#anyway hi I'm alive if you saw me disappear for like a month no you didn't

[serenanymph]

find the word tag

Tagged by @space-writes over here with the words take, lower, fine and dive!! Gently tagging uhhhh @macabremoons, @reneesbooks and @lyssa-ink with the words nest, just, revenge and identity!

take

There’s a pause, as the four of them look at each other – the Halfling full of distrust, unwilling to let his guard down even just to take a break; Icarus full of worry, not wanting to sit down until he’s made sure everyone really is resting. Crys, of course, is unreadable as always, expression impassive as a stone wall. If he didn’t reek of chaos magic – if Rhyme didn’t know to look for that slight twitch to his fingers, the way he clenches his fist at a flash of pain – she wouldn’t have known he was injured at all. She’d be impressed with his poker face if it wasn’t so damn annoying.

lower(s)

“She’s fine,” Zephyr coughs from where he’s leaning against Kas. Both of them look equally exhausted. “It was just – just a stupid disagreement with a few others. I panicked and overreacted.” He lowers his eyes – eye, he’d strapped the eyepatch back on – towards the ground. “Sorry.” And then he lifts his eyes again, looking past her, and freezes.

fine

It is an overcast day, when he sets out on his own – the sky clouded and gray, the sun weak and watery. The rain falls in a light drizzle, the water droplets fine as mist. He turns his dirt-smeared face up towards the sky, blinking rapidly. His split lip stings and tastes of copper when he licks it. The tunic and cloak he is wearing is made of rough sackcloth, torn and frayed and worn at the edges, half falling apart.

dive

Someone cuts through the air overhead – soundlessly swooping in before dropping into a sharp dive – and then there’s a Crow with a high ponytail falling into step right beside Kas with ease. He doesn’t flinch; evidently expecting this or used to it.

taglist (lmk if you want to be +/-): @deer-in-headlights-stare, @allianaavelinjackson, @arctic-oceans, @space-writes, @reneesbooks

[haikirii]

q!Cellbit just wants to give what he didn't have, because now he's living the life he never could: an analysis of his relationship with the Eggs

disclaimer: I wrote this long before the eggs disappeared so… MAYBE it's out of date, keep that in mind when you read it but this is my analysis of that time

q!Cellbit grew up in the war, that is a fact. His life has never been particularly peaceful since then and, considering that shortly after the war ended he was arrested, he was never able to truly live.

Survive. Your mind is always focused on surviving, on not dying to anything or anyone, on staying alive. His playground was the battlefield, his childhood games were to kill his adversaries. His "quiet time" was amidst the chaos of a field of blood.

Soon after he was arrested, living a few good years there before escaping in a miraculous way after threatening everyone and having a gun with a bullet and a dream. He had miraculous therapy, became a detective and is now living on an island; married; with a son; being friends with the people he threatened; leader of a resistance and constantly being manipulated - and trying to manipulate back - a cruel mysterious organization that has trapped everyone where they are.

Anyway, I've repeated these lines so much that they were simply written automatically without me even thinking straight. I may seem repetitive in the next paragraph, but it's something I want to emphasize: q!Cellbit didn't have a life.

q!Cellbit didn't live his life. He spent all these years before arriving on the island thinking about just surviving, he only had the chance to live a "normal" life NOW. On that island where he was tortured; mistaken; kidnapped; had his friend kidnapped; his son was threatened; his family broken multiple times; his nearly month-long investigation stolen; all this, for this damn place to be where he's probably having the best time of his life.

Understand? Do you understand how absurd this seems? And that's exactly why q!Cellbit does everything to protect the eggs: he wants all of them to have the life he didn't have. That they can play without worrying about having to survive another day; that they just be the children they deserve to be and not the killing machine he was when he was younger.

q!Cellbit wants his son to just do the pranks he does, for Richarlyson to enjoy his childhood and his paintings without him having to worry about who the person he will kill tomorrow will be. q!Cellbit wants his son to live a normal life. In fact, he wants all the eggs to live a normal childhood.

Even with all the dangers that plague the island, even though the eggs were forced to be little warriors like he was, he still always does his best to encourage them to play. He always joins in on their games, always falls for their pranks, always prioritizes talking to them and has always treated them like what they are: children.

And that's exactly what makes it 1000x worse that he was the one who found the report of the little egg abandoned at the adoption center. For me, he saw his reflection there in those dirty pages and desperate words of a child who just wanted to be loved by someone.

An egg that I'm sure q!Cellbit would have loved to give the love he so deserved, a love that overflows with his failures and setbacks.

A love that every child deserves.

pt-br

disclaimer: eu escrevi isso bem antes dos ovos sumirem então... TALVEZ esteja desatualizado, tenham isso em mente quando ler mas isso é a minha análise daquela época

q!Cellbit cresceu na guerra, isso é um fato. Sua vida nunca foi particularmente tranquila desde então e, considerando que logo depois que a guerra acabou ele foi preso, ele nunca pôde realmente viver.

Sobreviver. Sua mente sempre focada em sobreviver, em não morrer para nada e nem ninguém, em ficar vivo. Seu parquinho era o campo de batalha, suas brincadeiras eram matar seus adversários. Sua "época tranquila" foi em meio ao caos de um campo de sangue.

Logo depois ele foi preso, vivendo alguns bons anos lá antes de fugir de uma forma mirabolante depois de ameaçar todos e tendo uma arma com uma bala e um sonho. Fez uma terapia milagrosa, virou um detetive e agora está vivendo em uma ilha; casado; com um filho; sendo amigo das pessoas que ameaçou; líder de uma resistência e sendo constantemente manipulado - e tentando manipular de volta - uma organização misteriosa cruel que prendeu todos aonde estão.

Enfim, eu já repeti tanto essas linhas que elas simplesmente foram escritas automáticamente sem eu sequer pensar direito. Posso parecer repetitivo no próximo paragrafo, mas é algo que eu quero frisar: q!Cellbit não teve uma vida.

q!Cellbit não viveu a vida dele. Ele passou todos esses anos até chegar na ilha pensando em apenas sobreviver, ele só teve a chance de viver uma vida "normal" AGORA. Nessa ilha onde ele foi torturado; enganado; sequestrado; teve seu amigo sequestrado; seu filho ameaçado; sua família quebrada diversas vezes; sua investigação de quase um mês roubada; tudo isso, para esse lugar maldito ser onde ele provavelmente estar tendo a melhor fase de sua vida.

Entende? Entende o quão absurdo isso parece? E é exatamente por isso que q!Cellbit faz de tudo para proteger os ovos: ele quer que todos eles tenham a vida que ele não teve. Que eles possam brincar sem se preocupar em ter que sobreviver mais um dia; que eles sejam apenas as crianças que eles merecem ser e não a máquina de matar que ele foi quando menor.

q!Cellbit quer que seu filho apenas faça as pegadinhas que ele faz, que Richarlyson aproveite sua infância e suas pinturas sem que ele tenha que se preocupar quem será a pessoa que ele matará amanhã. q!Cellbit quer que seu filho viva uma vida normal. Na verdade, ele quer que todos os ovos vivam uma infância normal.

Mesmo com todos os perigos que assolam a ilha, mesmo que os ovos tenham sido forçados a serem pequenos guerreiros como ele fora, ainda assim ele sempre faz o possível para incentivar que eles brinquem. Sempre entra nas brincadeiras deles, sempre cai nas pegadinhas, sempre dá prioridade para falar com eles e sempre os tratou como o que eles são: crianças.

E é exatamente nisso que é 1000x pior que tenha sido ele a achar o relato do pequeno ovo abandonado no centro de adoção. Para mim, ele viu seu reflexo ali naquelas páginas sujas e palavras desesperadas de uma criança que só queria ser amada por alguém.

Um ovo que eu tenho certeza de que q!Cellbit teria amado dar o amor que tanto merecia, um amor que transborda de suas falhas e recaídas.

Um amor que toda criança merece.

[ebonysplendor]

psst 👀 you should check out “Where He is King” by mellowbile on itch.io

Hmm...heard 👀

TL;DR: He's a joker, a jester, an absolute clown...but the pain that he puts us through is no joke

That was horrible, I know. I couldn't think of anything else. Plz let me live ._.

Game Link: https://mellowbile.itch.io/where-he-is-king

Notable Features: Nameless MC, Female MC, Demon/God LI(?), Yandere LI(?), Choice-heavy story Spiciness: 0/5 -- Unless you're into the whole dismembered from the inside out thing, then 5/5. No kink shaming here LI(?) Red Flags: 5/5 -- Physically abusive, Torture, Sadist. That's about it, but it's pretty gruesome/vivid stuff

Wanna know more? Not if you're not at least 18! Y'all were good until it got updated a few days or so ago due to the gore. Anyways, if you're part of the 18+ club, let's get into it!

!! C O N T E N T !! !! W A R N I N G !!

He looks more like a jester to me, but it may trigger that whole fear of clowns thing...just a heads up

So, this one was a request, which I'm always excited about, so of course I had to give it the old college try. To be honest, I saw and played this the same day that I had gotten the request (hence why I wrote the whole "y'all were good until a few days ago" thing, because it was a few days ago at the time), but I really wanted to get that Trembling Essence review out first, and then, I started adulting and lost track of time, and then a month went by, and yeah. Not to mention that I was looking FOREVER for a particular ending; I'll get into that more once the review portion comes along. Anyways.

Now, admittedly, this one wasn't too much of my style but...actually, just take a look at this:

I actually appreciate the disclaimer because, admittedly, the first thought I had was "This feels gorey for the sake of being gorey", but after remembering what they had said about it being more emotionally charged writing, I realized that it actually was pretty emotionally charged. Like, the writing itself was actually pretty solid and the art? Ugh, I loved the visuals. Those of you who have been rocking with me for some of my reviews know that I get completely undone over sprites, CGs, and all that visual stuff.

Admittedly, I don't really have too much to say in the intro. All that I want to say seems more appropriate for the review portion, so I'm going to go ahead and jump into talking about the game itself. As per typical, I'm going to tell you as much about the game without ruining the game itself.

So boom.

We're on the run. Well, let me rephrase that: we were on the run, but our ankle is kind've AFK, at the moment, and running isn't really an option right now. Just as a little backstory, the reason why we're trying to get away from him is because everything is literally going to shit, or Hell, more accurately. Villagers are disappearing, children are either becoming runaways or being abducted, and there's this hypnotic music that's (assumed to be) always playing in the background from a taunting distance, being just barely heard. Not long after, a devil -- that was intentional, by the way, because he's not the devil, but a devil. He ain't that special, but he's still dangerous -- catches up to us.

Friedrich "JunJingl" Marchosias. Yeah, I jumbled the pronunciation of that last name, too, but just know that that's his name lmao.

Naturally, he starts to taunt us, calling us a "broken toy" because our ankle is sprained, and we aren't much for running right now, which makes his pursuit less amusing for him. This wouldn't be such an issue if, one, Sir Jester Douche wasn't a literal psycho and a pretty serious threat, and two, we weren't literally the last human alive. That's right folks: we're what remains of humanity. Okay, well, maybe not that dramatic, but it seems that way because the people that would've been in the surrounding area are either dead or they were a part of his army, but that's not reassuring either because he only took the children for his army -- we're a full grown adult, so our fate isn't looking too good.

At this point, he's getting pretty pissed at us. That's because he's been talking mad shit this whole time, but we've been silent throughout his whole lil' speech. Like, oh, pardon me for my brain shutting down and putting survival at the top of the list, my good sir.

We indulge in his arrogance briefly, but just long enough for us to stall him while we make a gameplan. Now, here's the thing: if we make a run for it, we're probably going to die because our ankle is pretty messed up, but if we stay and keep talking to this psycho clown...we're probably going to die.

Huh. Okay then. With that being realized...

We bolt. We are outta of there. Point blank period, because it's like, if our chance of death is pretty much inevitable, we may as well make him work for it.

That's kind've falling flat though, because he's right on our tail, and he's not even putting in the effort while doing it. We can't worry about that for too long though, because we hear this music playing and...oh shit.

It's going from bad to worse. Now, we have to worry about his entire army chasing after us, too. It doesn't matter though because survival is still at the top of the list, no matter how slim or nonexistent the chance may be; we keep running. We run and run and run and run until we get to this well. Granted, it may have been a stupid move, but we actually managed to get a good bit of distance, and we stop to get a drink from the well. Like I said, probably a stupid move, but shit, we don't have much of a chance of survival if we're dehydrated. ...Actually, we don't have much of a chance of survival if we are hydrated, either, but a bitch is thirsty, so we get that damn drink, or so we thought we were going to. What we were expecting was a well full of rainwater.

It's full of blood.

We don't even have time to be scared before Friedrich pops up behind us. With our survival instincts kicking in, we get on our gangster shit. We notice that the bucket was silver and recall how a lot of the things in the village had been replaced with silver dupes because it could ward off evil. When I say that we got a good ass grip on that silver bucket...

And absolutely knocked his shit in?! We blasted the hell out of him with that bucket. Look at this man's face.

Lmao, no babes. Not that face.

Lol not that one either...

Ah, yes. We...might have just plummeted our inevitable chance of death to an inevitable certainty of death...

And the story continues from this point, my friends! Actually! This is only one route of ten! Which ending is this you ask? Lol like I'm going to tell you. You'll have to play the game for yourself to find that out. Just be cautious, because it does get a little...messy.

Okay, so! ...Wasn't really my cup of tea, not gonna lie, but it wasn't bad!

First and foremost, let's get into the visuals of this game. The art was definitely pleasing to look at. Like, ugh, I love CGs and sprites and visual effects and all of that, and this game had a looooot of them. Like, take a little lookie look.

Chef's kiss work right there. I really, really, really loved the artwork. Definitely my favorite aspect of this game.

Now, like I said in the beginning, the gore was pretty "in your face" and definitely gives the initial impression of being gorey for the sake of being gorey; however, I made sure that I read it with the "emotionally charged" disclaimer in mind. Pleasantly enough, I actually could get that vibe. The dev gave the go-ahead for personal interpretations but, mmm, nah. Even though I'm not the most analytical person, I was going to let you all in on my weird thoughts, but nah, I think I'll pass on that for another day.

Put it this way though, obviously, I took it as a metaphor for being in pain, but hear me out (TRIGGER WARNING FOR SUICIDE BY THE WAY): it's not just physical pain, but that pain that you feel from the inside. You know, that internal pain that's so intense that it feels like it's literally tearing you apart from the inside out. The worst part about that type of pain is that, even though you want to die, there's something that's keeping you alive, and it feels like literal torture. To me, the game was a huge metaphor for fighting to survive but staying alive feels like torture, and you're just left constantly wishing for it to just end -- maybe a sprinkle of being haunted by past mistakes and a possibly wavering faith? (TRIGGER WARNING END). Anyways, that interpretation may make more sense if you decide to actually play it for yourself. Lol I guess I did let you guys in on my thoughts after all. Guess we're getting kinda close at this point, huh?

Also anyways, another reason why it took me so long to post was because for the LIFE of me, I could not frickin figure out how to get ending number 7!! At the time, the game was extremely new. Like, still in the box wrapped in plastic new, and I was like "Shit, I'm on my own, and I'm dumb". I spent so much time and literally revisited the game on different days to see if I had accidentally skipped something and found nothing new. I looked through the files, and I was like "Bro, I've literally seen all of these sprites and CGs. What am I possibly missing?". When I say that it was driving me nuts... BUT THEN! I WENT TO THE GAME PAGE AND I SAW THIS

OH BLESS IT. I WASN'T BEING AN IDIOT; ENDING 7 JUST DIDN'T EXIST. THE RELIEF THAT I FELT. At the same time though, I was like "...why was there no ending 7?" But minor concern. Very minor.

Overall, the game was pretty damn solid! Lots of gore for sure, and I definitely didn't mind it, but the initial reaction was gore just for the sake of gore; however, when you really give it a chance, the writing's actually pretty okay. My favorite thing about it was by far the art and my other favorite thing was that we got to blast Friedrich's ass with that bucket. That was so satisfying. I mean there were consequences, yeah, but we still got our lick in lmao.

Welp, that's pretty much all from me! I recommended giving it a solid playthrough or two! I recommend it so much, I'll put the link right here so that you can give it a try. Also! Apparently they have a tumblr page for their art, and I'll link that here as well! I didn't see anything for a donation, but if you find otherwise, I'm sure they'd appreciate the monetary support. If you're broke, like me, send them some encouraging words and let them know "Hey, you did a thing, and I think that you should continue to do that thing because you're pretty good at it!"

But yeah, I'm going to end it here so that way I can FINALLY get this posted! Sorry for being MIA for a little. Adulting really be adulting, and I am ill-prepared for it a lot of the time ^^;

Anyways! Remember to drink water, don't be dumb, and hope to see you around~!

Where He Is King

Dev's Art Tumblr

[valpogossip]

VALPOGOSSIP TEACAP: JULY 2024

You lot sure have be busy the last month. If I was of lesser mind or simply someone with something better to do, I would have resigned myself to my silence and let you all carry on. But business pays. And unfortunately for you, it's yours that pays me, and you're all not going to believe this.

July saw the epic failure of the anticipated winter festival ! A freak snowstorm left all of our beloved residents forced to face their biggest fear: talking to people they don't know ! Before we get into the general tea, let's recap what happened at the winterfest shall we ?

Putting any so called foodie to shame, Javi Domginuez-Herrera, Jackie Grimaldi, and Tobias Northcott risk carbon monoxide poisoning to get their snack on. While poison might not have been in the food, that didn't mean something wasn't as they began having hallucinations of the truck being similar to the wardrobe to narnia. Thinking if they left they wouldn't be in kansas anymore, wrong movie? Oh well. They're all still here, anyway.

In a much sweeter turn of a event, Noah Fontaine, Leia Munoz-Silva, Rachel Kang, and Seba Dominguez-Herrera huddled closely together for warmth. They spent time discussing the age old philosophical debate: is it a sneed or a snood. Also mentions of wondering if befriending a mountain lion would go faster if they used weed or if they used catnip. Yeah, I'm not sure how anyone made it out alive either. Though I don't think we should tell Astrid Blackwell about the cuddling though. Something about a rule being broken.

