’d never expect to see but quickly dies as if it was never there.

A heavy pressure fills the room—his energy, which has remained dormant until now, suddenly presses down, squeezing at your lungs. It hurts. Even with the garden door open, the air becomes thick and difficult to breathe.

Your hands curl into fists at your side, seeking reassurance as the tension mounts.

"Be more careful with what you say," he warns, "or I won’t tolerate that pretty mouth of yours for much longer."

You press your lips into a thin line.

Lovely voice. Pretty mouth.

“My Lord,” you breathe, feigning respect with the title, his eyes narrow, “you’ve been quite generous with your compliments today. First, my voice, and now my lips. I can’t wait to hear what else you find worthy of prai—”

A ceramic cup of water is suddenly placed beside your dish.

Sukuna’s energy withdraws, and you suck in a breath.

Uraume, whom you had completely forgotten was in the room, silently moved to your side. This is the second time they seem to intervene, just before you and Sukuna are on the verge of tearing each other apart. Or more so, him tearing you apart.

You inhale deeply through your nose and reach for the cup.

“Thank you,” you murmur, regaining your composure as you lift it to your mouth to take a sip—Uraume bows and steps away. 

From behind the rim, you glimpse Sukuna’s stern gaze, watching you intently before he returns to his meal.

Once again, silence blankets the room. Neither of you speaks. You focus on your food, and he on his.

His chewing isn’t as robust as before, allowing you to sit with your thoughts.

When you finally clean your plate, you set your chopsticks down. You have a question for the King of Curses, but uncertainty lingers if he’ll even answer the damn thing.

You watch him closely.

Sukuna, towering over the table, shifts slightly, his upper body tilting forward to balance his massive frame. He lifts his utensils, picking up the last morsel of pulpy flesh.

“What?” he grunts, not looking at you but clearly aware of your pointed stare. “Spit it out.”

You clear your throat and sit up a little straighter.

“All right,” you begin, your voice wavering shy of hesitation. “The man from earlier today… why did you allow him to live?”

Very carefully, Sukuna pulls his four eyes up.

“Which one?” He slips the meat into his mouth and places the chopsticks down with deliberate care as if the act of eating is a sacred ritual.

“The man with the heavy sacks.”

Sukuna chews lazily. His eyes are half-lidded as he looks at you with apparent boredom.

“There were plenty of men with plenty of heavy sacks.” His tone makes you sigh. It’s dismissive as if the details you’re offering are insignificant.

“The one with the barley,” you clarify, pressing your hands into your lap. “The horse breeder. He mentioned his family. Two children and another on the way.”

Sukuna swallows, his throat bobbing as he considers your words.

“You think that’s why I let him go?” he says, voice edged with a challenge as if he anticipates your next question.

Uraume approaches the table, tray in hand. They begin removing the empty dishes along with Sukuna’s kiseru.

“If not his family—” they take away your dish. “Thank you, Uraume,” you say quickly, striving to keep your composure. “If not his family, then why?”

Sukuna’s eyes harden. He leans back slightly, regarding you.

“If you think I spared him because of his pathetic plea about his family, you’re mistaken.”

“Then why? I don’t understand. Did you just let him go without any reason?” you press, patience wearing thin.

Why did you protect me?

He tilts his head, eyes narrowing.

“Does it matter?”

You hesitate.

“Well, I was curious because—“

“Then remain curious,” he snaps, ending the conversation.

Your mouth twitches.

Fucking hell.

You lower your gaze, biting back any further questions.

Everything falls back into an uncomfortable silence. There’s just the clattering of Uraume gathering the ceramics and the gentle breeze blowing through the garden doo—

“A family and children? Is that something you want from me?”

At Sukuna’s question, your eyes snap up, and you choke on nothing but air.

You stare at each other. His four red orbs are stern. This isn’t a casual inquiry. It’s a genuine question.

All this talk—about your life, your family, and now this—presses down on you.

You panic, palms itching beneath your gloves.

His eyes flare as if impatient.

“Well?” he grinds out.

You open your mouth.

Uraume reaches over to collect your cup, the sleeve of their kimono momentarily creating a welcome barrier between you and the monster. You focus on the white fabric, taking a moment to calm yourself before it pulls away.

Sukuna reappears.

He has changed his posture, now lounging with his upper right elbow propped on his knee and his fist pressed against the side of his face. The bastard seems relaxed as if this conversation doesn’t rattle him in the slightest.

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” he drawls.

You swallow back the saliva that pools in your mouth.

“I-I haven’t considered it.”

How could you? The question itself felt absurd, given your circumstances. First, you had already accidentally caused the death of your pregnant mother; the thought of holding a life so small and innocent felt inconceivable. Second, the idea of building a family with the King of Curses was something you could never entertain. Lastly, from your perspective, this entire union is a sham, and you’ll be killing him—preferably soon.

“Perfect,” Sukuna says with far too much satisfaction. “Then there’s no need for you to waste your precious thoughts on such matters.”

That wouldn’t be a problem.

“Just to clarify,” you clear your throat, “you have no desire for a family?”

He scoffs sharply, his disdain clear as he wrinkles his broad nose and leers down at you.

“Do I look like someone who’d want a bunch of noisy brats tearing through here?”

You shift on the cushion, slowly dragging your gaze up the length of his body—past the hole in his bloodstained kimono, past his four powerful arms, until you meet his eyes.

“No, my Lord… you don’t.”

“Well, there’s your answer then,” he says harshly.

You let out a frustrated sigh.

Why the hell did he ask you to join him? The man is unbearable, his arrogance grating. You’re sure the only way to end this torment is to escape this interaction.

Your mouth opens, and the words “May I be dismissed, my Lord?” are poised on your tongue. But before you can speak, Uraume, ever the silent attendant, floats to the table and places a lacquered bowl in its center.

Both you and Sukuna drop your eyes to it.

It’s a bowl of fruit. Pears, grapes, figs. Then you see it—a single peach. It stands out, likely because the season is ending, making it a rare treat. It looks perfectly ripe, and its soft pink skin is reminiscent of Sukuna’s hair.

You drag your eyes up to him.

Oh, but the look he’s giving you. Suddenly, you don’t feel like leaving anymore.

His top lip twitches in warning.

“Don’t, you fucking dar—”

You’re already moving before he can finish. With a devious grin, you snatch the peach from the bowl and settle back on the cushion.

He huffs, crossing his upper arms across his chest.

“I thought you learned your lesson the last time you ate one of those.” His gaze is fixed on your hand as you deliberately begin to remove your right glove.

You arch an eyebrow, slowly peeling away the silk and letting it drop carelessly onto the table.

He tenses, eyes darting to Uraume for a moment.

It’s laughable—seeing the King of Curses lose his composure over how you eat a piece of fruit. The last time you pulled this stunt, he forced you to consume human flesh as punishment. But now, there’s nothing left for him to use against you. He’s already devoured it all.

"Hm," you shrug nonchalantly. “I suppose you’ll have to endure it this time, my Lord. ” Your voice is laced with defiance as you bring the fruit to your lips, locking eyes with him in a silent challenge.

Once again, you surprise yourself with your own boldness.

Your lips part, allowing the soft flesh of the peach to press in. You take a slow, sinking bite, closing your eyes as the sweet juice floods your mouth.

Pulling it away, you chew, swallow, then lick your lips. Sensually.

You throw in a soft groan for good measure.

“That tastes divin—”

“Uraume. Get out.”

Sukuna’s abrupt command has your eyes snapping open.

“Yes, Master,” they respond promptly.

“And close the door,” he adds, unable to look away from your mouth as he gestures toward the garden door with two fingers.

Uraume carries the tray of empty dishes and moves to slide the door shut, cutting off the only light in the room. The dim illumination casts Sukuna’s face in muted shadows, making his red eyes glow.

Your heart pounds, knowing the likelihood of what’s about to happen.

You wet your lips.

This time, you’re ready.

This time, you won’t lose yourself in him again. You won’t fall apart or make a fool of yourself. Today, you will end him. And this time, you're going to target his fucking head.

Uraume moves to the door behind you and slides it open. The clatter of ceramics is heard as they exit the room and enter the corridor.

You lay the peach on the table and then calmly remove your second silk glove.

The door begins to slide shut, rustling along the track.

You glance at Sukuna. His gaze is ravenous, never leaving you for a moment.

You swallow.

The door clicks shut, leaving the two of you alone.

You stand, but he’s already on his feet.

You move, but he’s faster.

Four hands grab you aggressively.

One moment, you’re standing. The next, Sukuna slams you down on the low table, back pressing into the wood, the fabric of your skirts and strands of your hair fan out in all directions. The lacquered bowl behind you topples over, clattering to the wooden floor, the fruit scattering everywhere. You draw in a sharp breath as his upper right hand, which had been cradling the back of your head to cushion the impact, slips away and moves to engulf your entire neck.

“That was rude, my dear,” he growls, hovering over you, his massive fingers squeezing your delicate throat, “I don't take kindly to being challenged, least of all, by my wife.”

You let out a small, stuttering breath.

He grins and tilts his head, admiring your docile form pinned beneath his effortless strength.

“However, I must say, there's a certain charm in watching your attempts at defiance,” he says. The smirk in his voice makes you seethe, but you remain calm. There’s no need to struggle. You’ll only exhaust yourself, and you need your strength.

“Thank you, my Lord. I'll keep that in mind for next time,” you deadpan, peeking up at him through your lashes.

Like the demon he is, that irritating grin spreads wider, making his four crimson eyes squint slightly, and his canines flash menacingly.

Smug, arrogant. You hate that look on him. Hate that it stirs something inside you that you wish you could ignore.

You shove it down and tuck it away.

He leans in, and the hand on your neck tightens, forcing you to tilt your chin upward.

“You know, you lied to me earlier,” he says, voice low. He places his lower left hand on your abdomen with deliberate pressure, letting his fingers graze your garment before sliding to the hem of your kimono. Slowly, he tugs at the fabric, pulling it taut against your body. “Claiming you were doing nothing in your room. But we both know that’s far from the truth.”

You try to shift, but the hard surface of the tabletop offers no relief.

“And what do you think I’ve been doing in my room?” you ask quietly.

As if the next words cause him pain, he clenches his jaw so severely that a vein bulges in his neck.

“You’ve been touching that pretty little cunt of yours,” he hisses, leaning closer, so you can see his pupils blown wide. “And I can’t stop thinking about it.”

Oh.

Just a few words send a pulse of want through you.

You’re in trouble.

"But more importantly, do you know how I can tell?" he whispers arrogantly, gathering more of your kimono, along with your undergarments, into his hand. He lifts the fabric to your thighs, your eyes tracking his every move.

“How?” you breathe, feeling the wetness pool between your folds.

“Because you’ve been acting differently since our incident five nights ago.” His tone turns cold, cutting the warmth you felt moments ago. “You’ve been emotional and irrational. It’s quite pathetic.”

His discerning words make your face scrunch up with anger.

Seeing your reaction, an even bigger smirk appears on his lips and he clicks his tongue, shakes his head, as if scolding a disobedient child.

“I bet it bothers you how exposed I’ve made you feel,” he chuckles, gripping your kimono tightly. “Especially since, despite everything, you still want me.”

With that, he roughly pushes all the fabric he’d been gathering up to your hips, exposing your slick cunt. Your breath catches in your throat at the sudden vulnerability.

For a fleeting moment, his eyes drop to take in your throbbing center before looking into your face.

With the same hand gripping your throat, he moves his thumb upward, sliding it across your jaw and gently brushing it along your bottom lip. He then hooks it inside your mouth, pressing firmly.

“Now, go on,” he demands, his orbs like four cold, red stones. “Admit it.”

As your eyes dart across his face, you feel your heart pounding. He stares intently, unwavering, grip tightening at your mouth as he waits for your response.

“Fine,” you mutter around his finger.

He releases his grip, removing his thumb from your mouth and placing it gently against the side of your face. He raises his eyebrow, his expression one of expectant satisfaction. 

You take a deep breath and avert your eyes.

“I’ve been thinking about you… while touching myself.”

He scoffs, the sound catching your gaze again.

“You missed something,” he states. 

You press your lips into a thin line. You understand exactly what he wants you to say but refuse to give in.

“Say it.”

“No.” You shake your head.

You’re not ready to admit, let alone confess, that you want him, not even to yourself. 

He pulls his hand away from your neck and stands up to his full, massive height.

“Fine,” he sneers, looking down at you half-naked on the table. “If you won’t tell me, then your body will.”

Immediately, his upper pair of hands reach down to grasp your ankles and yank them up so your bare legs extend straight into the air. A blush blooms across your cheeks as you feel a cool draft against your heated skin while he moves you.

Holding your ankles firmly, Sukuna uses his lower hands to slowly loosen the obi at his waist. He lets it slide off before unfastening his ruined kimono's interior ties. He carefully adjusts your ankles between his hands to peel the fabric away, letting it pool around his feet.

Now clad only in his dark grey hakama, his chest is marked with splotches of dried blood from the attempted assassination.

Seeing it, the same question resurfaces.

Why did you protect me?

You want to ask, but before you can, the maw on his torso opens with a deep rumble, its tongue slipping out. You watch it for a moment before Sukuna steps closer and, without warning, drops to his knees.

It startles you to see him like this, kneeling before you.

His upper hands grip your thighs, pulling you closer. Quickly, he hoists both your legs up, so your calves rest on his upper left shoulder, leaving your backside teetering precariously at the edge of the table. He bends down, leans forward, and presses the maw’s tongue against your glistening folds. You gasp at the sensation of the firm, wet muscle contacting your skin.

He holds it there, unmoving, his eyes locked on you.

Anticipation and vulnerability simmer in the narrow space between your bodies.

A heartbeat later, something dark touches his features.

“Fuck yourself on it,” he commands, voice deep. Cruel even. “Show me how much I’ve tainted you.”

Your breathing stops at the harsh demand. It fills you with repulsion. Yet, deep down, a sick desire has taken root.

Even if it’s wrong, you want this.

You hesitate for a moment, nerves getting the better of you. But, with a shaky breath, you lift your hips and push them forward. The tip of the large muscle brushes past your labia, pressing inside your cunt and massaging your inner walls. 

The pressure and pleasure are immediate.

A sound caught between a desperate gasp and a whine escapes your throat, and Sukuna wraps his upper left arm around your trembling thighs. The muscles of his forearm press firmly into your soft skin, grounding you with an unsettling feel of stability.

With your arms firmly gripping the table, you brace yourself and begin to move. Your initial motions are clumsy, but with Sukuna's shoulder as leverage, you sway your hips in a sensual rhythm. And it doesn't take long for the slickness between your thighs to increase, allowing the tongue to slide in and out of you effortlessly.

“Ahh,” you breathe as it fills and stretches you, it’s saliva falling directly onto your cunt.

You increase the pace, body moving with urgency, hips bouncing in tiny spurts. You pant and peer up into Sukuna’s face. He doesn’t return your gaze, just ignores you, keeping it lowered to the apex of your thighs instead.

Five nights ago, his eyes never left your expressions, unable to look away. Now, it's as if you no longer exist, barely acknowledging your presence.

That's fine. You don’t need this to be more than what it is.

Backwards then—

You slam your hips forward, hard, grinding them into him. The extra pressure has your brows knitting together, your mouth dropping open, and a guttural moan pouring out.

In response to your desperation, Sukuna tenses. He’s struggling to control his emotions. And despite all his efforts, his mouth twists into a snarl, exposing his teeth.

"Good girl, just like that," he hisses, his voice strained as he fights to suppress a groan that escapes as a ragged grunt.

He continues to do nothing but hold your legs against his body, his grip firm, tight. His orbs roam over your writhing form. His lower eyes follow the rhythm of your bouncing hips, the way your needy cunt fucks the maw’s tongue over and over, creating sounds that become thicker, wetter. His upper eyes still avoid looking into your face, but gradually, they lift, locking onto your pleading gaze.

A moment of unbreakable eye contact passes between you, and soon, all four of his red eyes are heavy-lidded. Yet, he remains emotionless, even as his body betrays him.

It suddenly becomes clear that the King of Curses is warring with himself. His duality is a struggle, like two opposing storms.

And perhaps, it’s something you can exploit.

You grind your hips harder, pressing the muscle deeper just to feel it swirl inside you. Sukuna’s upper right hand moves from his side, sliding it down along your left leg. The pads of his fingers dig into your heated skin before he slides it back up. The brief touch has you pulling your hips back, withdrawing the muscle before roughly pushing it back into your squelching heat.

“Fuck!” A cry rips from your throat.

“Yes,” he rasps, teeth flashing as a deep growl rumbles in his chest at hearing your sweet cries.

You shut your eyes, throw back your head and allow it to rest against the table. Hip’s undulating faster. Throat tossing out short pleas and curses.

Your frenzied actions cause the mixed wetness to trail down the soft curve of your ass, collecting in slow, deliberate drips that splatter onto the table.

Hearing it, Sukuna’s grip tightens painfully. He’s still trying to hold back.

Peeking your eyes open, you see that dangerous crease split between his mask and eyebrow, spilling into a mixture of desire and anger. 

Finally, the King of Curses moves.

Chest rising and falling, he brings his upper body forward, matching your thrusts, pushing the tongue inside your soaking pussy until it stings with pleasure. 

As your skin presses against his, you feel the warmth between you intensify, causing sweat to form where your bodies touch. The dried, rust-coloured blood on his chest deepens in hue as the heat builds.

The edge of your mind goes blank, and words you wish had stayed unspoken start to tumble out.

“More,” you quietly moan.

His lip twitches as he pushes forward aggressively.

“You want more?” he growls.

No.

“Yes.” You nod

I do.

Some invisible restraint snaps inside him.

“Then I’ll give you fucking more,” he hisses, withdrawing the maw’s tongue from you, the loss of it making you inhale sharply.

As he rises to full height, you quickly sit up on your elbows in confusion. And there, at that angle, you see them, the rigid outline of his cocks. It’s massive.

He fixates on your wet folds as his lower hands move to the ties of his hakama, tugging on the knot and loosening them.

Your heart races. You aren't prepared for this.

Catching the garment at the top, he begins to drag it down, revealing a dusting of dark hair that starts at his lower abdomen and trails downward.

You sit up fully, panicking.

“Wait!”

He stops.

“What?” he snaps.

“I’m… I’m not ready.”

“Oh, you’re not ready,” he mocks, clicking his tongue.

You nod slowly.

He stares at you for several heartbeats, his hands still resting on his hakama.

Kill him.

Your voice in your head. A reminder.

“I-I want your head between my thighs.” Your tone is only slightly steady.

Keeping your eyes on him, you begin to lean back. Sukuna watches, his gaze hunting you as you lower yourself onto the table again.

“Please,” you whisper, spreading open your thighs. His nostrils flare as you snake your hand down to your cunt to spread your wet folds for him. “I want your tongue on me. I need you to taste me.”

Pretending or not. You desire this, which is a dangerous thing.

“I want more than a fucking taste,” he growls, retying his hakama with a frustrated tug.

Lowering himself back to his knees, the thick fingers of his lower hands slide under your ass, while his upper hands hook behind your knees. Your breath is brought to a halt when he forces your legs up, pinning your thighs flush with your abdomen, exposing you. He curves over your body, the muscles on his shoulders and abdomen rippling like a predator. Your core aches at the sight before you as he lowers his face down to your thighs, his warm breath rolling across your skin.

So close. You tremble.

Sukuna looks up. There's that dark hunger again.

“I will get that confession out of you. One way or another,” he vows, inhaling deeply the scent of your arousal. A deep purr rumbles from his chest as he licks his lips, his tattooed tongue darting out teasingly.

Leaning down, he brushes the flat of the muscle along your swollen pussy lips with a back-and-forth motion. The sensation is maddening as he teases your core, denying what you want. Your mind turns dizzy as you watch him continuing this torment. 

His tongue glides up and down, repeating the action once, twice, and then a third time.

Your impatience grows unbearable. You want to fall back, to surrender to the desire, to feel him devour you with the same intensity as when he first laid eyes on you at the wedding ceremony.

“Please,” you breathe out.

Sukuna's eyes dart upward to stare at your mouth, drinking in your desperate plea with amusement. He leans in for a fourth lick, tracing a clear path up the center of your pulsating heat before pulling away, relishing in the torture he is inflicting upon you.

You shift on your back, releasing a frustrated exhale, and he hears you.

With a firm clasp on the back of your thighs, he forces your hips to rise, exposing your wetness to him. And then, that’s when he plunges his tongue between your folds, pushing past your soaking entrance.

Your back arches, his hands pull you closer to his hungry mouth, and both of you groan together.

Loudly. Unhinged. Strangled almost.

It’s better than the feel of his stomach maw. It’s better than anything you’ve felt.

Immediately, he seals his mouth against your cunt. The muscles in his jaw flex with each lick, and suck, trying to swallow you whole. Every swipe of his tongue is more frantic than the last, and you meet him stroke for stroke, undulating as best you can under touch.

"Yes!" you squeal, hands flying up to clutch your knees.

You're going to hell for this.

On a low growl, Sukuna's four hands grip you tightly, anchoring you close while pressing you firmly against the table. The small room fills with slick, sloppy noises, and your panting, harsh and unrestrained, spills out, filling the space.

As if entranced, his brow knits together, and his eyes fall shut just to focus on you. He’s so lost in the moment that he blinds himself to what's coming next.

Focus.

Inhale.

Panting and keeping your eyes on his face, you slowly slide your right hand from your knee.

Hesitant at first, you gently dip your fingers into his pink hair. The strands are soft under your touch. You can feel the texture and the movement as they tickle and dance against your fingers.

You take a moment to admire the sight. To admire him. The way his head rises and falls against your trembling thighs, how he takes starving mouthfuls of you, how you’ve never seen him like this. Almost reverent. Worshiping something other than himself. It's a shame, but at least he will die indulging in two things he enjoys: eating and sex.

Exhale.

You lay your right hand flat against the top of his massive head, your hand looking tiny in comparison. You hold it there for a moment before bringing your left hand to join it.

Though unsure why, your left hand moves, your thumb tracing gentle patterns along his hairline. It’s as if you’re trying to soothe him. Offering a silent apology for what you’re about to do.

Perhaps, one day, when you die and end up in hell, you’ll find him there. Maybe then, things could be different.

As you continue these soft, lingering strokes, you let your hand gently fall to rest against the jutting surface of his mask.

Sukuna’s upper eyes snap open, shooting to your face, his mouth coming to an abrupt stop against your skin.

Shit.

It seems your gentle touch was not appreciated.

You quickly retract your left hand from the right side of his face, weaving it back into his hair.

“Keep going,” you urge softly, dipping your chin downward.

He doesn’t. Instead, he gives you a threatening glare that makes you nervous.

Not knowing what else to do, you lift your hips and grind them against his mouth, letting your slick folds drag across his lips, leaving a glistening path in its wake.

He groans in pleasure and licks his mouth, tasting it before shutting his eyes and diving back into your pussy, drowning himself again. You let out a gasp as his tongue flattens against your skin, followed by the graze of his teeth along your slit. His lower hands begin to roam, fingers exploring your curves. As the right hand ventures towards your crease, you feel a warm wetness as the mouth on his palm opens and begins to lick and probe at your tight entrance.

"Sukuna!" you protest with a sharp intake, hips jerking upwards.

A deep, sadistic laugh reverberates against you.

“Shy?” he mocks before taunting you with another lick at your asshole.

Your brow furrows, lips pinched tight.

“Do not do that agai—ah!”

The tip of his tongue finds its way to your clit, which has you breathing raggedly. Moving his lower right hand away from your ass, he pushes it roughly against your cunt. Caressing you for a moment before sliding a finger deep inside.

“Oh, god,” you whine, slamming your hips forward for more pressure, his tongue working your swollen nub and his finger fucking sloppily in and out of you.

Your heart tumbles at how good it feels, even when you know it should be wrong.

Focus.

Hands bunching in his hair for purchase, you concentrate.

Sukuna twists his finger deeper, making you clench, making you arch cleanly off the table.

Focus…

“Please,” you moan, knotting and tugging at his hair.

His tongue curls and presses around your sensitive nub.

“Please, what?” he mumbles.

Damnit, focus.

“More,” you beg, “I want more.” 

He chuckles.

“Admit that you want me, princess, and I’ll give you everything.” He grins into your cunt, the damp heat of his breath coasting over your flesh.

You say nothing.

Fire goes straight to your belly as he swipes his tongue meanly across your clit. You cry out, pushing forward against his mouth, eyes rolling back, mind emptying.

“Sukuna… I…” you breathe, faltering for any words.

Focus!

“Say it,” he urges, licking and sucking your sex, then adding a second torturous finger to pump inside you.

“I-I want…”

Kill him!

Your eyes refocus.

You take one last look at his face, carving every detail into you.

You have to do this.

Sifting inside yourself, you reach for your gift. Hands trembling, you wrangle it and press your fingertips to his skull.

At the touch, his eyes find yours.

Do it!

Then, finally, you—

“Admit it!” he growls.

You hesitate.

“If my Lady isn’t in her chambers, perhaps she’s eating in here?”

“Goddammit! I want yo—” 

The door to the corridor slides open.

Your confession dies.

Sukuna’s eyes snap up. Your head whips back.

From your upside-down view, Sayuri and Ren stand in the doorway.

No.

“Get. The fuck. Out,” Sukuna says loudly, mouth pressed to your core.

Neither attendant moves. Both stand frozen.

You meet Sayuri’s darkening brown eyes—the pain and anger you see there claims your arousal. You feel sick.

“Leave!” Sukuna snarls, “Before I kill both of you.”

Ren hastily slides the door shut.

You blink, then tilt your head back. Sukuna resumes his feasting.

“Stop.” Your voice holds a pathetic warning.

He doesn’t. He’s too enthralled. Too busy with his tongue, placing messy licks on your pussy, while his fingers slide inside you.

“Sukuna. Please,” you shudder, rising to your elbows.

He doesn’t acknowledge you.

“Stop!” You press your palms into his forehead, attempting to push him away. “Get off me!”

Reluctantly, he withdraws all four hands from you and steps back with a huff, wiping the juices from his face with the back of his hand. He then rises to his full height.

The blood slowly returns to your limbs.

You plant your feet on the floor, stand with a slight sway, adjust your kimono, grab your silk gloves, and move around the table, quickly heading for the door.

A large hand clamps around your wrist, halting your escape.

"Don’t you dare walk away from me.” Sukuna’s voice is as tight as his grip.

There's conflict in his tone, an emotion. An emotion that makes your insides dip.

"I'm going to my chambers." You try to wrench free, refusing to look at him.

He reels you closer, grip tightening as he leans in. His face before yours, his red orbs burning so close. And yet, so far away.

"I didn’t give you permission to leave," he spits.

"That doesn’t concern me.”

His gaze thins and his voice drops, turning cold.

"Just because I managed to drag an orgasm from your cunt once doesn't mean you have me wrapped around your finger," he snarls. You recoil. "Remember your place, wife. Because I own you."

Those last words hit like a force. Splitting your head open. As if your own cruel father had spoken them.

A poisonous rage has your mouth trembling.

Leave. You need to go.

Your thoughts spiral as you continue to struggle in his hold. When he refuses to relent, you resort to the one thing that might make him release you. Exploit the one thing that you’ve unearthed.

You lift your chin.

"You protected me today. Why?" you demand.

Sukuna’s grip burns, but he remains silent. Your hands curl into fists and his features distort, falling into anger.

"Answer me! Why? Why, did you protec—"

"Get out!” he yells, releasing you with a harsh shove.

You stumble back.

The scoff that falls from your lips has him stepping forward. You step back. You've pushed the monster too far.

With a blank expression, you bow your head, rise, take one last look at his face, recarving every bitter detail into you, and turn away.

* * * * *

For the second time in weeks, the shrine’s ceiling becomes the only view from where you lie on your futon. Looking at it for so long is starting to give you a headache.

You shift onto your side.

But perhaps the headache is from something else.

You squeeze your eyes shut to fight the throbbing.

Today didn’t unfold the way you imagined it would. You fucked things up—badly.

Hours ago, with Sukuna between your thighs and your hands on his head, for reasons you can’t understand, you couldn’t bring yourself to kill him. You hesitated.

In that moment, he was your weakness. And in that moment after, you might have become his by the way things were left.

You drag your fingers across your eyelids. The fatigue that sits there is heavy. Heavier than usual.

The rift that has opened up between you and him needs to be mended. The sooner, the better, before more time slips away.

Sighing, you roll onto your back and stare at the ceiling again.

You need to get closer to him, even if it’s becoming difficult. Not because you want to, of course, but because you need to.

Sitting up, you carefully run your hands over the fabric of your yukata to smooth it into place. You push off the futon, approach the door, and slide it open.

The corridor is silent. It's become a friend you know all too well now. 

You take one step out.

A cream-coloured robe shudders to your right, flowing in the darkness.

You stiffen in the doorway, catching yourself before moving any further.

It takes a moment, but you make out the faint outline of a woman, their back to you.

Sayuri?

She’s barefoot, feet tapping delicately against the cool wooden floor.

Her long, raven-coloured hair cascades down her back like a fine river of ink, luminous against the pale garment.

Each step she takes is silent, moving with the grace of someone who’s done this walk a thousand times before. And you already know exactly where she’s going—there’s only one other door at the end of this corridor.

She takes her time—one foot in front of the other, like a smooth, practiced dance.

When she reaches the King of Curses’ chamber, she doesn’t hesitate. Her lithe hand extends and knocks three times against the massive wooden door.

Though the sound is soft, it reverberates deep inside you. And… it hurts.

One heartbeat passes.

Then two.

Sayuri waits.

A third.

She waits.

Then, a fourth.

On the fifth, the door slides open, and a pulse vibrates the air as Sukuna appears at the threshold.

You pull yourself further out of view.

Though you’re far away, you can see him cross his four arms, studying his subordinate before him.

She lifts her chin.

He doesn’t move, but Sayuri does.

She walks inside his chamber, turns, and shuts the door behind them.

Without needing to take a second glance, you slide your door shut and disappear into the darkness of your room.

* * * * *

🔗 Chapter 12

[achaotichuman]

Creature, Dark And Twisted

Hello everyone!!! This is for Day 4 of @sjmvillainweek !! I am using the prompt Behind Closed Doors.

Originally this was a oneshot I had exploring an idea for Amarantha's Other Daemati, and I decided to expand on it, because I have an idea to make it into a longer fic. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy it!!

Summary:

The High Queen has been defeated. The Cursebreaker has fled to the Night Court, and been made it's High Lady. Under The Mountain is just dust and filth. The War has passed and life moves on. As people attempt to gain a sense of normalcy once more, they fail to notice a shadow that slips through the cracks. Taking as he pleases and trying to fill his suddenly empty scheldule.

Amarantha's other Daemati, Ayran, is little more than a shell of what he become during the fifty years of Amarantha's reign. But one of his crimes still stands as the rest of the world rebuilds, and Morrigan is determined to force him to undo it.

Read below cut or on Ao3

Hybern was a fun little project, but he quickly lost interest. When the War broke out, Aryan realised it was not his scene. He had never cared so much for fighting and battles. Favouring flirtatious barbed words in a Court, dancing filling his veins and music becoming his every breath. He wanted to drink and fuck and feast, but righting was not on his list. 

Slithering through the lands now, he was barely noticeable, no one remembering the secret hand of Amarantha, the glorious woman who had elevated him to a position of immense power. Before promptly dropping dead and leaving him to rot. 

He did not envy the Lord of Night. For the whore had been killed long ago, replaced by a monster, only mentally of course. Rhysand of the Night Court fought hard against Amarantha, so in entered Aryan, to destroy the Night Lord's thick-headed mind and replace it with that of a purring creature that was content to sit and wait, to watch. 

It was when the creature began to mix with the memories that Aryan had left that he became a problem. Mixing with that mating bond, it became twined around the Cursebreaker. Panting after her like a dog lost to hunger. Licking tears from her face, and following her like a devotee. Aryan had scoffed and spat on it, but of course the creature only cared for its own pleasure and the needs of the Queen. 

Mixing with the memories Aryan had left, it turned into an alternate version of the Night Lord. One who knew all about the actual Night Lord's life, but was far more sinister, crueler, more careless and wayward. No longer did he lust after the Spring Lord, but rather wished him a swift and brutal death. He wished to fuck and breed the pretty cursebreaker and continue the Night Lord dynasty. 

As if the mating bond was its new master. 

Aryan had found it quite interesting, but after months of following around his creature. Peering in the City of Velaris which he had found in the Night Lords mind, he saw what it did. Soon he grew tired of it. 

Instead he now wandered. Bored, and bored, and bored. 

Now, he stood in an inn. Thick black hair tied into a bun at the nape of his neck. Darkened skin gleaming in the light. His dark eyes watching the keeper count out the bag of gold he had thrown down. 

"This isn't eno-" The keeper began to say. 

Aryan's eyes glowed gold. And the keeper began to say instead, "Oh! Yes this will be fine, come this way uh... Daemon."

"With pleasure." Aryan murmured. He had once heard all Daemati were strange and quietly cruel. He supposed, thinking of his mother, and her powerful abilities to control the mind, it must be true. She had never been a kind soul after all. 

Rather she taught him the joys of cruelty and shamelessness. How Fae were creatures of the mind and of party. To enjoy every selfish pleasure he could steal from others. 

His room was good enough. All clean and beautifully made. The biggest room in the inn, he would be gone before first light but that did not mean he wished for a cheap room, even though he had only the money for a cheap room. 

He could have not paid at all, but really he did have some kind of a heart, and giving the old man some sort of money was as generous as he got. 

Really the male should be thankful he got away with his mind intact. 

Aryan undressed, lounging in his nakedness and falling into a chair by the window, the curtains pulled shut and the fire roaring. He basked in his power which writhed under his skin and listened to the gentle hum of his own heart. 

At some point, his hand travelled further down, but before he could give himself any kind of pleasure, a golden orb appeared before him. He rolled his eyes but released his dick and covered his skin with a nearby fluffy blanket before lightly tapping the orb. 

A female's form appeared before him. She lifted a golden eyebrow and looked him up and down, "Really?"

"You're interrupting a very handsome man's night, what did you expect?" Aryan purred. 

"You're the cheapest whore I ever did see." Morrigan said as she crossed her arms. 

"Yet Amarantha paid me in jewels and gold." He replied. 

"Still hung up over that evil bitch are we?" She scowled. 

"What do you want, little gold one?" Aryan said as he examined his nails.

"I have your price." Morrigan said. Aryan grinned. 

"You know the rules, my love." 

"Just tell me where you are." She demanded. 

"The rules are, you come to me... and perhaps we can put that beautiful body to some use as well." Aryan told her, knowing the female would never go for him. His sister, another story. 

Morrigan screamed and her form disappeared as she ended the spell. Aryan threw his head back as he laughed. So easy to rile up, so easy to torment. 

The Morrigan had found him once. She could find him again. 

She had exiled the ‘Other Daemati’ Amarantha had used. He had been thrown from his place in the Hewn City for his servitude of her. Barely escaping execution. 

And later she tracked him down again. 

As Morrigan was smarter than the rest of the clowns called the Inner Circle. Had seen that Rhysand was not the same person at all. 

So, they had made a deal. Morrigan would pay him his price, and Aryan would give back her High lord. 

But the rule was, he was never in one place. And she would have to keep finding him. 

With each price Aryan restored a little of the High lord and took away a little of the control of the creature. 

What she didn't know was the creature was capable of taking back control, and capable of breaking parts of Rhysand. 

It was a lovely cycle. A lovely game. 

Aryan laughed once more. Head tipped to the ceiling.

___________________________________________

It had rained heavily the night before. Slickening the stone paveways, his boot splashed against the puddles of pooling rain-water and whatever other liquids flowed through these streets. The rotting smell of vomit, sewage and other substances clung to this part of the city. Drunken males and whores stumbled through the alleyways, hollering out, shouting, cursing. Some of them watched Ayran as he passed, draped in his long black coat, but glittering with jewels none of them could afford. 

Some called out to him, some cursed him, the more daring ones trailed their fingers across the expensive fabrics. Those ones did not continue on with their hands fully intact. 

Ayran hopped from bar to tavern. Drinking cheap wine and beating everyone in cards. Leaving with his pockets stuffed with gold, and the droplets of blood that splattered across his knuckles from males that were not content to simply take the loss. 

By the time dawn was rising on the horizon. He was waltzing through the streets, prepared to enter uninvited to his choosing of housing for the night and crash until the night overtook again.

But a golden orb appeared before him, a mirror of last night. Ayran sighed silently, before lightly tapping the orb. 

Immediately the form of Morrigan filled out in front of him. Her face twisted with distaste as she observed his stumbling form. 

“Drinking? At this hour?” She sneered. 

“You’re one to talk, party bitch.” He remarked. 

The orb’s vision of her floated alongside him as he continued the hike in search of a quick resting place. Though he realised he could not settle anywhere until she left. 

Perhaps that was her plan to find him, sit by him through the golden’s orbs vision and wait until he grew too tired to continue and finally went to an Inn that she could track down. 

“Who would know,” She hummed, taunting, “That behind closed doors, Amarantha’s secret Daemati has reduced himself to the likes of drunks and whores.”

“And I say again once more, you are one to talk.” Ayran pulled his coat tighter around himself. 

“Does it not bother you, Ayran, how little you have left. It’s only your magic now. No Court, no family, no friends.” ‘

“I have the sky, the wind, the sea and the earth, that is all a Faery needs.” Ayran told her, “Besides I have my way of getting all of the little luxuries I want.”

“It couldn’t be good living like that. Constantly lurking the lands like a forgotten shadow puppet. Throwing yourself into drinking and gambling to distract yourself from the fact that in the end you were nothing more than her bitch to order about as she saw fit-”

“What do you want out of this, Morrigan?” Ayran whirled on his feet, stopping in his tracks and facing her image entirely. 

She crossed her arms and shrugged, “If you give him back his mind, I will allow you to return from exile.”

I will allow you to return from exile. 

“You’d…”

He recited the words in his mind once more. 

“You would allow me-”

She smiled like she’d won something. 

Then her smile dropped. And a face of utter disgust and hatred soured her pretty mouth as Ayran burst out laughing. 

He laughed and laughed, until his ribs hurt, his heart beat too fast and he could barely hold himself up. 

“Sorry! Sorry!” He said, for once, it was genuine. 

Wiping the corners of his eyes, Ayran grinned widely at Morrigan, “Who would want to return to the shithole the Hewn City is? Your Court is run by a group of bastard children with an agenda. Why in the Mother’s Holy Cauldron would I wish to return to it? When I have finally felt the sun on my skin and breathed the outside air?”

“I did not say you would return to the Hewn City,” She said. 

Ayran furrowed his brow at that. 

“What?”

“You would be welcomed into Velaris, Ayran. You may live how you wish there, with a home and kind people, no one would know who you are or what you have done. You may bask in the sunlight and dance in the stars alongside your own people, within your own Court.”

She stepped closer, “All I ask is that you return my High Lord's mind to himself.”

Ayran shoved his hand into his pockets. The humour, the disbelieving laughter from earlier entirely gone as something far greater slid onto the negotiating table. 

“That is all you ask? And for an eternity I may spend in the City of Starlight?”

“With the condition you do not mind-fuck a soul.” She added. 

He cocked his head to the side, “I suppose that one’s fair.”

“So?” She asked, voice an octave higher, betraying her excitement. “Do we have a deal?”

She held out her nonphysical hand, he stared at it. Decorated with golden rings and jewels. Not unlike Amarantha’s, simply lacking the gruesome display of Jurian’s eye. 

“I return Rhysand’s mind to him, and I will be allowed unrestricted passage to Velaris, with a guarantee I will not be met with hatred, and allowed sanctuary.” He repeated the deal back to her. 

“Yes,” Morrigan readily agreed. 

He considered it for a moment. 

The sun spread its rays over his face as he took her hand, he could barely feel it through the air, but warmth spread through his palm and fingers. Morrigan’s eyes lined with tears of relief, as the bargain washed through them, settling over his skin like a mist. 

In an instant, there was a blur of light along both their collarbones, when he looked down he saw one singular eye staring out from the line of the bone, staring like Jurian’s had. 

And whenever Morrigan moved, the eye followed. 

“It mocks Jurian, such poor taste.” Ayran hummed. 

“Do it.” She demanded, “Please, you must.”

Ayran faced her with a blank expression. Before he waved his hand, focusing through the threads of existence and the page of time, feeling for his own creation, the product of his making, shining clear as the northern star, strong as the day he made. It purred at the caress of his magic. 

Then it roared, screamed, shaking the grounds as Ayran clenched his fist and broke it. 

“His mind shall be returned to him.” Ayran said, as those tears of victory fell from The Morrigan’s eyes. He turned on his heel, stumbling through the streets. 

“I’ll see you in Velaris.” He added over his shoulder, but her visage was already gone. 

Stupid, stupid girl. 

Didn’t even think twice about any possible loopholes. 

He laughed as he continued to walk. 

[stuffyflowers]

Masterpost of everything we learned from the Kissy Cutie AMA with Merengue on ACDS for those wondering

(Merengue is the creator I should probably mention that lol)

The game, particularly its theme of racism, derived from the rise of Trump in 2016, during which hatred towards Mexicans was popular. As a Mexican woman herself, she says this was a very personal source of inspiration and she considers Kissy Cutie a "healing journey."

Similarly, Sona is inspired by her personal experience living with a controlling parent. Her confusing motives and reactions take you off guard. She depicts a complex person who is full of regret but fails to be better.

The endings were were a criticism of dating sims, trying to follow Undertale's ending style and the fandom.

She regrets making the truest ending so hard to obtain. She is tempted to make TikToks showing people how to get all the endings to stop the suffering.

She would love to remake Kissy Cutie, but "ran out of budget on the intro." In all honesty, she would think about it if people are really interested.

The game has so many artstyles as no artist wanted to compromise to draw all the sprites. While the end product worked, she would have preferred a more homogenous artstyle.

If she were to remake the game, she would like to redraw everything herself.

The yellow soul was renamed to Clover as the demo of Undertale Yellow had released during development. There are also references to Flowerfell (such as in Sona's final transformation), which was another fan creation she loved.

Sona's powers had many changes during production. She was going to be a doll-like monster that absorbed human souls (and goes bald at the end?), then she was going to have Flowerfell reset powers, but in the end she was made to be a witch whose powers came from an ancient artifact. She is also able to turn the monsters human through "determination."

She wanted to explain every loose end left in Undertale, hence the focus on Chara's backstory and their upbringing with Sona. She says Chara is the main character, not Sona.

She was nervous about doing a Sans path due to his popularity at the time. So she made him "that way" on purpose.

She handles the Frisk/Chara/Player relationship "like the Catholic Church handles the Holy Trinity."

She has played Danganronpa, but has not read Homestuck or watched Glitchtale.

The characters with no sprites are a result of their artists abandoning the project.

Alphys, Mettaton and Toriel paths were planned, but never got far.

The Alphys route was being written by a friend who she began to distance from. She never got to see any of it.

She has not played Undertale Yellow, only the demo.

The disappearance of the 42 Ayotzinpa students is another source of inspiration (The scene in which you find Mettaton's body likely alludes to this).

She loves and encourages fan content of her game, including using the game's code as a base for projects.

The humanification arc was intended to explore how a racist would 'solve racism' without violence, by turning everyone into "someone like them."

The human designs have slightly pink hair to reflect Sona's influence. Human Papyrus was inspired by his in-game comments about wanting muscles and hair, human Sans was "the typical fandom approach," and everyone else became anime characters.

The music was the last thing worked on. It was rushed and they didn't know what they were doing.

Sona was not intentionally similar to Monika or Makima.

Sona is (supposedly?) wearing a black mourning dress (Likely mourning Chara hence the yellow flowers).

The cover of Waterfall is her favourite track.

The idea of Sona being a skeleton named Arial was tossed around briefly.

The truest ending was created after some staff requested the option to save Flowey and Sona. It also fulfilled her plan for Sans and Papyrus to take over the orphanage.

Sona's final transformation intended for her to be kept human "but not without her sins showing"

The glitchy text character was Flowey. The glitchiness showed the interference and Flowey being manipulated

[saintsr]

Chapter  II

 

 “Missa!”  The three remaining figures appeared, breaking the people who were there out of their stupor.

 

 “Where is Missa you fucking idiot?”  Spreen pulled the sword from him and grabbed the man closest to him by the throat.

 

 “Their leader no longer exists, so it’s their decision, they tell us or they die.” Shaudone raised his voice without shouting, looking at everyone.

 

 “I say they have to be tortured, if they hurt Missa, death will be a mercy.” Spreen’s eyes turned golden with red edges full of anger.

 

 “Yes, let’s hang them by their balls or their feet.”

 

 “No-we don’t know but it’s good that it happened, they deserved it because they were selfish” the man that Spreen was holding finally spoke.

 

 “The Gods are supposed to help humans” a woman fearfully pointed her bow and arrow trying to aim at Quackity’s head.

 

 “We do not owe them anything and with this, your land will not have crops until we find the lesser Demeter.” A thin but strongly built figure with brown or platinum blonde hair spoke, making the young woman faint, causing all the people to flee when the man who Spreen said he was killed by a sword through his heart.

 

 “Rubius” Quackity finally spoke with a trembling voice as he saw a blood stain on the floor and Missa’s wolves trying to dig a hole.

 

 “I know, Quackity” Rubius and Quackity looked at each other in fear and anger for whoever dared to hurt his little baby Persephone.

 

 “Let’s make everyone shit, let’s burn the earth, let the water not reach anyone, let it rain blood on everyone” Shaudone looked with anger and disgust at the woman on the ground trying to control him powers so as not to do something against him vows .

 

 “Calm down kid, I’m the first to ask for blood but we need information” Rubius put a hand on Shaudone’s shoulder while he pulled him towards where the wolves and Spreen were.

 

 “Let’s separate, we’ll cover more ground, any clue, come to the house,” Spreen finally spoke after putting a leash on the wolves, giving them to Rubius and Shaudone.

 

 “I don’t want to go back if Missa isn’t there, oh my Missa, my Missa maybe he’s cold in any ditch, maybe he’s already stiff or maybe he’s cold, he’s running from everyone and I can’t get him a blanket or”

 

 “Shut up, Quackity, otherwise you want us to hang you by the balls.”

 

 “But I can still hear him say Quackity, Quackity, get out of my kitchen, asshole!”  He continued to lament until he saw the other Demeteres disappear “Where are they going?  “Assholes, Sons of your motherfucker, come hear my cries, at least a few kisses or a grab of the buttocks to overcome the pain.”  With that the earth was left lifeless, without sacred blood and two bodies, one lifeless, the other fainted.

 

 In the Kingdom of Philza, he was in a place he called “The Nest” which was the Palace of Hades, the central place where the underworld was controlled, the crows were perched on the windowsills of the castle trying to see what was inside.

 

 Tubbo was following Philza since he saw him flying at full speed with something in his arms, so he tried to continue, but he almost collided with the palace door when it was closed, something that one or another crow, listening to the knocking, failed to do, so Now he saw how the bundle was lying on the bed, being covered by the curtains that surrounded it, preventing him from seeing who or what it was. Philza moved from one side to the other looking for bandages, water, jugs, glasses, a ewer along with a portable sink where he put a cloth to then pour the water, take it and clean the wound on the black-haired man’s head gently, which seemed more like a caress, as if the person were made of delicate material, fearing to destroy it, when he finished, he bandaged it and let him rest, he arranged the fabrics so that nothing would disturb him.

 

 “By Cronus!  Tubbo you scared me” he jumped slightly when he saw Tubbo leaning on the wall with his arms crossed.

 

 “Yes I noticed, but I’ve always been here, it was you who forgot about me” Tubbo looked at him seriously as he tried to look over Philza’s shoulder “Who is it?”

 

 “You don’t mind, go upstairs, don’t talk about this with anyone, and if something comes up, let me know right away,” he directed him to the door, looking at him seriously.

 

 “But Phil.”

 

 “Go away Hermés”

 

 “Yes Lord Hades”

 

 When he found out, he only went to get a chair to put it next to the cloth to make sure nothing bad happened until sleep overcame him and he fell asleep.

[rainbowuniversepageantsys]

Testy Tuesdays Trivia! Good luck!

1. Eric Magnus Lensherr, whose mutant ability to control magnetic fields manifested in a Nazi concentration camp as his family was murdered. Since then, he has attempted to make the world safe for mutant kind by subjugating the rest of humanity:

 Magneto

 Polaris

 The Trapster

 Ulik

2. Victor, an exchange student from Latveria and former collegiate rival of scientist Reed Richards, until a chemical explosion brought about by his miscalculations disfigured his face and got him expelled back to his native land, which he has since taken over as ruler. He eyes the world, through an iron mask, as his next conquest:

 The Leader

 The High Evolutionary

 Dr. Doom

 Omega Red

3. Selina Kyle, raised in a brutal environment before escaping to a life on the streets of Gotham City. Vowing never to want or be dependent on anyone, she uses her skills in burglary, martial arts and feminine wiles to her own ends:

 Electra

 Black Widow

 Black Cat

 Catwoman

4. Norman Osborne, a failed business man who chose crime as a means of fast income, using a Halloween costume and various related weapons, including pumpkin bombs, to achieve his goals:

 The Sandman

 The Green Goblin

 The Ghost Rider

 Jack-O-Lantern

5. Prince Uxas, second in line to the throne of Apokolips and avowed enemy of New Genesis, he murdered his own brother to claim the Omega Force as his own:

 Darkseid

 Dark Phoenix

 Ultron 5

 Desaad

6. While his real name is unknown (suspected to be petty criminal Jack Napier), he reportedly began his crime career as the masked Red Hood until he fell into a chemical vat being chased by the Batman. The results of the bath gave him chalk-white skin, green hair and an insidious permanent grin:

 The Joker

 The Man-Bat

 The Jester

 Solomon Grundy

7. Wilson Fisk, a rather imposing self-professed 'private businessman' who, in fact, heads most, if not all, of the crime cartels that are known to authorities:

 The Kingpin

 The Ringmaster

 The Rose

 Justin Hammer

8. He is, and always has been, the arch-nemesis of Superman, but in recent years, he has undergone a transformation from a mad scientist to a corporate mogul:

 Metallo

 Mr. Mxyzptlk

 Lex Luthor

 Brainiac

9. He's not so much a world-beater as he is a world-EATER. He is an enormous cosmic vampire who lives off the lifeforce of entire planets:

 Ego, the Living Planet

 Annihilus

 Galactus

 Thanos

10. During WWII, Adolph Hitler hand-picked a thief-beggar named Johann Schmidt to be the antithesis of all who oppose the Nazi dream, particularly the Sentinel of Liberty, Captain America:

 The Super-Skrull

 Baron Zemo

 The Red Skull

 Count Nefaria

11. Free-lance mercenary Victor Creed is a mutant with super-human strength and endurance, razor-sharp fingernails and teeth and a phenomenal healing factor that cures most any injury short of molecular disintegration...and no conscience:

 Mimic

 Exodus

 Sabretooth

 Deadpool

12. This villain is not so much a 'who', but an 'it', created by aliens as the ultimate living weapon of destruction. A famous comic series had this mindless monstrosity kill the Man of Steel:

 Sinestro

 Metallo

 Bizzarro

 Doomsday

13. Renegade scientist Vril Dox tried to take over his home world and, as punishment, was atomically dispersed, but retained enough mental power to take over a carnival mentalist. He has the ability to mind link with computers, using this power to take over LexCorp:

 Charybdis

 Malefic

 Metron

 Brainiac

14. Archaeologist and treasure seeker Barbara Minerva discovered a strange blood-drinking plant that grants her superhuman agility, strength and razor-keen senses to rival that of her nemesis, Wonder Woman:

 The Silver Swan

 Devastation

 The Cheetah

 Dark Angel

15. Ernest Fairchild, a teenager with telepathic powers, died after a failed experiment, was reborn undead and is currently embarking on a quest of Megadeath...the destruction of all life on Earth.