Lucky for Rania Chadha, Luna Dominguez-Herrera, Salem West, and Reyna Artiaga they were tucked away extra safely: locked backstage. Don't know if they ever solved the mystery of who locked them inside, but they had bigger things to worry about inside! Like Salem getting her something on her feet after getting her ice skates of, Luna's boyfriend freezing to death, and Reyna's unconventional hobby of picking locks? They all moved past that last one a bit too fast for my liking.

Moving on too quickly, let's talk about Felix Kang, Charlie Hastings, and Sade Akerele. For a trio locked in a game booth, they had no interest in the games around and instead, like your baby cousin who breathes a little too hard and always has a snack in their hand, opted to play games on their phone. Sade and Felix tried to convince the group chat of Felix's disappearance and Charlie tried to convince God that it was simply his time to go.

Back to ' how did any of these people make it out alive' we turn to Arlo Hwang, Wylie Henderson, and Rafael Cisneros in the ice skating rink booth. They skipped right over the small talk, and went straight to the worst case scenarios. Cannibalism was discussed and Rafa had the idea to make a fire inside using the ice skates around.

In the Igloo with Nevaeh Thompson, Quinn Hawley, and Giovanni Vallato the only thing bright in there was Nevaeh's lighter. Quinn was overly confident in her abilities to claw it out like she did in ireland (which could mean anything). Vanni wasted his signal, battery, and time on tiktok but made sure to share his empanadas, cold as they were. And Nevaeh had a lighter.

Something about being trapped in the dark in a Parade Float made Delilah Jane Harrison, Abril Valdivia, and Spencer Westin want to share their deepest darkest secrets. I guess they thought they'd stay secret but here they are: Delilah Jane forged her cosmetology license, Specer stole their dad's grammy and sold it and making him believe it was a robbery, and Abril has been spending more and more time with a certain pop star ! (She didn't say that, but I think if she was honest with herself she might've)

Saffron Barton and Poet Hawley were locked inside a security guard car that Poet was determined to get hotwired with the help of the blade she keeps on her, interesting fun fact. Despite Saffron's disbelief, Poet got it going ! Not far though. They just went around in circles until security got them to stop. Wonder if Poet and Saffron saw the voucher promised to everyone.

It's a good thing that Leon Amos, Yazmin Taylor, and Rohan Kaur were in The Washroom, the tissues surrounding them were a must need. Everyone was at each other's throats, there was a lot of sharing between strangers about babies and lifelines and Rohan unsettled by the display of emotional vulnerability. Unfortunately for us, there was no punch thrown but they did all make up and shared their deepest philosophies on life.

Trapped on the Tilt-A-Whirl, Astrid Blackwell, Zaid Hassan, Drew Crane, and Nikhil Hari went on a Dr. Seus like journey. They were out in the open and with Nikhil's generous offer of his body heat everyone decides they'd rather face the cold! They manage to get into a booth where Drew becomes the winner of the only Jolly rancher available, and they all freeze their hands off to text their loved ones.

NOW onto the general drama you don't want to miss:

Arlo and Reyna seem especially jittery and stuttery at the Inherited Escapes counter.

Charlie is running the risk of getting a restraining order if he keeps popping up at Secondhand Style without plans to purchase anything.

Delilah Jane and Rohan seemed to have finally gotten a good jog set for those circles they keep running around in.

Vanni and Yaz are expecting a baby after a few months of dating ! Congratulations ! We think?

Jackie and Spencer? I don't know what's going on over there, but I'm watching very closely.

Leon took the bold step to Salem's door and Salem took an even bigger step to show him the door. For how long? Only time will tell.

Nevaeh has run in to not only 1 but 2 of her exes? Omar and Seba, whichever one of you is praying for her downfall must have a direct line to god.

That's all I have for you today, but don't worry. We'll be back next month with even more delicious tea for you to catch up on. Let me know what you think, my inbox is always open.

[enhyhoonie]

Red Moon (Prologue)

Pairings: No pairings (fem!reader)

Genres: Fantasy!au, DarkRomance, !NSFW!

Triggers: Gonna have smut, bad languages, blood, death, kinda gore

WC:  4.3k

A/n: It’s gonna be a loooooong serie...also there’s no pairing it will be like a all together thing (lol). I hope you guys will like it :’) Anyways if there’s anything you can always inbox me <3 Guys! Try to guess who said the last phrases 🤭

Prologue

Being the eldest daughter in the family has never brought me any luck... Especially when the child born after me is a boy. Jungwon, my little brother, was automatically proclaimed the future heir of our family. Ever since he was born, I've been almost invisible to our parents, and of course, this also rubbed off on the servants. All my governess and guardian had done my education and follow. Fortunately, they took good care of me and showered me with immense love to replace that of my parents. I was never jealous of my brother; He and I loved each other very much. It's not his fault that our parents favor him so much...it's something he can't control. Unfortunately for him, he's a terrible student. Ever since he was a child, he's only skipped his lessons with the tutor to practice with his sword. As a result, I did his homework on his stade. He wasn't fit to be an heir...but I...I absolutely wanted to...be the heiress. But of course, that would never happen...as long as Jungwon remained alive.

_"Jungwon, start learning your lessons more seriously. When you will be the head of the family, I will not do your job secretly for you like I'm doing now." I told him.

We were sitting at a table in the library; me reading a book; him sitting opposite me, almost lying on the table, looking at me sulkily.

_"Y/n I came to see you to spend time with you, not for you to lecture me."

_“I never asked you to come and see me, anyway.”

_"Wow, that's mean."

_"Look, we're not kids anymore. This is no time for jokes or making light of your role. Get a grip."

_"You're the only person I can be with without worrying about a role I never wanted and now you talk like everyone else... I thought you understood me." He said, really hurt.

I lifted my eyes from my book and looked at him gently.

_“I'm sorry... I shouldn't have said that.”

_”Forget it”. He said before storming out of the library.

That was the last time I saw my brother before he disappeared.

It had already been a month since my brother disappeared. We had moved heaven and earth to find him, but to no avail. We found no trace of him, as if he'd vanished. The tension in the house was unbearable, and I spent most of the day in my room. How could he have disappeared so easily? How come he still hasn't been found? Is he still alive or... dead? I was worried sick.

The door to my room opened. I turned around and saw my mother and father.

_”Why did you do that?” My mother shouted.

_”What do you mean?” I answered, confused.

_”Don't play with us. You think we didn't understand your little ploy?”

_”I don't understand.”

_"You got rid of Jungwon so you could be the heiress."

_"I would never do that to my brother." I said in shock.

_”We're aware that you're desperate to become the heiress, and knowing you..."

I cut my mother off.

_”What are you insinuating? That I'm so cruel as to hurt my brother just for a position?" I said, feeling my rage rising.

My parents said nothing.

_”It's funny to hear you say you know me when you know nothing about me. You haven't even been able to fulfill your role as parents because I'm a girl who won't bring anything to the family."

_”Don't talk nonsense..." began my father, before being interrupted by the servant who came storming through the door.

_”The young Lord has returned!” He said breathlessly.

I rushed to the entrance of the mansion and saw my brother standing there unharmed. I ran to him and hugged him tightly. 

_”Jungwon, I'm so happy you're here safe and sound...you don't know how worried I was.” I said, my face buried in his chest, holding back my tears.

I stepped back a little and cupped his face to get a good look. He looked at me expressionlessly, which made the smile disappear from my face. 

_“Jungwon?” I said, confused.

He stepped back and passed me.

_”Don't worry, big sister, I'm fine.” He said indifferently.

Jungwon had returned to the manor after his disappearance. According to what he told us, on the day of his disappearance, Jungwon had gone to the river to practise his sword, fell off the pond and was swept away by the current. They then found him unconscious by a noble house, the Vempes, who took care of him for the past month until he recover and could come back to us. 

I never heard about this noble house. Jungwon said they are 6 brothers in this family and the head of the family is actually the older one. They are living in the far East of the Kingdom. 

The days that followed Jungwon's return felt like a surreal blur. His presence lingered in the halls of our family manor, but the vibrant, lively brother I once knew seemed to have left us at the riverbank where he disappeared. In his place stood a stranger, wearing Jungwon's face but not his spirit.

He became a ghost in our home, moving with an eerie silence that echoed through the corridors. The brother who once laughed and practiced his sword diligently now immersed himself in books and scrolls. 

His transformation was unsettling, as if the river had not only swept him away physically but had also carried away the essence of his being. I tried to reach out, to bridge the gap that had emerged between us, but my attempts were met with a stoic indifference that sent shivers down my spine.

The dinners we used to share turned into silent rituals, punctuated only by the clinking of cutlery on porcelain. Jungwon's eyes, once warm and familiar, now held an inscrutable gaze that seemed to penetrate through the very core of my being. It was as if a veil had been drawn over his soul, shielding him from the world.

One evening, I found him in the library, surrounded by ancient tomes and dim candlelight. His eyes were fixed on the text before him, but his mind seemed to be wandering through distant realms. The sight of him hunched over those books, a stark departure from his former self, tore at my heart.

_"Jungwon," I called softly, careful not to startle him. He looked up, and for a moment, I glimpsed a flicker of recognition in his eyes. But it vanished as quickly as it appeared, replaced by the cold, distant gaze that had become his new normal.

_"What happened to you?" I asked, the words escaping my lips before I could censor them.

He closed the book with deliberate slowness, meeting my gaze with an intensity that sent a chill down my spine. "I'm just doing what needs to be done," he replied, his voice devoid of the warmth that once defined it.

The sense of loss deepened as I realized that the brother I had known and loved was slipping away, replaced by a version of him that was a mere shadow of the past. The mystery of his disappearance had been solved, but in its wake, a new enigma had taken root within the very heart of our family.

I hesitated for a moment, watching the flickering candlelight cast shadows on his unreadable expression. The air in the library felt heavy with unspoken tension as I searched for words that could bridge the growing gap between us.

_"What needs to be done?" I questioned, my voice barely above a whisper. "You've changed, Jungwon. Ever since you came back, it's like you're a different person."

He sighed, a sound that seemed to carry the weight of an entire world. "Y/n, the responsibilities that come with being the heir, they're not to be taken lightly. I've realized I can't afford to be the carefree brother I used to be."

_"But that doesn't mean you have to shut me out," I pleaded, my frustration bubbling to the surface. "We've been through everything together. Why this sudden distance?"

Jungwon's gaze remained fixed on the closed book before him, a mask of detachment veiling his features. "You wouldn't understand, Y/n. The burden of leadership is not something you can grasp."

_"I may not be the heir, but I'm still your sister," I retorted, my voice gaining a hint of desperation. "We've faced challenges as a family, and we've always supported each other. Why push me away now?"

He finally looked up, and his eyes bore into mine with an intensity that made me catch my breath. "You don't get it, do you? This is not just about family. The Vempes taught me things, things that matter for the future of our legacy."

_"The Vempes?" I echoed, confusion etching lines on my face. "What did they teach you that turned you into this... stranger?"

He leaned back, folding his arms with an air of finality. "They showed me the importance of knowledge, strategy, and discipline. Qualities I lacked, qualities needed to ensure the prosperity of our family."

I shook my head in disbelief. "Jungwon, you were fine the way you were. You don't need to sacrifice who you are for some idealized version of leadership."

His expression remained impassive, unmoved by my plea. "This is the path I've chosen. I won't let sentimentality cloud my judgment."

A heavy silence settled between us, the words hanging in the air, echoing the irreparable distance that had grown between the brother I once knew and the stranger who now wore his face.

The Vempes remained an enigma, an unsettling puzzle. My curiosity, once a gentle whisper, had grown into a persistent ache, compelling me to dig deeper into the shadows that surrounded their name.

Late into the night, I roamed the vast halls of our mansion, searching for any hidden records, ancient scrolls that might shed light on the mysterious family that had claimed my brother for a month. The library, my sanctuary for solace and knowledge, yielded nothing. No tomes spoke of the Vempes, and the scrolls held no mention of their existence.

It was as if they were a phantom family. The absence of information about them only intensified the unease that had settled in my chest. Families, especially noble ones, were documented meticulously. Yet, the Vempes seemed to exist beyond the reach of such conventions.

Why did the Vempes keep to the shadows? What secrets did their distant home in the far East hold? My frustration mingled with the realization that, in the vast expanse of our mansion's library, the silence about the Vempes was deafening.

The Vempes had claimed to teach my brother essential virtues for our family's legacy, yet their own legacy remained shrouded in silence.

The library was dimly lit, and Jungwon was engrossed in a book, his eyes scanning the pages with an intensity that made me hesitate. The air felt heavy with unspoken tension as I approached, determined to breach the subject that had become an unspoken barrier between us.

_"Jungwon," I started cautiously, "we need to talk about the Vempes."

He closed the book, his expression shifting ever so slightly, a subtle discomfort surfacing. "There's nothing to discuss," he replied, his tone clipped.

_"But there is," I persisted. "You disappeared for a month, and all we know is that the Vempes took you in. I want to understand why they hold such sway over you, why their influence has transformed you into someone I can hardly recognize."

He met my gaze, his eyes guarded. "Some things are better left unexplored, Y/n. The Vempes have their ways, their reasons. It's not a path you want to tread."

Frustration bubbled within me, and I refused to be deterred. "They cared for you for a month, Jungwon. You owe them that much. Why the secrecy? What did they do to you?"

His eyes betrayed a hint of discomfort, but he quickly masked it. "They did what they believed necessary. Now, I have responsibilities to fulfill. That's all that matters."

The distance between us felt like an unbridgeable chasm. "Responsibilities? What did they teach you that turned you into this... stranger?"

He sighed, a weariness settling in his features. "Discipline, strategy, knowledge. Qualities our family lacked, qualities essential for our prosperity."

_"They've changed you," I pressed, desperation creeping into my voice. "You've become someone I can't reach, and I can't stand by without understanding why."

A fleeting expression—was it regret?—crossed his face gone in an instant. "Y/n, the less you know, the better. This is my path, and I won't let you get entangled in its complexities."

The finality in his voice left me with a sinking feeling, the realization that my brother, my confidant, had become a stranger guarding secrets. "Jungwon," I pleaded, my voice barely above a whisper, "I can't watch you disappear like this. Whatever they've done, we should face it together."

He stood, the distance between us growing palpable. "Some paths are meant to be walked alone. This is one of them."

And with those words, he left the library, leaving me behind in the quiet that echoed with unanswered questions and the heavy weight of an unspoken divide. The truth about the Vempes seemed to be a fortress. He had no intention of letting me breach.

The once vibrant streets of the kingdom now echoed with a silent unease. Whispers of fear flitted through the air like shadows, and the once bustling marketplaces were gripped by a palpable tension. The kingdom had become a place of caution and apprehension, a far cry from the lively realm it once was.

Reports of people disappearing and turning up dead with their throats gruesomely slashed had become a haunting reality. Each day, the list of victims grew, leaving behind a trail of horror and a kingdom on edge. The unsettling notion that a shadowy figure lurked in the shadows, preying on the unsuspecting, gnawed at the collective consciousness.

The manner in which these victims were left, drained of blood, sent shivers down my spine. The kingdom had become a dangerous labyrinth, and the walls were closing in. Questions raced through my mind like a tempest: Who could be behind these gruesome acts? What motive could drive someone to commit such heinous crimes?

Theories and suspicions danced in the recesses of my thoughts. Was it an outsider, an infiltrator with a vendetta against the kingdom? Or could it be someone within the court, hidden behind a façade of nobility? The air of uncertainty hung thick, and trust became a fragile commodity in the face of an unknown assailant.

The mansion's corridors echoed with hushed whispers as I passed by a group of maids, their heads bent together in a conspiratorial discussion. Unable to resist eavesdropping, I slowed my steps, catching fragments of their conversation that reverberated through the air like a clandestine melody.

_"...heard they found another one, throat slit just like the others..."

_"Awful, isn't it? And not a drop of blood left in them. It's like they were drained dry."

The weight of the kingdom's collective fear hung in the air, but one particular phrase caught my attention.

_"...vampires, they say. Creatures of the night, feasting on the blood of the living."

A shiver ran down my spine as I heard the word "vampires." It was a fantastical notion, an irrational explanation meant to feed the fears that gripped the maids and, perhaps, the entire kingdom. Vampires, in my pragmatic view, were creatures of myth and legend, not malevolent beings prowling the shadows of our realm.

I continued down the corridor, dismissing the notion as irrational gossip fueled by the escalating fear. Vampires were the stuff of stories, not plausible culprits in a series of murders. The reality, I believed, lay in the tangible world, a world where motives and individuals could be unraveled and understood.

The evening air was thick with tension as our family gathered for dinner. The familiar grandeur of the dining hall seemed to pale beneath the weight of unspoken words. The clinking of silverware against porcelain resonated in the silence, interrupted only by the occasional exchange of guarded glances.

The butler approached my father with an ornate envelope, sealed with an unknow insignia . As the wax seal was broken, a hushed anticipation settled over the room. The contents of the letter were read aloud, revealing an invitation to a grand ball hosted by the Vempes, celebrating their recent establishment in the kingdom.

_"They specifically request our family as honored guests," my father announced, his expression shifting between curiosity and caution. "It seems they consider Jungwon part of their family and wish to see how he's fared since his return."

A subtle chill settled over the room as the words hung in the air. Jungwon's eyes betrayed a flicker of displeasure, an emotion he struggled to conceal. The Vempes' influence, it seemed, reached beyond the realm of our immediate family.

_"I have no interest in attending their ball," Jungwon stated curtly, his voice laced with an undercurrent of resentment.

My mother's eyes flickered toward Jungwon, concern etched on her face. "Jungwon, dear, it's a formal invitation. It would be impolite to decline, especially considering the hospitality they extended to you during your... absence."

Jungwon's jaw tightened, his frustration palpable. "Their hospitality was unnecessary, and this invitation is nothing more than a pretense. I won't play into their hands."

The air in the room grew heavier as Jungwon attempted to dissuade our parents, urging them to reconsider attending the Vempes' ball. His objections were met with gentle dismissals, my parents seemingly captivated by the allure of the invitation.