 Purgatori

 Lobo

 Evil Ernie

 Doomsday

16. A Victorian-era doctor, Nathan Essex, became obsessed with genetics to the point he was able to extend his own life into the present. He has shown a particular interest in the genetic structure of the family of Scott (Cyclops) Summers of the X-Men:

 Onslaught

 Apocalypse

 Mr. Sinister

 Malice

17. Ben Poindexter is the name this psychotic hitman uses most, but even he doesn't know what his real name is. He does know that he has uncanny marksmanship using guns, knives...anything he touches becomes a deadly weapon:

 Bushwacker

 Shotgun

 Bullseye

 Death-Stalker

18. Otto Octavius was a promising scientist experimenting use of a harness with mechanical appendages to handle hazardous materials from a safe distance, until an explosion fused the arms to his body and deranging his mind:

 Dr. Octopus

 Silvermane

 The Scorpion

 The Crime Master

19. This megalomaniacal villain was actually created around the turn of the century by author Sax Rohmer, but was revived by Marvel as the father of the Master of Kung-Fu, Shang Chi:

 Fu Manchu

 The Mandarin

 The Yellow Claw

 Kulan Gath

20. Last name McKenzie, this sometimes-hero-sometimes-villain has helped the Avengers and the Fantastic Four, but has also periodically declared war on the surface world from his dominion of Atlantis:

 Nimrod

 Aquaman

 Namor

 Attuma

[alumbianchronicler]

The Flash, being the next to arrive, was set to aid with evacuation of the living from the immediate area. No one wanted to bring up what would need to be done if that radius wasn't far enough; if they couldn't stop Phantom's rampage.

Emergency summons were was sent to Wonderwoman and Constantine, with hopes that they would have ideas where Superman's effort failed.

But in the meantime, their hopes rested on two teenagers and a glowing puppy.

Batman was already striding up to them.

"You two know how to stop Phantom?"

They shared a glance. One was a pale young woman with dyed-black hair, wearing torn jeans and a black jacket. The other, a young man with black skin, dreads, and a beret.

The male teen spoke first. "Yes. But, it's going to hurt him. A lot. Do you... have somewhere we can take him after?"

"This is a "only as a near-last resort" sort of thing," the girl said.

"And the actual last resort?"

The grim expressions of the two teens answered his question, and Batman nodded. He couldn't afford to be emotional over the situation now; not until they got Phantom under control. Duty first, concern over these children apparently being involved in something he had never even heard of later.

"Yes, I can arrange medical care afterward. Can you get close enough to use it?"

The boy nodded while the girl turned and whistled. The puppy bounded over, growing in an instant to a glowing-green dog the size of a draft horse. Both teens clambered on.

"Go to Phantom, Cujo," the girl commanded, and the dog... flew. Right. He would question that later, after they saved the city from being destroyed by a Joker-toxin-dosed meta.

A loud string of cursing came from behind Batman, and he turned to see Constantine striding over.

"Who the bloody fuck let a damned ecto-entity of this power-level into the overworld?"

"Constantine."

"Batman. What the hell?"

"What do you know?"

Above them, smoky clouds had gathered over Gotham, under-lit with the eerie green marking Phantom's path of destruction. Somewhere, an explosion sounded.

Batman felt that he should be out there, actively helping bring Phantom back under control, but if Superman couldn't take him down, Batman wouldn't be able to without more information. He was better placed here, coordinating.

"Ecto-entities, or "ghosts,"" Constantine framed the word with finger quotations, "even though most of the bloody things aren't even the dead..."

"Most?"

"I'm getting there." It was an indication of the situation's seriousness that Batman didn't tell him off for pulling out a cigarette, so Constantine got to the point. "Ones made from the dead can happen when there's enough emotion and ectoplasm when someone dies, and a reason for 'em to stick around. The rest are formed from ectoplasm itself, which is what makes up the space between reality, holding it together. It usually exists outside reality, but can seep through sometimes, in various places. Usually, there's not enough for Ecto-entities to stay dangerous on this side, and the stronger ones usually don't like coming through and risk getting stuck."

Batman grunted acknowledgement, eyes on the sky. Where were those kids?

"I've got eyes on them, B" Oracle's voice came through the coms. "They're above the Field and Rowan park. You should be able to see them..."

"I see them." The large... ghost dog was shooting upward toward the sky, the two teens clinging to his back. Phantom was a beacon of sickly Lazarus-green above them. He saw the girl raise her arm, aiming something, and shoot.

A bolt trailing red shot from a device around her wrist.

The dog, Cujo he remembered, turned as soon as the bolt was shot and flew away, not even waiting to see if it hit.

Batman frowned. If they didn't want to be near when it hit...

"Hold onto something," he commanded Constantine still beside him, grabbing a fire-escape ladder next to him just before the bolt hit true.

"What?"

Phantom's light went out.

For a split second, everything was still, before the air itself seemed to be rent with an ear-splitting Wail. Sonic-compressed air battered the city, the sound a physical thing that shook foundations. The anguish it carried, pain and fear tainted with an underlying hysteria, hit just as hard, bringing listeners to their knees, sobbing and clutching their heads.

And then finally... silence.

The sky was still smoke-filled, but the green hue had disappeared, and Phantom was gone from the sky.

Batman and Constantine slowly straightened, looked at each other, and headed toward the epicenter.

Short DPXDC Prompts #772

Danny kills the Joker, not knowing of the kill switch set to release Joker gas the moment Jokers heart stops beating.

[arty-shadow-morningstar]

A Failed Betrothal (5)

This is going to be the last part I am going to post in a while. My school is finally starting up again and I am sure to be swamped with homework. Without further ado. Enjoy ❤

[Masterlist]

(Part 1)(Part 4)

-----------

Damian laid in bed, thinking about the recent turn of events. Lady, who told them that they can call her Marinette since they might as well get acquainted while the Waynes were in Paris. She had found out Jason’s identity after a few google searches and by extension, the rest of the Bats while they both were taking a shower. It had taken a few arguments and one sentimonster attack that cut one of the arguments short to trust the Dupain-Chengs with their secret identities. His bride was apparently a superhero too. Has been for a few years. In a different world, he might have actually dated her out of his own free will and fought crime with her together.

Damian shook his head at that thought.

That was the curse talking. Get a hold of yourself, Wayne. Resist. Don’t think about Marinette and her blue eyes.

Back to the akumas, Paris had been under the control of a magical terrorist for years. Lady Noire, formerly known as Ladybug, formed a team to battle against him. He also found out about the Guardian who chose Marinette and someone else, who wasn’t spoken about much except that his name was Chat Noir and she now wields his ring temporarily, to fight against Hawkmoth as partners. The same Guardian that promised her hand-in-marriage in exchange for protection from the League of Assassins. Sabine, the Blue Reaper, had to be restrained from killing the old amnesiatic man by her bear of a husband who was reluctant to do so and also wanted to help her.

Hawkmoth also had a partner who went by the name, Mayura, with a power similar to his and could create sentimonster out of negative emotions. Their top suspect was Gabriel Agreste, with much evidence pointing his way but they had difficulty trying to confirm it and had the time to gather evidence to do it. The local authorities were helpful but getting a search warrant for a famous, rich designer who was a known recluse with circumstantial evidence is not possible.

After informing their father of their kidnapping and the situation in Paris (and racking up the Dupain-Cheng's phone bill), they were told to stay there and help as much as they can. Tim, who was coming to Paris for a vacation (suspicious), got his plans hijacked and was now going to help uncover Hawkmoth’s identity.

When the Justice League had reached out a few years ago, they were rebuffed by the Mayor. Nightrunner got into contact with the one of the heroes, Ladybug who asked for a meeting outside of Paris with Wonder Woman and Batman came along, to assess her. They didn’t expect a young girl to be Paris’s heroine.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

3 years ago…

“Bonjour, Princess Diana of Themyscira, daughter of Hippolayta, it is an honour to meet you. And you too, Batman.” The spotted heroine greeted both of them with Nightrunner besides her. Their meeting point was in the gardens in the Palace of Versailles.

“The pleasure is all mine, Ladybug. But I am confused as to why you have refused the Justice League’s help.” Wonder Woman was worried that the Ladybug Miraculous was active again and for many good reasons.

“I would be glad for some help but Paris is run by an incompetent fool. He wants no one outside of Paris to think that the city is unsafe due to Hawkmoth and keep the tourism numbers high. The other reason is that my Miraculous Cure can restore any physical damages done during a fight and involving you might result in more damages than I could cure. But I also think it would be better if there were less powerful heroes in Paris, akumas amplifies one’s power and I don’t want to fight you after you had a bad day.” Ladybug explained. Nightrunner murmured in agreement.

“Do you know how Hawkmoth operates?” asked Batman. He had read reports of the situation but wondered the true extent of it.

“Have Wonder Woman explained to you about the Miraculous?”

He nodded.

“Hawkmoth has the butterfly miraculous, and it has the power of transmission. In the right hands, they would be used to grant ordinary people powers as the user’s champions. But in the hands of Hawkmoth, he targets people with high negative emotions, a girl after a bad break-up or a student with a failed grade. He grants them powers to use for revenge or some obscure version of justice. In return, he asks for mine and Chat Noir’s miraculous. With our two miraculous, he can make a wish but wishes always come with a price so it is best if we keep it out of his reach.”

“How have you not captured him yet?”

“Hawkmoth is a coward who rarely comes out to face us. I have never met him face-to-face. He uses people to get what he wants. Not very honourable. The Mayor has refused to help my attempts to stop him or prevent more akumas because his bratty daughter isn’t given a Miraculous to be a hero. I don’t have the time or resources because I am still in school and have other obligations outside the suit. I can’t tell my family and ask for help because the Guardian’s ,the one who gave me the Miraculous in the first place, secret identities rule and some magic thing that makes me unable to tell them.”

The adults were all horrified at what the girl was going through.

“We could help in other ways. Not fight the akumas but provide you the resources to track down and capture him. Do you have any training? From the footage we have seen, you know martial arts and how to use some weapons.”

“I was raised in a forgotten temple somewhere in Asia with brutal training everyday before I ran away. I met someone on my way out who took me in and adopted me.” She said it seriously enough that they have no room for doubt.

“Batman, she just said she was adopted. She may have the features but the answer is no.” Wonder Woman said with a knowing look in her eyes.

“I wasn’t thinking about it. She has a duty to Paris right now and I am not going to take away from her life here. I don’t adopt every black-haired and blue-eyed child I see.” Batman denied.

“I am confused.” Ladybug said, tilting her head.

“Batman here has a bad habit of adopting kids with a tragic past, especially kids with black hair and blue eyes.” Nightrunner explained to his fellow Parisian hero.

“Well, Mousier, you will have to fight my parents for custody. While I have training, Chat Noir doesn’t and he hinders the battles with his ‘help’. I would give him some but he sees them as dates even though I have told him it’s not.”

“His incompetence is a liability. Why is he your partner?”

“The Guardian chose him too like he chose me through some stupid trial I somehow passed the requirements for. I am just hoping that there is a really good reason for choosing Chat Noir. I have some questions on how you are-”

“Ladybug, what are you doing?” A sharp voice cut in. An old man who appeared to be dressed as a tortoise landed in front of them.

“Master Fu, this is Princess Diana of Themyscira and the world’s greatest detective, Batman. I am asking for their help in finding Hawkmoth.” Ladybug explained, confused why Master Fu looked upset.

“Ladybug, that was extremely foolish of you. This is a matter of the Order. You shouldn’t have involved other heroes in it. We can resolve this on our own. I apologize on behalf of her for wasting your time.”

“But, Master-” “We will talk about this later, Ladybug. You are young and don’t understand things yet.”

“Guardian, with all due respect, my mother was a Ladybug wielder herself and the Amazons will lend a hand to any miraculous holders in need.”

“It is appreciated but Ladybug, Chat Noir and I can do it on our own. Come along, Ladybug.”

“Let me at least apologize for my mistake, Guardian.”

“Very well. Meet me later.”

“I am sorry but it looks like I have to fight Hawkmoth without your help. That being said please don’t try to look further into Hawkmoth’s identity and leave any notes of your leads in the mouth of the gargoyle on the northside of Notre Dame where I usually rest after I finish patrol. Salut, Princess Diana, Batman, Nightrunner.” She left using her yo-yo to swing away after giving them a wink.

Batman smirked. He had to give it to Ladybug, she was clever and resourceful and Diana was right, he wanted to adopt her.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Present time…

(Words in bold are French)

Now that the previous Guardian was out of the picture, the Miraculous team would gladly accept any help they can get.

Damian and Jason had picked up Tim from the airport and they had already set things up in one of the Wayne penthouses in Paris. Less chance of nosy maids than in a hotel.

Bilal had already handed over all the evidence he could find. He was also one of the Miraculous team’s trainers when Sabine couldn’t make it. Jason and Damian were going to help in training and be back-up heroes when needed. (Bilal wore a miraculous once to help out. And that one time was weird enough to last him a lifetime and he was never doing it again.)

Sadly, all the magic users who were allies or part of the JL were busy with other missions or MIA so they couldn’t break Damian’s curse yet. Bruce didn’t see the problem with the curse so unless it causes major problems or someone is free to break it. They couldn’t go back to Gotham until they got the necessary things in order so it looks like they were going to be in Paris for a while.

The next morning, Tim was nowhere to be found. Because they were paranoid Batboys, they tracked his phone to see him at the Dupain-Cheng’s bakery with Marinette and a group of other people, having breakfast.

“There you are, Replacement.” Jason shouted as he entered the bakery, “So, this is where you were? I see you have already figured out who Ladybug is and met her.”

Marinette looked at Damian and Jason, then at Tim and back at them again.

Oh.

Oh.

She face-palmed as she connected the dots and realized what the nagging feeling she had around Tim was about.

“Oh my Kwamis, you are Tim Drake, adopted by Bruce Wayne aka Batman. Jason and Damian are your brothers. And judging by your build, you are Red Robin. I feel so stupid.”

Thankfully, there were no customers around yet to hear some of the world’s most important secrets being out.

“I am- We are not- Bruce isn’t- How?! How the hell did you find out? And you are Ladybug?!” Tim was floundering at Marinette’s words and the caffeine from his first coffee of the day hadn’t kicked in yet. He looked at her friends, who were looking at the Wayne boys with shocked expressions….and looked similar to the rest of the Miraculous Team.

The caffeine finally kicked in.

“Oh my God. I was talking to the entire Miraculous Team and I didn’t know it. That means Chloe Bourgeois is a hero. That bratty blonde I met as a child is a hero.”

“Speak for yourself, Timothy, my childhood friend is a hero too. I can’t believe we are all heroes.” Chloe said in total disbelief.

Introductions and alter egos were exchanged.

Nearly everything went swimmingly if it weren’t for Chloe jokingly elbowed Marinette and said, “You get to date a hero too. No need to worry about flaking out on dates.”

“What do you mean dates? Dupain-Cheng and I aren’t dating.” Damian said, “My mother wanted us to marry each other, not date.”

“Mari, looks like you need some explaining to do.”

Marinette gave the short story on how she met Damian and Jason.

“So you guys are absolutely not dating? Cool. Tim, are you still open to being Mari-bug's fake boyfriend?” Chloe asked. Tim looked at her incredulously.

“You called me all the way here to fake-date your friend. Why? Not that I am complaining about her or anything.” “There is this boy in our class, Adrien Agreste and he has a little obsession with Marinette.” Chloe explained. “Romantic Soulmates.” Nathaniel chimed in, doing air-quotes.

“So I volunteered on your behalf to be my best friend’s long-distance boyfriend in America who has video-call dates with her once a week. You are going to have little romantic dates coincidently where our classmates are going to be, especially Adrien. It might put him off from pursuing Marinette for a while. After you leave, we are just to mention you every now and then to prevent him from getting any ideas.”

Damian felt a hot, burning sensation in his chest and clenched his jaw at the thought of Marin- Dupain-Cheng holding hands, cuddling and doing all those romantic actions with Drake of all people. (No, he wasn’t jealous. Not at all. Don’t be stupid. )

“Tch, Drake is going to be busy trying to find Hawkmoth. He can’t go around Paris, being Dupain-Cheng’s boyfriend. Besides, he can’t be a proper boyfriend even in his most lucid moments. I will be her boyfriend instead.”

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Tag list: @alysrose-starchild, @buginetye, @lookatthestars1, @blackroserelina, @macncheesemonster, @mochinek0, @myazael, @tonicxworld, @thewitchwhowaited, @t1dwarrior-of-earth, @kissa-chan, @iwantasecretidentity, @theymakeupfairies, @user00000003, @woe-is-me0, @kashlyn, @mochegato,@moonlightstar64 , @greatcatblaze, @moongoddesskiana, @tazanna-blythe. @tonicxworld, @toodaloo-kangaroo, @frieddonutsweets, @local-witch-of-mn, @lady-bee-fechin, @iglowinggemma28, @indecisive-mess-named-me, @k-tea-and-coffee, @jayjayspixiepop, @all-mights-asscheeks, @idk-j-go-with-it , @loysydark, @thenillabean, @lolieg, @zalladane, @silvergold-swirl, @henie04, @blueblossombliss, @khneltea, @mochegato, @itsmeevie01, @roguishredaxion, @alyssadeliv, @steph-hearthlight, @adrestar, @eliza-bich, @abrx2002, @hikari55ttva, @doglover82, @daminette5074

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(PART 6)

[comfyswitcherblanketfort]

Rose Colored Girl

asjdnkaerhgakj yaallllll I am so so so lucky to have had @dazedandinked agree to collab with me on a fic! her art is FIRE and I’m just absolutely in love with what she drew for this fic! if yall arent following her you should be, even when im not in the fandom she creates for im just in awe. 

i mean LOOK AT THIS ART!!!! ITS GORGEOUS

Pairing: Yennefer/Triss

Tags: getting together, a serries of firsts, tattoos, getting tattoos, bartender yen, student yen, lawyer triss, situationship to relationship, first date, first  i love you, yennefer is a bit dramatic, side/background geraskier.

____________________________

First Meeting 

“What’ll it be, Power Suit?” Yennefer tried to control her distaste in her expression, but given the woman’s eyebrows were climbing up her forehead, she had failed. It was easier with the men. They looked at her chest, not her wrinkled nose and ‘dead eyes’. 

“Anything strong and cold. I’m coming from a funeral.”

This time when Yennefer scrunched her nose, it was in a detached sympathy for the poor girl. As Yennefer made her drink, she watched her pick at her nails and tug at the bun atop her head like it wasn’t usually there. Her dark clothes didn’t seem to fit well either, clearly not something worn frequently. 

“Not the suit type then?” Yennefer asked, setting a terrifying mix of tequila, gin, triple sec, lime, and grapefruit juice in front of the woman who clearly needed it. 

“Only in court, and never black.”

“Prosecutor or defense?”

“Defense. The current DA and I are in a pissing match at the moment actually. Don’t go into law unless you’re prepared to be disappointed in humanity,” The woman chuckled, a forced and bitter thing, as she sipped her drink and her eyes went wide, “What is this?”

Yennefer just shrugged and picked up a tray, “Regulars call it my ‘potion’. And I’m disappointed daily. You see wild shit as a bartender.” 

From then till the end of her shift, Yennefer was power walking all over the bar with barely time to check on the woman in the ill-fitting suit. When 8 pm hit and the dinner rush was over (and her replacement clocked on a half-hour late) Yennefer didn’t even bother telling Geralt she was transferring tables to him. He knew. The tables never tipped. And to be honest, neither she nor Geralt had the patience to do more than deliver their beers and scribble down their orders as hastily as possible on a slow day. They wouldn’t even notice they’d been handed off. Funeral girl, however, she was going to make an effort with. 

“I’m almost out of here, do you mind closing out your tab with me before I go?” Yen tried for her best charming smile, which she wasn’t used to relying on. 

The woman smiled, a distractingly charming smile, and dug out her wallet, “Only if you let me buy you a drink.” 

It wasn’t the first time a patron had offered something like this, surely wouldn’t be the last, but it was the first time Yennefer didn’t have a smartass declining retort. She just smiled and nodded, raising her eyebrows when the woman insisted she ring up what she wanted, not just a well drink she could suffer through. 

She examined the woman as she closed the tab. Her card declared her name was Beatrice Merigold, but that seemed… wrong for the person in front of Yennefer. She was too warm to be a Beatrice. Yennefer suspected she usually wore her curly hair down, or at least in a protective style, from the way she kept adjusting it. Her eyes were a gold-flecked brown and her freckles were rather charming, adding to a sort of youthful radiance that made her clothes seem even more ill-suited to who she was the longer Yennefer looked at her. 

“So, Beatrice,-”

“Triss.” The woman interrupted, though surprisingly, after a day of being interrupted and ignored it didn’t irritate Yennefer. For some reason, it almost made her happy that this woman wanted to be on nickname terms. 

“Triss, what brings you to a boys club bar? Other than the funeral.”

As Triss recounted her journey into the mahogany and leather shit hole where Yennefer spent her days, the bartender unpinned her hair and let the long dark waves fall over her shoulder. It didn’t escape her notice how Triss’ eyes followed the action, or how she stumbled over her words when Yen struck her final listening pose. She knew she was attractive, used it to pay her rent with tips in fact, but she hadn’t pegged Triss as interested until then; just lonely. On the realization, she almost felt the urge to apply some lip gloss just to test the waters, but Yen found she liked listening to her talk too much to care.  

“...I actually almost walked into the tattoo shop across the street. I thought that might be a fun ‘new me’ thing but I was too chicken…” Triss sipped the last of the original drink Yen had made her, “I’m sorry, I ramble when I’m.. nervous.”

Yennefer actually smiled, a genuine smile, “Don’t be. And don’t go to that shop for your first. Ivan is fantastic but not the most gentle.” 

“You have tattoos?”

Glancing behind her to make sure a specific table didn’t hear Yennefer leaned in close, “Tons, just not where they can see.” she winked and sipped at her martini.

“Can I?” Triss’ smirk transformed into horrified embarrassment in an instant, “Shit. Sorry. That’s… that’s wildly-”

“Sure.” Yennefer’s nonchalant shrug turned into a laugh at Triss as she blinked in confusion, then relief, “We should go to another bar though. I find the entitled ones get a little touchy when they know I have ink.”

First Date

That one drink turned into two, then three, and Yennefer thought possibly four but it was impossible to remember when the place they went next only served doubles. Yennefer had woken an hour late for a lecture in Triss’ bed and decided the best way to deal with the frustration was more sex. Somehow Triss got Yennefer’s number and after-shift hookups became a bit of a habit. 

And Yennefer was fine with that. 

In fact, she preferred to keep her interactions with Triss between the hours of 10 pm and 7 am. She’d been lying to herself since her last miserable breakup that relationships just weren’t her thing so keeping things as painfully casual as possible seemed ideal. Between law school and bartending she didn’t have time for much more than hookups anyway. 

Regardless, she still found herself lounging across the bed with her head in Triss’ lap as the older woman ran her fingers through her hair while reading photocopy after photocopy for a case. It wasn’t domestic if it was at 2 am. Nothing that happened after 2 am counted anyway. 

“I was thinking about getting a tattoo.”

Yennefer shifted so she could peer under the papers with a shit-eating grin, “A sexy tattoo?”

“Maybe?” Triss looked at her in amused exasperation, “Can plants be sexy?”

“Hand me my phone,” Yen instructed with a wink.

“Not sentient vine plants,” Triss laughed, dragging the tip of her index finger down the bridge of Yennefer’s nose and adding a light tap at the tip, “Would you come with me though?”

Without thinking Yennefer started nodding excitedly and firing off questions in rapid succession. She somehow sent off an email to her study group meeting in the morning that she had to go into work and couldn’t make it while gushing over the pictures Triss showed her. Of course, the lawyer had gotten a peek of the design beforehand, ever the charmer. It only hit Yennefer what she was doing when Triss bought them coffee on the way to the tattoo shop.

It was after 7 am. And they were behaving like a… couple.

She kept both hands on her coffee as she mentally cursed herself. This was supposed to be casual, a booty call and stress relief. Now she was taking Triss to a tattoo shop and holding her hand? Well, Triss was taking her, but it still felt too… attached. 

Yennefer pointedly kept her distance and offered little nods of approval when Triss gave her uneasy glances. She felt entirely out of her depth as she watched the artist lay the stencil over most of Triss’ upper arm. Did Triss think they were a couple? Was this something she’d ask anyone to do? Or was it just because Yen already had tattoos?

A hum of approval jarred her from her thoughts. Triss was checking out the design in the mirror and the artist was taking the opportunity to check her out in turn. Anger flared up in Yennefer’s chest and she moved without thinking. Shooting the artist a particularly venomous glare, she moved to stand behind Triss and settled her hands over her waist, resting her head on Triss’ other shoulder. 

“Suits you. Do you like the placement?”  

Triss gave her a confused but amused look and placed one hand over hers, “I think so.”

“It’s going to be on you forever,” Yennefer reminded her, sparing another glare toward the artist who was now quirking an eyebrow, “I want you to be sure.”