_"But it's an opportunity to strengthen ties with the Vempes. They've extended a gesture of goodwill, and we shouldn't spurn it," my father reasoned, glancing at Jungwon with a knowing look.

I observed the exchange, torn between my brother's evident discomfort and the diplomatic considerations that seemed to sway my parents. The Vempes, with their mysterious influence and the recent unsettling events in the kingdom, had woven a complex tapestry that ensnared our family.

Jungwon's reluctance persisted, an unspoken tension radiating from him like an invisible force. Despite his objections, the decision had been made. The Vempes' ball loomed on the horizon, a gathering that held promises of both revelation and uncertainty. As the dinner continued, the looming specter of the invitation cast a shadow over our family, and I couldn't shake the feeling that attending the ball might unravel more than just the dance of formalities.

Under the veil of the night, I discreetly slipped away from the confines of the dining hall, clutching the Vempes' invitation in my hand. The flickering candlelight in the corridor illuminated the intricate calligraphy that adorned the parchment. My fingers traced the elegant curves of the writing as I read the words penned by the head of the Vempes family.

---

Dear Esteemed Guests,

It is with great pleasure that the Vempes family extends an invitation to you and your honored family to attend a grand celebration in our newly established residence within the kingdom. As we embark on this new chapter, we find ourselves drawn to the bonds that tie us to those we consider family. We have come to cherish the presence of your son, Jungwon, who, through fate's design, spent a month under our care. In honor of the unity between our families, we invite you to a ball where joyous festivities will abound. This gathering serves not only to commemorate our newfound place in the kingdom but also to renew the bonds between us. Our family, eagerly anticipates the pleasure of your company. We extend our warmest welcome and look forward to sharing an evening of merriment. May this event strengthen the ties that bind us. With utmost sincerity,

Heeseung Vempes

---

The words on the parchment painted a picture of warmth and hospitality, but beneath the polished surface, a subtle undercurrent of intent lingered. It was evident that Heeseung Vempes and his brothers sought more than just a social gathering; they desired news about Jungwon.

The inked script hinted at a genuine interest in our family, particularly Jungwon's well-being. However, as I read between the lines, a lingering suspicion tugged at the corners of my mind. The Vempes, with their intricate dance of family and enigma, seemed to be orchestrating a narrative that transcended the boundaries of mere cordiality.

The day of the ball arrived, shrouded in an air of anticipation that seemed to cling to every guest as they approached the imposing manor of the Vempes. The grand facade of the residence loomed overhead, its architecture both impressive and vaguely unsettling. As we stepped out of the carriage, the evening shadows cast eerie silhouettes, adding an undertone of foreboding to the already ominous atmosphere.

Dressed in a gown of deep red, I couldn't shake the feeling that the color mirrored the subtle unease that settled in my chest. Jungwon, clad in a matching hue, wore an expression of annoyance that seemed to deepen with each passing moment. His discomfort, palpable in the tension that lingered between us, mirrored the aura of the Vempes' manor.

Before we entered the grand hall, my parents issued a stern warning. "Y/n, we expect you to conduct yourself appropriately. Do not create a commotion," my father cautioned, his eyes stern. The unspoken implication hung in the air — any disruption would jeopardize not only our family's reputation but also our delicate ties with the Vempes.

The grand doors swung open, revealing a hall bathed in opulence. The chandeliers cast a warm glow, and the polished marble floors reflected the elegant attire of the assembled guests. However, an unsettling hollowness pervaded the atmosphere, accentuated by the conspicuous absence of the Vempes. The Vempes, the hosts of the evening, were notably absent.

Jungwon's irritation deepened, evident in the furrow of his brow and the tightening of his jaw. He exchanged curt nods with acquaintances, his gaze searching the room for any sign of the elusive hosts.

The ballroom, despite its grandeur, seemed to pulse with an undercurrent of unease. Guests engaged in polite conversation, laughter echoed against the ornate walls, yet an intangible tension lingered in the air. Jungwon remained by my side, his presence a silent reassurance in the midst of the enigmatic gathering.

As the night unfolded, I couldn't shake the unsettling feeling of being observed. A subtle weight hung in the air, an invisible gaze that followed my every move. It was as if unseen eyes traced the contours of my gown, scrutinized the nuances of my expression. The sense of being watched intensified with each step, an eerie awareness that stirred the hairs on the back of my neck.

Jungwon's vigilance did not go unnoticed. His eyes, ever watchful, mirrored the unease I felt. His protective stance was both comforting and disconcerting, a testament to the unspoken understanding that something beyond the surface transpired within the walls of the Vempes' manor.

Amidst the masked dancers and glittering chandeliers, Jungwon's proximity offered solace. His presence, both protective and troubled, hinted at a shared apprehension. Together, we moved through the dance floor, our steps echoing in the cavernous hall, our senses attuned to the enigma that enveloped the night.

From the concealed vantage point of the interior balcony, six shadows loomed against the warm glow of the ballroom below. Their silhouettes, distinct and enigmatic, observed the festivities unfolding beneath them. Yet, their focus was singular, converging on one figure amidst the swirling dancers — Y/n.

Among the six shadows, one stood apart, his gaze fixated on Y/n with an intensity that bordered on predatory. His features were obscured by the dim light, rendering his intentions inscrutable. He watched her, not with the curiosity of a guest, but with the calculated interest of a hunter sizing up its prey.

The others, shrouded in whispered conversations, exchanged words in hushed tones. Their discussions seemed to carry an air of secrecy, as if unraveling a plan known only to the conspirators. Their eyes occasionally flickered toward the lone figure, their intentions veiled in the dance of shadows.

As the mysterious observer continued to scrutinize Y/n, his fellow shadows exchanged glances and murmurs. The air around them crackled with an energy that transcended the ordinary revelry of a ball.

The atmosphere on the interior balcony became charged with an aura of anticipation. The mysterious observer's gaze remained fixed on Y/n, his intentions cloaked in ambiguity.

The hushed whispers among the five shadows intensified, their clandestine conversation taking a more sinister turn. The air around them crackled with an energy that bespoke a shared malevolence, and their eyes gleamed with a devilish glint. Among them, the one who had been observing Y/n with predatory intent emerged as the central figure, the puppet master orchestrating the macabre symphony.

As the conspiratorial murmurs reached their zenith, the shadows exchanged knowing glances, their smiles widening into devilish grins. The atmosphere on the interior balcony became charged with an unsettling anticipation, and a shiver seemed to traverse the collective spine of the shadowy assembly.

The standing figure, with a sinister smile that mirrored his nefarious thoughts, spoke with a lecherous edge, "Should I just take her in the garden and do her like an animal? I just can't wait anymore."

His words hung in the air, laden with an ominous implication that sent a chill through the shadows' conspiratorial circle. The ballroom below, oblivious to the malevolent forces at play, continued its dance of revelry. Unaware to the shadows, a sinister undercurrent pulsed within the shadowy recesses of the Vempes' manor, where the convergence of dark desires hinted at a night that held more than mere celebration.

_”Alright, time to start the show.”

[opalimagines]

Moral Support

You and Rick spend some time together at The Pit Stop while he works on his hourglass. First part takes place a week or so after season two.

Rick Tyler x gn!reader

Warnings: talk of death/murder

With Eclipso gone, things in Blue Valley became even more uneventful. Sportsmaster and Tigress were out of prison, The Shade took over the old Zarick house, and Sylvester Pemberton had moved into the Whitmore-Dugan basement, but even with all of them around, it was so quiet.

In spite of the calm, the hurt and loss that monster caused in the last few months still remained, and it hit Rick worse than anyone. He had no hourglass. No Hourman. No Grundy.

Rick sat at the table up in the loft of The Pit Stop, notes and textbooks spread about, and the pieces of his hourglass in the center of it all. He pored over his father's journal, just as he had been doing since he broke the very thing that made him Hourman. And he didn't feel like he was getting any closer.

He was thinking about packing up when a familiar figure appeared sitting at the other end of the table, disturbing the papers a little with the force of superspeed. He nearly dropped the journal in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"I was bored and saw your car parked outside." You rested your chin on your hand, watching him from across the table . "Have you made any progress with your hourglass?"

Rick looked from you to the busted glass and metal. "No."

Thinking about how he'd lost the source of his Hourman abilities—the most tangible connection he had to his dad—and how much it would devastate you if you ever lost the speed you shared with you own dad really made you feel for him. "You will. It's only been a few days. From what I've been told, your dad was a genius chemist, and it still took him months and a lot of mistakes to even get close to perfecting that hourglass."

Rick gave a short laugh, without any humor to it. "Why does everyone else know more about my dad than I do?"

"My father loves telling stories. Especially about the JSA. I grew up hearing all about them." You sat back in your chair, fiddling with the black leather watch band on your wrist. "My dad was a chemist, too. He inhaled hard water fumes during an experiment in college, and that's how he became the fastest man alive."

"I didn't know that." Rick sat back as well, finally giving up on his hourglass for the night. "Pat hasn't told us much about the members of the JSA."

He felt a twinge of envy at the fact that you'd grown up with someone that knew your dad—in a positive way, at least—and could tell you about who he really was and what he was like. When it came to Rick's own dad, Matt had nothing but venom, and he didn't often bring up his mom except to say that her death was his dad's fault.

"I'm not as good at storytelling as my father is, but maybe I tell you what I know sometime. Even though he usually fought my dad, there were some good stories involving yours."

Rick didn't want to get his hopes up, giving you a simple, "That would be cool."

"If you want, I can also try to help you with your hourglass. I've studied a bit of chemistry with my tutor." You gestured at the books that covered the table. "And I can read through all of this in a few seconds to see if there's anything that could help. Though, I won't be able to retain it for long that way."

Your offer was tempting, but Rick had been sitting and staring at pages and broken wiring for far too long. It had to be nearing midnight anyway. "Thanks, but I'm done for tonight."

"Well, let me know if you want to meet some time," you said as you stood from the table. "After all, us legacies should stick together."

And you disappeared again, as if you'd never been there in the first place, leaving Rick to pack his things away for the night.

About a week later, you and Rick found yourselves in The Pit Stop yet again. He sat at the table, using a magnifying glass to work on some wiring. And you laid on one of the couches, throwing pieces of popcorn into the air and catching them in your mouth.

You'd finished reading through all the books and his father's journal about two hours ago, giving him some tips that would've taken him longer to find on his own. He didn't really need any other help at the moment, yet there you still were, 'providing moral support' like you said. He assumed you were just bored since everyone else on the team was with their families. Thankfully, your talking didn't bother him.

"You weren't born fast?"

"Nope. Can you imagine, though?" Your father would've had even more of a handful with a superspeeding kindergartener, that was for sure.

"When I was eight, this old villain The Mist kidnapped me because he was angry at my father for betraying him. He kept me in a lab until my father and Starman saved me. While I was there, I was exposed to chemical fumes, and after a few days in a coma, I could run at the speed of light. Apparently, dad passed that gene on to me, and it got activated by the chemicals."

Rick glanced up at you with a furrowed brow. "Starman was dead when you were eight."

"Different Starman. There have been more than a few." You'd forgotten that most people outside of Opal City weren't aware of the particular Starman you knew. "Jack's the son of Ted Knight, the original Starman. He used an earlier version of the cosmic staff. It wasn't alive like Courtney's, but it could do a lot of the same things. Jack and my father became friends before he retired and left Opal."

Rick wanted to ask the same question that had been on his mind since the first night you met, but he made a wrong move, and one of the wires sparked and sent a painful shock through his hand. "Dammit!"

You were by his side in an instant, just as he moved to swipe everything off the table and into the floor. But before he had the time to make contact with anything, it was all moved to the other side of the table. "Hey, you don't want to ruin all of your hard work." You grabbed his wrist to look at his hand. "Are you okay?"

Rick stared down at the table, trying to push down the irritation as well as the shame of lashing out like that. "Yeah, I'm fine. It's happened before."

He didn't have any kind of electrical burns, so you let go of him. "Maybe you should take a break..."

Rick shook his head and sat down so he could start in again. "I've got this."

"Okay," you said, taking your seat again. "Just be careful. I don't want to have to run you to the emergency room. Most people throw up the first few times they travel with me, so that would be unpleasant for both of us."

You went to fetch your bag of popcorn, and you were back before he could even notice you were gone. "Popcorn?" you offered, just as you had when you first opened it up.

"No thanks." Earlier, you'd mentioned to Rick that you could pass out if you didn't eat enough, so he figured you needed it more than he did.

"Suit yourself." You finished off the bag, tossing it in the small trash can.

"Why do you call him your dad anyway?" Rick finally asked.

The Shade had helped against Eclipso and was even trying to help him resurrect Grundy, but he still had a hand in the murder of the JSA, and you knew about it. He couldn't fathom you seeing that man as your father. It had been touched on briefly during your first talk at Roy's, you just never gave the reason.

All playfulness disappeared as you leaned forward on the table, being careful not to bump it as he was working. Rick, unlike your other new friends, knew what it was like to suddenly lose both of your parents, and how hard it was to live up to the legacy left behind. As defensive as you could be of your father, you couldn't really blame Rick for asking the question. It helped that he wasn't coming at you aggressively this time, and that you were actually allies now.

"My dad publicly revealed his identity a few years before I was born, so unlike you, when my dad was killed, the Injustice Society knew about me. It was the day of his funeral when Brainwave came to our house in Keystone. He...he killed my mom. He made her have a massive stroke, and...I saw it all." You glanced over and noticed that Rick had put his tools down. "He tried to kill me, too. I remember there was this agonizing pain in my head, and he was just smiling like he enjoyed it."

"Then it got dark, and suddenly, I was safe in Opal. My father knew that the Injustice Society planned to kill me at some point, so he kept an eye on us. He was too late to help my mom, but he saved my life that day. He took me in and raised me and loved me when he could've just as easily dropped me off with somebody else." You smiled a little in spite of the tough memory you'd dug up. "Jay Garrick will always be my dad, but The Shade is my father, too. Do you know what I mean?"

Rick fidgeted with his hands a bit as he finally looked at you. Pat had mentioned that he thought you were dead, but Rick had no idea that Brainwave had nearly killed you after killing your mom in front of you. He didn't know The Shade saved your life, or that he gave you everything that Matt never gave him. While he still didn't agree completely—since The Shade had helped kill the JSA—it was no wonder you were loyal to the guy. "Yeah, I get it."

Your smile grew just a little. "I know you and the others still don't totally trust him, but it's great you're letting him help you with bringing Grundy back. I hope it works."

"Me too." He and The Shade had already tried re-burying him the previous Sunday, but he was still dead on Monday. Rick would keep trying though, as long as there was a chance of getting his friend back.

Rick picked his tools back up and you settled into your seat, continuing to break the usual late night silence of The Pit Stop.

[cordeliaflyte]

MY DREAM. so I found out my brother was part of this um. Secret magazine whose editing body was located in a building which defied all usual laws of logic, was sentient, and filled with soooo many objects that would appear spontaneously. Ranging from plastic dinosaurs 🦖 🦕 to living stray cats. I found out because occasionally someone would stumble into the building thinking it was a museum and ask for a tour and all the employees would pretend it was just a very odd museum and give the tour. And I stumbled in and I was one of them and I realised something was off because it didn't make sense for a museum to be Like That and the rooms kept growing, shrinking, and disappearing. And then I saw my brother and I was like 🤨 bro fess up. So he told me all about the secret magazine edited and written in this secret building and how it wasn't traditionally sold, but would fly and find people at the right time of their lives. And I was like that sounds sick I want to write/edit for it. I need things for my CV. And he was like ummmm don't be mad but I've actually been stealing your super secret poems and publishing them anonymously in the magazine. I was a bit mad because all these people who were not me were profiting off of my work. because the house found ways of paying its inhabitants/employees. But he was like I'll hire you you can stay. It turned out that EVERYBODY loved my anonymously published poems though they didn't have enough in common for them to realise they were all written by the same person. But people were proper fans. Like they'd have tote bags with the poems written on them and t-shirts and other merch and I'd be like hey!! That's mine!! During my time in the house, I discovered you could manipulate it into adding new rooms you wanted, and not just let it follow its own whims. So I designed some bedrooms (before, if people stayed there overnight, they'd just sleep on the floor and wake up in back pain). Everyone was like "omgggg how did you do that" and I was like "it's not like shaping the fabric of the world around you is hard...." One day I got my payment, kind of: a woman materialised in the building with a kind of pathetic looking cat. And she was like I'm from a pet adoption agency and no-one wants to adopt this cat idk why :( but I've been sent here to give it to you :3 but her tone of voice was very suspicious so I was like there's something you're not telling me... And she was like that's true. So the cat was living with an elderly couple who both died in their sleep. And the cat, having nothing to eat, ate them. It was discovered after months and now no-one wants to adopt it. I was like that's so weird why would no-one want to adopt this kitty it's not its fault... And she was like but it got used to its diet and now it's exclusively a cannibal cat and no-one wants to feed it in accordance with its diet. and i was like you mean this cat still eats human flesh? i can feed it human flesh idc. and she was like no actually it only eats other cats. And this was more troubling to me but I was like. Surely it's a sad fact but many cats die anyway every day and I can find those and feed them to my new cat. So I adopted it. It got used to eating humans alright it KEPT biting me. Not in a painful way, but still - it would latch on with its entire jaw and refuse to let go. But it was how it showed affection and checked if I was still alive as it had anxiety about its owners dying so i tolerated it and showered the cat with love and affection. Even though it tried to bite my fingers off. Also at some point I had a conversation with my brother where I was like bro what is this place sentient magazine building thing. You do stem this isn't like you. Does your girlfriend know about this. And he sighed dramatically and said his girlfriend doesn't know about this, and she also doesn't know that he's secretly in love with a 40 year-old divorce with kids who was in prison for domestic abuse. And I was like ???? And he was like. I could fix them. I wont because I'm loyal to my girlfriend though. And I was like. ???

[kigiom]

@weidli and @reginaldbright and @chiropteracupola tagged me to share the first ten lines of my posted fics! sorry for taking two months but, here we are

Rules: ‘share the first lines of ten of your most recent fanfics and tag ten people. If you have written less than ten, don’t be shy and share anyway.’

I decided to use the phrase "first lines" fairly liberally, so they're all under the cut!

1. There’s a familiar face sitting in his usual spot when Thursday sidles into the pub on a Saturday evening. / Morse looks pale, shabby, his shock of ginger-ish hair already going grey at the temples. Jesus Christ, Thursday thinks, standing stock still on the corner to his usual alcove in the tiny pub, it’s only been two years. (rockets for mary, Endeavour)

2. "Here's to looking at you," you say, raising your glass. / He's too tired to say anything, you can see that. He's swaying a little and his eyes are bruised, the vivid blue of his irises glassy. He's clutching his own glass like a lifeline. You wish your heart wouldn't do ten backflips in a row every time you see him. (it walked out of the light, MASH)

3. “Why are we here again?” / It’s the first thing Hawkeye’s said in a while. BJ looks over at him, surprised, only to find him trying to light a cigarette with shaking hands. (all singing must now be howling, MASH)

4. Don't go, he begs. / BJ looks at him. BJ smiles. He's getting smaller, and smaller, and smaller, and he's waving across the endless expanse of washed out brown and grey. (all that is gone (and all that's to come), MASH)

5. “Ain’t you cold out here?” / Stephen made a harrumphing noise and kicked at a loose bit of gravel. / Behind him, Jack sighed and stepped closer. (thirteen angels standing guard ‘round the side of your bed, the aubreyad)

6. “Would you ever grow your hair out?” / Keith made a considering noise into Ewen’s chest. He was lying half on top of Ewen and clearly beginning to fall asleep, even though he was still in shirt and breeches. (I'm going home, no more to roam, The Flight of the Heron)

7. “Does it hurt?” / For a moment, his fingers hover over the scar; Livesey makes an aborted noise under his breath as Trelawney traces a fingertip gently over the smooth, livid skin. While not large, it’s raised and almost knotted, uneven round the edges. (and we march on, hand in hand, Treasure Island)

8. After a day's chasing, they had boarded their prize. From the opposite deck, in a brief lull, Jack had looked over and seen Stephen crawl up onto the deck of the Surprise (even though he should have been below - why hadn't he stayed below?) and stand his ground, cat-quick with a sword, sharp with a pistol; for a blessed second they saw each other across the distance, then Stephen had grinned viciously and disappeared. Jack had been glad to see him alive and dangerous, unspeakably so, even though Stephen on deck in battle made him anxious - why was he not with his patients? Why was he not safe below decks? (for grief to refrain, the aubreyad)

9. Francis passed him an apple. / Their fingers brushed and lingered. James had started noticing this more and more, these little touches, sitting at their table in their kitchen in their house. How they almost always sat next to each other rather than opposite, for a reason James chose not to examine for the sake of his own sanity. How their knees would touch under the table, how their elbows knocked against each other, too, how their hands brushed with no gloves or layers of fabric in the way now. (undertow, The Terror)

10. “We’re too far from the sea.” James said one day. / He was standing on the garden lawn and staring out over the hills as he said it. The farmers had been digging as of late, for what purpose exactly neither of them had bothered to ask. However, they did know that that was the reason for the faint smell of silt and sea that permeated the air, stronger on the breeze. (we sell our lives to the sea, The Terror)

I don't have the braincells for ten people but I'm gonna tag (sorry if you've already done it!):

@edge-of-green @riot-in-bloom @someawkwardprose @terribleoldwhitemen @phoenixflames12 @valley-o @rhaill and @starsreside (I hope the last three of you have published works but I know you write at the least)

[deathfavor]

@requiemofrebellion said: "whatever they told you , it’s a lie ." (Hanma to Kazutora)

dusty toybox sentence starters

   It’s been a while since Kazutora’s had anyone visit him in jail. The first few months he'd had a lot (mostly lawyers, reports, so on and so forth) , and still a few more during the first year. But now it's been a couple of years. Most days were spent doing the same sort of shit, time blurring and blending together to the point it no longer mattered. ( But there were letters. Always letters, though the sender is different than the one in the past. Letters he clung to with DESPERATE hope of not being forgotten.) To say he was shocked when the guard said he had a visitor would be an understatement. It feels baffling as he’s walked out from his cell and to the merciless LED lights of the visitation room.

  His signature tiger stripes have disappeared with time and prison hair rules, cut off once it grew too long. But there’s no mistaking that it is Kazutora with his wide stare and the ripple of the tattoo on his throat when he swallows. Anticipation makes him feel more alive than he has in months. He’s uncertain who it might be, but it doesn’t matter. It’s something different. Something new in the routine. It gives him something to grasp to remember time.

   He sits down in the cold steel chair, and then lifts his head to see who his visitor is. And nearly chokes on his own spit.  “ Hanma?! “  Kazutora asks incredulously, sitting upright and scooting closer to the edge of his chair as he stares through the glass in disbelief. It's been ages since he last saw the other. Not that he blames Hanma for it, what delinquent would want to visit a juvie? Besides, Hanma sounded busy in his letters anyways. The fact he even wrote to him was priceless to him.

   “  You…You’re here?  “  He asks, eyes widened in shock. His lip trembles slightly, breath shaking as he draws in a breath. " I'm glad. I'm so glad. " He breathes, trying to force a cheerful smile. " Others- others were trying to tell me- tell me that you didn't care. " He admits, handcuffs clicking as he scoots closer.to the glass. " Just use and throw me aside. " His expression falters, unsteady. " Feels like everyone's trying to get in my head. The therapists, people sending me letters. " He admits softly. " They want me to hate you. And Chome and Chonbo and everyone. " He sighs, slumping into the chair.

It's a lie. Kazutora lifts his eyes again to stare at Hanma, studying his face or a moment before he nods. Once, then again. " Yeah. " Hanma's voice is soothing, calming the nerves in his chest. " Thanks for coming, by the way. " Kazutora adds, leaning forwards with a more genuine smile that makes the tired look on him not seem so bad. " I know you've probably got a lot going on. Got all your letters. " He smiles. " I've been behaving more so they're thinking about letting me have a phone call now and again. "

[conscharacterscentralised]

7th August

I saw him. Earlier today. He's been gone for so long now... I'm suprised he's even alive. Joy floods my body with the realisation: he's back! Xander's here!

Alive and well...

Not well.

He's noticably lost weight, the skin once so fitting now being too tight here, too loose there. His demeanour's wholly different too. More withdrawn and dejected, curling in like a spiral rather than expanding out like a sun. He tugs in the sleeves of his coat, trying to distract himself from me... or maybe just the world at large? I'm not sure. The hood's pulled over him, masking his face to the world, only allowing a small window to which I'm privy.

A smile usually rests on his face. Warm and bright, inviting and playful. The week leading up to his disappearence, it seemed forced and strained, like he was trying to keep bay something by play pretend everything was ok, but the space it occupied never shifted. As though to him, faking a smile was natural. Like he had done it all along. I don't want to think he was living a lie for god knows how long... Lord knows I've had nearly seven months to dwell on that.

Anyway, that smile isn't there.

Nor the glint of energy in his eye. Usually golden with joy and warmth, sometimes red with anger and rage. Twin green eyes once filled with raw emotions; one has been torn from his body just before he disappeared, the other now glazed over and unfocused. A small flicker of something - not joy nor anger, but something primal and base - darts around before disappearing again.

It's off. He doesn't play it off or pretend. He's experienced something I will never. Something most people have never, nor will they. How can you explain to someone you've been kidnapped by an eldrich god and that you shouldn't technically be alive?!

He sighs. We haven't met eyes yet. Xander hasn't even noticed me. Truth be told, I doubt he's noticed anyone, absorbed into his own safe world away from those who could hurt him. He closed his eyes, reopening them slow as though to check that yes, he's here. With a sudden jerk, he darts his head around as though he's trying to locate something or other. I don't think he did though.

Slowly, as though his uncertainty is forming chains, he lifted his hands towards the curls of his hood. A deep breath in, a more shallow one out. He took of the hood, followed by the rest of the coat.

...I have no clue what happened to you in there, Xander. I want to know. I want to help you. I just don't know how. But something must've happened.

You never had grey hair before, did you?

[shigarakislittlepet]

im so happy to find a blog with good nsfw content for literally all my faves lol we share the same braincell it seems! how about fluffy nsfw headcanons for Dabi, Shigi, Aizawa and Shinsou and well, Baku but I don't want to overwhelm you even if you don't have a character limit hhh, with a s/o that was completely inexperienced in sex before they got together? They grew more comfortable with the idea of sex over time as they used to be really shy about it but they're scared they'll mess up and disappoint their loves? If possible could you mention what kind of approach each boy would have for the first time with their virgin s/o? I'm just feeling some fluffy dick tonite ya know lol stay safe out there <3

Ohhhh my gosh, this whole thing gave me brain rot lmao, thank you for giving me this power <3<3<3

This also took me literal months to finish because life got crazy, so I’m sorry about that. Hope you enjoy it anyway!

TW: loss of virginity, gentelness, fluffy smut, unprotected sex bc I’m a whore (Y/N is on birth control), and as always all characters are adults especially Y/N

-Dabi-

> You are surprised by how patient he is with you. You were sure he’d have gotten tired of waiting, but he didn’t push. He didn’t make you feel badly about it, and the last thing he would ever want to do to sweet little innocent angel is coerce them into something they weren’t ready for. So, he waits.

> It happened so gradually. Over time, light kissing became making out. After a few months, you got more comfortable and it didn’t feel at all odd to fall into bed with him, cuddling and “swapping spit” as he called it, which always made you giggle like a schoolgirl at his crudeness. His hands would test the waters, but he was always feeling for nervous tremors and flinching, never wanting to go further than you were comfortable. At first, he only rested a hand on you lower back, drawing lazy circles into your waist, his other cradling your face gently, reassuringly. Eventually he could get his hand beneath your shirt, still just at your lower back, but he was content with his progress. Your skin was soft and you said he felt warm, and that was the first time he ever thought of his quirk as “sweet, comforting”, as you described the warmth from his hands.

> After a few months went by, he had progressed to the point of being able to freely roam your body with his hands, the warmth helping you stay calm and anchored to him.

> What continued to surprise you is how easy it felt, once you were ready. You didn’t even see it coming. He asked you, so gently, if he could take your shirt off. You told him he could as long as he promised to keep you warm. He went along slowly, constantly reassuring you, “God Angel, you’re so beautiful. I gotta see more of you, can I? Please?”, “You’re so soft, I need to feel more of your skin, angel, please?” You didn’t even hesitate, you didn’t need to. You felt safer with him than you ever had in your life.

> You realized, once you were both naked together, just how comfortable you were with him. And suddenly you felt like you needed to give him everything he ever wanted, and you knew he would do the same for you.

> It happens so slowly, or at least, it feels like it does. His hand slowly grazes down between your bodies until he reaches your core. You gasp, no one but you had ever touched you there, and it feels so foreign and wonderful. And warm. Once you begin bucking onto his fingers, an insatiable grin stretches across his face. He retracts his fingers, bringing them to his lips, and you watch as he sucks them clean. He calls you delicious and rolls on top of you, asks you if you’re ready for him. For the first time, you look down between your bodies and see just how huge and hard he is for you. When he sees your concern he kisses your forehead, then your lips. “I won’t hurt you Angel, I promise.” You nod and smile, and he starts easing into you, stopping every so often when he can tell the stretch is too much. He kisses your cheeks, your shoulders, your lips, whatever he can get his mouth on as he pants and mumbles little praises. “I love you”, “You’re doin’ so well”, “You’re takin’ me sooo well”, “God, you’re so beautiful, you know how beautiful you are Angel?”, “Ahh, you’re so fuckin’ tight and wet for me Angel, you want me that badly?”. The praises and teases help you considerably to keep you relaxed, and fuck, you DO want him. So fucking badly, you need him. When he’s finally seated inside you fully, he waits, clearly using every last bit of his restraint and self control to give you time to adjust. When you finally whine and buck your hips up on him, he loses it. “I hope you’re fuckin’ ready, Angel.”

>You find rather quickly that Dabi’s style is a beautiful mix of “fucking” and “making love”. He fucks you, hard and deep, so much so that it makes you see stars, but while he does it he’s caging you in-between his arms, holding you close while he pistons in and out of you. He looks you in the eyes, watching your reactions, quickly finding what angle makes you convulse and let out those beautiful moans and coos that he’s now desperate to hear.

>When he nears his end, he reaches down between you again to rub sweet circles against your clit, because no way is Dabi cumming first. It’s just not his style.

-Shigaraki-

>BRAIN ROT

> Shigaraki is definitely happy that you’re inexperienced, he’d kill anyone who had ever laid a hand on you before him. You belonged to him.

> It also means that you’re a virgin, which really gets him going because hes a pervert. ((He’s also secretly glad that he’s not the only virgin))

> He is touch starvvveeeeddddddd. We all know this. But at first, he’s so hesitant to touch you, for fear of destroying you.

> You are patient with each other, and together you find out what works and what doesn’t. He got some artist gloves so he could hold your fucking hand without hyperventilating about dusting you. He’s still afraid of you disappearing beneath his fingertips.

> You were never, not even for a second, worried that he would hurt you. You knew that he could, that he had the ability, but you knew that he wouldn’t.

> He wasn’t so sure, he was afraid of rolling over in the night and finding a pile of dust where you used to be. He wakes up from nightmares about it and has to wake you up to hold you while he shakes uncontrollably. He just has to know you’re alive.

> You both get more and more comfortable with physical proximity and contact together, because you both wanted it, you were both just so worried about fucking everything up.

> When the time came where both of you decided you were ready to have sex, you admitted to him that you were afraid of not measuring up to his expectations. All these “what if’s” kept popping up in your mind: “what if he doesn’t find my body attractive enough”, “what if I don’t know how to move right”, “what if I cant please him”, etc. etc. etc.

> He just looks at you kind of taken aback and confused. He was worried about you not being able to see him as sexually attractive because of how he looked, he was just as self-conscious as you. “Darling, you’re the most perfect person in existence, how can you not see that? Look at me! I’m... I... Look like this! How could I ever hope that someone as beautiful as you could ever see me that way?”

>You didn’t immediately know how to respond. You were... heartbroken that he saw himself that way. You couldn’t image him being self-conscious about anything because in your eyes, he was a god. He was perfect and angelic and you told him as much. You looked at him with such adorably big eyes and your voice was full of so much honesty and adoration, he had to have you immediately. He’d never felt desired, he had never felt lovable. He always thought it would be a miracle if anyone would ever be able to even stomach looking at him without cringing away in disgust. But you were so perfect and you loved him so immediately and so much that it knocked him out. He launches himself at you and just kisses you for a while.

> You both fumbled around a bit at first, trying to find what felt best. You both quickly came to the conclusion that you were going to have to practice together. A lot. As much as possible actually, because even in your inexperience, you both felt more amazing than you ever had in your lives. When you were connected like this, panting, kissing, licking, trying your damndest to become one being, it felt like bliss. You never wanted it to stop.

-Aizawa-

> MORE FUCKING BRAIN ROT

> Aizawa has an innocence kink. There I fucking said it.

> When it comes to the person he’s with, he’s a shameless flirt, and while he would NEVER cross a line or pressure you, he definitely does his best to get you in the mood whenever he can, much to your naïve frustration.

> At first you genuinely don’t even realize he’s doing it on purpose. The heated looks he gave you that made your knees weak? You didn’t think he was doing that on purpose, it’s just because he’s... tired? And he always looks so gorgeous, so that’s why. He ALWAYS makes your knees weak. Yeah that’s all it is, obviously.

> And when he comes up behind you, hands on your hips gently, and lowly rumbling in your ear. Sometimes it’s just comments about whatever you’re doing, which was bad enough. But sometimes it was mumbled compliments. About your outfit, how good it made your ass look. About how soft your hair was, how good you smelled, the softness of your skin while he gently rubbed his stubble against your neck.

>YOU COULDN’T FUCKING HANDLE IT.

> He was so soft most of the time, cuddling you while watching movies, cooking together, dancing in the kitchen with you at 3 in the morning after he finished grading papers. The shift that happened when he would get flirtatious was dizzying.

> You were nervous though, Aizawa was a bit older than you, and obviously way more experienced that you. One night while you were curled up in bed together, you told him you were nervous about disappointing him when the time finally came. He sat up and turned a light on immediately and pulled you into his lap. He held you and stroked your hair and told you how much you meant to him, how you could never disappoint him, how much he wanted you, and how he was willing to wait however long you needed. He held you until he was sure you felt better about it, and then he held you until he was sure you were asleep. You were the most important person in the world to him, and he wasn’t gonna let you think anything was ever gonna change that.

> When you finally got tired of his teasing and felt like you were ready, you decided to get him back. Before he got home, you put on one of his long shirts as a dress and started getting dinner ready.

> When he walked through the door and saw that you were wearing nothing but one of his black button ups, he had to maintain every ounce of his self control to contain the rush of feral need that suddenly consumed him. Now it was HIS turn to assume you were being innocent. And man did you play it up. “What’s wrong Shota? Are you feeling okay?” And you bat your big beautiful eyes at him. He was going to have a stroke.

> It wasn’t until you bent over and he noticed you weren’t wearing anything under his shirt that he realized it was an invitation. He came up behind you, caging you in against the counter, and growled lowly in your ear, “Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?” He gently pushed his growing erection against your ass, making you gasp. Score.

> “W-what do you mean?” you looked up at him as innocently as you could. He took your hand and pressed it to the front of his pants. He groaned low in his chest, thankful for any friction. “Don’t play dumb with me, kitten. You know exactly what you’re doing. I think you should take responsibility.” You grinned.

> “Yes Sir,” he jolts at that, and you sink your knees and get to work undoing the fastenings on his hero costume. When his cock springs free, you eagerly give it kitten licks until he’s had enough. He grips you by your hair and gently guides your mouth down onto his cock. He’s big, bigger than you can take, but that doesn’t stop Aizawa from purposefully making you gag on him every so often. He really does get off on how innocent you are, the tears that hang in your eyes from gagging on his cock. He’s gonna cum soon if he’s not careful.