“I am,” Triss assured her, looking in her eyes for a bit longer than Yen thought was necessary, “Thank you, love.”

Through the rest of the appointment, Yennefer held Triss’ hand and murmured encouragement to her. When they left and the artist called her Triss’ girlfriend, she didn’t even bat an eye, just linked arms with her and pulled her out of the shop.

“Time for chips,” Yennefer declared, “On me.”

“You aren't going to run?” Triss asked, a tone of incredulity and a tiny hint of hope in her voice.

Yennefer just shrugged and kept walking, “What kind of girlfriend would I be if I left you like this?”

“I’m fine…” Triss mumbled, staring at Yen like she’d grown a third eye.

With a snort, Yennefer held out her hand, “Mirror me,” when Triss did and her hand trembled Yennefer just raised her eyebrows, “Chips. Then a nap.”

“Will you nap with me?”

“Of course,” Yennefer murmured as she placed a kiss on Triss’ hair. She’d expected to be angry with herself, maybe more than a little disappointed, but all she felt was relief. 

She would be Triss’ girlfriend, there wasn’t much use fighting it anymore.

First “I love you”

Yennefer sat at the long mahogany bar, taking up three seats with her bag, ass, and the way she insisted on propping her feet up after every shift. Heels hurt, but a bartender in heels made so much more in tips than one in sneakers, especially in the business district of the city. As she swirled the cucumber spear around her martini, Geralt sipped his beer, counting the till and humming along to the music still faintly buzzing through the speakers. 

“I think I hate her a little,” Yennefer confessed, breaking the silence and earning a surprised, almost impressed, raise of the eyebrows from Geralt. 

“Hate fucking can be fun,” He mused, scribbling the totals on the bank sheet. 

Rolling her eyes, Yennefer knocked back the last of her martini, swirling the thick chilly liquid around her tongue until she tasted the basil, “Not that way.”

There was a brief silence while Geralt zipped up the right bags and put the right print-outs in the right envelopes. He was meticulous with his paperwork, a great characteristic in an employee, but Yennefer found it annoying when he took a half-hour to finish his closing duties. 

He sighed after he dropped the deposit in the safe and stood to see she was still looking at him expectantly, “If you want to talk relationships I need more liquor.”

“What a coincidence,” Yennefer smirked, slapping down a hefty chunk of her tips, “We’re in a bar right now.”

“How’d you meet her?” Geralt sighed, reaching for the mid-shelf vodka.

“Here.”

His hand swerved to the top shelf tequila before grabbing two shot glasses and pulling the lime out of the fridge, “No wonder you hate her.”

Yennefer scoffed, “She’s not a power suit cunt.”

Geralt set out the little tray of salt and a cup full of limes before rounding the bar and moving her bag to sit next to her, pouring each of them shots, “Spit it out. I’m not gonna trick you into it like Jask.”

They saluted each other before taking a sip of their tequila, “I am bitter,” she decided, “I am bitter and cynical and she just… floats through life. And you think everything's an accident but she’s so precise and makes everything look effortless and cares so fucking much.”

“So you hate her?”

“Well yeah,” Yennefer exclaimed, setting her glass down a little too firmly and turning toward Geralt, “It’s fucking irritating. She dresses in pastels and earth tones and she fucking smells nice and there are plants all over her fucking house! I shit you not, she takes more pro bono cases than the most prolific bleeding hearts but somehow she’s still doing just fine. And!” she paused to down the rest of her tequila, “And, she gets me excited about things. There’s this revoltingly contagious optimism that- that- fuck I don't know what to do with her.”

“You’re scared,” Geralt chuckled, ignoring the icy cold glare he received, “You’re not even out of law school and you’re already a cold-hearted monster. She’s soft and sweet and it scares you.”

“Fuck you.”

“You’re the one who wanted to talk,” Geralt shrugged, still smirking as he downed his shot. 

Scared didn’t seem apt but horrified fit rather nicely. Yennefer mulled it over as she drove home, one more drink and a basket of fries later. Triss was brilliant and kind and sexy, and worst of all, Yennefer was softer around her. She had her own very precise and very harsh way of moving through a world that had never been kind to her and this woman was taking a battering ram to all of her defenses. Life didn’t seem as arbitrary and mundane when Triss had any part in it. Even memorizing landmark cases for her law history class was exciting with the curly-haired woman who giggled more than she actually spoke and traced the mandala tattoo on her thigh. 

Yennefer was almost home when the realization hit her, “FUCK.”

Before she knew it she was buzzing Triss’ apartment like it was still the 90’s and she didn’t have a perfectly good cell phone. She thought about calling her as she jammed her knuckle into the little red button over and over again, but what would she say? The extra time it would take to wake Triss up this way was absolutely necessary for Yen to put her jumbled mess of thoughts back together. 

“Who the hell is buzzing at 3 am?” Triss grumbled over the speaker.

“Hi. Uhm, it's me. Can I come up?” Yennefer cursed herself for how small her voice sounded. She promised herself a long time ago that she wasn’t going to need someone, but here she was. She tapped her foot and picked at her matte black acrylics the entire elevator ride up to Triss’ floor, still scrambling to think of what she wanted to stay.

When Triss answered the door Yennefer stood frozen. All the scripts she’d gone over on her way there flew right out of her head as Triss tilted her head in concern, eyes still blurry with sleep and hair in twists that were slowly unraveling as the night wore on. 

“Are you alright, love?” Triss spoke through a yawn as she reached for Yen’s arm and tugged her over the threshold, “What's so urgent it couldn’t wait till morning?”

Right, they had breakfast plans tomorrow. She could have waited five hours and maybe figured out exactly what she wanted to say too. 

“I- I needed to see you…” Yen stammered, letting Triss lead her to the dimly lit breakfast nook where a kettle was just starting to boil, “You were already awake?”

“No,” Triss laughed, setting her down on a plush bench to pour the hot water into a mug with Yen’s favorite tea, “You sounded upset.”

Yen took the tea offered and smiled even though she felt like she wanted to cry as she whispered, “Thank you.”

Triss sat next to her and tucked her hair behind her ear, simply watching her as she bobbed the teabag in and out of the water. Her fingers raked through Yennefer’s hair as the silence stretched on and neither of them so much as sipped their tea. Yennefer wanted to run. Or lean into her girlfriend and fall asleep, but she’d started this. For once she’d been impulsive, bordering on dramatic, and she had to suffer the consequences. 

She took a shaky breath and rested her hand on Triss’ knee, “My world is cruel. It has made me an angry, cynical bitch and I am fine with that. And I- I just need you to know that. Because you’re an amazing person and you deserve someone that lights up a room like you do,” Triss made to speak but Yen squeezed her knee and talked over her, “But I’m enough of a bitch to be selfish. Because… But because I love you, I need you to be okay with the fact that I am the way I am. I can’t bear the thought that one day you’ll realize I’m nasty and run.”

“Better to get it out in the open now?” Triss laughed. She fucking laughed and Yennefer could only stare at her in confusion. 

Still laughing, Triss set her mug down and held Yen’s face in her hands as she kissed her forehead, then nose, then finally a chaste kiss on her lips, “Only you would tell someone you love them while insisting you’re a horrible person. I love you the way you are Yennefer. Bitchiness and all.”

Tears started to well in Yennefer’s eyes, “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Triss insisted, wrapping Yennefer in her arms and holding her head to her shoulder, “You told my brother to suck your dick at my birthday party. I have no misgivings about who you are. I happen to find your aggression extremely endearing.” 

Yennefer finally gave a small smile, setting her tea on the bench behind Triss and wrapping her arms around her waist, “Say it again?”

“I love you,” Triss whispered, kissing the top of her head, “And I love that you feel safe enough to show up at my apartment at 3am.”

An embarrassing snort escaped with a watery laugh, “That was a bit dramatic, huh?”

“It’s okay. I find it sweet,” Triss hummed, rubbing her back in long soothing motions, “Let's go to bed, hm?”

Yennefer nodded and let herself be led to Triss’ bed where she fell asleep curled around the woman who loved her, content for the first time in a long time. 

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Illuminated, pt.2

Summary: Seeing an old friend isn’t always a happy occasion, but it can direct you to someone who undoubtedly makes your heart beat faster.

Warnings: talk of war and death, book spoilers

Part 1   

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It felt strange to be walking the same halls she once revered. Y/N had barely grown at all since her time at Little Palace, if anything she'd claim she got shorter, but the walls didn't seem as intimidating as they used to.

Back then, she was just a clueless girl with dreams that turned into nightmares. The war had left deep wounds everywhere in Ravka and for that, Y/N would curse Alina Starkov's name until her dying breath.

Ravka trusted Alina to rescue them from the darkness, but she only expanded it. She fled from her responsibility and responded with force when General Kirigan asked for accountability.

Y/N was considered too young to be allowed in battle, sent away by the Darkling with children who have not yet mastered their particular branch of small science. Grisha a year older than her were given the chance to protect Ravka, something she wished she could have done. 

If it were up to her, she'd have stood by him instead of hiding.

Y/N had always been quite capable of controlling her power. Whether it be fire, wind or water, she held a firm grasp over all three elements with an iron fist and a terrifyingly sharp mind. She had developed attacks no one else is capable of, the kind that made other Grisha wary of her ferocity.

Naturally, she assumed that was why General Kirigan had called on her. The last thing she expected was to have the General, her King, admire the abominable blue flames she wields.

"Y/N?" A breathless reminder of a voice she once knew had stopped her in her tracks.

Looking over her shoulder, Y/N's lips break into a wide smile at the sight of her old friend and confidant.

She didn't waste time, running toward the girl who had fiery hair Y/N always wanted to have too. Colliding with Genya, Y/N couldn't stop a laugh that escaped her as she wrapped her arms around her much taller friend.

“I. Can’t. Breathe!” Genya manages to say between shallow, strained breaths. 

Chuckling, Y/N releases her from the death grip she calls a hug. She’s never been subtle in showing affection, or hate.

“I can’t believe it’s you!” Y/N exclaims, her attempt to quiet down failing before she even tries.

With a surprised smile set on her lips, Genya nods. “I didn’t realize you’d be at Little Palace.”

Faltering, Y/N licks her lips as her smile is erased. “You don’t seem too happy about that.”

“Little Palace isn’t exactly the safest place in Ravka anymore”, Genya musses.

Scoffing, Y/N furrows her eyebrows. “Alina made it unsafe.” Lifting her chin, Y/N continues, “The Darkling will protect us.”

Pursing her lips, Genya looks around carefully to ensure they’re alone. “That’s the problem. While he’s here, no one is safe.” Taking Y/N by the elbow, she pulls her aside toward the open window to help disguise their voices from any curious listeners. “Alina was our only hope of killing him.”

Ripping her arm away from Genya’s hold, Y/N narrows her eyes at the friend she once trusted more than anyone else in this world. When there was no hope, Genya put a smile on her face. Even when Y/N was losing herself, she had Genya to remind her of who she is.

She never doubted her friend, never questioned her loyalty or sanity. Until now. 

“Genya, who did you fight alongside with?” Y/N asks sharply, her lips forming a thin line.

“You don’t know the entire story”, Genya tries but Y/N steps away as if she’d been burned.

The war had made warriors from children for no matter how they tried to protect their innocence, war leaves no one untouched. When Alina Starkov decided to turn her back on Grisha, Y/N and many others have been forced to grow up far too quickly. No silly crushes or petty arguments mattered for the blood had reached them once Alina slaughtered Botkin in front of them. It was the only taste of war Y/N had for she had killed for the first time on that day. 

Alina is the reason she has blood on her hands.

“The story I do know is enough for me”, Y/N huffs as she shakes her head at Genya. “The fact our General did not kill you is proof of his generosity. Perhaps you should learn to appreciate him. Your precious Alina never showed such mercy.”

Turning her back on Genya, Y/N headed back. She didn’t want to explore the old corridors anymore, but to bathe and sleep. From tomorrow on, she’ll be working with Kirigan on her new ability and she didn’t want to display any reasons for him to distrust her.

She pauses as Genya speaks up.

“I wonder what will get you killed faster – your loyalty or stubbornness?”

Turning her head to the left, Y/N could see her old friend in her peripheral vision. “At least I’ll die for something I believe in. I’ll die for Ravka. Can you say the same?”

Fuming, Y/N tossed and turned in her bed. She turned the pillow to the colder side, she even tried turning her head on the opposite side of the headboard, but nothing could calm her mind or the itching to use her powers to blow off some steam.

The one part of herself she truly did connect with the Inferni was the temper she often got in trouble for. When Nina Zenik called her stupid, she burned off her eyebrows and Botkin forced her to wake up at the crack of dawn and do sprints for the next month as punishment. It’s probably the only time in her life she was truly in good form.

Grunting, she raised her legs and slammed them back on the mattress in frustration. Tossing the blanket off, she grabbed her blue kefta and left the room. 

Her footsteps echo the halls as she all but runs out, straight into the foggy morning air outside. The cold pinches her skin, her lips trembling for a moment before she sinks her front teeth into her bottom lip. Her breaths come in visible puffs of air as she wraps her arms around her middle while securing her hands under her armpits to stop herself from using her power that’s calling to her like the siren song calls sailors to their certain death.

Y/N always had the misfortune of wearing her heart on her sleeve with those she cares for. She also has a nasty tendency to either feel nothing or everything at once and when someone she loves turns out to be different than what she believed, it causes an uncontrollable explosion of emotion deep within.

“Is there a particular reason you’re outside at this ungodly hour?” A deep voice makes her gasp as she turns to look at the very person she most admires.

Raising her eyebrows, she nearly laughed as she realized the Darkling wore not his kefta, but the clothes he sleeps in. It’s loose clothing, black as his kefta and horse and yet it gives off a softness she did not realize a man as powerful as him could ever possess.

“I’d ask you the same, General”, she retorts with her eyebrows still raised as if she’s challenging him to come closer and make her stop ogling him.

For a moment, she thought he might turn away and leave as he stood there calmly. It feels as if he’s studying her, taking in every inch of her and committing it to memory. If it were any other man, Y/N would have spoken up or acted out to prevent the uncomfortable feeling of being watched so intimately, yet she didn’t want Kirigan to ever stop looking at her. If not for her fear of being too forward, she’d invite him closer.

As if he read her mind, Kirigan takes a step closer….and then another one. She can’t help but wonder what’s going through his mind. 

What does he see when he looks at her? 

How does she look in his eyes, because the way he’s looking at her now is taking her breath away?

He looks at her as if there is something worth looking at.

“Sometimes my mind turns on me”, he admits in a low, quiet tone that Y/N has to strain to hear him properly. “I’ve lived a long life and a longer one awaits me. My mind is full of ghosts that want retribution for what I did to them.”

Swallowing thickly, she straightens her back as she comes closer – close enough to feel his breath as it fans the hair at the top of her head.

“What did you do to them?”

The left corner of his lips twitches. “You’d think ill of me if I told you.”

Averting her gaze to his bare chest revealed by the wind as it pulled the fabric of his shirt, Y/N licks her lips. She argues with herself on her next move, wondering if it would be improper to touch the man who had been considered untouchable by everyone she ever met. Her fingers years to feel his skin under their tips, to slowly trail the jawline she wants to press her lips against.

Frowning softly, she bites her lower lip as she locks her eyes on his dark ones. Unlike many before her, she does not crumble under the weight of his heavy gaze. Her heart trembles as she reaches out and places her palm on his chest.

He didn’t expect her to touch him, tensing up. It’s surprising how warm her hand is, more so how inviting the warmth is. He’s hyper-aware of every breath he takes as his chest expands under her touch, hoping this incredibly brazen Grisha does not feel the way his heart jumps with the sudden surge of her bravery.

When he notices her lips move, he holds his breath as if the simple act of breathing could muffle her voice and make it harder for him to soak up the blind loyalty and love she holds for him.

“Who we are and who we need to be to survive are two different things. You’re not evil for choosing to protect yourself and your country. I could never think badly of you, General.”

It’s been a long time since he found someone so incredibly devoted to him and his cause, exhilarating him to the core. Alina had never truly believed in him for she always considered him wicked, but Y/N couldn’t be more different. Perhaps he’s right and this time it will work. 

With someone trusting as Y/N is, he can’t possibly fail again.

Letting her hand fall, Y/N looks away as she realizes she crossed the line and his silence is the easiest way for him to inform her of it. Truth be told, she wondered who was the last woman who got to lay her hand on his chest.

Was it Alina?

There were rumors of the relationship Kirigan and Alina supposedly had and Y/N always felt a pang of jealousy upon hearing the girls talk. She never knew him, she never truly had him and she never will, but the idea someone else does brought her pain.

Perhaps her overthinking or the increasingly awkward silence prompted her temper to speak instead of her brain.

"Did you love her?" Y/N blurts out. 

Her eyes widen as she realizes her thoughts have become vocal and in the presence of the very man she should be watching her mouth around.

"I apologize. It must be a difficult time to reminisce about." Maybe Nina was right – she is stupid!

"It is quite alright.” Darkling lets out an audibly heavy breath. “I did not love her, I trusted her. I trusted her enough to put all my hope for a better Ravka on her shoulders and she betrayed our country."

"No", she reaches out slowly, her hand finding its way to his as it gingerly grasps his fingers. "She betrayed you."

Smiling reluctantly, Kirigan finds himself wondering if he should embrace the fact Y/N seems to be a very touchy person or if he should set some boundaries. Despite the shiver that runs down his spine, he allows her hand to fully take his as he closes his fingers around hers.

"I should have seen it coming. I'm far too used to betrayal."

"I'd never do that", she pauses. "I'd never betray you. I'd never break your trust."

Her responses are quick, so innocent and naïve that he can’t help but feel guilty about every moment he spends near her. No one should send a doe eyed beauty into the clutches of a beast so easily, yet he has no desire to force her to leave.

"Don't make promises you can't keep."

Smiling, her entire face lights up. It’s a true delight to witness so early in the morning after a long night of nightmares he faced.

“Do not worry, General. I have every intention on proving myself to you.”

Glancing at their hands, her smile widens. She spent years wishing for this and now that it’s happening she can’t seem to believe it’s real.

“The sun will come up soon”, he changes the topic.

Y/N fears he might leave and her hand would be back at her side as she watches his retreating figure, but when he speaks again her heart dances in her chest.

“Would you like to watch the sunrise with me?”

Inhaling sharply, she nods. “Very much so.”

Unfortunately for them, someone else couldn’t sleep that night and they had seen just enough for a terrible plan to be born.

=================================

A/N - So, I’m definitely going to play with the books here and twist some things to fit the storyline I have in mind. There might be some spoilers, so read with caution. I debated on making more than a one shot for this and taking on some ideas I have for Darkling but also Nikolai, so I’m not sure how long this will be just yet. 

Tags: @deceivedeer​ @evyiione​ @measshaw​

Part 3

[irenedubrovna]

A post regarding Euphoria for the benefit of myself and basically no one else

So, it really bothers me when people say Euphoria is groundbreaking, progressive media. Here’s a dissection of why I don’t think it is, because this is what I feel like doing at work:

The character of Rue is objectively great. She by far receives the least overt sexualization, and is treated neutrally in terms of active sexuality. She’s treated like a normal teenage girl with mental issues and an addiction to drugs. She falls in love with a girl who she pines for and places on a pedestal. The reason I think she is written this way is because she is a Sam Levinson proxy. She written with gender ambiguity and with little regard to the experiences she’d go through as a black gay female, probably because Sam Levinson has no insight to that aspect of life. Her performance is heightened of course by Zendaya, who breathes unique life to the Sam Levinson’s artistic extension, and without her performance this show would not get even half the acclaim it gets. Attribute that to Zendaya of course, because the director has done little to deserve this acclaim.

The rest of the females, sans Lexi, are pornified to a disgusting extent, not only due to the fact that they are supposed to be underage, but also because their existence as people is treated as being absolutely secondary to their sexual appeal. They are foremost presented in terms of their relation to sex. Cassie, Maddy, Jules, and Kat cannot be removed from their sexuality without disrupting the plot or their journeys in relation to the plot. Why are the females so intrinsically linked to uber fetishized versions of female sexuality, or uber fetishized versions of blossoming female sexual identity?

Maddy is presented not only scantily clad 90 percent of the time, but also dressed in a precariously unattainable sexual fashion. At any given time she is styled to look straight out of, simultaneously, a high fashion editorial, and a “barely legal” porno. She is airheaded and profane, and promiscuous, her mannerisms dictated by the adult films she’s “studied” in order to project an image of perfect hyper sexual femininity. She’s complacent in becoming a prototypical housewife because it will earn her a comfortable place as a trophy wife. She has no aspirations beyond that. So, let’s unpack all of that. Maddy’s role in the show is mostly passive. The most active thing she does in the plot is revenge fuck a man in the pool of a party. Nearly everything else she does in the show that is plot relevant is of someone else’s volition. Even less of what she in the show is related to anything other than a man. She is abused and then pressured into framing another man for said abuse. She has no agency as a character. The only notable difference to this rule is when she takes drugs at a carnival, knocks a pot of chili over, and calls her ex’s mom a cunt. Removed from her active sexual life and carefully cultivated aesthetic, she’s a trite stereotype of an unambitious girlfriend who gets treated poorly. I see people call Maddy iconic, but if she wasn’t gorgeous and well dressed, I doubt anyone would even think twice about her, let alone create fancams and Instagram pages dedicated to her. She exists as a plot device, and as pretty set dressing to build up the shows aesthetic. Her emotions are not well explored, her motivations are sexist, and she is often there to be demeaned, objectified, or to say a bad word. The most damning part of her involvement in this show is her episode where it is stated that she, as a fourteen year old girl, lost her virginity to an adult man, and it is stated she was in control of the situation. This is a dangerous thing to say about a character, to any audience, but especially a young one. To imply that a precocious young girl was in control during her first sexual encounter with a much much older man implies things that frankly border on rape apologist ideology. This show states this unflinchingly and with no further elaboration. If there’s one thing that tells you that Euphoria is a bad show, let it be that. Also, if there’s one thing that tells you about Sam Levinson as a person, and the way he views girls and women, let it fucking be that.

Jules is a young trans girl. She also likes to have sex with men as a means to “conquer femininity”. Scratch that, she likes to have degrading sex with older men in order to “conquer femininity”. This mindset is shown to be toxic, of course, but I think the problem with this idea in general is that there’s no deeper exploration for what this mindset means. It implies that she believes women are the sum of their intrigue and degradations. This mindset I can only assume would be a cultivation of dysphoria and internalized misogyny, which this series is absolutely not prepared to address in a tactful manner. Jules is a teenager with mental illness, trauma, and is undergoing an identity crisis. There’s something powerful in her character, something worth saying, however we only get trimmings of those meaningful things, and are ultimately left with a hurtful depiction of a trans girl because all of her musings on womanhood and identity are incomplete, and they fail to reach beyond the surface of their thesis statement. She wears colorful clothing, is overtly feminine and artistic in her presentation. Everything about her screams insecurity over her own womanhood. That is the crux of her character. Now, I think we should ask ourselves, is trans person who is insecure about their identity peak representation? Is this what trans people deserve? Is it “groundbreaking “? If this show was run by someone else, I might be inclined to say that there’s nothing insidious about this, but this is the guy that made Assassination Nation, so I think we know what he thinks of young women, the way they should be portrayed (that is, for the capitulation of a man) and realize his inclusion of a trans woman in his cast is no more meaningful than the inclusion of any other woman. Women to him are made to be categorized and should, at the end of the day, be easily palatable for the capitulation of a man. The device of having Jules being interested in older men and rough sex for identity reasons is transparent. Trans women are exploited and objectified with a similar fervor to cis women, the caveat being that they are “a forbidden fruit” of sorts to straight men. Jules is sissified, her presentation fetishistic. Her role in the plot is more involved. Her relationship with Rue is sweet, though toxic on both sides. She is ultimately betrayed, blackmailed, and snowballs into something of a manic episode, all well portrayed by Hunter Schafer, but I don’t think her inclusion in the show absolves it of any of its many sins.

Let’s talk about Cassie. Cassie is the Eurocentric beauty standard exemplified. She is the blonde haired blue eyed girl next store, and her boobs are of course always on display. She is notably promiscuous, something I say right off the bat because that’s how she’s introduced, as a so called slut through the words of the devil (Nate Jacobs). She is a girl with daddy issues, which we are all familiar with at this point. Her sexual boundaries begin and end at the whim of her partner. The terms of her consent are much like the terms of consent of many young girls brainwashed by society and the rising tide of degradation porn: everything is alright as long as you provide them comfort and affirmation afterward. You can touch them roughly without asking, you can use them as a tool to affirm your masculinity. This is the way men prefer their women now: just broken enough to say yes to anything they want. It’s become a joke at this point. Men like girls with issues, but only the ones that will feed their own desires. Cassie Howard is meek. Her inclusion in the plot I suppose ties to themes of drug addiction and how it divides and destroys the people you love. It doesn’t show what it does to her beyond shaping her sexual encounters, which is no surprise. Overall I’d say Cassie is in this roster of females as the most traditional categorically, in relation to how men view women and further how they sexualize them. She has a relationship with someone who doesn’t really love her. That mostly what she does here. Gets used. Doesn’t drive the plot or conflict much. More pretty set dressing. More aesthetics. How this show consists of so many women but is driven so much by men is unsurprising, and, again, very enlightening in the grand scheme of things.

Lastly we touch on Kat. I’d like to begin with the fact that self actualization through sexual exploration, in a show run by a man, is just a cloak for a woman to gratify the audience with her sexuality. Regardless of whether or not she is plus sized, this is overt objectification. She is on this show to be sexy. Beyond that, the fact that a minor using sex work as a form of liberation is disgusting. Whether or not she is portrayed as “owning” her sexuality is negligible, and speaks to the same mindset discussed with Maddy. Minors cannot fucking consent to sex, sexual acts, or anything within the confines of such. It’s crazy that this occurs with two different characters in such a similar way. It has echoes of “Well, she looked older..” and “Well, she wanted it..” or “She’s advanced for her age”. Never, not once in the events of the series is there meaningful introspection on what doing this kind of thing does to a minor. Moreover, these acts are explicit, and made clearly for sexual gratification. None of these things are absolved by the fact that she’s plus sized. If anything, her body type is fetishized in this context. It’s also another case of a “good girl to bad girl” transformation, which are archaic and, of course, sexist. With the rise of adult websites targeting minors for explicit content, this is even more reprehensible. Once again, in terms of representation, is this really what speaks to you as progressive? Groundbreaking? A girl gains control of her own narrative by having sex with lots of men. She gains control by being sexy. She gains control by dehumanizing and objectifying herself. No she doesn’t. Media controlled by men will tell this story to you thousands of times, don’t listen because she’s bigger than a size four.

ALL OF THESE CHARACTERS ARE UNDERAGE. ALL OF THEM HAVE EXPLICIT SEX SCENES, EVEN THE SEXUAL ASSAULT IS MADE CINEMATICALLY PORNIFIED. THESE SHOTS ARE MADE TO BE OBJECTIVELY SEXY. THIS IS NOT A CASE OF SOMEONE CREATING SOMETHING FOR THE SAKE OF REALISM. IT IS ABOUT MAKING SCENES THAT SPEAK TO A MALE AUDIENCE. THAT CATER TO THE MALE GAZE. ARGUE WITH THE WALL.

I won’t go further into the plot, other characters, or the structure or the episodes for sake of brevity, but I felt compelled to air my thoughts on this to the void. I can only hope I was critical enough that Sam Levinson will one day see this and cry because another bad feminist thinks something that he made sucks

[elius-learns-to-write]

Do You Need A Hug?

To the anon who gave the idea that the reader gets hurt on a mission and Wanda helps them out, you are a genius and this is for you so I hope you enjoy <3 (I just realised there isn’t much hurt comfort and a lot of Mother!Wanda oops)

Summary: Reader gets hurt, Wanda wants to help, hugs.

Wanda had bonded with you as soon as you came to the table 

You had originally lived with your dad but once your abilities started to show at the age of 14 he didn’t know how to cope so he sent you to go live with the avengers 

You had similar powers to Wanda so of course they set you up to train with her first to make sure you wouldn’t lose control

You looked so nervous. That was the first thing Wanda thought when she saw you, the next thing was that you had this sought of kindness that seemed to envelope you as you walked towards her. Kind eyes. “Hey Y/n I’m Wanda and I’m gonna help you learn how to control your abilities, okay?” she asked as you stepped onto the large grey mat that took up the centre of the room, “Nice to meet you, I don’t really understand why I’m here but you seem cool enough” you giggled at her enthusiasm. You didn’t remember much about your mum, of course you knew the basics like what she looked like and what she sounded like but she had walked out on your dad and you when you were only small. Wanda gave motherly vibes off (not that you had much experience with those vibes) and she was kind.

Training was the only interaction you really had with Wanda for the first few weeks of living there

But after a while constructive criticism and praise turned into small talk and suspiciously long water breaks filled with gossip instead of hydration 

And in about a month you had been invited shopping with her

“Hey Wanda, what do you think of this?” you said opening the curtains to the dressing room so the woman could see the pale blue top you had decided to try on, “uhm do they have it in purple? I think purple would suit you better” she replied, searching the mountain of clothes she had in her arms and handing you a nice pair of jeans “here go try those on whilst I go check if they have that top in purple” she shooed you into the dressing room before walking off. That was the thing about Wanda, she had seen you at your worst, sweaty and panting for breath as you were pinned by Nat for the 10th time yet she always tried to help you look your best.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You waited at the table as the woman went up and ordered your drinks at the counter of this dainty cafe you had found when trying to take cover from the rain that had started to come down only minutes after you had left the shop. You ran into the doors laughing your head off as she helped you push it open and then sat you down at a table and went off to order. “I got you a slice of cake whilst I was up there because I thought you might be hungry” she smiled handing you your cup and slice of heaven “now I feel bad you have paid for everything today!” you whined still going in for a bite as she added sugar to her tea “don’t! You are 14 and don’t have a stable income, the adults are meant to treat you”.

After that trip you decided to make it a monthly occurrence 

And were rarely seen without each other

She would do anything for you and you would do anything for her 

That’s why when you turned 16 she wanted to be the one to get you the best and most personal present

You looked up at Wanda then back at the box then back at Wanda. You couldn’t believe something as simple as a locket had made you cry. As you opened it the dam broke and tears started to pour from your eyes as you saw the picture you and her had taken in a photo booth on your second ever shopping trip. She started to tickle you as the countdown started. The photo that had come out was one of pure joy, something you had never been able to get a photo of , hence the tears. “I know it’s not driving lessons but I hope those are tears of joy” she laughed lightly as Tony threw his hands up at the car jab (even though if you ask him he will still say he had the best present) “of course they are! I love it so much thank you” you replied launching yourself into her arms.“Great now my bop it toy seems like a stupid gift” moaned Sam falling back onto the couch in defeat“It was stupid before the damn locket came out birdbrain” scoffed Bucky

So naturally after that the bond you had was even stronger

Which meant going on missions meant a debriefing from Wanda on the most random things, such as: How to properly stop drop and roll, What not to say to Steve when he’s in captain mode, Why annoying Sam won’t do well in a Hydra base, and so on

But when you failed to listen to her advice and come home hurt she is sure to patch you up

You could tell by the way Steve had prepared you for the incoming mama bear Wanda attack that she was worried about you. You hadn’t really had time to fully process that as the woman came flying at you shooting questions at you left, right and centre. “What happened?” she finally took enough of a break to inspect the growing black eye and small cut on your right arm. “I wasn’t paying attention when Bucky called over the comms that the building was coming down and I got a bit caught” you mumbled knowing she would find the situation both comic and concerning. “This is why I said to you always pay attention” she scolded, the motherly tone she had taken to using with you coming through.  

After the initial shock of “my baby is hurt” she took you to her bathroom and grabbed the first aid kit ready to sterilise the wound. “What’s wrong sweetie?” she asked after hearing you sniffle, pausing her actions to look at you, concern clear in her eyes as she “I feel like I let you down” you replied taking the tissue from her hands to blow your nose “No no sweet child you just scared me” she said tucking a strand of hair around your face. “are you sure?” you asked, feeding the tissue to the bin “of course, now do you need a hug?” Wanda giggled, wrapping her arms around your body gently as you nodded in confirmation. “Nothings better than a mothers hug” you muttered into her jumper (one you had tried to knit her for Christmas last year).

She couldn’t stop smiling 

Made sure to make your favourite drink and have a movie marathon with you 

This isn’t to say she got any less protective of you 

(Sam is still upset about the bop it so when you see him you just whisper “Bop it! Twist it!” as you walk past him)

[margoshansons]

Alina’s Keftas: An Analysis

So I used to be a costume designer, which means that I pay very close attention to movies and tv shows, specifically their costumes (duh), and I noticed a few cool things about Alina’s keftas in the first season of Shadow and Bone and wanted to share them with you.

(tagging @kazinejghafa​ cause she wanted to see it!)

Let’s start with her blue kefta, the one she wears the most:

Right away, I already notice quite a few things. One, her color blue is a lot darker and richer than Zoya’s and the other Summoners. It’s a way to make her stand out among the Etheralki more than she already does. We know that Alina just wants to be seen as normal and equal, especially when she’s already ostracized for being Shu, but she's already set up to fail because of the color of her kefta.

Number two, Her kefta is made out of silk, while the others are made out of wool. We know that it’s wintertime in Ravka and we also know that many of Grisha eventually go to the front as part of the Second Army, usually wearing wool to protect themselves from the cold. But the choice to make Alina’s kefta silk implies that she was never seen as a soldier by the Darkling, the King, or the Grisha. She’s a figurehead, something to point at and give the people hope. As soon as she was given her blue kefta she wasn’t a soldier anymore, she became a saint. 

Third, the kefta does not fit Alina at all. The belt isn’t tight enough, the shoulder seams are lower and don't line up, it’s baggy and ill-fitting. She looks like she’s drowning in it. This is to perpetuate the idea that Alina doesn’t belong among the Grisha yet. She doesn’t feel like she’s one of them and she’s still clinging onto the hope that Mal will show up and she’ll return to the First Army. Alina doesn’t feel like she fits in, and so her kefta doesn’t fit her either. 

Also, the colors of her kefta are unique as well. I know according to the books that Blue is the Etheralki color and gold embroidery is for Sun Summoners, but there’s also another connection there. Blue and Yellow are the colors of the Ravka Royal Family. In a way, through wearing that kefta, Alina is pledging allegiance to the King outright. It’s a sign to anyone that Alina is under the King’s protection, that she’s granted the protection she is because she made her promise to destroy the fold to the King. She’s doing it out of love for her country.

Alright, now let's move onto one of my favorite keftas: the Black Kefta.

(Holy shit she looks so pretty)

First thing first, obvious color change. The Blue is gone and replaced by Black, symbolizing her shifting allegiance from the King to the Darkling. She’s not longer destroying the Fold for Ravka, she’s destroying it because it’s what the Darkling wants and she feels as if he’s the one that’s given her new purpose. She’s left the First Army behind and fully embraced her role as a Grisha. 

Because as we can see, this kefta fits perfectly. 

The shoulder seams line up, the belt cinches directly around her waist, and it looks tailored to her own measurements. But her kefta is still Silk. She’s not seen as a soldier she’s still seen as a figurehead, something that people cannot relate to. 

One thing I also want to touch on is the embroidery and the length. This kefta is clearly more elaborate than any of the other ones she wears. The golden embroidery reminds me of a couple things, around the collar it almost resembles a lion’s mane, and lions are often seen as symbols of majesty, strength and courage as well as military might. Alina herself is reveling in her own majesty and strength here, as well as showing off the new military might of the Second Army through her demonstration. 

Then the embroidery spreads out down her sleeves almost resembling flames. Now this could be a reference to sun itself and it probably is, but those who read the books know that there is a certain creature with flaming wings that becomes very very important later on, which I believe this is referencing. 

The embroidery itself is also symbolizing Alina’s power. The gold embroidery against the black is her Sun Summoning abilities breaking through the Fold, tearing it apart. It also symbolizes the slow way she’s breaking through The Darkling’s demeanor. She has the power here, not him.

The length is also important to note here, because this kefta is much longer than her other ones. If I’m remembering correctly it touches the floor, which, again, differentiates her from other Grisha because theirs fall to their knees or their shins. It can also be seen as The Darkling trying to make Alina seem older than she is, as length (especially in fantasy) is often used to show how old or young a woman is in society. 

Finally (I could literally talk about this kefta all day) I’m gonna touch on the neckline because it is so different from anything else we see. EXCEPT for the Darkling.

The collar is obviously much shorter here, but my point still stands. It’s a connection between these two. And knowing that the Darkling commissioned the kefta himself, it’s deliberate. He’s claiming Alina. It’s also important to note that this is the first time we see Alina without the standard undershirt and turtleneck that comes with the keftas. She’s letting the audience and the Darkling know that she’s vulnerable now. She’s opening herself up, and she’s doing it under the careful manipulation of the Darkling.

Alina’s collar also reminds me of Elizabeth the First and the Elizabethan Era with those stiff necked collars. It’s reminiscent of royalty.

Also! One last thing, I love that this kefta looks the most Eastern in style. It reminds me of a kimono and other traditional asian clothing moreso than the other keftas. 

Finally, we are discussing the golden kefta.

I love this kefta because it mirrors the black one in every way. 

The length is the same, the Darkling still trying to convince both Alina and himself that she’s older than she actually is, that she’s more mature than she is. BUT MY FAVORITE THING IS THAT THE BELT IS IDENTICAL TO THE ONE SHE WORE AT THE FETE.

It’s the same circumstances, a show of military power, but she is not the one in control here. It’s a direct callback to the last time Alina felt powerful and strong, except now the circumstances have completely switched and she’s under someone else’s control. The last time she wore this belt she was someone’s equal, now she’s their slave. 

Also the colors have been completely reversed. I talked a little bit about how the gold on black was symbolic of Alina’s power and control over her situation. How it symbolized the light spreading through the darkness and destroying the Fold and breaking through The Darkling’s hard heart. But here it’s the opposite. 

The black embroidery almost looks malevolent, spreading and infecting the golden light. The Shadows are creeping through and slowly overtaking Alina just like her light was overtaking the Darkling. The lion symbolism is gone, the firebird symbolism is gone, all we see is black tendrils of shadow reaching out and infecting Alina and her powers. The Darkling is claiming her again, but in a much more malevolent way. 

He’s saying “I have corrupted her, she is no longer in power, I am.”

Also again, we have the open neckline, except this one is more westernized. The angular neckline, the lack of a collar or protection. She is completely vulnerable and at the mercy of the Darkling, a white man (synonymous with western power). It’s showing off her amplifier, it’s showing off the Darkling’s claim over her. Almost like a brand or a dog collar. This open neckline is the Darkling’s way of saying “See those antlers? That means she’s mine. I own her.” It’s disgusting and fucked up but it works.

And again, Alina is in silk, not wool. She’s not being taken seriously as a soldier, just a figurehead at the mercy of the highest bidder. First it was the King, now it’s the Darkling. The silk has become symbolic of how she has no real power of her own, that she’s doomed forever to be an outsider among the Grisha. 

Which makes it all the more powerful when she takes it back.

Also HER HAIR! I could do a whole other post about her hair but this is already getting too long hahaha.

I hope you enjoyed this deep dive into Alina’s keftas from a Comm Major who has wayyyy too much time on her hands haha.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Looking for a Place to Happen 7

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), age gap, general stupidity, some violence and threats, drunkenness, some content not warned.

This is dark!biker!Sam Wilson x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Series Synopsis: There’s lots happening in Birch and you find it all too amusing.

Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown, When the Weight Comes Down, Little Bones, and Fully Completely

Note: This is it for Sam and it will give me a chance to start plotting Frank and Peter’s storylines but no promises on when those will be touched. I’m still sorting through ideas.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Chapter 7: It’s a shame to leave this masterpiece

💀💀💀

As you came up to The Asp, you felt better than you had in days. The blend of alcohol in your stomach blurred the old brick buildings of the small town and buffed out the peeling paint of the image of the ancient Queen. The girls giggled behind you in a similar state, ready to celebrate the occasion.

You were the first inside as you stumbled past the man smoking at the doors. He was clothed in leather like any of the others within. You hit the table with your hip as you came into the barroom and kicked it as it wobbled.

“Sup, bitches?” you announced your presence as the other girls entered behind you and laughed raucously at the introduction.

Your eyes met Sam’s as you looked around. He sat with those other men, Bucky tilted his head in disbelief at you and Steve stood as his girl came up to lean on your arm and slur, “let’s put some good music on!”

“Yeah!” the rest of you chimed in unison, “and more drinks!”

“Drinks, drinks, drinks, drinks,” Bucky’s girl and the mechanic chanted as the crossed to the bar and you staggered with the third to the old jukebox.

“Jesus, you got anything made in the last three decades?” you chirped as you heard the scrape of chairs and a low mutter.

“What the fuck is going on?” Bucky demanded and you glanced over as you hit a button.  The disco beat rose as the bartender with the dyed hair poured a line of shots, “you are all drunk.”

“No, we’re ready for a good time!” you sang as you bopped to the beat and Steve’s girl began to wiggle oddly. You supposed that was dancing, power to her.

“You,” Bucky turned on you, “this is your fault--”

“It’s a special night,” Sam stepped up, “they’re having fun.”

“They’re making a scene,” Bucky growled.

“There’s hardy anyone here, or anyone sober enough to care,” Sam rolled his eyes as he smirked at you. You stuck out your tongue and brushed by Bucky as the shot glasses stood ready.

“Some for them,” you jabbed your thumb over your shoulder, “buncha tight asses!”

You lifted a dark brown shot and tried not to spill it as you neared Bucky. He was still scary in your tipsy delight but you didn’t care enough to back off.

“Do it,” you leaned towards him, “chill out, bruh.”

Sam snorted as Steve steadied his girl and spoke quietly as she ignored him and mouthed the words to the Donna Summers song. He was failing to hold her attention as her eyes rounded at the drink in your hand then flitted to the bar as another four were added to the row.

“Really,” the slender dark-haired man leaned an elbow on the bar as he peered down his nose at the mechanic, “this is unseemly.”

“Double for him,” you cried out and grabbed Bucky’s hand to wrap around the shot glass, “consider it an apology from me, boss.”

You patted his shoulder and turned away to near the prim man with his stuffy accent.

“Do you prefer a pint? What do they drink in tight-ass-opia?” you snickered and his brows arched. The mechanic slid a shot towards him and nudged you away with her arm.

“Drink,” she challenged him as she took her own, “you bitch.”

Your mouth fell open at her blatant defiance and Loki’s green eyes flickered as he lifted his chin. The song changed but it was another upbeat melody you recognized. The tall man took the shot from the mechanic and drank it smoothly before carefully setting the glass back down.

“This is a birthday party,” you said, “where’s the cake?”

“Yeah, why didn’t I get a cake?” Steve’s girl shoved him, “that’s bullshit.”

“Sweetie,” he warned and she sidled past him to claim a shot.

“It’s my birthdayyyyy,” she drawled, “I’m doing what I want--” she paused to choke down the shot and turned on him again, “and you’re not my daddy so I’m gonna have fun. You’re welcome to join or fuck off.”

There was a silence as you all stared at the usually soft-spoken woman. She pointed to her empty glass and the bartender. 

“Alright, that’s enough--” Bucky began.

“Hey,” a woman with reddish blonde hair stepped up in a leather jacket, “pour me a shot.”

“Wanda,” he warned.

“Jeez, Buck,” she reached forward to take the newly poured liquor, “they’re right. This place is usually dead. What’s one night?”

“Yeah, one night,” Bucky’s girl intoned, “take the shot, take the shot, take the shot…” She neared him and pushed her finger against the bottom of the shot glass, “just do it.”

He sighed and rolled his shoulders. He knocked it back sharply and cleared his throat.

“You guys are cleaning up the mess,” he muttered.

“You’re gonna help us make it,” she threw her arms up as the jukebox got louder and you looked over as Steve’s girl held her finger down on a button, “hey, I love this song!”

💀

The night never quite slowed down so you couldn’t say it took a sharp turn. The bar was a frenzy of music and alcohol. You could tell by the pulsing ring in your vision you would feel it the next morning, even if you didn’t remember any of it.

You were enshrined in the glow of your own intoxication as the bar cleared for a moment. There were bodies all over, talking, moving, dancing. You blinked past Sam who was all too eager to join in, an excuse to have his hands all over you. You leaned on him as a ‘whoo’ stabbed your eardrums.

You blinked as Bucky’s girl came clearer. She was on the pool table, writhing around a cue like a stripper. The man who called himself her keeper reached for her ankle and she kicked him away as Wanda cheered her on.

You giggled and looked over at the cushioned bench against the wall behind the table. You were shocked and yet not as the mechanic had her tongue halfway down the baker’s throat. The two girls were locked together in the din of the room. 

Loki sat on the other side of the table but his head lolled back and his long legs were splayed before him. He was likely passed out. Another figure approached and you tried to move past Sam as he clung to you and turned with to look over at the scene.

Steve grabbed the mechanic’s arm and tugged on her but she kept her other hooked around his girl. She yanked away from him and he did it again.

“Get off her,” he snarled.

“Fuck off, dude,” she parted for one second to utter the deterrent before she started at it again, drawn back hungrily by the other woman.

“Let em do it,” Sam called out, “that’s hot as fuck.”

You hushed him and Steve seized the mechanic again. This time he was met by a fist as she came up swinging, leaving his girl against the bench. She caught him in the chest and then the jaw and swiftly looped her arm around his neck as she bent him over. He jabbed at her side and she grunted drunkenly and stomped his foot.

“Hey!” you rushed forward and Sam’s hand fell away as your holler drew the attention of everyone else.

“Eh!” Bucky’s girl hopped down and drunkenly landed with the cue in hand. She pulled it back but was kept from swinging as Bucky followed her towards the scuffle.

You hopped on Steve’s back as the mechanic kept her arm around his neck and his girl came up with senseless eyes. 

“Why are you doing this?” she grumbled, “we were having fun.” She reached out and pulled his hair so he winced, “you’re always on me! Always controlling me!”

“Get off!” Steve grunted as he clawed at the arm around his neck and you tried to pull him off-balance from behind.

A sudden, deafening noise stilled everyone. Steve’s girl slumped back as the cue clattered from the other woman’s grasp and the mechanic released the man in leather as you slid off his back. Sam caught your arm and stilled you as Bucky stood with his gun in hand.

“Enough,” he was drunk himself but mad enough to rage through the alcohol, “enough. Fun is over.”

You all stared at him as he holstered his gun and huffed. The music continued to blare and he stomped over to the jukebox and shut it off.

“Get them out of here!” he barked as he spun back, “you,” he pointed at his girl, “back office. Now.”

Loki was the only one undisturbed as he remained blacked out on the chair. Steve gritted his jaw and snatched up his girl who could barely stand on her own feet. She pouted as he swiped up her coat and shoved it into her arms. He got a curled lip from the mechanic but she let him go.

Sam chuckled under his breath and shook his head as he took your hand, “better pack up… tomorrow’ll be fun.”

You found your coat on the floor and pulled it on as you peeked around Sam. He swayed slightly himself as he leaned a hand on the bar. The mechanic kicked Loki’s chair but he didn’t flinch. She shrugged and left him there, tramping out without looking back. 

Your eyes met Bucky’s as he stopped at the door on the far side of the bar. His eyes met yours as he scowled and you quickly glanced away. You grasped Sam’s arm and hid your fear.

“Let’s go,” you whispered. 

You knew you were in shit again but you were fairly certain, that would never change. You sealed your fate when you walked in that bar the first time.

💀

You woke up to the harsh glare of sunlight. You shielded your face and groaned as you wriggled under the thick arm across your side. Sam hardly moved as you rolled over and sat up with a wince. There were glimmers of the night before but more pressingly, your stomach boiled and bubbled.

You slid out of bed, eyes half-closed as you made your way to the bathroom. You still had your crop top on and nothing else. You knew he fucked you again but had no recollection of it, nothing but the dullness deep in your core. You flipped open the toilet and leaned on the seat. You heaved until the bile splashed down into the bowl.

You finished spewing out your drunken regrets and rinsed your mouth in the sink. You’d never drank that much before and for the first time, you were feeling it beyond the sunrise. You dragged your feet back into the bedroom and pulled on a pair of pajama pants. 

Sam remained face down on the bed, his thick back moving slightly as he breathed rhythmically into the pillow. You sat on the end of the mattress and rubbed your cheeks. You vaguely remembered an argument and dancing. You knew it didn’t end well.

You were jarred by a knock at your door and moaned at the nail in your skull. You stood as your nan’s voice rose from the other side.

“Girly, you get out here right now,” she hammered on the wood, “you have company.”

You went to the door and opened it just a crack. She leaned her hand on the it and grimaced.

“I know he’s in there, no use hiding,” she snarled, “both of you, downstairs.” She didn’t hang around for your confusion or arguments. She sniffed as she descended the stairs and muttered, “need another smoke.”

You shut the door and turned around as Sam grunted and his lashes fluttered in grogginess. You took his shirt from the floor and flung it at him.

“What’s up?” he asked sleepily as he caught it and turned his legs over the side of the bed. He was completely naked.

“Someone’s here,” you shrugged as you pulled on a hoodie, “she didn’t say.”

“Mmm,” he rose and fished his jeans from the floor.

He buttoned them and followed you to the door. You held onto the railing tight as you made your way down and you peeked into the kitchen curiously as your nan’s cigarette smoke tickled your nose. Your chest knotted as you saw Bucky sitting at the table, his own face lined with tension as he drank from a mug.

“There they are,” you nan frowned, “I’ll leave you to it.”

“Millie,” Bucky raised the hot mug and leaned it against his forehead, “you understand this is… private business.”

“Yeah, yeah, I gotta find that damn cat anyhow,” she retorted harshly, “you make it quick. This is still my house.”

He cleared his throat and waited for her to go. She sucked on her cigarette as she passed you and tutted. She pulled on her jacket and boots and tramped out without another word, the door slamming behind her.

“Sit,” Bucky said.

Sam nudged you and you neared the table and dropped into a chair. Sam went to the counter and poured himself a coffee from the machine. Bucky stared at you as his jaw gritted and he set down his cup.

“It’s clear to me that after last night, Sam has not made things plain to you,” he sent Sam a pointed look as the other man sat, “or maybe you just choose not to understand.”

“What did I do?” you croaked as you longed for a mug of the brew.

“I keep this town in order. Not the club; me.” He ignored your question, “and I am not in the habit of putting up with this type of bullshit.”

“It was just fun--”

“Enough,” he hit the table, “if my lady didn’t like you so much, I would be done with this. Done with you. But out of respect to her and Sam, I will give you one last warning. You get in line or I put you down. You and the old bitch.”

Your skin crawled as you glanced over at Sam. He was sombre and silent, the usual humour completely gone from his face. He nodded at you and then pushed his shoulders back in defeat.

“She’ll behave,” Sam said.

“It’s not just her head if she doesn’t,” Bucky stood, “I like you Sam but you vouched for her. You knew what that meant.”

“She will,” Sam rose as well.

“I’ll see you at The Asp in ten,” Bucky said, “we have business. Real business,” he let out a long breath and looked at you, “just know, the rest of them will be punished too. Just remember, that’s your fault.”