> After he’s had his fun making you suck him off, he pulls you up and carries you off to bed. No way he’s taking your virginity on the floor, he’s too much of a gentleman. And dinner, what dinner? Thank god nothing happened to be on the stove or in the oven.

> He sets you down in bed and kisses you, takes his shirt off of you and finishes ridding himself of his hero costume. He takes pride in getting you ready for him, relishing in your sweet noises and how wet you are for him. A fact that he teases you about. “S-Shotaaa~” you moan and clench down on his fingers. He smirks, “What happened to ‘Sir’, hmm? I liked that, you know...” All you can do is whine up at him in response.

> When you feel like you’re close to cumming, you whine louder and clench down harder and before you can reach your peak, he stops. You whine in frustration before he leans down and rumbles, “Oh no, kitten, the only way you’re cumming is if you cum on my cock.” You gasp and nearly convulse at his filthy words, but you’ve never felt like you needed him more.

> He fucks you gently, at first anyway. For as long as he can. He rolls his hips into you and angles his thrusts expertly, aiming for that spot inside you that’ll make your head spin. And he hits it. Every time. And your head DOES spin. And soon you can feel the pressure build again and you start whining again, “Sh-Shouta, please! I’m s-oh! So close!” He smiles, and decides to take pity on you. He pistons harder, faster, brings a hand to your core to rub circles against your clit and when you cum, you scream his name and he can’t take it anymore. He slams into you, chasing his own high and simultaneously extends yours. You’re seeing stars by the time he cums deep into you. He rolls over, bringing you with him. You lie on top of him and he strokes your hair, and you just hold each other for a while.

-Shinso-

> I wanna say this now, Shinso is Aizawa Jr. I’m so sorry, but its true. They’re both tired, overworked, cat lovers that just wanna come home and cuddle and pass out.

> He knows he’s your first boyfriend. You met at UA and pretty much bonded immediately. Now that you’re both pro-heros working for the same agency? It was only a matter of time before he made a move. And thank whatever higher power exists that you have the same schedule. More time for cuddles.

> HOWEVER! Don’t let the fact that he’s a cuddle-bug fool you. He frequently has to remember that you’re a virgin and you’ve never been in a relationship before, so you have no idea how much he’s affected by you answering your door on a Saturday morning you both had off wearing one of his hoodies that absolutely swallows you. Looking up at him smiling and yawning sleepily, rubbing one of your eyes and groggily asking, “What are you doing here so early? I thought we weren’t going out till tonight?”. He has to breathe deeply to stop himself from jumping you.

> Because much like Aizawa, seeing you so sleepy and soft and small and knowing how innocent and naive you are to all of the things you do that make him need you... is going to make him lose his mind. Quickly.

> Instead of an innocence kink though, this motherfucker has a corruption and a mind break kink. He wants to make it impossible for you to feel pleasure without him, he wants to make you need him desperately, forever. And he wants to do it without the help of his quirk. But that would all come in time, at the moment he has to stop himself from cumming in his pants because you’re bending over on your way to your room so you can change, stooping to pet your cat and his hoodie rode up your ass and he can see your lacy black panties and you were GOING to drive him insane long before he ever got the chance to make you his, he was sure.

> He had brought you coffee and suggested you just stay in all day since you both had such a late night. Watching movies and stuff. You know, normal stuff. He told himself he wasn’t going to try and make a move. Right? Right.

> But when you emerged from your room 45 minutes later, showered and changed, your hair still damp and a droplet of water drifting down your neck and landing in the dip of your collar bones, all he could think of was licking it up. How good your hair must smell, how your skin was still probably warm form the water... He was staring, and you pretended not to notice.

> You were nervous about not measuring up to his expectations. You’d seen the women he usually went out with, and how comfortable they were with their bodies and their sexuality. How beautiful they were. As far as you were concerned, you were nothing like them.

> He could see the gears turning in your head and the downturn of your mouth, and he asked you what was wrong. He motioned for you to come sit with him, and it wasn’t five seconds before he pulled you into his lap. After some coaxing, you let him know what you were worried about. He assured you that the reason he was so happy with you is because you weren’t anything like the women he had dated before. Because, not only were you far more beautiful than they were, they had also been conceited and cold, only dating him because he was an up and coming pro-hero that could get them into events so they could dump him for the first bigger hero they’d meet. He liked that you were soft and warm and he could trust you, that you had always trusted him, even despite his quirk.

> You talked for awhile, and as the morning sun drifted higher into the sky, you decided it was time to door dash some food. While he ordered it, you excused yourself the restroom. You needed to think. The heaviness of the conversation still weighed on you, and you’d never felt closer to him than you did now. It was time, you were sure. You wanted to give him everything he’d been waiting so patiently for, he deserved it. And so did you damnit, no more of this scaredy-cat bullshit! You gave yourself your best war face in the mirror before you exited the bathroom and going back to the living room where Shinsou was reclined on your couch. Head tilted back, resting on the pillow behind him.

> He was so beautiful. Lavender hair a wild mess, eyes closed and lashes fluttering softly. You wanted to kiss his neck suddenly, and unlike when urges like this usually happened, you didn’t shove the thought away. You quickly straddled him and, before he had the chance to question you, you began kissing up and down his neck softly. “K-kitty...” he groaned beneath you, gripping your waist, his hips jerking up against yours.

> After a while of your explorative kissing, he growled impatiently and flipped you over easily, pressing you into the couch. He kissed you like he might die if he didn’t, deep and slow and desperate. When he finally broke for air and looked at you, he felt his heart and his dick jump. Your flushed face and your eyes that were looking up at him through your eyelashes heavily, your mouth hanging open gasping and your kiss bitten lips, your brows softly cinched at the effort it took for you to remember you needed to breathe.

> He asks you if you’re sure you were ready, and when you nod dazedly up at him he doesn’t need any more convincing.

> He takes his time, he’s slow and methodical. He wants your first time to be an enjoyable experience. Something you can look back on fondly and remember how much he loved you, how good it felt, how comfortable you were. He wanted it to be better than his first time, drunk after a hero convention, with some woman who didn’t remember his name in the morning and never called him back. He pushed the thought away. He focused on you, on how perfect you were.

> When he finally thrusts into you, you think you want to feel like this forever. You tell him so, and beams with pride, pushing your pleasure further. Kissing your neck and praising you. Telling you how perfect you are, telling you all the things you do that drive him crazy, telling you that he’s never going to let you go, that you’re his forever and he’s yours.

> You cum together, and you think that everything in the world must have always been this beautiful. You spend the rest of the day cuddling, eating, and making love.

-Bakugo-

> No thoughts in this mans head. None. At least when it comes to romance. When you first start dating, you had to make the first move cause his oblivious ass just thought you were challenging him. You had to explain to him that what you were actually doing was called “flirting”.

> So when it comes to your first time, you know you’re gonna have to make the first move there too. He fears rejection, so he avoids the things he really wants the most. Which in this case is you whining on his dick.

> But he also knows you’re a virgin and he doesn’t wanna scare you, so he leaves it be. Trusting his fist to get the job done when he really needs to let off some steam. Either by punching shit or jerking off.

> One day, you do catch him jerking off, and you immediately start to (stupidly) think that you’re not enough for him, that he might leave you for someone who can give him what he needs. You don’t think he notices you having a mini panic attack in the hallway so you sneak back to the kitchen to catch your breath and think. Why HAD you waited this long? What were you waiting FOR? You guessed you had just been worried about not knowing what to do, about him getting impatient and annoyed with you for your lack of experience.

> Making your final decision, you square your shoulders and march yourself back to your shared room. You confidently open the door to find him ... waiting for you?

> “Tch, took you long enough. You done freakin’ out now?” He grumbles from his spot on the bed. You nod meekly and he opens his arms for you, an invitation you gratefully accept. He pets your head and continues grumbling, “ just as bad as shitty-hair, nobody ever knocks anymore. You shouldn’t be surprised when you just try to walk in like that...”

> He keeps petting your head until eventually you hit him with it. “‘Tsuki, I wanna... uhm...” you look up at him with pleading eyes hoping his quirk somehow suddenly allows him to read your mind.

> It doesn’t. “ You wanna what? C’mon, spit it out.” No thoughts, remember?

> You huff and blush and finally squeak out, “Wanna make you feel good, ‘Tsuki...”

> His brain stops working momentarily. When he catches back up, he smirks. “Seriously? It just took you gettin’ jealous over my left hand for you to be ready?”, he teased. You stick out your tongue and he grabs your jaw, looks you dead in the eyes when he says, “I have something much more important for that cute little mouth to do.”

> Your eyes go wide at his suggestion, even though it really doesn’t surprise you. When Katsuki wants something he wants to go all out, no half-assing it. You nod nervously and he laughs at your apprehension, allowing you to shift down his body until you were face to face with his fly. You undid the button and zipper with shaky hands, and gently guide his dick out of his jeans.

> Beautiful is the first word to come to your mind. Beautiful and massive, just like the rest of him. He was easily over six feet tall, and built too so it really shouldn’t have surprised you, but it did. For a moment all you can do is look up at him from your place below him, your big strong hero. You melt a little and you notice him smirking down at you again, “What ‘ya lookin’ at, princess?”. He gently strokes your cheek while you admire him, “You.” you reply dazedly. His smirk widens to a bear malicious grin, “Me? How come?”. A feeling you’re not totally familiar with, but you’re pretty sure is called submission, fills you suddenly and you feel warm and content. “You’re perfect,” you bat your eyelashes and bite your lip as you gently start to stroke your hand up and down his length.

>He controls his breathing, because he really can’t handle you looking so cute with his cock that close to your pretty little face. “‘Tch, and? What’s got you so worked up about it?” You giggle and nuzzle your face into the base of his cock and look up at him innocently. “I’m just glad I’m yours,” you smile and lick him from base to tip before gently taking him into your mouth. You’d read enough smut online to at least have some idea how to do this.

> He almost cums when you say that you’re glad to be his. His, he grins. He doesn’t get to think about that for too long though because your warm, wet tongue is sliding up his shaft and then your pretty little mouth engulfs him and he thinks he might hyperventilate if you keep looking up at him like that. He’d almost say it wasn’t fair, but then you start moving and he thinks that he could actually die happily from the warm bliss that fills him while he watches you try to take more and more of him down your throat.

> This is much more fun than you thought it would be, especially because Katsuki keeps letting out those little sighs and groans, you’re pretty sure he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. You hollow out your cheeks and suck a bit harder before taking a deep breath and relaxing your throat as much as possible. You lower yourself down as far as you can, pushing past the ring of muscle in the back of your throat before moving down further. You feel him lay his hand gently, encouragingly, on the back of your head. You’re surprised when you find your nose nestled in the light blonde fuzz at the base of him and you stick your tongue out to lap at the underside.

> He jolts when you begin your descent. You’re not really gonna try to deep-throat him, are you? He watches you, mesmerized. No ones ever even tried, always saying he was way too big. It felt way too good. He laid a hand on the back of your head to ground himself, quickly realizing he had to control himself so that he didn’t clench his fist in your hair or shove you down all the way and hold you there. When you reached your goal, he sighed. Your throat felt perfect wrapped around him, just like he knew it would. When he felt your tongue sneak out of your mouth and lick, he thanked whatever creator there was that your tongue was long enough to reach his anchor. when you start to move your head up and down, he can only take it for so long before he’s thrusting up into your mouth. When you gag on him, that’s it, he has to pull you off him before he grips your head and suffocates you on his cock.

> He’s nearly at the point of begging, but thankfully, mercifully, you seem to get the idea. You wipe your mouth and lie back on the bed, giggling at his abruptness and he growls in response. He kisses you, and praises you, telling you how good you are, how much he needs to be inside you as he undresses you. You’re surprised at how automatically your legs open for him, and you tell him how much you need him inside of you as well. You feel so empty all of a sudden. Until one of his thick fingers finds your molten core and gathers some of your slick before sinking into you and you gasp.

> He continues to kiss and praise you as he works you with his fingers. You whine and moan and beg, it’s like music to his ears. When he thinks you’re ready, he lines himself up with your entrance, sliding up and down, grinding against your clit briefly before continuing. “I wanna hear you beg for it, princess.” and fuck, did you beg. A beautiful litany of filthy fucking words fell from your mouth, and he couldn’t take it anymore. He sinks into you fully in one thrust, gripping your open legs for stability.

> At first you can’t speak, you can’t make any noise at all. You feel so unbelievably full, and you look up at him and his eyes are clenched shut and his jaw is set. He’s holding himself back. He’s trying to be gentle with you because it’s your first time. He really is very sweet when he wants to be. You raise a shaky hand to his face and he leans into it. He met your eyes and you watch as his control falters when he sees you bent in half like this. You smile, “Katsuki, please”, is all you can say. It seems to open the flood gates. For all his self control, he pounds into you mercilessly and it fills you with the most intense feeling of ecstasy. “F-fuck ‘Tsuki, you feel s-so fucking good,” you moan and gasp brokenly.

> He cums hard. Grunting, growling, and near snarling the whole way through. You’re seeing stars, even though you haven’t cum. It had felt so fucking amazing, and you’re more than content with that. Katsuki is definitely not however, and is intent on eating you out until you beg for mercy. He always takes such good care of you.

[randomshyperson]

Left Behind - Chapter 6 - Once a Promise, Always a Promise.

Gif was made by my official gif maker friend @abimess

Summary: The one where you lived in the apartment under the Maximoff family in Sokovia, or, your journey as a Sokovian civilian to Avenger.

Warnings: (+16) Violence, fighting, cursing, civil war environments, abuse of power, assault, torture, underage kissing, psychological torture, substance use, mention of assault/fighting of children, smut, kissing, teasing, insinuation of sexual and moral harassment, verbal offenses.

Words: 4.753k

A/N> It's been 84 years... I just hope someone still reads this haha Let me know what you think

All Works Masterlist || Read on AO3 || Series Masterlist

//-//-//-//-////-//-//-//-////-//-//-//-////-//-//-//-//

Chapter 6 - Once a Promise, Always a Promise.

When you wake up, you get your ass beaten up by an unknown woman.

You awaken all at once, advancing against the woman who was watching you sleep. Her surprise only lasts a second, however, as the next she returns your blow and knocks you to the ground, a gun pointed straight at your face.

Wide-eyed, you realize where you are and raise your hands.

"Sorry, sorry." You can quickly. "I thought I was in the lab again. Who the hell are you by the way?"

The woman raises her eyebrow at you.

"Cap, get over here before I shoot her."

And the next second, a blond man is running into the area of the ship where you are, looking worried.

"Let's all calm down, okay?" He asks as he sees the gun extended, and waits for the woman to put it down. You sigh lightly, rising to stand up.

"I'm sorry I attacked you, Miss." You ask as soon as you are on your feet, and massage your shoulder, which hit the ground hard when she knocked you down.

"It's fine, you just got beat up anyway." She teases, making you give a short laugh.

You were about to ask if they could let you off the ship anywhere, but a low groan of pain beside you caught your attention.

Just then you noticed the man lying on the stretcher next to you a few feet away, a large wound in his rib. You are also able to notice the rest of the ship, there is a man piloting a few meters away, and two men sitting further ahead, talking to each other.

"Hey, I can help." You stated immediately, but as soon as you moved, the woman stood in front of you, looking at you with suspicion and defiance, and you swallowed dryly. "I-I can heal him." You clarified, but the woman only changed her posture when the man next to you touched her forearm.

"Can you do that?" He asks you, and you nod. You wait for the woman to take a step back to approach the man on the stretcher.

"Hey, are you guys sure of this?" The man lying down asked uncomfortably, and you raise your hands in the air.

"Hi, I'm Y/N, I won't hurt you, I promise. "You guarantee it." Can I heal your injuries?" You ask and wait for him to confirm.

The wound is deep, but you have dealt with much worse.

"How did you do that?"

"It was nothing." You say as you put your hands down. His skin was completely intact again.

"This sure is cooler than lightning, huh, Thor?" Commented the blond as he sat down on the stretcher, clearly feeling better. The long-haired man at the back of the ship looks at you curiously as he stands up, and when he notices his colleague completely healed, he looks impressed.

"This sure is an interesting skill for a mortal." He says to you, and you don't know exactly what to make of those words, but you don't have time to comment, because he is already approaching to introduce himself. "My name is Thor Odinson, god of thunder."

You frown.

"G-god of thunder?" You repeat confused. "Sorry, is that some kind of joke?"

The woman next to you giggles, moving to sit on the stretcher next to the man you healed. The blond man in front of you looks slightly offended, but his expression softens immediately.

"I understand that at first, mortals may be incredulous at such a..."

"No, I just thought the title was funny." You interrupt the blond man, surprising him. "You guys are the Avengers, aren't you? My master has already told me about you."

“Your master?”

It is the other blond guy in the blue uniform who asks. You mentally repress yourself.

"Damn, sorry." You say. "It's what I used to call the soldiers and doctors who gave me orders."

"Your files say that you disappeared in Sokovia when you were younger, and what we found at the base were the records of the experiments they did on you." He adds, and you twiddle your fingers nervously. "I just want to make sure you're not going to try to bring the plane down with everyone inside."

The attempted joke is enough to make you smile, but you are beginning to feel overwhelmed. You really were free. After all this time, the idea seemed almost absurd.

You try to control your emotion at once, and the man seems to notice, because his expression softens immediately.

"Hey, come have a seat." He asks, signaling to one of the empty chairs, and you obey. "My name is Steve Rogers, and I promise you're safe now. Hydra will never hurt you again."

You nod frantically, feeling the tears in your eyes. But you try to normalize your breathing, not wanting to cry in front of strangers.

"I'm sorry, I just... I've just been trying to get away for so long." You confess next, wiping your eyes quickly. "It's weird to think I succeeded."

"We are going back to the Avengers tower now. Is there anyone you would like to get in touch with?" He asks, and his words make your stomach sink.

"Yes." You say. "But I have no idea where they are."

"Who? Your family?"

You give a short laugh.

"Yeah, I guess so. They were..." You start trying to remember exactly. You didn't even know how long it had been since the time you saw the twins at the Hydra base. You had no idea if they were alive, but you wanted to believe they were. Taking a deep breath, you continue. "They were my friends. Wanda and Pietro, we grew up together. They... I saw them once. When I still had the serum in my head. I..."