He left without another word and you lowered your chin. You liked the other girls, they were older but they were nice, and it was easy enough to see they were just like you. Trapped and tortured by these men. You were never very good at reading people or a room, but you knew that. You felt it so you saw it in them.

“Well, gotta go,” Sam said, “I’ll be back. We’ll go over everything.”

“Fine,” you replied like a bratty child, “I didn’t… do anything.”

“You won’t do anything,” he girded firmly, “you’re fun but not that fun.”

He retreated upstairs and you got up to pour yourself the last of the pot. You heard the front door and you turned as your nan entered with Pippen slung over her shoulder. She crinkled her nose as she crossed to the counter and leaned beside you.

“That man’s a right ass,” she said, “reminds me of a few back in my day.”

“Mhmm,” you sipped and avoided her gaze guiltily.

“Girly, I know, it’s not your fault. Those men, they always take it too far,” she kept her voice low.

“No, I went down there, I started all this--”

“Whatever you did, it doesn’t warrant this,” she touched your arm, “and those other girls, they didn’t do anything worse than you.”

“Nan, you can’t--”

“All I want you to do is play along,” she said as her jaw clenched, “and tell those girls, they need anything, they come here; a meal, an ear, a place to sleep… and you tell them I dealt with these men before. They don’t change over the years.”

“Nan?” your mouth fell open and you scoffed in disbelief.

“One day,” she raised a finger, “there’ll be a change and those men don’t know what they got comin’. A woman’s best weapon is patience.”

You eyed your nan as she pet Pippin and went to the fridge to pull out the open can of tuna and feed him a shred. He took it from her fingers as she set it on the counter and he hopped off to eat directly from the tin.

“Don’t look so stupid,” she lifted a brow and paused to look up as you heard Sam above, “you got some smartenin’ up to do. A lot.”

END

[multiversxwhore]

☾☾☾Hello! Hope you enjoy what you’re about to read, I would appreciate it if you like, and reblog my work here on tumblr. Please do not share my work anywhere else, and if you see it has been, or someone is claiming the work as their own please tell me. My master list is pinned to my page if you wish to see more! ☽☽☽

Pairing: Endeavor x black!oc

Theme Song: HOT HOT by Bree Runway

Heatwave

Chapter 1

Enji Todoroki is having a stressful time as the number one hero, and now his son has decided to guilt trip him into grocery shopping. A task Enji could have left his sidekicks to do for him, but since Shoto feels his father is incapable of decent human interaction, he thought that doing a simple task on his own would be good for his fathers ego.

“You don’t have to watch me so closely.” Enji fussed at his youngest son, Shoto’s eyes stayed on him, hawk eyeing every movement. Suddenly a group of small children came charging at him full speed.

Enji tensed up, he was not good with children at all, some kids thought his temper was cool. However, it made a lot of kids cry, which is something he didn’t want to happen in front of his son. Enji keeps trying to prove he has worked on his aggressive nature, he’s doing his best to become more openly emotional for his children.

“Look, he's the number one hero! Can I have a picture!” One kid shouted, another pushed her out the way jumping up towards Enji, this made him pull back a bit. He was afraid his response would be too rough; the tiny children were all crowded around him, shoving, yelling, and bickering.

A content feeling washed over him, then a short woman came from around the corner, and she clapped her hands in a rhythmic beat. Some of the children stopped shoving to pay attention, and some still begged for Enji’s picture.

Enji hadn’t put much thought towards other women; between going through a divorce, and being a hero, the last thing on his mind were women. At least not in that way, but she was beautiful. Her skin was dark brown, the way the sun glowed on her from the window made her look golden. “Amazing.” Enji thought to himself, he’s never seen a woman like that before, she totally caught him off guard.

“Now children, that’s not how we ask for things.” When she spoke her tone was clear, calm, and commanding. At the sound of her voice the children instantly responded, they all quiet down, getting into a line. Enji is completely shocked by how much they respected her, she didn’t shout, or get annoyed by their behavior. She just smiled gently, she stood patiently waiting for the kids to collect themselves.

“Hi, I’m Tokiyoshi Shoiro.” Tokiyoshi (tow-key-yo-she) Shoiro(show e row): Hero name: Tokio

Quirk: Empath—she can sense, and control other people's emotions without looking at them. As long as they’re in range, her powers extend as long as a 50 foot distance. She can also grow her hair locs past its natural length, her hair has been known to be as strong as jungle vines.

“Oh wow, a long distance sniper hero, I think your quirk is amazing, not only your empath abilities, but your ability to grow your hair at will. You can use it as a physical weapon too, it’s so unique, and you’re not originally from Japan are you, I can tell by your accent.” Shoto speaks up from beside his father, Enji, he’s baffled, none of his children have never talked this much—maybe Natsuo, he always had something to say.—he thought about his son, another one of his children he’s failed as a father. “I need to do better at paying attention to my son.” He mumbled to himself, the guilt weighing on his broad shoulders.

“Your son is pretty bright, you’re Shoto Todoroki. I’ve heard about you, you’re from class 1-A the hero course, well you guessed it, I’m half Japanese and African. My Father is from Japan, and my mother was born in Africa, together they raised me in Britain. I take turns spending my time in between both countries, I’ll be here for the next four years. You all can call me Tokio. I'm the teacher for these little monsters, I decided to take them on a stroll since they were getting restless. Though I didn’t expect to see the number one hero here doing something so mundane. Sorry if we’re bothering you Endevor.” From the side of his eye, he could see Shoto giving him a smug look as he signed one of the kids notebooks. As soon as Enji felt himself getting worked up, he instantly calmed down again, and then it hit him, it was her.

“Please don’t use your quirk on me.” A small attitude was all he could muster, no matter how hard he tried, her quirk just came back stronger. He looked the woman in her eyes, warning her, but Tokiyoshi met him with an even challenging stare.

Enji was shocked and turned on at the same time, he’d heard something about the long range battle hero, but most of her work is done in schools. This was the first time he got to see her up close, and boy did she not disappoint.

“You know Endeavor, I have a PhD in psychology as well, I do personal, and family therapy. Stop by my office any time, the number one is always welcome.” She pulled out a business card from her jacket, Enji reached his hand out to grab it, but she skipped over him, giving it to Shoto.

Ugh, how could I have missed her movements, her eyes, and her body were coming in my direction. He wanted to kick himself for not seeing that coming sooner, was he always this clumsy with women?

Enji just stood there, a mix of emotions rolling around, he didn’t look away as her hips swayed away from him. Her long locks lightly bounced behind her, as if taking on a life of its own.

“How did I do Shoto?” Enji whipped around seeking the approval of his son, Shoto looked down at the card Tokiyoshi left.

“Well, if I’m being honest, you have a lot of work to do. You act like you didn’t want to breathe around those kids, is it really that hard for you to be nice? Overall though…not bad.” Shoto turned and walked off to the fruit section, and all Enji could do was smile. He wished he could have been able to do that while Shoto was looking. Maybe one day he’ll be able to see it…the day his father bares a smile.

A/N: This art doesn’t belong to me, the Oc, and her quirks are mine.

[sorryimananti-romantic]

Mist | Choi San | Chapter 6

Pairing: Choi San x OC (Seohyun)

Genre: supernatural (ghost), romance, high school

Trigger Warnings: paranormal, death mentions, violence

Words: 14k

Disclaimer: I do not own anything except my original character and the story. I do not own any gifs or pictures used.

Full story on Wattpad (don’t spoil here if you read there too)

chapter directory

--------------

Seohyun woke up with a groan, her head feeling heavy. She opened her eyes, blinking as the events of last night came to her. San was no longer here though. She checked her phone, and there was a text from him, saying his parents had called him.

After a shower and a cup of coffee, Seohyun sat in front of the television, thinking what she was gonna do. It was Saturday so they had no school, and she'd caught up on her sleep. She wanted to go out, but it was risky. The ghost- that evil, evil thing could turn up anywhere. Plus, she had no idea where Gayoung and Youngjae were.

Seohyun bit her lip as she thought about solving this problem; there was no way this ghost would come to her senses with mere words. It didn't look like she had faith in god anymore too, so a simple exorcism would be difficult. So what could she do? She had never dealt with such a dangerous one before, someone who was hell-bent on killing her.

And this time, it made sense why the ghost wanted to kill her so badly. All the evil ghosts she'd encounter in her life had never had an actual reason to harm her except being angry at life and whatnot. But this woman; what she had said made sense. And if it was true...

She wished there was another mediator she could consult with. But there was the matter of it being an inherited-once-dead thing. She could consult with the shaman she knew. Maybe he could help her communicate with a wise old ghost who'd actually give her a few tips.

The ghost's words rang in her ears: Don't tell me you didn't know? When a mediator dies, there is a short time period during which there is no other mediator in the world. That's when ghosts can do whatever they want; trespass, interact with humans, and much more. She cursed the previous mediators for not making an account of their knowledge and findings. She made a mental note to write a mediator guideline for the next unlucky person.

Seohyun got up, deciding she'd go to the shaman herself. No point waiting; she wanted to get it over with as soon as possible. The shaman was not too far from where she lived. She would take a taxi, just to be safe.

Seohyun was wondering where those two siblings had disappeared off too. She had allowed them to come and go as they pleased; it was unusual for them to be gone so long. Seohyun reached the place where the shaman lived after 10 minutes, getting off and finding the doors locked.

"Just my great fucking luck," she sighed, going to the market right in front of that place and asking if they knew where the shaman had went. She found out he had moved recently. She mentally cursed herself for not keeping his business card with her; she would have to go home and check if she still had it. She usually made some other use of business cards, such as making airplanes and boats out of them. Her origami was going to be the death of her.

Seohyun was just calling for taxi when she felt her heart sink in, realizing the evil ghost was near. She quickly stepped into property instead of hanging around the street, but nothing appeared. Maybe she was going insane, finally.

After waiting for two solid minutes, she was about to sit in the taxi when she heard a voice say:

"I saw that pretty boy leave your house in the morning."

Chills ran down her spine as she finally met her eyes with the ghost. "And what of it?"

"I found it interesting that he has the sight. I was wondering how that could help me."

"What do you mean?" Seohyun paused- this was not happening.

"He can see me. He thought he saw me in the morning but I hid. So I, with the help of those two kids who were too scared to disobey me, led him somewhere. And if you are a decent human, you'd follow me."

"You're lying."

"Go ahead and check if I am," she countered.

With a wildly beating heart, Seohyun pressed call, once, twice, thrice. He was not picking up. She texted in the group chat if anyone had been in contact with San since today. And everyone replied they hadn't.

Seohyun sighed in defeat as she said, "Lead the way."

The woman howled with laughter, making Seohyun grit her teeth and want to strangle her, but she walked, taking her god knows where. Seohyun tried to ask if she really wanted to kill her, and if so, why wasn't she already doing it. Why wait?

They were out in a clearing, near the expressway where cars and trucks rushed in full speed. What was she gonna do, attempt a ritual? Seohyun didn't understand.

"Just tell me where San is. And don't even think about hurting me. You want me, you have me."

"Oh dear," the woman walked towards her, and Seohyun tried to keep her calm as she grew closer, circling her once before whispering in her ear, "I don't have you. Not yet."

Seohyun winced at her foul breath, the woman raking a nail across her neck, drawing out blood. "I can't give you a mortal wound. I can only hurt you so much. That's why you mediators have it so easy."

Even if Seohyun's neck was on fire from the pain, she felt a spark of hope in her heart. That would mean she could run- she could escape.

"But that doesn't mean I can't do it indirectly," the ghost smiled, baring her brown teeth, and it was the evilness in her eyes that made Seohyun gasp as she realized.

She had been stupid- but she had no guarantee that San was safe. That Gayoung and Youngjae were safe. She couldn't run, not exactly. The woman flicked her hand, and Seohyun winced at the sound of a car crashing. She turned sharply; the car had hit the truck. The car had crashed the other way, but the truck-

It was tumbling and was coming right for her- unnaturally.

Seohyun forgot about everything else and ran, but somehow the woman was able to control the movement of the truck. She jumped in an attempt to dodge, the woman was cornering her. She had no choice but to step on the road, but one of the speeding cars failed to dodge the crashed car and struck it, skidding across the road and hitting Seohyun with a tremendous force that sent her flying before her head hit the traffic barrier and everything went black.

The woman laughed even as she cried out in pain. She had emptied the last of her powers on this crash, and she screamed as she felt herself burn from the inside out. But Seohyun was surely dead- she had to be. If she was dead, this wouldn't happen to her.

The woman screamed one last time before disappearing into thin air- this time for good. But it was no good now. Seohyun lay unconscious on the road, bent in a painful angle as people surrounded her and called an ambulance. A student checked her pulse; it was growing weaker by the second.

Seohyun was rushed to the hospital as soon as the ambulance arrived; her heart flatlined once before she was revived again, having escaped death from a hair's breadth. She was put on hold for her surgery as they called her mother for consent.

Her mother had rushed into the hospital- face streaked with tears. She had only had time to touch her face once before she was taken to the operating room, and she sat on the waiting chair, motionless. Her friend, Aunt Yuri that Seohyun had always liked, had comforted her mother, making her drink water and relax a bit. All they could do was pray.

Seohyun's phone, which was now in Yuri's hand, rang. It was Yunho. Yuri picked the phone, inquiring if he was a friend, and when he assured her that he was indeed a close friend, Yuri revealed the accident to him.

Yunho had almost dropped his phone as he heard, terror washing over him as he realized it must have been the evil ghost's doing. He washed his face, sighing as he tried to control his trembling hands. He was not ready to lose a friend.

Yunho called and told each of their friends individually, keeping San for the last, frowning when he did not pick up. He decided to go to his home and check. Before he reached his home, he found San walking outside the house as if looking for someone.

"San, hey," Yunho rushed to him, "Why weren't you picking the phone?"

"I lost it, but then Gayoung and Youngjae admitted they had hidden my phone. I was just going after them; I don't know why they'd done so. What's wrong?"

Yunho bit his lip as he thought of how to reveal it to him. He told him then; Seohyun had been in an accident, and she was under surgery now. They weren't sure if she was gonna make it.

San put a hand to his head, shaking his head in disbelief. "Was it- is it because of the ghost?"

"Not sure," Yunho said, "But seeing how Gayoung and Youngjae hid your phone, it must be. Seohyun was trying to contact you all day."

"Shit. Shit!" San punched the air in frustration, his lip trembling. How had it come to this?

"Which hospital is she in? I need to go."

So Yunho and San took a taxi to the hospital, and Yunho kept a hand on San's trembling one the whole ride. He seemed intent to keep his calm. When they arrived, they asked the reception for Seohyun and rushed to the floor she was in. They saw two women right outside the operating room, and figured it had to be Seohyun's mother and her friend who'd picked the phone. They sat on a distance, and San put his head in his hands as they waited.

Yuri, who had noticed the two boys, came towards them, asking if one of them was indeed Yunho. "We're praying for the best, but the doctors say it's risky. You both should head home, this surgery might take a while."

"It's fine," San finally said, "I'll wait."

Yuri raised a brow but then nodded, saying she was going to grab some coffee for Seohyun's mother and she'd grab some for them too. After drinking and some comforting from both sides, having found Seohyun's mother fallen asleep, the boys decided to get some air.

They walked in the hospital garden which was pretty big, lit by several lamps, and some of the patients could be seen sitting or walking. San's eyes were on the ground; he was afraid if he looked up he'd cry.

Yunho patted San's back and he put his face in his hands, sighing. He'd never imagine this. And the way Seohyun had been last night, so scared, he should have known. The things she said, he should have believed it wasn't just her being paranoid.

Hongjoong and Seonghwa came along with Yeosang; the rest lived too far away and couldn't join at this hour. Yeosang looked visibly pale and he kept rubbing his hands as if he felt cold. Upon asking, Yunho told them she was still in surgery, and yes, her mom was here with a friend too.

They sat in the garden. Seonghwa had bought some sandwiches from home; he knew some of them wouldn't have had dinner yet.

"You should eat, San," he said, "We don't know how long the surgery is gonna be. It's no good if you're on an empty stomach." He handed him a sandwich and San halfheartedly nibbled on it. The rest of them were pretty much silent too, at loss for words. They found comfort in just being together.

After finishing, they decided to go up and check the situation and maybe go back home to sleep. San dusted his clothes as he walked, and stopped dead in his tracks as he heard a familiar voice call his name.

"San."

The rest of them paused, looking back at San, whose eyes were wide with terror. "What's wrong?" Hongjoong asked.

San dreadfully turned back as if not quite believing, and the water bottle he'd been holding slipped out of his hand.

It couldn't be.

In front of him was Seohyun, unscratched, smiling sadly.

She was a ghost.

-----------------

"Seohyun?"

San couldn't believe his eyes. Seohyun stood unscratched in front of him, but it was not her. It couldn't be. She was in an accident, how could she be in front of him like this?

A cry of pain escaped from Yeosang as he realized, covering his ears as if that could mean he was wrong. Hongjoong and Seonghwa looked at each other, and Yunho stepped towards San, stopping when he found him staring in the distance.

"How are you... here?" San managed to ask, walking towards her, but she took a step back, leaving San's hand dangling in the air. His brows were furrowed in a pained expression.

"I don't know, San," Seohyun said, smiling sadly. San went for her abruptly, and his hand went through her.

"No... This can't be...." San's knees gave out and Yunho rushed to him, massaging his back as tears finally escaped his eyes. He sat down, his face in his hands, now almost touching the ground. Seohyun bent near him as if she could touch him.

"It's my fault," San sniffed. Yunho wiped his eyes, looking back Hongjoong- pale with shock, Seonghwa clinging to him, holding Yeosang's trembling hand.

"It's not your fault. It's that witch's fault. And you have to listen-"

"It's mine," San whispered. Seohyun bit her lip as she began to speak but was cut again as he said, "I'm sorry I didn't pick your phone."

"I know what happened, don't worry-"

"I'm sorry-"

"CHOI SAN LISTEN TO ME FOR A SECOND!" Seohyun shouted and San jerked, forcing his head up to face her. "I don't think I'm dead. Not fully, at least. You have to go and ask the details."

"What do you mean? You're a ghost, doesn't that mean-"

"Maybe not. Please do that."

San nodded, explaining to the others that there was a possibility she was alive, though it did not make sense to him. They started walking to the building, and Seohyun said, "And please wipe your faces. Don't show that you know anything. I don't want my mom to know that I'm a ghost, even if I'm dead."

San winced at that but did so, and they went upstairs in the waiting area, where Seohyun's mother was crying. Yuri was patting her back but looked okay. Upon seeing San and Yunho with other friends, she whispered something to Seohyun's mother, who casted a glance at them and nodded, and Yuri walked to them.

"Seohyun's alive for now. She's in a coma. The surgery was successful but this was unavoidable, so we can expect her to return sometime within 3 months or more, depending on Seohyun now. Can't say anything about that. You guys should go home. They'll let you see her tomorrow."

Seohyun sighed in relief despite herself, and the boys finally managed a smile and asked San if she was here. San nodded, looking at Seohyun. She smiled happily now for San's sake, but he was still gloomy.

"You're gonna smile back or I'm gonna haunt you in your dreams, Choi San."

San let out a short laugh. "I guess you can do that now. Let's go out."

They went to an empty street and San asked Seohyun what had happened. She told him how the woman had used San as a bait for her to call her out. San told her that Gayoung and Youngjae had only taken his phone, assuring her he'd been home all day. Seohyun assured him it was still not his fault, that sooner or later this would've happened.

"So where's the ghost now? If you're still alive, won't it come after you again?" Seonghwa asked.

"I'll have to ask around," Seohyun said. "I can actually teleport now. I'm gonna try and find Gayoung and Youngjae. They must have been pretty scared if they did her bidding."

"Stay safe, Seohyun," San said, and Seohyun brought her hand near his face as if she meant to touch him.

"I will. Don't worry. Go home guys, I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yeah, we'll tell the others too now," Yunho said, "They'll be shocked."

"San, please tell Yeosang to stop trembling. I'm alive!"

San looked at Yeosang. He still seemed pale and his hands wouldn't stop shaking. So he did what Seohyun would have done for him; took his hands in his own, telling him it was alright. Seohyun was alive.

"I just can't believe it," Yeosang said, "For a second- when you said her name- I thought-"

"Yeah, I know, me too," San admitted. "It's alright. She's okay."

They waved her goodbye as they went home, and Seohyun cursed as loudly as she could, now that no one could hear her. Then she decided it was time to teleport to that hill, Gayoung and Youngjae must be given an earful.

She closed her eyes shut and imagined being sucked into space. The familiar tingling sensation ran from the top of her head to the tip of her toes; one moment she was here and the next, cold wind hit her face. She was there.

She peeked into the 'cave', basically a home to the ghost siblings. She found them sitting with their knees close to their chest. It was crazy how much they were like each other.

Seohyun cleared her throat and walked in, and the two of them stumbled back, almost falling.

"Are you alive?

"Are you dead?"

"Neither," Seohyun replied, "I did not know going into a coma would make me a ghost."

"Seohyun, I am so sorry-"

"Don't," Seohyun put a hand in the air, shutting them up. "Just tell me what made you do this."

"She threatened to hurt our parents. She knew where they lived. They're who we're staying here for, if she hurt them... I'm sorry," Gayoung looked down in shame.

"She actually asked us to 'take care' of San. We didn't promise her anything, just that he wouldn't interfere," Youngjae added.

"Well, thank you for that," Seohyun smiled, sitting near them. "It must have been hard for you both."

The two of them looked at each other, on the verge of crying.

"I swear if a tear falls down your faces, I'm personally gonna kick you out of this ghost realm."

Gayoung laughed a little, quickly wiping her eyes, and Youngjae did the same. They were just kids, Seohyun thought. They shouldn't have had to think it was their fault or anything.

"But what happened with the witch?" Seohyun asked.

"After she thought she killed you, we saw her screaming. We had just teleported to you when we sensed you were in danger. She just... vanished. And this time I mean like dissipated in the air like ashes. I guess she died again..." Youngjae said.

"Wow. Serves her right!" Seohyun sighed in relief.

"Did you meet San?" Gayoung asked and Seohyun nodded, looking grim.

"I don't think you should leave him alone tonight. He's gonna take this badly."

Seohyun's heart sank. She was right. Seohyun expected San to be alright, but that was just her own expectation. She wasn't actually so sure he would be.

"I don't know where he lives," Seohyun said.

"We'll take you to her," Gayoung said, holding out her hand to her and squeezing it, muttering an earnest thank you. Seohyun nodded, and they teleported once again.

It was an average looking house, much like the ones along the whole street. But somehow it felt more like a home than Seohyun's plain house looked.

"Do you think I can enter?" She wondered out loud, and Gayoung grinned.

"You should try. You should be able to since you're a mediator anyway."

Seohyun shrugged, taking a careful step forward. Indeed, she was able to enter. It seemed like she did have special benefits being a ghost. "I feel like I'm intruding."

"Oh he's your boyfriend, just go," Gayoung waved her hand at her, dismissing her as Youngjae grinned, wriggling hi brows at her. The two snickered, waving bye and teleporting back.

Seohyun stood awkwardly at the front door, afraid she'd be intruding their privacy. She paced back and forth, wondering if she should call San, or just go up and give him a little scare in the process. He probably wasn't in the mood for fun and jokes. She'd seen his face when he'd thought she'd die, and it was something she wished she could erase from her memory.

While she was biting her nails in confusion, she heard the front door open, and for a second, she panicked. But it was only San.

"I saw you from my window," he said, holding the door open, "Come in."

Seohyun bit her lip and nodded, entering. San closed the door behind him and led her upstairs. They went past his sister's room before entering his. Seohyun looked around, his love for plushies obvious by his large collection.

"Which one is Shiber?" Seohyun asked.

"That one," San pointed at the bed. It was a shiba plushie. San slept with it, it seemed.

"Poor thing," Seohyun grinned. San gave her a little smile as he motioned for her to sit. He sat on his bed and Seohyun brought the chair close. "Not how I thought I'd come to your home."

San shook his head, looking down. Seohyun almost leaned forward to touch him until she realized she couldn't. "Are you okay?"

"I'm not, to be honest," San began, meeting eyes with her, "I really thought you... were dead. When you appeared like that. I'm still not over that feeling."

Seohyun felt guilty. She'd found herself a ghost at the site of the accident, right when they were taking her to the hospital. She'd made it there, but she couldn't bring herself to step inside the hospital. She'd spotted San and Yunho from there. "I'm sorry."

"Oh no, you don't have to be," San shook his head, "Not your fault. I just wish I could... touch you right now. Hold you so I'd know you're real and it's not me going crazy."

"I know San," Seohyun almost whispered, "Me too."

They looked at each other sadly, and Seohyun put her hand in front of him, and for a moment San thought she was gonna ask for a high-five. "Put your hand here," she said.

San put his hand forward, and before he could touch, Seohyun pulled hers a little back. "No touching. Just... close. Like this," she put their hands close until there was only a hair's breadth of distance between them. San could have swore he could feel her warmth.

She smiled at him and drew her hand back. "The sibling duo was threatened by that bitch too. I feel sorry for them."

"That explains," San thought, "they didn't seem the type to just turn away like this."

"They apologized thoroughly. But it's okay now. It's only a matter of waking up from that coma... If I can make it."

"Keep your hopes up," San scolded and she smiled sheepishly. "How do you feel though? I mean, now that you're... a ghost. Does it feel any different that being a human?"

"I don't exactly feel weird inside," Seohyun realized, "But there does seem to be something different about this world now. It's like there's a veil over my eyes. Everything is a little cloudy now. Like I have bad eyesight."

"Does that mean you can't see me clearly?" San wondered.