Seeing your difficulty in organizing your thoughts, Steve interrupts you by touching your forearm.

"It's okay." He says. "We'll find the twins."

"So they really are alive?"

Steve smiles.

"Yes." He answers and you feel your body relax all at once. "They ran away, I imagine they were scared, but we'll find them."

You gasp, unable to control your tears. Neither Steve nor the rest of the Avengers seem to care.

When you calm down, Steve introduces you to the rest of the team.

You are not exactly happy to meet Tony Stark. The mention of his last name makes you frown, because you know it was a Stark bomb that blew up your home at Sokovia, but when you accuse Tony, he seems really upset.

"Well, I guess you can get on the list of people who hate me then." He grumbles and you cross your arms, the whole team sensing the tension in the air.

"You could at least apologize for blowing up half of Sokovia with your weapons." You retort angrily, and the man rolls his eyes, not getting up from the armchair you were in.

"Sure, no problem. I'm sorry, kiddo. Happy?"

You clench your jaw, but before you can say anything, Steve steps forward.

"Tony, try not to be a jerk, okay?" The captain speaks and the other man lets out a wry laugh. "Have at least some respect for the girl's story."

"I have respect, Captain." He assures as he stands up, looking impatient. "What I don't have is time to revisit the past while our enemies get more and more powerful." He says and you frown in confusion. "I've already banned weapons production in the industries, and we've already taken on Hydra in that place. Now we can move on, because I need to get back to the compound and understand exactly what that thing is."

He speaks and finishes by signaling to the opposite side, and it is only then that you notice the shining scepter on the far side of the room and let out a surprised exclamation, taking three steps backwards.

"How did you guys get this?" You ask horrified and the team looks at you curiously.

"Have you seen the scepter before?"

"Of course I have!" You reply. "That's what gave me the healing! The damn stone went through my chest."

Thor steps forward, looking at you in surprise.

"So Hydra were able to decipher the scepter?

You laugh humorlessly.

"If by decipher you mean press the scepter against my chest while preening me in an iron chair, then yes." You reply, but take a deep breath to calm yourself. "A yellow stone came off as soon as the scepter touched me. And well, it went right through my skin. When I woke up, I could heal. But whatever it is, it killed all the soldiers who were holding me."

Thor seems to consider your words as Steve tells you that he is sorry for what you went through in Hydra.

Suddenly you remember where you first saw him.

"The man on the bridge!" You exclaimed, surprising him, but you were getting your memories gradually, and your heart was racing. "You are Captain America.... My god, where is Bucky?"

"Great, another fan of the metal arm." Tony comments sarcastically, but no one seems to care.

Steve looks at you with a frown.

"Is he safe? Is he free? Can I see him?" You ask promptly next, and Natasha chuckles.

"Hey, calm down." Steve asks and you swallow dryly, trying not to feel so overwhelmed with so many memories coming back at once. "How do you know Bucky?"

You blink in surprise.

"He...he didn't talk about me?"

It takes a second, and then Steve's eyes widen.

“Oh my god, you’re the guardian!

"I am what now?"

Steve lets out an incredulous laugh.

"The guardian." He repeats as if you were going to understand what he meant.

Natasha clears her throat.

"Captain, perhaps you'd better explain." She asks and Steve gestures quickly.

"We've been looking for you for months." Steve then adds, causing you to widen your eyes in surprise. "Bucky he... he's been trying to find you since he escaped. But he didn't know your name. All he knew was the nickname you got from the soldiers. The golden guardian of death. It's been our only tip to find you."

"I thought it was just golden guardian." Clint adds next, Nat makes a noise of agreement.

"No, I'm sure it was just Guardian of Death." Thor comments, but you are barely listening to the teasing, feeling your thoughts racing.

Steve raises his hands to your shoulders.

"Thank you so much for saving Bucky." He says before hugging you. You feel your neck heat up at the sudden contact, but do your best to reciprocate.

Steve lets you go then, smiling.

"He's going to be so happy to see you."

"Where is he?"

"At the compound." Steve replies. "He cannot attend field missions, it's part of the pardon. It's too much bureaucracy to explain now.."

"I think he's just lazy." Tony adds wryly, making the Avengers giggle.

And Steve's smile dies briefly.

"What's with you today, anyway, Stark?"

Tony sighs impatiently, finally rising from his armchair.

"I'm sorry if I'm not reacting in the way you consider proper captain, but I'm concerned about getting to work soon." He says as he moves toward you two. “I need to find out what this thing really is.”

"No, Stark, you won't touch this." It is Thor who announces, and all the avengers look genuinely surprised.

"I beg your pardon?" Stark retorted, but Thor didn't hesitate before he looked at you next.

"Describe to me again how you got your healing, mortal."

You sigh lightly.

"They locked me in an iron chair and brought the scepter." You narrated. "But they lie me on the chair next, and I could only feel the metal against my skin, and then I saw a yellow light. Something went right through my chest, and then right through." You say. "I blacked out for a second, the room was completely empty like a vision. When I blinked, it was back, but all the soldiers holding me were dead. And then they knocked me out."

"Before you said you saw a yellow stone?"

You nodded in agreement.

"I dreamed of this memory for several days." You clarify. "I was back in the room, but this time I watched myself. I saw when they put the scepter to my chest, and when the golden stone came out and went through my skin. It was the stone that released the wave of energy that killed the soldiers .I don't know why I didn't die too."

"A single blow that killed a group of soldiers at once." Thor mutters more to himself than to the rest of the teams. "It's decided then, no mortal must touch this. It's clearly far more power than anyone should have."

"This is ridiculous." Thor accused the next moment, making the team look at him curiously. "You can't just deny knowledge about something like that and..."

"Why are you so insistent on this, Tony?" It's Steve who asks suspiciously. Tony sighs, and gives a short laugh.

"You guys are unbelievable, you know." He says. "I'm trying to find new alternatives to our problems."

"What problems?" Steve asks with a confused grimace, and Tony rolls his eyes, looking nervous.

"Our enemies, Captain!" He snarls. "In case you haven't noticed, it hasn't been too long since we faced an army of robots coming from a hole in the sky!" He accuses. "We don't have the power to face this kind of thing. The scepter is exactly what I need to prevent the worst from happening."

"Where did that come from, Tony?" Steve retorted confused.

Stark gave a short laugh, rolling his eyes.

"I don't have time for this." He grimaced and moved to grab the scepter, but Thor stood in the way, arms crossed. "Really?" Tony impatiently charges, but Thor doesn't move. Stark clenches his jaw before declaring angrily. "I had a vision, okay? I saw all of us, defeated. Defeated because we didn't have the power to win. And I... I could have prevented it."

The avengers look as confused as you are, and remain silent. Tony sighs and runs his hand through his hair.

"It was New York again, but this time the enemy won." He continues, visually upset. When he lifted his face in Steve's direction, his look was angry, but his eyes had tears in it. "And you told me that I could have stopped it."

“I wouldn't do that.” Steve says. “If we ever lose, I wouldn't blame you, Tony.”

Tony gives a short laugh.

“Wouldn’t you really?” He retorts. “I’m pretty sure you would, cap.”

Steve takes a step forward, his eyes soften as he looks at his friend.

“I promise you, Tony. If we lose, we lose together.” He declares. “That’s what being an Avengers means. I’m sorry if I was not clear before, and made you feel any different than this or…”

“Stop it!” Tony angrily interrupts. You flinch because you think you saw a familiar red light in his eyes. “Cut this sentimental crap, Steve. I’m just trying to do what’s necessary here.”

“Back off, Stark!” You order as you noted how he has moved his wand to the scepter, he seems surprised by the action too. You move in his direction as he takes two steps back, looking irritated. You gave him no time to answer however, as you raise your hands over his head and touch his forehead with your fingers before he can complain.

Immediately, you can feel the remnants of magic on Tony's head. You don't recognize it at first, but as your own magic removes the other energy, you sigh slightly. It feels familiar, but you don't know why. The energy is still harmful though, probably due to the intention of the one who cast it, but you manage to clean it all up.

You succeed because you coordinate your magic to wipe the other energy like you usually clear and heal wounds, and it seems to work, because Tony raises his hands to your wrist, his wide-eyed eyes soften and he looks almost startled.

"I'm sorry." He asks and swallows dryly. You remove your fingers from his forehead completely, watching with curiosity. He takes a deep breath, blinking several times as if waking up. "I'm sorry, everyone, I... Damn, it was like a horrible dream. I need to lie down for a minute."

And with that he leaves.

You don't ask questions anymore, because Steve is going after him, and you are trying to figure it out why you still feel the unknown magic tingling at your fingertips, as if it is trying to merge with yours.

//-//

You cry when you see Bucky again.

He lets out a disbelieving laugh, and then he's running up, hugging you tight.

Your conversation is long and intense, and is almost mostly made up of gratitude.

The other Avengers seem very happy to see the whole interaction, especially Steve.

Tony isolates himself in his room as soon as you arrive, and Thor looks upset. He and Bruce discuss something, and then they go to talk to Tony.

You don't pay attention because you are listening to Bucky tell you about getting all his memories back, and living with the Avengers since you helped him. He was now free from Hydra's control, and was pardoned by the state on condition that he was no longer the Winter Soldier.

Nat also added in his narrative the information that he and Steve were "making fondue" and the joke made him laugh with red cheeks but you didn't understand what that meant.

You are very happy to see him, but you can't help but think that he was not the one you wanted to find when you were free.

When he introduces you to the rest of the compound, and to your room, you hug him in appreciation, and you both exchange a knowing look, finally acknowledging that you are safe.

//-//

Your first night in the compound is a strange one.

After meeting the whole team, who were polite despite having fought you a few hours ago, you received a full meal and then locked yourself in your room.

But you were not used to having such a soft bed, not even before Hydra, so sleeping seemed kind of impossible.

Figuring that the Avengers wouldn't mind you taking a late night stroll, you left your room.

"Are you lost, girl?" A female voice suddenly sounded making you jump in fright. It was Natasha Romanoff, or as she introduced herself earlier, Black Widow.

"S-sorry, ma'am." You retorted clumsily, and the woman raised her eyebrows at you. "I can't sleep."

"First, I'm not old, so don't call me ma'am." She commented wryly, and you tried to smile. "Second, I know the feeling. If you want, I can distract you."

Your last social conversation with a woman happened a long time ago, and then you find yourself asking:

"Are you inviting me to have sex?"

Nat lets out a surprised laugh, crossing her arms.

"Where did that come from?" she asks, and you scratch your neck lightly.

"Sorry, I learned how to talk to women from television shows that Hydra soldiers watched in the labs. Bad references. What did you mean by distracting me?"

Nat laughed, impressed by your words.

"I meant like have some tea and tell a story." She clarifies, not sounding the least bit upset. You put your hands in the pockets of the pajamas you've been given.

"R-right. That sounds more appropriate." You mumble with flushed cheeks, eliciting another laugh from the woman. As you begin walking side by side, she comments.

"You know, I think I'm going to have a lot of fun with you around here. You are just as awkward as Steve and Bucky."

You end up hearing a story about agents in Budapest, but it seems Nat doesn't tell the whole story. It's nice, though, you missed talking to someone.

"That thing you did earlier with Tony, that was really cool." Nat remarks after a pause in silence.

You take a sip of your tea after shrugging, but she seems inquisitive.

"How did you know it was Maximoff who messed with his head?"

You almost choke at the sudden mention of the name and Nat's watchful gaze makes it impossible to disguise. You sigh.

"I... They are my friends." You confess looking down at the cup, "Or they used to be."

Raising your gaze to Nat again, she only seems curious to know, and you shrug slightly, deciding to trust her.

"We grew up together in Sokovia." You count twirling your fingers on the handle of your cup, "They were the only family I had in the orphanage. And well, it was for them that I broke into a Hydra building."

Nat listens to your story intently, and you swallow dryly before continuing.

"When they captured me, the serum, it... well, it didn't exactly leave me conscientious." You try to explain. "It was like pushing all my memories away, my mind would become completely empty."

“"Is that what they did to Bucky?" Nat questions and you shake your head.

"No, they used electric shock on Bucky." You return with a grimace. "With me, they couldn't hurt me permanently, so they needed something that would make me obey without me being able to heal. It was like being drunk, I guess, only much worse."

“I’m sorry.”

"It 's fine.” You say with a sad smile. “I was dumb enough to go there, i knew the risks.”

“Don’t say that.” Nat asks with a serious voice. “It’s was not your fault they torture kids.”

"And whose fault is it, then?" You retorted, upset, with yourself more than with Nat or anyone else. "My friends for being stubborn idiots? Of Stark for throwing a bomb in my building? I'm tired of looking for reasons to justify what happened to me. Nothing is enough, and I just want to see my friends."

Nat sighs lightly, and raises a hand on the table to reach for yours. You want to hold back the tears, but they are already falling before you can do so.

"I promise we will find your family." She assures you tenderly, and you feel your heart soar at the possibility.

You nod in understanding, taking a deep breath to stop crying.

Nat squeezes your hand, and it takes a moment for you to speak again.

"Wanda." You begin, and almost sob. It has been a long time since you have spoken that name. "She... She must have gotten her powers the same way I did." You say trying to remember everything you witness in Hydra at that moment. "I remember the soldiers talking about the twins being the only ones to survive the stone besides me."

"From Shield records, we know she can manipulate energy and Pietro can run really fast." Nat informs as she releases your hand. She sits thoughtfully for a moment."Maybe because you all got the magic through the same source, you can heal what she can do to Tony's mind. But that's not really my area, maybe you should talk to Thor as well."

You sigh lightly, wiping away the remainder of the tears falling on your face.

"I will." You say. "But I want to find Wan-the twins first." You correct yourself quickly, hoping Nat doesn't notice your flushed cheeks. She does, but says nothing.

"Try to get some rest." She asks as she picks up the teacups. "We have a party coming up, and then Thor is supposed to return to Asgard. I imagine you will want to have a little chat with Bucky before you return to Sokovia."

"I would go back to Sokovia right now if you ask me." You mutter making Nat chuckle lightly. "But I don't want to disturb any of you. I've waited for a long time, I can wait a little longer."

When Nat turns around after putting the glasses in the sink, she has a soft expression.

"You are not a nuisance here, kid." She assures with a smile. "We've just been caught a little by surprise with a new person, but it will be a pleasure to help you find the twins." She says and then has a mischievous expression. "I shouldn't tell you yet, but Steve is pretty excited about the whole thing. He wants you and the twins to join the team eventually."

"Really?" You ask in surprise and Nat just mumbles in agreement, still smiling.

She turns around on the countertop and before she leaves, she turns to you.

"If you ask my opinion, you seem to care a lot about both of them." She says. "I think that no matter how much time has passed, or if they are fighting on opposite sides, she will be happy to see you."

You swallow dryly, looking away.

Nat smiles one last time before leaving and you twiddle your fingers nervously, sitting for a while at the table before returning to your room.

With much to think about, you are surprised that you fall asleep almost instantly as you lie down.

//-//

The Hydra serum is still in your system.

You realize it in a rather embarrassing way actually.

After waking up on the couch, you went to the kitchen.

Bucky tells you that all the team is having a meeting and they will join you two soon, so you just lay against the wall while he reads the newspaper out loud for you.

The Avengers stay in the meeting room for a long time, and don't seem very pleased when they leave, but Tony seems intrigued.

You are surprised that he comes to talk to you as soon as he sees you.

"I didn't thank you for yesterday, kid." He says with a smile. "Whatever you did took away that bad feeling. Now I can work without having to hide that I'm trying to help."

You didn't quite know what to respond, but it didn't matter because Tony was patting you on the shoulder before smiling contentedly at the rest of the team.

"While I figure out a way to decipher the stone, which won't be hard since I'm incredibly smart." He begins his speech, causing the group to let out debauched laughter. "You guys can get busy with whatever old people do for fun. Except you Thunderlord, I'm going to need your help in the lab."

"Wow, Tony Stark asking for help." Thor teases and you watch the interaction with a smile on your lips, moving to join the table. "What a little magic doesn't do to your head, heh?"

"Don't tease me, Thundercat. I'll throw you out of this building, and you won't get any breakfast." He says with false seriousness and you laugh lightly as you pour yourself a cup of coffee. "Hey, kid, give me some too?"

"Ja, Master." You respond mechanically, perhaps even a little sleepily. The Avengers look at you with curiosity and confusion as they see you mechanically pour the coffee, and hand it to Tony, who looks shocked.

"He is not your master, kid." It is Natasha who breaks the silence, and you blink in confusion looking around for a moment.

"R-right." You say. "Sorry about that, Tony. Old habits I guess."

Tony thanks you for the drink, and you think the subject is going to die, but then Natasha keeps looking at you.

"Hey, Y/N, come over here." She asks and you move immediately. Shit. Natasha raises her eyebrow. "Take two steps to the left." Your body obeys. “Now to the right.” She asks and you obey again. This is terrible. The widow looks at you impressed.

"That looks bad." Tony quickly mocks before waving for Thor to accompany him to the lab, justifying that they should get to work soon.

Nat continues to look at you incredulously, but then Steve gets up from the table as well and snaps his fingers in front of your eyes, making you jump in fright slightly. He assumes a worried expression afterwards.

"You are obeying our orders as if we were your masters." He says. "Let's go see Bruce in the lab, he'll want to run some tests."

When you reach the lab, and Steve explains to Bruce what happened at breakfast, you are not surprised that he puts needles in your arm. You hope the news will be good when he finishes assessing your blood.

//-////-////-////-////-////-////-////-////-////-////-////-////-////-////-//

Tag List> @imapotatao / @aimezvousbrahms/ @ensorcellme/ @helloalycia || @mionemymind / @abimess / @stephanieromanoff / @yourtaletotell / @tomy5girls / @justagaypanicking / @thegayw1tch / @idek-5 // @myperfectlovepoem // @helloalycia // @ENSORCELLME // @aimezvousbrahms // @drpepperobsessed // @sighsam // @olsensnpm // @sxfwap // @table57 // @madamevirgo // @causeitswhatjesuswouldfreakingdo // @emptysince18x // @xastrydx || @yuhloversxx || @ymzki-haruki || @wouldirunofftheworldsomeday || @lostandsearching || @lezzzbehonesthere || @musicinourlips || @chaekhan || @diaryoflife

[strayen-fx]

Red.