"No, it's like there's a filter now. You know like the ones in the camera where you can decrease the clarity? That's how it feels. Weird."

San nodded. "Will you sleep?"

"I honestly don't know," Seohyun admitted. "I'll watch you sleep though. Maybe that might put me to sleep."

"I don't think I can sleep with you watching me," San huffed. Seohyun let out a short laugh and asked, "Do you want me to go?"

"No- stay. Please," he said, getting up to turn off the lights so there was only light from the little lamp on his desk. He lied down on his bed, facing her, watching her as she stood by the window, peeking out.

She was a ghost, San thought. He wanted her to wake up as soon as possible. He wasn't sure if he could live if Seohyun, god forbid, died and remained a ghost. He couldn't even imagine it.

As if sensing his thoughts, Seohyun turned, staring at him for a moment, those cheekbones pronounced in the shadows. She walked towards him slowly as he watched, and dropped to her knees in front of him, resting her head on the little space on the bed near San, and he crouched too, until they faced each other. She tested once, let her hand hover over his, putting it on top of him- but it passed through, making San shiver a little. So she drew her hand a bit back, until it almost touched at the fingertips.

They stared at each other, and San's eyelid drooped, shutting as he fell asleep. Seohyun closed her eyes too.

--------------------

Seohyun must have actually fell asleep because when she awoke, when she opened her eyes, she was not in San's room but in front of her body, lying still with tubes coming out of everywhere. Her mother was sleeping rather uncomfortably on the sofa.

Her mother. She looked disheveled, and it made Seohyun gasp a little with surprise. She had always seen her so composed, so calm and full of control. She couldn't bring herself to go to her mother when she'd seen her crying of relief, back when they'd heard that her surgery had been successful.

She was glad that her Aunt Yuri had kept her company. She would have to thank her when she woke up. If she ever did. Seohyun shook her head, ridding herself of such thoughts.

Seohyun figured this was where she was gonna wake up every time she slept. She peeked out of the window to see that it was already morning. She felt like she hadn't slept at all, which was weird.

Her mother groaned, rubbing her eyes as she woke up. She looked like she had forgotten for a moment where she was, and as she took in her surroundings, Seohyun saw realization hit her as she jerked violently.

Her mother stared at her for a long while, before sighing and throwing her head in her hands. She thought her state must have been a nuisance for her ever-busy mother, but then she saw the tears fall down her mother's eyes as she hastily wiped at them.

She fell back on her seat, laughing, probably at the situation. And then she spoke:

"When your dad left me, I thought nothing could break me anymore."

Seohyun's eyes went a little wide at the sudden mention of her dad, who had passed away due to his heart problem a little after Seohyun's birth. Her mother had told her fragments of her life with him; they had met at work and fallen in love, spending a few years together before marrying and having a daughter.

"Your dad... he had my whole heart. So you can't blame me for my lack of love because it went with him to the grave. I tried loving you, and I thought it would be very hard. But somehow... I didn't even realize that I already loved you, way before you were born. I loved the thought of you."

Seohyun's heart sank. She thought she was invading her privacy by hearing all this... But technically, her mother was talking to her, wasn't she?

"I realize now. Now that you're looking like your dad in his last moments, I realize how afraid I am to lose you. If you followed him, I'd just be an empty shell."

Seohyun wanted to hug her mom and tell her it was alright. She wanted to give her a sign that she was here... but she figured it would do more harm than good.

"I hope you come back, Seohyun. My little girl. I promise to be a better mother, just- come back."

Seohyun's eyes shone with silver as she smiled at her mother's word. So her mother really did love her. She watched as she got up, straightening her clothes. "I'm going to distract myself until you're back. And then I will give you all the time in this world. Take you where you want to. Act like a proper mother that I should have done years ago. I'm- I'm sorry for not doing that earlier."

She walked to Seohyun's body, planting a kiss on her forehead and Seohyun could have sworn she felt a tingle of it too.

Her mother left after smiling at her, and Seohyun inhaled. She needed to distract herself too.

------------

"I'm making a video of this, and no one is gonna stop me."

"What if someone sees it, Yeosang?" Hongjoong asked, shaking his head.

"I don't care," he replied as he did exactly as he had said. Make a video of Seohyun drumming furiously.

Except you could not see Seohyun and it looked like the drums were playing itself.

"I could start a YouTube channel and earn money from videos like these," he smirked.

"If you start earning money because I'm on the borderline of death," Seohyun had stopped drumming now, "I'll actually haunt you for the rest of my life."

San, who was watching the whole thing while sulking on the sofa, told Yeosang exactly what she had said.

"Good. At least I'll have company for the rest of my life."

Seohyun threw the drumstick, aiming for his head, and it hit home as he yelled in pain, a few colourful words escaping his mouth.

"You deserved it," Hongjoong laughed. Yeosang threw the drumstick back and Seohyun caught it, putting it down. She was done playing. She took the notebook they'd given her for communication and wrote: If I do end up dying, I'll help you all make money. At least I'll still be useful after death, you morons.

She held the notebook for them to read, trying to hide the view from San, but he ended up peeking too, and shook his head again, sulking even more.

"Back with her death jokes," Hongjoong looked at the book with disapproval.

Seohyun threw the book back at the table and came to sit with San, mirroring his sulking position. "It's so boring to have only you to actually talk to, no offence."

"Some taken," San said, "Be grateful I can see you. Imagine if I hadn't followed you that day."

"Actually grateful for that," Seohyun grinned. A ghost of smile crept on his face.

She heard the door of the warehouse open as the rest of them arrived. "Is Seohyun here?" Wooyoung asked, looking worried.

Hongjoong said yes, and he looked around saying, "Wherever you are, I'm so sorry about the accident, Seohyun. I don't want you to die, please come back! I can't lose you!"

Seohyun picked the pillow and threw it with considerable force at Wooyoung, who screamed and Mingi laughed. "Glad to see you're in good spirits."

"Are you okay though?" Jongho asked, having realized she must be sitting with San, "Does it... hurt or anything?"

San told them she said it was fine, it was just like being alive except no one can see her anymore which is making her sad and bored. He skipped the part where she had said that San was kinda boring these days too.

"Glad to hear," Wooyoung put the bag of snacks on the table. "I bought snacks, but... can you eat?"

Seohyun decided it was time to test that theory. She hadn't felt the need to eat, but she supposed theoretically she should be able to eat. She picked a packet of chips and opened it, the rest of them watching her curiously. She picked one in her hand, and then slowly put it in her mouth.

She could eat.

She danced in victory, making the rest of them laugh as Yunho hooted, "Time to loot the stores!"

"Nice idea!" She yelled back, coming back to sit with San, offering him some. He refused first but she made him open his mouth and put one in it. "This feels good. It's like being able to touch you."

San smiled. He felt that too.

Seohyun got up, going to Seonghwa and waiting for him to open his mouth. He was confused for a second but then opened, and Seohyun put the chip in his mouth. "This feels weird," he muttered, but smiled.

One by one, Seohyun put chips in their mouths, making them laugh. Yeosang filmed the whole thing, saying he was gonna make a compilation video once she was back.

San watched her with a curious look in his eyes. She had been acting a bit... different. More cheerful than she should have been. Or maybe he was too gloomy? When Seohyun came back, San folded his arms. "Did something... happen today?"

Seohyun got quiet for a second before she told him about how she had heard her mom talk to her. San wished he could hug her. Even though she sat right next to him, she felt so distant. His heart ached.

"At least now you know for sure that your mother does love you, in her own way."

"I suppose so," Seohyun sighed, folding her arms, watching Mingi and Wooyoung have a little brawl over who was better at drums, "I haven't ever seen her like that. Makes me want to not... die. Not that it's in my control anymore."

"Don't think like that," San turned towards her, "Your willpower is important."

"Is it?" Seohyun countered, and San narrowed his eyes. "I'll have to test that theory-"

"Do not even THINK of trying something reckless-" His voice was raising.

"I'd like to see you stop me-"

"HEY!" San got up abruptly, and everyone turned to look at him, "Does your life mean nothing to you?"

Seohyun instantly got deja vu. He'd said something like this before too. She stared at him as he groaned and pinched his nose bridge in frustration, pacing back and forth and then stopping again. "I thought your life meant something to you now. You had friends- you had us. We love you and care about you so much. I care about you so much. Your mother does. But all you care about is yourself?"

"San-" Blood rushed to Seohyun's cheeks as she realized, "I didn't mean-"

"You did mean it, Seohyun," San sighed, "I- I thought you finally had something to live for."

"San, I do. Believe me, I do."

San looked at her, shaking his head, and Seohyun felt like she could disappear. "Think about it, Seohyun."

He turned and started to go, and Seohyun grabbed his hand- or tried to- but it passed right through.

"I need some time to clear my head," he muttered as he left.

Everyone watched San leave the warehouse, and their eyes went back to where San had been standing, where Seohyun now stood. She felt disappointed in herself. She slumped down on the sofa, the others realizing she was still here.

"What was that about?" Seonghwa asked out loud. Seohyun just clenched her hair as she groaned loudly, cursing herself, glad nobody could hear her right now.

Hongjoong came and sat near Seohyun, saying, "If you want to talk about it, I'm here."

Seohyun thought it was sweet of him. He'd brought the pen and notebook too, placing it in between them. Seohyun took it, scribbling in it.

I messed up big time

Hongjoong read it, scooting a little closer, the notebook seemingly in her lap. She wrote again:

I'm a disappointment to San.

Hongjoong shook his head, "You're not. Trust me, you're not." He took a deep breath, having figured out what the fight was about. "I know you've had it rough, and you're not used to all these new relations. But whatever happened, you can set it right. San won't stay angry, but he'll be truly disappointed if you don't."

Seohyun thought about, and didn't realize her tears were falling on the notebook. Hongjoong could see it.

"You haven't cried since the accident, right? You're very brave, Seohyun."

Seohyun laughed a bit as she realized, making her cry even harder. She scribbled Thanks in the notebook, putting it aside. She knew what she had to do. Apologize.

She got up, walking towards the piano. Seating herself, she tested the keys, giving everyone a little scare before she started to play.

It was the piece Joon Hyuk had taught her. It was utterly sad but beautiful, and it had took her months to get better at it. As she played, she realized her muscle memory was better now. So she lost herself in the sadness of it, her fingers dancing on the keyboard.

When she was finished, she opened her eyes, breathing. it took her a good minute to come back to reality, and when she did, everyone was staring at her. Or the piano.

"Tell me someone got it on their phone," Yeosang mumbled.

Seohyun threw her head back and laughed out loud as she watched the boys fight over why no one took the liberty of filming this moment.

-----------------

That night, Seohyun was pacing in the park near San's house, wondering how she should make things right. A simple 'sorry' wouldn't suffice. She wished she could touch him, hug him. Maybe that would have put more depth to the apology.

She was out of options. And as she was muttering to herself about how much of a bitch she had been, San came walking in, stopping abruptly when he saw her still pacing and cursing. She hadn't noticed yet. So he shook slightly with laughter as he heard her rather colourful vocabulary.

Seohyun sighed, looking up, and finally saw San, her heart sinking to her feet. "Gosh, you gave me a scare," she put a hand to her heart as she breathed.

"It's not like you can die of a heart attack now," San said.

Seohyun paused, narrowing her eyes at him. "Excuse me?"

San shrugged, but lost his demeanor as he finally laughed. "Oh how the tables have turned!" Seohyun gasped, kicking a pebble at him, glad when it struck his leg and he winced.

She gave him a long look. "Are you okay?"

"I am," San said, motioning to the swings and they took one. As they bobbed lightly, Seohyun finally took a deep breath and said, "I am sorry, San."

"For what?" he asked, looking at her.

"For everything," Seohyun said. "I've been a terrible friend."

"No you're not," he smiled. "I just wish you'd give yourself more credit. You don't have to apologize to me. You should be apologizing to yourself."

"Damn, that's poetic," Seohyun said and she could've sworn she heard San mutter 'insufferable', but he still laughed. "Alright. I'll give myself more credit. I won't make death jokes again too."

"Now what would Seohyun be without her death jokes?"

"That is a very valid point," Seohyun smiled. "Alright, I'll just... be a better person. You know."

It seemed like San was enjoying her struggle to find words. "I know what?"

Seohyun's jaw tensed. "Be glad I can't hit you, San."

San smirked.

That cocky little-

Seohyun got up, searching for something to throw at San, who just laughed loudly as he ran away from her.

---------

Days passed. Weeks passed.

A month passed- yet Seohyun was not awake.

Every morning, Seohyun awoke at the hospital, no matter where she slept. She had made the warehouse her home now, since going back to her house was just a reminder that she was not alive, but not dead either.

She wasn't sure how she felt about this situation. The first few days, everyone had been super sensitive about what they said in front of her. But now, everyone was busy with school too. So Seonghwa advised her to attend school too, to not get behind her studies. But Seohyun said that technically, she was still in hospital which meant she could skip school now.

It took her one day without them, bored out of her mind, and she decided that yes, she would go to school too.

So everyday, she sat in her seat, not really paying attention to the lectures but still feeling like she was a part of this world. A part of the living.

And she'd help a lot of ghosts too. Ghosts didn't find her like they did when she was alive, but occasionally she'd stumble upon a lost ghost and help them out, saying she was 'experienced' in helping the fellow-dead.

She was out helping a ghost, a little girl barely 7 years old. She missed her mom and was still hanging on because she had to give her mom a gift, she had promised to. Seohyun's heart went out for the little girl, and she decided to help her.

Seohyun took the girl to her own house, and the little girl went 'wow' when she realized she could touch things now. So Seohyun gave her a nice page and colour pencils while the girl made a drawing. The gift to her mom.

Seohyun hadn't been home in quite a while now. She walked around her room, memories of San and Jiwoo coming to her mind. She smiled as she took the painting of Jiwoo in her hands.

"I'm done!" The girl said, and Seohyun placed the painting back, going to the desk.

"So your name is Yerim?" She asked and Yerim nodded. She had made a cartoon of herself and her mom, labelling it.

"That is a beautiful drawing, Yerim. I'm sure your mom would love it."

Yerim smiled and Seohyun pinched her cheeks. "Now let's give that to your mom."

Yerim guided her to her home, and they went inside, deciding to hide the painting in Yerim's room so when her mom would come, she'd find it, and think she had already made it before she died.

"Thank you, unnie!" Yerim hugged Seohyun and she marvelled at the feeling. She hadn't touched anyone since she'd been a ghost.

Seohyun picked the girl in her arms. "You're so light!" Yerim laughed and hugged her again. They got out of the house, walking randomly, Yerim still in her arms. The black cat started following them too.

"The cat can see you?" Yerim asked.

"Oh yes. When I was... alive, it was my friend. It's still my friend when I'm ghost."

"That's cool," Yerim said as she waved at the cat.

Seohyun asked, "Now that you have done what you stayed here for, you should go now. There's a better world, where you'll wait for your mom. She'll be there soon."

"Will she?" She asked and Seohyun nodded.

"Can we go to the park over there? I used to come there to play with my mom. It has so many flowers too."

"Of course," Seohyun looked at where she had pointed. The park was full of kids and their parents, playing around. "That's a nice place."

Seohyun dropped Yerim and she asked if she would be able to touch the cat. She squealed in surprise when she could.

"What's the name of this cat?"

"Ah. I haven't named it yet..." Was it Shiber or Byeol?

"You can call it Yerim!"

Seohyun paused. She got the strange urge to stretch her cheek.

"You're very cute, Yerim. I'll call her that," Seohyun smiled.

Yerim nodded, looking at the kids, and Seohyun watched her fade away. Feeling the sudden urge to cry, she shook her head and motioned for the cat to follow her.

After roaming around aimlessly, Seohyun reached the warehouse, finding it utterly dark. Not even the usual light was on.

"Where did everyone go?" She muttered, turning to go out, almost jumping out of her skin when she heard what sounded like a blast.

It was a party popper.

"Happy birthday!"

Seohyun turned to find everyone clapping and holding a cake, the only light in the room from the candles. San was laughing at Seohyun's horrified expressions. She truly had forgotten that it was her birthday. She shook her head, laughing.

"You guys, you're- how did you plan this?"

"It took us days to plan," San admitted, and Wooyoung said, "We had to think of a way you'd be busy today."

"But I was busy today because- no way. No way!" Seohyun looked at San in disbelief and he nodded. "I found her before you did and asked her to keep you busy. She was more than happy to."

"Wow," Seohyun shook her head, pinching her nose bridge but smiling at the effort.

"Blow the candles," Seonghwa said, and Yeosang took to his filming.

Seohyun felt strangely happy as she blew her candles, not bothering to make a wish. Hongjoong turned on the lights and she looked around, noticing the various gifts lying in the corner, and her favourite dishes on the table.

San led them to the table, where she cut the cake and made everyone take a bite from her hands. She couldn't thank them enough; this was the first time she had a surprise- or even a celebration.

"I wish the circumstances were different," Seohyun sighed.

San told them what she said and Yunho answered, "It doesn't feel any different. Only we can't see or hear you, so we have to visualize. Oh, and we get more jump-scares now."

Seohyun laughed, and they dug into the food.

After they all were done, they asked her to unwrap her gifts. So Seohyun grabbed the largest one first, which was from Yunho. It was a school bag, with space for laptop too.

"I noticed yours was kind of worn out," Yunho grinned. Seohyun scribbled on the notebook, saying 'Thank you for noticing! :)'. The others applauded him for the approval.

The next one was from Mingi. It was a beautiful leather band watch, which she loved, saying she wished she could put it on right now, and wondering for a moment that if she did, where would it go when she was back?

Yeosang had gifted her some chocolates from abroad, conveniently his father had been out of country. And since he knew her love for chocolate was one to be appreciated, he decided on it. Seohyun almost cried when she spotted her favourite ones.

"I do have another gift, but you'll have to wait for it," he admitted. Seohyun narrowed her eyes, scribbling 'It better be worth it' and moving on to the next.

Jongho had given her a scented set; shampoo, lotion and candle. Hongjoong got her a cap and sunglasses, rather stylish, and Seohyun had to admit she was impressed by his choice. Seonghwa had gifted her a black cat plushie- very, very similar to Yerim the cat. Seohyun admitted it might be her favourite gift. Wooyoung had gifted her a set of earrings, and she appreciated that it was just her taste. And San got her a couple ring, making everyone including herself gasp when they saw it.

"I didn't know what to get..." San scratched the back of his neck.

"No, I love it. It's so pretty!" It was just her style; a silver band with a tiny diamond in the center. Seohyun tried it on, showing it to San excitedly who laughed, approving. He wore his own too.

"Aw, this is so sweet. Except it looks like San proposed to himself," Wooyoung said, earning a smack from Seonghwa.

Seohyun took it off, handing it to San. "I'll wear it when I'm back."

"You wanna go for a walk?" San asked, and she nodded, getting up and asking him to convey her thanks to everyone, that they should keep this stuff here and she'll properly receive them and thank them when she was back.

After everyone said goodbye, San and Seohyun started walking aimlessly around, San telling her how it had taken them a whole week to plan, which included panicking over gifts too. Since it was their first time with Seohyun, it was more difficult to decide on what she'd like.

"I would have loved anything you gave me, even if it was stupid. I appreciate the gesture more."

"I know," San smiled at her. Seohyun was looking at him with a smile on her face, taking in the details on his pretty face, that she didn't notice a bike rushing and on its way to hit her.

Of course she wouldn't get hit, but out of impulse, San grabbed her by the arm and dragged her to the side, "Even if you're a ghost, you should be careful-"

"How- how did you did you just touch me?"

San looked at her, then looked down at his hands, then looked at her again. "Did I?"

Seohyun frowned. Slowly, taking a step towards him, she touched his face, and they sucked in their breath.

She could touch him.

Seohyun laughed in disbelief, touching his face, feeling every angle and curve of it, and San's hands went to grab her hands, marvelling at the touch. He hugged her, not quite believing it until he could feel her arms around her.

Seohyun broke the hug, joining their foreheads, for a moment forgetting everything else as she kissed him. God, it had been too long. They kissed each other in a frenzy, until San felt like someone dumped water on him and he broke apart.

"How did this happen?"

"I don't know," Seohyun breathed, "I don't know, I-"

Seohyun fell to the ground, clenching her head in her hands as she cried out in pain.

"What's happening?" San asked, panic lacing his voice, and Seohyun muttered that she did not know.

"I think I'm dying," Seohyun said, wincing because of the sharp pain, "Or something's happening. I'm being pulled back. San- I'm scared."

San was sitting down with her now, holding her in her arms, caressing her head, "It's gonna be alright," he said, pressing a kiss to her head, "It's gonna be alright."

He didn't know how long he stayed there comforting her as she breathed and faded. And he did not know how long he stared at the empty space in front of him, where Seohyun had just been.

-----------------

It was utter chaos at the hospital- the doctors and the nurses were rushing around, everyone was borderline panicking. Seohyun was going into shock- her mother was crying hysterically as she watched the doctors go around her in a frenzy. A nurse told her to pray- she would either make it or pass away.

Her mother watched her heart beat flatline and the doctors resuscitate her. Her mother almost fainted as she watched the monitors- she was having flashbacks from the time her husband had passed away. Her friend Yuri came rushing in, leading her outside, rubbing her back and telling her it was better to wait and pray instead of watch what was going on.

Meanwhile, San, who had been staring at the empty space in front of him, where Seohyun had just been, slapped himself to reality and called Hongjoong, quickly telling him what had happened as he rushed through the streets, trying to find a taxi. The boys joined him, their faces pale, and they ran to the main street until they found taxis and drove to the hospital, not being able to calm their loudly thumping hearts.

As soon as they reached the hospital, they looked at each other once, nodding, scared for what they would get to hear. Most of them were trembling now- but they followed each other to the ICU, where they spotted the doctors coming out of the room.

Yunho spotted Yuri and ran to her, "How's Seohyun? What happened to her?"

Yuri narrowed her eyes at Yunho, "How did you know...?"

Yunho internally cursed himself before making up an excuse, "I was passing by here when I heard the doctors call the others to Seohyun's room- I called the rest. It wasn't looking good."

Yuri nodded, "She's okay now. She's awake, in fact. Look," Yuri pointed at the door that was slightly open, and Yunho saw her mother smiling through tears, holding Seohyun's hand, who was smiling too.

Yunho sighed in relief, almost falling on his knees. He thanked Yuri and motioned the rest to join him, and the rest knew it was good news with the smile on Yunho's face. They watched the mother and daughter smile and talk to each other, and they hugged each other in relief, their eyes wet.

Seohyun spotted the group of boys outside, waving at them. The boys waved back and they watched her say something to her mother, who nodded, getting up after kissing her forehead and coming out.

"I never thought Seohyun could have so many friends one day," Her mother smiled at them.

"It's good to meet you," Jongho said, and they bowed in greeting.

"You can meet her now- try not to be too loud," she laughed, waving at them.

The boys walked slowly to her room, taking in Seohyun's appearance- there were shadows under her eyes, a few scars on her face and hands, but her smile was the only thing they could see.

"Come here. I missed you all so much!"

Jongho went first, shaking hands with her, the rest coming one by one, holding back from hugging her or ruffling her hair because of the bandages on her head and everywhere else. They were all a little speechless, having seen Seohyun after so long now.

Even San was speechless- he had seen Seohyun everyday, but not like this.

"I thought you'd be happier to see me," Seohyun looked at San.

"I... I am, I just-" San shook his head, looking down as he trembled from trying to hold back his tears, "I really thought... that you were gone."

Seohyun sighed, pursing her lips. "I have given you all a hard time, haven't I?"

They all shook their heads, Mingi and Wooyoung rubbing San's back who was trying his hardest not to cry but ultimately failed. Hongjoong said they'd give them a moment and they left the room.

"San. Come on, look at me. San!"

San sniffed, wiping his eyes before looking at her. Tears formed in her own eyes and she wiped them.

"I'm so sorry, San. I'm so sorry."

"You don't have to be sorry for anything," San leaned forward, taking her hand in his- it had been too long. "Nothing to be sorry about, except scaring the shit out of me."

Seohyun laughed, "I scared the shit out of myself too, not gonna lie."

"I can't believe you're real," San admitted, bringing her hand to his face, reveling the feeling of her touch, "I am awake, am I not?"

Seohyun slapped his face lightly with her other hand. "Very much awake."

San took his sweet time not saying anything, just looking at her face, his lips on her hand.

"Say something, San. You're being weird."

San shook his head, kissing her hand. "I am never leaving you, ever. Get that in your head. No amount of death jokes are going to scare me away. You're stuck with me now until I die."

Seohyun flushed at the sudden confession. "Are you sure? I can make horrible jokes."

"As sure as I will ever be."

Seohyun smiled until she was laughing, tears running down her face. "God, I love you, San. I'm not leaving you too. Even if you're angry with me, disappointed in me, or whatever, I'll keep bugging you."

"Good to hear," San grinned.

"Come here," Seohyun motioned, and San asked her if it was okay. Seohyun just grabbed his collar and gave him a light peck on his lips.

"I can't hug you right now, but I can do this."

San smiled, returning the favour. They both stared at each other, smiling.

"Now that is a creepy sight I wish I will never see again. Tell me you got that on camera, Wooyoung."

"Right on," Wooyoung replied to Hongjoong, and Seohyun tried throwing her pillow at them, groaning in pain when she turned too harshly. San told her to calm down, throwing the pillow himself.

"It's our turn now, you've been seeing her for months now!" Yeosang shouted, and Seohyun laughed as she watched them push San out of the way, making him sit in the corner and pout while they sat in front of her, taking turns to talk to her.

"How did it feel while you were a ghost?" Wooyoung asked.

"Like I was alive, but not real?"

"Did it hurt when you became a ghost, or when you went back?" Seonghwa asked.