》 HHJ x reader

》 angst, vampirish theme

》 warnings: mentions of blood, hints of physical assault

》 2.1k words

》 a/n: short and simple, after months of writing break. Hope you guys enjoy regardless :)

“Stay away from them, my dear. Save your blood from the horrors of their fangs. Be wary of solitude, and be wary of the crowd.”

It was a day not unlike any other. My morning kicked off lazily, with me waking up almost an hour later than a college freshman was supposed to. Nothing unusual there. I did my usual morning prep, took a cup of grandma’s tea in one gulp, and went my way. I was already late for the train—I had to run after a departing bus with an exceptional speed that would put Olympiads to shame. I got in the room just in time as the bell rang for first period. I came in huffing like an old man, but it’s alright. Way better than walking through the early jam-packed hallways.

The first aberration in my daily humdrum existence happened on my way to fourth period. A student from another department stopped me on my tracks. I knew him; he was a member of the student council. Was I in some sort of trouble?

He introduced himself as Han Jisung, then proceeded to ask if I have seen his friend.

“He’s tall,” Jisung explained. “But like, not super tall. Not the towering-over-people kind. He has a mole under his eye. He’s got black—no wait, I think he dyed his hair again the other day. Anyway, have you seen someone like him? He’s noticeably handsome. I guess. I’m more handsome, though, but you know what I mean.”

The whole school would know who he is talking about. The one and only Hwang Hyunjin: champion swimmer, council member, and just a general talk of the town. The Prince. Even if I did see him around, though, I wouldn’t know. I never pay attention to the people I walk by.

I shook my head and muttered a soft sorry. I did feel bad for Jisung. He looked so worried and dejected, and I can’t blame him—not after after the incident with Seungmin. I can’t really take it against him to worry about his friends. I sauntered off to my next class, my mind still stuck on the fact that a normal person in my school has actually talked to me, and I was able to keep my composure.

Fifth period: P.E. I don’t even know why we still have this subject in college. I opted to take a stroll instead. You see, a huge, dense forest is situated right behind the main school grounds. You could say that the school itself lies within the bosom of greeneries. Unkempt bushes and rows of towering trees stretched over several miles deep, starting from the edge of the campus to god-knows-where. It is my goal to scout the whole area before graduation.

Weighed down by my personal monstrous beast, I trudged through. I walked for at least fifteen minutes before I finally reached the spot—my spot. Sheet of decaying leaves cushioned a huge gray boulder, standing at least ten feet tall, shaped like an odd piece of egg smashed against the forest floor. Against it stood a larger stone, this one dotted with moss and weathered with cracks. They were propped against each other for support, as if stopping one another from tumbling to the ground.

There was a smaller rock at the foot of the smaller stone, and I use it as leverage to climb up and sit on top of the largest boulder. It was my favorite place. Most times I could just pretend that I was alone in my own tiny bubble, at the center of that clearing that nobody else ventures but me. I don’t feel the breath of people suffocating me with every step that I take. I don’t feel my heart thumping with the sight of anyone else. I don’t need to hold back. Here, I don’t feel weird.

But today felt somehow different.

It was awfully silent. The wind felt sharper and colder. Electricity was humming in the air, leaving my skin prickling with discomfort. There was a tension in my veins that I couldn’t quite explain—it felt like an omen of an incoming disaster.

Time ticked slow. A couple hours could have passed—or maybe it has only been five minutes—when a nearby rustling perked up my senses.

Trying to keep my movements as quiet as possible, I hopped down and took up a defensive position, which wasn’t easy to do for a student with no actual weapon aside from an almost-empty bag and a worn-out calligraphy pen. My instincts told me to take cover—but my feet seemed glued to the ground. Sweat trickled from my forehead. My hands started to feel clammy.

And then, just as I was about to scamper away, a figure crashed into view from behind the nearest oak tree. I almost threw my bag towards the person’s direction, until I had a clear view of the intruder’s face.

It was Hwang Hyunjin, wide-eyed and disoriented, with his cheeks and uniform smudged with traces of blood.

“Help me.”

His voice came out as a tiny croak, as if his throat was filled with acid. He stumbled towards me, reaching out his hand for support. I wasn’t able to move an inch—and who could blame me? The situation was way too hard to process.

Hwang Hyunjin, the university prince, was hunched huffing before me, his clothes caked with mud and dried blood, his hair a nest of mess on his head. He had a cut on his cheek, I noticed. His breathing was heavy and labored, as if the mere act of standing on his own two feet required all the effort he could muster.

“Help me,” he repeated.

“What happened to you?” I managed to blurt out. My initial thought was that some random outsiders kicked his butt for stealing their girlfriends. But no—someone like Hyunjin would have been able to handle that. Plus, something in his eyes showed an elaborate fear—something only a beast would be capable of instilling. I should know.

My heart began thumping faster, a colossal drum barreling in my chest.

Just as my schoolmate was about to open his mouth and explain, a loud rustling broke the stillness of the air. Before I could process what was happening, Hyunjin grabbed my hand and bolted away, dragging me with him.

“Don’t look back!” he warned.

I did.

At least a dozen feet behind us was another male, probably as old as Hyunjin. He was sporting our school uniform, walking casually under the shades of trees as if time wasn’t of any matter. What puzzled me, though, was the fact that we can’t seem to distance ourselves from him despite the heavy efforts Hyunjin had been exerting to drag us both away from this newcomer.

I took another glance behind me, and to my surprise, the young man wasn’t there anymore. Nowhere behind us, as if he dissipated without a single trace.

Hyunjin took a sudden stop, causing me to bump my head against his back. I was about to call him out for stopping, but then I saw the looming figure a few meters in front of us.

“You…?” I began, my mind a juggle of unanswered questions. How on earth did that happen? How is he—

Hyunjin's friend, Kim Seungmin, stood before us in his dirty school uniform. He looked pale, his eyes bloodshot, but he was standing there in full grace, very much alive, giving us a toothy grin. “You’re hurting my feelings, Hyun. Why are you running away from me?”

Hyunjin’s grip on my hand went tighter. “Seungmin...”

“Friends are supposed to help each other, am I right?” Seungmin continued, faux dismay dripping in his voice. He bared his fangs, its tips dripping with fresh blood. “So help me, Hyunjin.”

I felt my body run cold. I wanted to scream, run, anything—anything to get away from this. From him. From the two of them. From everything. But Hyunjin's hand remained strong around my wrist, and my legs were close to turning jelly. I could start to feel the fullness in my mouth, the pointy ends of my incisors. Something that only happens when I'm in an extreme hunger or danger.

“Stay away from them,” grandma said. “We are the same kind, but we are different. Weaker. They see us as preys, as special commodities. They can smell your blood despite my concoctions, my dear, remember this!”

Seungmin tilted his head to one side, finally regarding my presence. “And you, over there. I’ve never tried drinking such special blood.” He grinned. “Satiate my thirst.”

The last thing I knew, a strong hand was pressing tightly around my neck, turning my vision green.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°

“Have you heard of the news?”

“What news?”

“Kim Seungmin was safe! They found him in the forest yesterday.”

“Thank goodness! Was he hurt?”

“He had a few gashes, but he’s fine. Hyunjin found him and brought him to the hospital right away.”

Students filled the corridor, everyone bustling and hustling about the news: after his sudden disappearance, Seungmin was finally found by his best friend, Hyunjin. The latter saw him in the forest, hungry and disoriented. They went straight to the hospital to treat his minor wounds, and that was that—nobody bothered to ask how he managed to lose himself in the wilderness, or how we managed to survive seven days on his own. Nobody asked him stupid and unnecessary questions. Seungmin was safe, and that was all that mattered.

I brushed my way past the milling crowd, flinching at every accidental touch. I kept my eyes on the ground, forcing my mind into silence. I was expecting everyone to be in their respective classrooms at this time of the day, but apparently, the news of Seungmin’s return has become enough reason for everyone to wander about and neglect their individual duties. It was a grand miscalculation on my part—I hadn’t braced myself for this huge number of people.

Not here. Not now. Not ever.

I just have to get back home, and then it’ll be over. My insides would stop churning once I’ve drunk grandma’s tea—that has worked for 18 years now. I can stop this. I can stop me.

I made a run towards the comfort room. To my luck, nobody was inside. I washed my face over and over, as if doing so would cleanse me from the impurity stamped on every drop of my blood. The face on the mirror horrified me—I had to stop myself from punching the glass over and over.

The moment I stepped out, I felt his presence.

He was there, leaning against the wall, lurking behind the shadows. There was a faint gleam of terror in his eyes, but at the same time, I can feel it: the hunger. Lust for meat. Thirst for blood.

“Don’t be like him, Hyunjin,” I pleaded. “Don’t be like us.”

He shook his head in resignation. “It’s too late.”

He took a step closer. Another. He kept on walking until he stood right in front of me, too close I can feel him breathe.

Too close I can see the faint traces of blood on his lips.

“I’m still hungry,” he sobbed. “I’m still hungry…”

Fear was apparent in his eyes—fear of what would happen to him, fear of what he had become. “You will be fine,” I offered, taking his hand in mine. “Trust me on this. It will be fine.”

And then I felt it, stronger this time—the hunger he was talking about. The thirst. My stomach growled in protest at the sight of Hyunjin’s pale flesh. I can smell his blood—I can feel its steady rhythm as it flowed through his pulsing veins.

I need to get home. Maybe my grandma could do something about Hyunjin, too. Maybe she could produce a stronger tea, and both of us wouldn’t have to worry about our instincts anymore.

We stood next to each other for a full minute before he broke the silence.

“We need each other to survive,” Hyunjin whispered. “If we drink the blood of our own kind, we can last for a month without feeding on others.” He freed his hand from my hold and gripped my shoulders tightly. “I need you. And you need me, too.”Hyunjin leaned down until we were staring at each other at eye level. He closed the distance between us. I closed my eyes, and for the first time, I allowed my monster to take ove.

[xonepeacelovex]

the wedding planner | part 21

the wedding planner | part 22

the wedding planner series

Characters: Bang Chan x Reader (Y/N) | Lee Minho | Hwang Hyunjin | Kim Seungmin

Genre: Angst

Trigger Warning: None

Summary:

“That’s why I want to see you before the wedding,” Chan said to you with a serious tone.

You looked at him curiously. “Why?”

“I want you to plan my wedding.”

Taglist: @charm-art @nycol-ie @straytannies @usuallyunlikelyfox @cheolright

A/N: Updating this took me a while but I'm back and still alive. Hope you enjoy reading this. :)) I'm usually so cautious about asking for feedbacks but give me your thoughts about this series. It will be highly appreciated. Thank you for waiting. You da best!!!

Truth be told, you love what you are doing for a living. You love being a wedding planner and make someone’s dream come true. But people around can’t help but to ask you, why.

Why do you love weddings so much? When in fact, you don’t even see yourself getting married at all?

“Seungmin, is there any available dates for us to set a meeting this week?”

You are in the studio slash office where you and Seungmin work the magic as wedding planners and that includes, unending meetings, calling the suppliers, booking venues, making concepts and etc.

Peeking outside of your laptop screen when no one answered you, you see Seungmin dozing off in his desk, his laptop’s light illuminating his sleeping face. Unconsciously, you look at the clock displayed in your wall, quarter to twelve, you’ve read before sighing. Your beloved assistant is never a night owl and you don’t even want him to overwork like what you are doing to yourself. Just these past months, you are handling weddings more than you have ever. Two in manageable, three is chaotic. Though that’s what you initially wanted to avoid a certain person but thanks to your ever caring and loving assistant for personally accepting the certain person’s wedding.

You hear a groan, and see Seungmin stirring from his position. You felt sorry for him in advance, his neck will definitely hurt with his sleeping position. You can’t even say something to Seungmin because you are the one who didn’t say anything to him at all. He doesn’t know your past with Mr. Bang. In his eyes, you are this goal-oriented, independent and boss.

You decided to stop working, and drive Seungmin home. You might as well, make this weekend a time away from work for both of you. Quietly standing up from your chair, getting your things and closing your laptop, you made your way to Seungmin, waking him up. You chuckle at you at his sleepy face, “I’ll drive you home,” you offered.

Seungmin stayed awake on the way to his home, maybe he felt a bit shame for sleeping at work. “Let’s not work tomorrow,” you break the silence. “But we have three weddings… and so much to do,” he countered. “Yeah, before it becomes hell next week or maybe for the upcoming months, let’s take a break,” you said. His eyes widen, he never saw you suggesting a break especially from work but here you are, not that he’s complaining though.

You dropped Seungmin off and you wish he’ll turn off his phone so he’ll have the full rest he deserves though you can never do that. It is still your business anyway.

When your work is this hectic, sleep is never an option. And even though you set your mind that this weekend is a no work weekend, you can’t still fall asleep as you please.

Your mind just never stop running, mostly you’re thinking about work but right now you wish it was work that’s not making you fall asleep. You still remember Rose’s face when you asked her about the church wedding. It was the first time you saw her smile disappearing.

“Uhmm…” you bit your lower lip, afraid that you did or say something wrong. “Are you okay?”

She dismissed it immediately, offering you an apologetic smile, “Nothing’s wrong. Let me talk to Chan about that,” you just nodded at her before she left you at the gazebo.

Your eyes trained at the sun setting, perfect at the middle of the beautiful gazebo. The only reason you’ve thought why Chan wants a garden wedding exactly at this place which is apparently not true based on what he said earlier.

You never trusted your memory that’s why you always jot down things on a notepad or on your phone but anything to do with Chan, you bitterly remembers it clearly.

The first time you went in this garden, it was your auntie’s wedding to her long time best friend. It was a love story of second chance. Chan being your plus one cause you remember how you dreaded your relatives’ questions of when will you get yourself a partner. With Chan by your side, he can distract them from the unsolicited questions.

You remember how Chan fell in love with the place that you saw him tearing up when the newly wed shared their first kiss while the sun the is setting down just like now and you remember the first time you ever dream of becoming a wedding planner because of it.

There is something in that moment that made your stomach flipped, feeling the rush of adrenaline in your body making you warm inside. You wanted to be a part of that magical moment where the two person, destined to each other, starts a new chapter together in their lives.

“I wanted this,” Chan said when he’s done quietly wiping his tears that didn’t go unnoticed. Peeking at him, “You wanted a garden wedding? Here?”. He laughs at you before gently patting your head. You let him instead of swatting his hand away from you, looking at your auntie and your new uncle, “I wanted this also.”

You also wanted to get married to your best friend.

Groaning at the memory, you looked at your phone, 1:31 am, you’ve been in your bed for almost two hours now and you feel sleep is not visiting you anytime soon. So you rolled up in your bed, maybe a beer can you help at this time.

When was the last time you treated yourself a beer? You comfortably sat down on the floor of your living room, two cans of beer on your coffee table, a remote in your hand, scrolling through Netflix. You saw the unfinished 27 dresses in your playlist.

You remember that night when you offered Chan a truce.

You chuckled at the memory, “Always the wedding planner but never the bride,” repeating what he said to you the first you’ve met again. Though he said it jokingly, you felt a pang in your chest when the words left his mouth that day. The reason you’ll never see yourself getting married was because of him so you’ve settled at becoming a wedding planner instead. And you’ll still settle at becoming his wedding planner for now. After all, when the job is done, the truce will also end. There’s no more reason for you to act that you’re cool about all of this, him coming back, you becoming his wedding planner, or to prove that you already move on from him because to be honest, there’s no other way around but to move forward. Cause in less than a month, he’ll get what he wanted or at least what you’ve thought he wanted, not the garden wedding or a church wedding but getting married.

Copyright © 2022 xonepeacelovex All rights reserved.

[rubysunnday]

your song | c.b

Summary: Being in love with Colin Bridgerton is hard when the man keeps running off to different continents for months at a time. But the letters he writes and the songs he sends keep the romance alive.

It had been six, long months since Y/N had last seen Colin Bridgerton.

He had gone off travelling again, disappearing off one night with nothing more than a kiss on the cheek goodbye and a promise to write.

The romance between Y/N and Colin had struck out of nowhere. One night they'd been dancing as nothing more than friends and the next moment, there was something more. The way his hands tightened on her waist whenever Cressida said something mean felt different. The way he wrote her notes with every bunch of flowers he sent read differently.

The way he took her hand as she stepped out a carriage, his fingers gently entwining with hers, felt different.

Y/N had fallen head over heels for a man who hated staying in the same place for more than a week. And it was annoying.

He'd written to her more than he had his own family. He wrote to her everyday, judging from the dates on his letters and they arrived in bundles from the postman, all tied with a ribbon that somehow managed to match the dress she was wearing that day.

In the dozens of letters Colin had sent her, he wrote down every detail of the place he was in from the sunsets to the colour of the postboxes. The friends he was traveling with were both music students, desperate for either a career break or to find a new purpose in life.

One of them, Freddy, has been teaching me about the beauty of song writing and how all great pieces of music begin. I'm nowhere near the grandure of Mozart or the beauty of Beethoven or any musicale we've ever attended, but I'm enjoying it nonetheless.

I've found that in my writings there's always one thing I can never quite describe correctly. I search through books for the right words that could even begin to do you justice, my dear Y/N, but I find none. There's no word for describing the way you watch a musicale, or the way you talk about art and reading. There's no word on earth that could do you justice.

So, I hope this poor man's attempt at a song, written under strict guidance and a watchful eye, will begin to convey, just how much I love you.

Y/N had read the letter over and over, her eyes scouring each and every line, taking in the sloppy slant of Colin's handwriting and how he smudged the ink in his desperation to write and write and write.

She pulled out the final sheet of the letter and let out a small surprised gasp. It was a piece of music, the notes written precisely and intricately, the lyrics written messily and scrunched up underneath it. It was obvious which part Colin had been trusted with.