"When I went back, yes, I felt like my head was about to burst-"

"Can you still see ghosts now?" Mingi asked.

"I don't know yet-"

"Let her rest!" Hongjoong clapped once, "We'll have plenty of time to catch up when she comes home."

Seohyun pouted and Hongjoong patted her shoulder, "Glad you're back, Seohyun."

Seohyun smiled, wriggling her brows at him and they all waved at her before leaving, San coming to kiss her hand once before leaving. Seohyun sighed- he was being so soft.

Her mother came in, trying to stifle her smile but failing. "You have many friends now, it seems."

"I do," Seohyun nodded, smiling back, "I have a boyfriend too."

Her mother raised one eyebrow, putting her hands on her hips. "Lee Seohyun! Why didn't you tell me earlier? Which one was he?"

"The one who left last, San."

"Oh," her mother gave her a thumbs up, "How did it happen?"

Seohyun told her to sit because it was a long story, and then told her all about how she had met San, how he was able to see ghosts now too, because of her, and how they, at one point, started liking each other.

"Were you a ghost when you were in a coma?"

Seohyun bit her lip, nodding.

"And these friends knew?"

"They did. San could see me, but he couldn't touch me. At least not until tonight, just before it happened."

Her mother sighed, leaning back. "Is there a reason none of them, and not even you, bothered to tell me that you were a ghost?"

"I wanted to- I slept every night and woke up here, with you. I heard you talk to me. I couldn't break your heart, mom. Not when I wasn't sure if I was going to make it."

"I understand," She nodded, earnest, "How did this even happen?"

"It was an old ghost- a vengeful one. Apparently when you kill a 'mediator'- that's what they call me, there are a few moments before the mediator thing passes to another person. During those moments, ghosts can trespass and interact with humans and whatnot. At least that's what that bitch told me-"

"Language-"

"I'm talking about the ghost who tried to kill me."

"Oh, that bitch, go on."

"So apparently ghosts can't kill the mediators. So she tried doing it to me indirectly, which ended up killing her."

"Good riddance! But I hope you will have stopped seeing ghosts now. I don't want you to get in more trouble," her mother's eyes were full of worry.

"I don't think that happened, but at least nobody will try to kill me now."

The mother and daughter sat thinking for a few moments. Finally, her mother spoke, "You're getting discharged in three days. If you want to take a break from school, if you want to go on a trip, I can do that-"

"Thank you, mom," Seohyun smiled, "I just want to live like I had been living. Normally. We can go somewhere during the New Year holidays if you're free- otherwise, I just want to go to school, spend time with the boys, do normal stuff."

"I took extra days off," her mother nodded, "We can go visit your grandparents in the countryside."

"Sure! I haven't seen them in forever."

"You can go with the boys somewhere if you want to before New Year. I won't be home for Christmas- I have business in Japan. But if you want me home for Christmas-"

"Please, it's really okay, mom," Seohyun nodded furiously, "I won't be alone this time. Just promise you'll be home for New Year."

"I promise," she smiled.

"Done. I'll plan something with the boys."

Three days later, Seohyun was finally discharged, the bandages off her and she felt light. Seohyun took a look in the mirror when she got home- the wounds on her face would fade with time. She was alive, and that was all that mattered.

The boys had paid a visit every night, and it was time for her to return the favour. Seohyun decided she would buy something for them each- a Christmas gift, a gift because she woke up. She told them all to be there at night while she went shopping.

Two hours later, several shopping bags in her hands, she stood outside the warehouse. The air felt incredibly different now that she was alive.

Seohyun closed her eyes, relishing the feel of the wind on her skin, blowing the hair away from her face.

"Home."

------------------

"Hi guys!" Seohyun stood awkwardly, waving the bags in her hands. The boys all turned, hooting as they rushed towards her, and for a moment, Seohyun almost had a heart attack.

"STOP!" She shouted, and they stopped in their tracks, realizing their mistake. "One at a time, okay? Go back and sit."

They obeyed, muttering things under their breath and San approached her, taking some of the bags away from her.

"Can I hug you first?"

"Not fair!" Wooyoung shouted.

Seohyun laughed while San glared at Wooyoung, "We'll have plenty of time later, but here," She gave him a brief hug, sighing into it. It was the first time she was going to hug everyone after the accident.

She had been discharged from the hospital the next night, after the doctors made sure everything was okay. The bandages were off now, mostly. Some scars remained- one running down her temple as well. She had been home the past days, not being able to meet anyone, taking her time to get her energy back, only going out shopping with her mom.

"Alright," Seohyun placed the bags in front of the table where everyone sat, "This is going to be a random pick. I got you all gifts for Christmas, so I'm going to pick a bag. Here-" Seohyun picked one, "Yeosang!"

Yeosang got up haughtily, flipping his hair, motioning at them to applaud and they did, faces grumpy as he approached Seohyun and hugged her, almost picking her up in the air.

"Don't crush me!" Seohyun laughed, and Yeosang finally broke the hug, patting her head.

"We didn't get you anything for Christmas yet."

"You don't need to, you got me enough for the birthday-"

"We'll just give you food then," Jongho suggested.

"Deal," Seohyun winked at him, handing Yeosang the bag. "Open it."

Yeosang looked at her pointedly, opening the box to reveal a small flying drone. Yeosang gasped in surprise and Seohyun looked proud.

"I may have noticed you doodling drones in your notebook."

Yeosang laughed and thanked her, saying she knew him well. Seohyun picked the next bag.

"Seonghwa!"

Seonghwa pumped a fist in the air as he ran to Seohyun, hugging her.

"You hug like my mom does," Seohyun muttered.

"Glad you're back," he said, kissing her temple before he broke the hug. He opened the gift to reveal a set of-

"Hey, how did you know to get me these!" Seonghwa looked at Seohyun in surprise while the others tried to peek at what Seonghwa was holding, who took the boxes out to reveal action figurines. Seohyun smiled as she watched the rest laugh in approval.

"When you guys crashed my first date and took me shopping, I may have noticed you eyeing these in the shop- I don't know what category they are- I just memorized one of the toys of that set and went there and found it, to my relief."

"You're very observant," Seonghwa eyed her and she curtsied, earning another thanks.

"Can I come next?" Jongho said, pointing at the giant bear wrapped messily lying in the corner, "It's a bit too obvious now to pretend I don't see it."

Seohyun bit her lip, trying not to laugh, "Please do."

Jongho smiled, skipping to Seohyun, hugging her such that she was dangling in the air, arms flapping wildly at the side, and then the two skipped to where the bear was- it was about Seohyun's size. Jongho tore the wrappers and laughed-

"You really had to?"

Seohyun smiled at the apple necklace the bear wore- it was a special touch she added to Jongho's gift. "I mean, I could have gifted you a crate of apples-"

Yeosang laughed out loud, causing the others to laugh as well, "The apples wouldn't have lasted a day."

"It's not that bad!" Jongho sulked, dragging the bear to the couch and hugging it, pouting. Seohyun shook her head at him, picking the next bag.

"Yunho!"

Yunho hooted in victory, pausing in front of Seohyun for a second before spreading his arms, and Seohyun gladly hugged him, laughing because she barely reached his shoulders.

"Glad you're back, you dwarf."

"Thanks, you giant puppy," Seohyun shook her head, breaking the hug and handing him the bag. Yunho eyed her before fishing out a long box, unwrapping it.

Seohyun watched as his mouth opened in surprise, and he looked at Seohyun, then back at the boys, then back at her.

"What is it?" Wooyoung asked, "Don't make me get up now-"

"How did you get your hands on this!" Yunho laughed out loud, taking out a wand from the box, "This is Harry's wand, right?"

"Harry's wand!" Mingi wowed, and Hongjoong shook his head, "Isn't this too much! When did you get the time!"

"Actually, this wasn't a Christmas gift," Seohyun admitted, and Yunho looked at her in surprise, "You remember when we talked about Harry Potter all day in school when I was... alive? Before becoming a ghost, I mean-"

"I do," Yunho shook his head, "You're still alive, you know."

Seohyun waved a hand in dismissal, "Anyways, one of mom's friends was in UK, and I had asked her to get me a wand from there, so I asked to bring another."

"I don't know- isn't this too much?" Yunho looked at her hesitantly, and Seohyun rolled her eyes, looking at San who was laughing silently.

"Shut up. Next!" Seohyun announced, ignoring Yunho and picking another bag. "Hongjoong!"

"When is my turn!" Wooyoung wailed loudly, Mingi joining, and Seohyun watched as the two started playing rock papers scissors to bet on who would be next.

"How did you even bring all these here," Hongjoong asked as he hugged her, long and good, "Wasn't it too much trouble?"

"It's okay," Seohyun rubbed his back before they broke apart, and Seohyun handed him the bag. "Here."

Hongjoong looked at her pointedly, "This looks the smallest."

"I can assure you, it was the most expensive-"

"Hey!" Hongjoong laughed, "I'm not opening this."

"Stop being so dramatic, we're waiting!" Wooyoung shouted, Mingi doubling over with laughter.

"I'll do the honours," Seohyun picked the box and tore the wrapper apart. "I had to."

Hongjoong almost dropped the box as he held it- it was headphones- but high quality ones- ones he wish he could have to make him hear the sound betters when he composed in his laptop. "Seohyun-"

"Don't-"

"How can I accept this!"

"You know I could get you better things- my mom's loaded. She was all too glad when I told her that you were the guys I was buying gifts for. Please, Hongjoong, it's not much."

Hongjoong shook his head, "I know it's not much to you, but to us, it is. I'd appreciate it if you don't spend money like that again-"

"Shut up," Seohyun shook her head, "It's my first time getting someone gifts. First time getting someone something meaningful, first time I actually put thought into all of this. First time I was excited. Please," Seohyun wrapped his hands in hers, "Accept it."

"You're gonna make me cry now," Hongjoong laughed, bringing her in for another hug. "Thank you. I won't forget this."

"Thank you for accepting," Seohyun laughed, and Hongjoong went back, flaunting his headphones as he examined them.

"Okay, Mingi, you're next."

Mingi almost fell as he got up in victory, waving his butt at Wooyoung and earning a smack, skipping as he came to Seohyun and hugged her dramatically, picking her and actually making her scream-

"Drop me, you giant!" Seohyun slapped his arms repeatedly, and he finally dropped her, pretending she had hit her too hard. Seohyun slapped his arm again, finally smiling.

Mingi went to where his bag was- finding two boxes- his recent two favourite anime's action figurines.

"You remembered!"

"I also got you the recent volumes!" Seohyun fished out another bag from under the table and Mingi wowed, checking as if he couldn't believe it.

"You have good memory! When did I tell you which volumes I had?"

"Some time in school?" Seohyun smiled, "I didn't know what else to get you- I already gave you the drums, I could have waited till Christmas I guess-"

"Oh come on, they're yours-"

"They're yours now," Seohyun announced, and Yunho started clapping, "I mean, I'm a co-owner. Deal?"

"Deal," Mingi ruffled her hair, thanking her.

"Finally now, it's my time!" Wooyoung came singing, almost running to Seohyun as he crashed into her, spinning her and kissing her forehead, "I cannot tell you how happy I am that you are alive!"

"Even if I was dead," Seohyun began, "I feel like I wouldn't have been able to move on because of you-"

"Hush, now," Wooyoung shook his head, laughing. "Hey, mine is the lightest! Hongjoong!"

Hongjoong was too absorbed in his headphones to respond and San finally got up, telling Wooyoung to hurry up so they could have 'alone time'. Wooyoung unwrapped his gift-

"BTS' ALBUM!"

Seohyun flinched at how loud he was and San came to cover her ears as Wooyoung shouted in surprise and amazement, thanking Seohyun to which she nodded, still flinching as he ran around flaunting the album.

"You brought this upon yourself," San laughed, and Seohyun smiled as Wooyoung crushed her in another hug, thanking her again and again.

"You want me to take it back!"

"NO!"

"THEN SHUT UP!" Seohyun shouted as loudly as Wooyoung who only grinned.

"I knew there was something about you that I just had to make you friend-"

"Anddd that's enough," San slapped the back of Wooyoung's head, "Let's go to dinner after an hour, guys. Meanwhile, I'm stealing her."

With that, San put his arm on Seohyun's back, guiding her out as the boys 'ooh-ed', making her flush. Seohyun couldn't help but smile as San led her out of the warehouse, taking her at the backside where the boys had set up a small place with a tent and couches for when the weather was nice and they wanted to sit out.

"I wish we could go somewhere else, but I don't want to waste this hour," San said, leading her to the couches, pausing to look at her, his hands hesitant as he touched her face, "How have you been?"

"Oh please, it's not like we didn't call at nights the past two days- I'm fine, really."

San touched the scar at her temple, kissing it, making her flush deeper, "I'm glad to hear that."

Seohyun pushed San's chest, "You're being too... mushy."

"Mushy?" San raised an eyebrow, laughing as they sat on the couch, facing each other.

"You're sometimes too romantic for me to handle, you know that?" Seohyun folded her arms.

"I haven't even begun-"

"Exactly what I mean!" Seohyun shook her head, and San laughed, scooting closer.

"Tell me you missed me. Tell me you missed... us."

Seohyun bit her lip, scanning his face- the moonlight making his cheekbones appear sharper, his eyes dark.

"Can't say I didn't," Seohyun sighed, "Let me hug you first."

San brought her closer and she wrapped her arms around him, almost in his lap, her head resting on his chest as she sighed, melting in the embrace. "I definitely missed this. I could sleep right here-"

"Don't you think about sleeping now."

Seohyun smiled, burying her nose in his neck, inhaling the scent of him- it felt like nostalgia, like home. "I never thought I'd appreciate hugs one day- not being in contact for these two months really put me in my place."

San broke the hug, looking at her face, "I could tell. You got Jongho that bear- you know he doesn't really like skin-ship but watch him cling to that bear for the rest of his life. I realized then."

"You're right, I'm surprised you noticed," Seohyun admitted, "He and I are alike in that. I knew he'd love it. Oh, and also, I got you something, but it's not here yet."

"What did you get me?"

"Don't be too surprised when it comes," Seohyun grinned, "I wasn't too sure- yours was the hardest to think of, but it just happened-"

"Please, I'm curious now," San pouted, whining. "I won't be able to stop thinking now that you reminded me-"

Seohyun kissed him to shut him up, breaking apart to look at his reaction- satisfied to see his eyes wide in surprise and then narrow in challenge.

"I guess I could use a distraction. We do have an hour."

Seohyun laughed, kissing him properly this time, taking it slow- it was the first time they were properly kissing since she was back. San held her face delicately, letting her set the pace. Seohyun's hands were more urgent, running through his soft hair, caressing his face, his neck, roaming around his back and chest as they kissed lazily.

"Don't hold me like I'm gonna break, Choi San."

It was all San needed to hear- he kissed her with a force that got her arching back until her back hit the couch itself, and San broke apart to caress her face and draw her hair back.

"I love you, Seohyun. Merry Christmas."

"And I love you, you mountain," Seohyun smiled, "Now kiss me."

The rest of the hour went by as they kissed, murmured sweet nothings as they sat in each other's embrace, or just watched each other, hands caressing hands. The hour went by slow yet it felt like a flash once it was over and they were interrupted with Wooyoung shouting at them to come inside already.

Holding each other's hands, they went inside and sat with the boys to plan where to go for dinner. Yunho looked at the two and burst out laughing, Mingi joining him.

One by one, they all started laughing, leaving San and Seohyun who stared at them. Even Hongjoong and Seonghwa- the serious ones were laughing.

"Did you two only make out during that one hour?" Yeosang shook his head, "Look at how disheveled you both are."

San and Seohyun immediately looked down, but their clothes were straight, and their hair wasn't messed up-

It was only when all of them burst out laughing that the two realized this was a trick- and San covered his face as he laughed while Seohyun gaped at them, getting up in search of something- grabbing a small cushion and running forward to hit them-

"It was Yunho's idea, don't hit me!" Mingi wailed.

"You're still an accomplice," Seohyun laughed as she ran at all of them, hitting them once on their heads to 'get their brains to kick start'. "So what if we only made out? I'll ask you all when you finally have partners, you loners!"

-------------------

It was the first dinner Seohyun had with the boys since coming back to her normal life.

And it was chaotic, to say the least.

People had mistaken them for being a bunch of drunks one too many times, the way they were hollering with laughter and talking about ghosts as loudly as they could. But everything was okay- Seohyun hadn't felt happier in a while.

After a very lavish dinner, they all walked around the town, making fun of each other and playing, and before Seohyun could decide to leave for her home and bid everyone goodnight, Yeosang told her they had one last surprise for her at the warehouse before she went home.

"And why couldn't I get this surprise when we were back at the warehouse just a few hours ago?"

"You'll know why," Jongho teased, "Just come."

Seohyun rolled her eyes, secretly anticipating just what they had in store for her, and followed them to the warehouse.

"We'll be right back- stay here," Wooyoung said, dragging Jongho and Yeosang with him while the rest stood outside, waiting.

"Can I have a hint?" Seohyun folded her arms.

"Uh, nope." Hongjoong was firm.

"Is it something about a musical performance or a dance performance-"

"Can you calm down and wait?" Seonghwa laughed.

"Is this going to be a prank?" Seohyun raised her eyebrow.

"If it was a prank I would have been inside with them," Mingi raised his hand and Seohyun narrowed her eyes at him.

"Me too!" Yunho grinned, and Mingi and Yunho shared a look which set Seohyun pacing due to nervousness.

"Calm down," San laughed, his eyes full of adoration, "You'll love it. It's all I am allowed to say."

Seohyun pouted, eyeing the warehouse, not hearing anything at all. Another minute passed by which Seohyun had scratched near her fingernails out of nervousness when Wooyoung peeked out, giving a thumb up.

"Finally," Seohyun exhaled, and San took her hand in his as they walked inside.

They were greeted by the Siamese cat that Seohyun had gifted San, who finally named her Byeol. Yerim was their stray cat and Byeol was their pet cat, who loved staying inside the warehouse- her home.

Seohyun looked around. Everything was the same, except there was a projector now set up in front of the couches. "Are we watching a movie?"

"A short movie, you could say," Jongho took her other hand, leading her to the couch and making her sit in the middle, San sitting on one side and Yeosang on the other, and Wooyoung made sure everyone was sitting in front of the screen before he put the lights out, grinning as he sat on the floor mat in front of Seohyun. Seohyun playfully kicked his back, earning a slap to the leg.

"Okay, I'm starting it."

Yeosang clicked a button and there was static for a few seconds before music started to play- music she realized was from one of the samples she'd heard from Hongjoong. She raised her brow at him, and he just winked.

Seohyun went back to watching the screen, which went black and then a video clip started playing- she frowned as she realized where it was from- school.

"Hi," Wooyoung said, "I made a new friend today, but she's kind of scary so I don't know when I'll be able to get a proper vlog with her- ow!"

Seohyun smacked Wooyoung's head. The teacher was about to come in. Wooyoung hid the camera and Seohyun said, "I owe you one."

"You owe me nothing-"

"Should I tell the teacher what exactly you were doing?"

"Boomer," Wooyoung muttered.

Seohyun laughed out loud, "I never heard you call me a boomer!" She smacked the back of Wooyoung's head again, and he laughed out loud.

"This is exactly why you didn't hear me!" Wooyoung laughed, rubbing his head.

The clip changed and Seohyun recognized the scene again-

"I win," Yeosang smirked.

"Next game, come on."

Seohyun drew another blank page and the two restarted another game of tic tac toe. This time, Seohyun went first and she won. Seohyun put a line on her tally count.

"This will go on forever," Yunho, who was watching them, said, "Whenever Seohyun goes first, she wins. Whenever Yeosang goes first, he wins. You both have this figured out- why don't you just shake hands and accept the draw?"

"No."

Yunho laughed as the both had glared at him and said no in unison, flipping the page and starting another game. Mingi, who was filming, turned the camera to himself and shook his head.

"They're never gonna stop."

"We did stop," Yeosang laughed, "Only because the teacher came."

"So who won?" San asked.

Seohyun sighed, smiling, "We shook hands and accepted draw."

The scene changed again, and it was from when Seohyun had first seen the warehouse and revealed that she knew how to play the piano- apparently Jongho had caught her playing the melody that she remembered from Hongjoong. It followed by the clips of the truth and dare game they had that night- the one when Seohyun finally told the boys that she could see ghosts. Everyone had a good laugh over it and Seohyun felt nostalgic as she watched Hongjoong's Billie Jeans imitation and Yunho's golden retriever. Seohyun had stopped them from filming the ghost evidence back then.

The clips that followed were all... ghost evidence. The boys used to play games with Jiwoo- like cards, tic tac toe, or such games, and Seohyun watched with her mouth open in disbelief as the amount of 'evidence' clips passed.

"Good thing Jiwoo's not here- if she was, I would have personally seen her out of this realm."

San rubbed her arm, laughing, "You never stopped them from filming."

Seohyun just shook her head, smiling as the clips changed to a compilation of their last day with Jiwoo, of them playing in the water, playing games and just laughing and having a good time. Seohyun felt bittersweet at the memories.

"Now here starts the fun part," Wooyoung winked.

And sure enough, fun it was.

"It appears my definition of fun differs from yours," Seohyun flushed as she saw a compilation of clips of San and Seohyun being the most obvious couple- looking at each other adoringly, holding hands, talking, etc. "I feel exposed."

"This was my idea- to put these in," San admitted, grinning at her flushed self, "I knew you'd like it."

Seohyun rolled her eyes but smiled, and they all watched the various clips from their outings together, until-

"Oh," Seohyun realized why this gift from Yeosang was late.

The drums playing itself, the piano playing itself, food flying in the air, cushions being thrown- all Seohyun as a ghost, and she had to admit the direction of this movie was clever.

"I'm going to wait till the end credits to comment," Seohyun muttered, watching the day of her birthday, smiling because it really looked like they had filmed the whole thing.

Seohyun's grip on San's hand tightened when she saw the clip from the day at the hospital when she finally woke up- the 'creepy sight' Hongjoong had referred to and Wooyoung had filmed- the sight being San and Seohyun staring and smiling at each other, their foreheads joined.

"You really had to add this?" Seohyun kicked Wooyoung's back lightly, making everyone giggle.

"This is like the epilogue of the whole thing," Mingi said.

The video ended with a picture of the 8- which Jiwoo had clicked on the beach. The end credits rolled, crediting everyone except Seohyun- even Jiwoo.

"Come on, I must have made at least one of the videos or pictures there-"

"In case you haven't noticed, you barely use your phone," Yunho retorted, and Seohyun pouted.

"So," Wooyoung turned, "What do you think?"

Seohyun couldn't stop herself from smiling, looking up as she felt her eyes burn, and the boys started chanting "DON'T CRY", making her laugh harder.

"This really is a gift from all of you- the memories, though I think I should thank Yeosang first," Seohyun smiled at him, taking his hand, "Thank you. You didn't have to waste your time on this."

"It wasn't a waste of time," Yeosang shook his head, "I had this idea when you were still... a ghost. So instead of making it bleaky with only ghost memories, I decided to do something like this. Wooyoung helped me a lot too."

"You all make me cry too much," Seohyun wiped the corners of her eyes, "I was never this emotional-"

"Oh please," Seonghwa shook his head, "If we had a clip from every time that you cried-"

"Okay, okay, I get it!" Seohyun laughed, "Thank you, all of you. This, us here right now, is the greatest Christmas gift I could have from anyone of you-"

"Now don't go being all sentimental on us, Seohyun-"

"Ugh, you guys don't let me breathe!" Seohyun glared at Jongho, who was doubling over with Mingi, "I'm saying it again, and you all better not interrupt. I really love you guys. It's been a great few months, despite the bad things that happened. I wouldn't have made it back without you guys. Thank you for everything."

They all smiled, Seohyun taking time to make eye contact with everyone.

"Thank you for sticking with us, I guess," Seonghwa grinned.

Wooyoung nodded. "I know we can be a loud bunch-"

"You don't say," Seohyun muttered.

"See, you interrupt us too when we're all sentimental!" Wooyoung turned to glare at her.

"Hey, who's idea was it to befriend me again?" Seohyun shrugged, "You brought this upon yourself-"

"It was because we thought a girl in our group would so us good! If I had known you talked and sat like a guy-"

Wooyoung shut up when Seohyun kicked his back, harder this time, making everyone howl with laughter at the two of them bickering.

"Hey, she can be girly when she wants to be-"

"You're not helping, San!"

"It's imitation time, Yunho!" Yeosang called his attention and Yunho bowed, getting up and preparing himself to act like Seohyun.

He walked a few feet away, rolling his sleeves up, which already had the boys laughing, stealing Hongjoong's cap so he could complete the 'Seohyun' look.

"So here's how she walks-" Yunho hunched his shoulders a bit, his eyes darting here and there as he walked with light steps- a habit Seohyun had to make as less of a sound while walking as she could.

"It's because I look out for ghosts!" Seohyun folded her arms, slumping back as the boys laughed at the near perfect imitation, almost howling when Yunho slumped in the chair, sighing, legs apart but feet together, arms folded.

"That's perfect," Yeosang managed to say between laughter. Seohyun clenched her jaw, trying not to laugh.

"I feel exposed..."

"But that's how you really are like, baby," San scoffed.

"I could have been like one of those girls who's always walking like a model, sitting like this-" She tried mimicking those formal sitting positions, "And has her lashes fluttering every second, and is always worried about how she looks."

"See, I knew you'd fit in well with us," Wooyoung grinned, and Seohyun threw a pillow at him as San and Wooyoung started to bicker about Seohyun.

Seohyun smiled as she pet the cat that was now in her lap, looking around at the boys, all smiles and laughter, no worries. Yeosang noticed her expressions and raised his brows.

Seohyun smiled.

"This really does feel like home."

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