To Y/N

Your Song - by Colin Bridgerton

Y/N stood up from her desk and walked over to the pianoforte that sat in the corner of her room, covered in a thin layer of dust. Y/N wasn't an expert on the pianoforte, her and Colin had bonded over their failed attempts at playing. Colin could sing, though. And as Y/N read through the lyrics, tentatively playing a couple of notes on her dust keys, she could hear him singing it, his hand in her hair as they watched the sunset from the garden bench at Bridgerton House.

Their romance had been kept quiet. The ton was used to the two being openly affectionate with each other, constantly hugging or holding hands and none of them realised when it turned from friendship to romance.

Y/N and Colin had sat in the rose garden of Aubrey Hall one summer night, the sounds of the ball drifting over to them along the gentle breeze. Colin had quietly begun singing along to the song, his hands gently tracing a dance on Y/N's bare arm as she rested her head on his shoulder, her eyes shut.

Colin's singing voice was beautiful. And as Y/N played the song he'd written for her, she could imagine him sitting beside her and singing along, his hands over hers as she slowly played the notes.

Attending the opera without him felt bizarre. They'd begun a routine of sitting next to each other in the box, sharing the opera glasses and softly commenting on the music, the costumes, the lighting.

Y/N sat down in the box, scooting her chair close to the balcony. Her mother sat down next to her and sighed happily as she took in the view.

"Isn't this lovely?" She asked, picking up her opera glasses and looking through them at the stage. "I do love a concert."

Y/N said nothing, merely nodded. She kept thinking back to Colin's letter, of his promised return home in time for the concert. In time for him to sit down next to her, take her hand, and whisper about the music.

Y/N glanced up at the box the Bridgerton's sat in and tried not to let out a defeated sigh - still no Colin. Francesca caught her looking and gave her a sympathetic smile along with a shake of her head and Y/N turned back to the stage, trying not to let the disappointment sink in.

The orchestra began warming up, the music notes blending in with the quiet chatter of the audience. Y/N couldn't stop her eyes from constantly scanning the audience, the stage, the boxes, for any sign of Colin.

An excited whisper went over the audience as the lights were dimmed and the lights on the stage that illuminated the thick, red curtain were turned on.

For a minute there was silence. And then the orchestra began playing as the curtain flew up, revealing the actors on the stage.

My gift is my song, and this one's for you

And you can tell everybody

Y/N felt her heart do a bizarre skip. She recognised those words. She'd read them over and over again each night before she went to sleep. The piece of paper they had arrived on was now well worn and creased and she'd meticulously copied out the notes and the lyrics for fear of loosing them.

She scanned the audience again and felt her heart stop. The concert faded away as she focused on the man standing in the corner near the side door, a tiny smile on his face.

Colin Bridgerton stood with his hands behind his back, smiling up at her, his chin covered in the stubble of a beard. He was tanner then before and his hair had gotten lighter but it was still Colin.

Her Colin.

You see I've forgotten, if they're green or they're blue Anyway the thing is, what I really mean Yours are the sweetest eyes I've ever seen

Y/N giggled and felt a smile appear on her face as she gave Colin the smallest wave possible, not wanting to attract attention. Colin waved back and nodded to the door that led to the auditorium. Y/N nodded in return and watched Colin disappear out the side door.

"Go on, then," Y/N's mother said, tapping her daughter's knee. "Go find him."

Y/N quietly slipped from her seat and pushed open the curtain, blinking at the bright lights in the corridor.

As she made her way down to the auditorium, she could hear angry voices that were trying not to yell. She rounded the corner and saw Anthony, Violet and Benedict Bridgerton all standing in front of a bemused looking Colin.

"You said you'd be back by the concert!" Anthony hissed, clearly irritated by Colin's lateness.

"It's hardly my fault the train got stuck by a tree, is it, Anthony?" Colin asked, sighing. "I'm here now, however, am I not? Stop fussing."

Anthony went off again, flailing his limbs around as he tried to knock some sense into Colin, his mother trying to be the peace maker between the two as Benedict tried, and failed, not to laugh.

"This isn't funny, Benedict!" Anthony snapped, turning to face his other brother as he snorted.

Benedict's smirk faded as he realised he was about to be on the end of Anthony's rant. He sighed and crossed his arms, physically bracing himself as Anthony went off again.

Colin, looking both bemused and annoyed at his family, turned and spotted Y/N, hovering at the stop of the stairs. His face fell from an annoyed smirk into a stunned smile as he stared up at her.

"They're actually both," Y/N said to Colin, her voice quiet enough that the three other Bridgerton's present had yet to realise she was there.

"What are?" Colin asked, walking up to meet her, taking each step slowly.

"My eyes," Y/N replied, smiling, dropping the skirt of her dress. "They're both colours."

Colin chuckled and looked like he was blushing. "I told you I wasn't good at song writing."

"Everyone else seemed to enjoy it," she replied as she heard the audience applaud loudly.

"Because Freddy worked on it for months until tonight," Colin replied. "Even then he wasn't sure about performing it. If he'd performed the version I'd written the ton would be complaining. I'm not very good at it."

"I think you're better at it than you believe, Mr Bridgerton," Y/N said as she continued walking down until they were both on the large step that broke up the stairs. "I'm not sure about the beard, however."

"Why?" Colin asked, a hand subconsciously flying to his chin and running across the stubble.

"Well, it just means that every time I go to kiss you, I will have to be tickled and scratched by it," she replied, her hand covering the one resting on his chin. She entwined her fingers with his. "But I can live with that."

Colin laughed and leant forward, kissing Y/N with the passion and desperation of not seeing her for six months. His hand rested on the back of her head, carefully minding her hair as his thumb stroked her skin.

"I think I'm going to stay here for now," Colin said softly, breaking apart from her, resting his forehead on hers. "Stay with you."

Y/N looked up at him, feeling his breath on her cheeks. "Colin Bridgerton, are you -"

"Yes," Colin said, cutting her off. "I am. Because it took being apart from you for six months to realise what I was missing. To realise that I travel the world searching for purpose and reason, when, in reality, my reason is you. The purpose of my entire being is you.

"Without you, I'm half a man. Without you, the travelling begins to feel like running away and I don't want to run from you. I want to take your hand and run with you. Forever if we wanted. I can run until you can't run anymore. And when you can't run anymore, I'll carry you."

Y/N smiled, pressing her lips together as she savoured the taste of his kiss. "Words are your forte, Mr Bridgerton," she said softly, stroking the side of his head, threading her fingers through his curls. "I'll run with you to the end of the world and back again. I'll take your hand in mine and I will never let you go. Not again."

Colin pressed his lips to her and Y/N smiled against his lips before returning the kiss. He smelt of his cologne, the sweet caramel biscuits he loved and, somehow, the floral, homely scent of Bridgerton House

He smelt of home. He was her home. Simply being in his arms was enough.

"I've just realised something," Colin whispered in her ear.

Y/N looked up at him, staring into his eyes. "What?"

"My family is watching us."

Y/N glanced behind him and saw the three Bridgerton's pretending to occupy themselves with anything else. Benedict was investigating a painting, Anthony was admiring the ceiling and Violet had been reading the program but glanced up at them with a smile.

And despite it all, Y/N let out a snort of laughter and dropped her head on to Colin's shoulder. "Of course they are."

Colin giggled, actually giggled, and rested his head on top of hers. "Better get used to it, love, I doubt they'll ever stop staring."

[wh6res]

dreams come true | yuta

"soulmate or not. i don't shoot blanks." — ny

[ part of the my bloody valentine collection ]

tw. gore, blood, murder, death, killings, mentions of illegal organ trafficking, violence, mentions of stalking, minor character deaths, weapons (a knife and a gun), almost (??) suggestive content but nothing happened

disc. this is rlly fucked up and yuta is unredeemable. i dont condone such acts. this is all a work of fiction and meant to entertain.

wc. 5k

every time you sleep, the void is sickening. it was all you could see, lightyears and lightyears away of pitch black that made your head dizzy and your stomach dry heave. you've always wondered when you'll start dreaming about your soulmate's memories. they were like little secrets, another way for two people to be intimate without even being together. their days were flashing before their soulmate's eyes in the form of a dream. it's as if you spent the day with them!

you loved it, the whole concept of it. it sounded so wholesome and sweet and jesus fucking christ, you've always been such a hopeless romantic.

it was sweet until it turned sour. you loved it until you hated it. it was romantic until it turned downright terrifying.

you wake up covered in cold sweat, panting and gasping as if you've run a whole marathon.

moonlight seeps through your glass window, slightly left ajar for the midnight breeze to pass through – you walk up to it, pull it shut, and draw your thick curtains together. you exhaled, breath shaking as you tried to anchor yourself back to the ground.

with the only source of your light disappearing, darkness envelops you whole. for once, you craved the void. you want that void back if it meant never seeing something like that again – something straight out of your worst nightmare.

"119, what's your emergency?"

"uhm, i think… i think i just witnessed a massacre."

you reiterate everything you saw in the dream – the mahogany door, paint chipping off the drywalls. the doorknob was rusty, so were the hinges, and it made an ominous creak when pushed open. the light switches on, the first you see was a bunch of dirty ice coolers in what should've been the living room, it wasn't even the slightest bit organized. they were everywhere, and the floor looked grimy and disgusting, like there's a stain they can't seem to scrub off. only when your soulmate has stalked closer did you see the labels haphazardly taped on top of the ice coolers.

kidneys. livers. lungs. pancreas. intestines – you nearly vomited on the floor, trying to relay everything you saw to the operator on the other end of the call.

then came the gruesome parts.

their deaths.

they were five people in total. men clad in cheap t-shirts and pants, wearing all these similar leather jackets. some were well-built, ripped in the arms and thighs, but some were skinny, the jackets hanging on their small frames.

they never stood a chance against him.

your soulmate is agile, quick on his feet with outstanding eye-hand coordination. only equipped with a butcher's knife, but it was all he needed to take them down and send them knocking on inferno's gates. he was skilled, knowing when to pounce and where to slash his knife to maim but never to kill. by the time your soulmate was through with them, everything is bloody red. all the victims' eyes widened as they sputtered and choked on their blood – not dead, but dying...

because your soulmate wasn't done yet.

a killer should have a modus operandi, should they not? so he took out a desert eagle, stood before the bleeding bodies, and shot two bullets straight into their eyes. the finishing touch? carving a frown on their faces with his butcher's knife.

the operator only told you one thing after she's made you describe the place for them to track the crime scene down.

"double-check all your windows and doors."

because you couldn't be too sure, not when you have been granted a front seat to the sad face slayer's most recent endeavors.

the detective eyes you with a certain pity. maybe that's why you don't bother meeting his eyes. you sit still on a chair, camera blinking red behind him, the interrogation room is freezing even with the thick jacket you're wearing.

seven billion people in the world and you're soulmate's a ruthless serial killer who took it upon himself to purge the world of evildoers – he was playing god, no wonder the detective is looking at you like that.

"uhh…" he's awkward, fidgeting in his seat. "and you saw this all in a dream?"

"yes."

you've known him only minutes ago. mark lee was his name and he seems to be a subordinate of a higher, more experienced detective named kim doyoung. you don't know whether to feel offended or not for having a doe-eyed newbie taking care of the case, but you pushed it at the back of your mind, knowing his superior is watching on the other side of the two-way mirror.

"did you have, like, other past instances where you dreamt of him? of what he…" mark looked like he was going to throw up. "what he does to his other victims?"

you shook your head. no. "i've mostly just heard of him on the news. i don't think i have the stomach to find out in-depth what the killer does."

mark takes out a folder, features walking the fine white line between looking apologetic or wanting to say me too. "i'm, uhh, really sorry to hear that."

there's a sudden pregnant silence encapsulating the interrogation room. it felt like you were mourning for something, the chains of dread dragging your heart to the ground as it pounded against your ribcage. mark looked like he wanted to say something, but you swore his eyes darted towards the camera in the corner and decided otherwise.

"anyway…" he trails. flipping the folder open in one swift motion. "past sightings have given us the sad face slayer's name."

he slaps down a picture of a man, his hair raven and a permanent scowl etched on his face. the quality was shitty. it looked like it was a screenshot taken from zoomed-in cctv footage.

"nakamoto yuta, twenty-five, japanese, and has slipped one too many times past authorities that at this point, it's practically a talent."

and just like that, it made sense why you're here.

your lips pursed in contemplation, palms quaking as your fingers reach forward to inspect your soulmate's picture. "and… you want to use my soulmate connection –" you glowered. never had a sentence sounded so fucking cursed and utterly wrong. "– to catch him?"

mark can't look you in the eye. "yes. he's very elusive. his killings have been happening cross-country and, as you can see, have garnered national media attention. the police are hanging by a thread here. a month in his case and all we got is his MO, name, and that he has this weird god complex on him. if we can't catch him by the end of next month…" he shrugs. "the feds are going to interfere, sooner or later."

"so…" you trail, urging him to continue.

"so, we need as much information about him as we can get and your dreams about him will be able to provide that."

fucking great.

the much newer revelations of precisely who it was on the other end of the soulmate connection put a significant damper on your mood. you'd like to think your new little cop buddy who follows you around gives you the least bit sense of security, but alas, it doesn't. not when you've seen first hand how yuta took down five men all at once without breaking a fucking sweat – you absolutely refuse to call him your soulmate, you'd never accept a person with his nature as a soulmate.

you try to hide the bracelet mark handed you last two weeks ago, during your time spent in the precinct's interrogation room.

"please have this on you at all times until we catch him, okay? this is for extra measures, just in case something happens to the cop assigned to guard you. just press the little button here and we'll be there before you can even finish shouting 'help!' – hey, i was just kidding! what's with the face?"

considering you're now probably being hunted alive for snitching on a serial killer? mark lee, that was not funny at all.

"do you have to get inside the lecture with me?" you whine, shielding your face with your hair when you notice people shooting glances at the rather handsome cop they assigned to you. "it's not like he'll attack in broad daylight! and in a fucking classroom, for that matter."

jaehyun looks just about ready to hurl you out the window. "lower down your voice," he scolds. "serial killers don't pick a time and place, sweetheart. he kills when necessary and if it's fucking necessary to murder everyone in that classroom to get to you? he'll do it in a fucking heartbeat."

you sigh when the chair next to you screeches against the floor, the aforementioned male taking his seat right next to you. jaehyun felt more like a babysitter than a cop, who seems to have a habit of constantly inputting his not-even-needed opinions on the most superficial things.

are witness protection protocols like this?

it was a good thing that overgrown bat doesn't come hanging around in your apartment, but he does have the police car parked right across the building's entrance. judging by how meticulous and thorough he seems to be, he won't miss any face that comes in and out of the building.

you didn't forget exactly why you're under witness protection. for the cops to waste one good officer to follow you around, you needed to be valuable and being valuable meant sleeping through nightmare-induced dreams of what your soulmate does for a living. the scenes are so gruesome, so graphic and utterly gory, that you dart towards the bathroom first thing after waking up in cold sweat, draining all of dinner down the toilet bowl.

after dreaming of him in action a few times, you've now completely understood what detective lee had said regarding yuta's god complex. it was unsightly, yet there was a twisted sense of heroism to it. if there's one thing, he only gutted the bad guys – but that didn't make nakamoto yuta any less of a bad guy, himself.

i need to ask you a favor [sent 2:05am]

JJH: what? [received 2:10am]

often the nightmares were too much. too much that you thought of escaping its horrors by never getting a wink of sleep ever again – until you realized you're a witness and is probably the only chance for the seoul police department to catch that bastard.

buy me sleeping pills? [read 2:08am]

when you peep out of the window, you find an empty spot across the road where jaehyun usually parks the police car. twenty minutes later, you answer the knocking on your door. he used that little "code" he did for you to know it was him. jaehyun was glowering and muttering about how he wasn't some errand boy when he shoved the plastic bottle in your hand yet, you still thanked him nonetheless.

the pills worked like a charm. you managed to stay asleep throughout the whole night, ceasing those episodes of yours where you jolt awake in the middle of dreaming about the sad face slayer's memories.

life continued for you. it became a little bearable, but that didn't mean the horrific murders you see in your dreams are something you can get used to – you don't think you'll ever get used to the sight of him slashing his victims, the blood trickling like a goddamned waterfall.

today the dreams were different. anticlimactic, per se, if you compare it to the violence so utterly present in his memories.

the first you see were black gates, then it shifted to him ordering coffee in a café (amazing what a simple black mask can hide). it switched to him walking on a sidewalk, then he arrives at his destination, an apartment building – it wasn't too rundown, nor was it extravagant.

the serial killer takes the elevator and walks up to a mahogany door –

your room number is a blaring sight.

you couldn't be wrong, not when the 506 with the missing zero in the middle was a sight you saw every day, going and coming home from university.

that was your front door.

he was at your front door.

you jolt awake, ignoring the icky feel of sweat making your clothes cling onto your skin. ice creeps up your spine and freezes you over when you notice with a sinking realization.

those black gates are from the university you attended. that café is your favorite study nook. and that sidewalk is a route you take every day.

you clamp your hands on your mouth as tears roll down your cheeks in rivulets. you pull the comforters up above your head, fear gripping onto you with a vice-like grip as you sob.

it was in the dead of night, moonlight grazing the confines of your room and hours away from dusk. you finally utter those three words in a frightened whisper.

"he's stalking me."

as if having the overgrown bat jaehyun following and annoying you around wasn't enough, you now have another person keeping watch over you. mark lee, unlike jaehyun, may not be as ripped with muscle, but you heard from your cop buddy that the young detective has a few black belts under him. people at the precinct said that if they have to choose one person who can ever come close to the sad face slayer's agility, mark lee's your guy.

"you gotta be shitting me," you mutter, leaning close to jaehyun to whisper like high school girls talking about gossip. "he doesn't look the type!"

jaehyun, in turn, plays along and copies you. "yeah, true. he gets that a lot, i think,"

"guys, i'm literally in the back seat. i can hear everything."

the change hadn't been too drastic. at least mark was there when jaehyun proved to be difficult, pulling him towards the other way when the older male tried waltzing into your class again. "you don't need to sit next to her in her class! are you serious? there's one exit and entrance and we're on the fifth floor. breaking into that classroom will be the end of nakamoto's serial killer career!"

you shoot mark an appreciative smile, one he quickly returned before hauling jaehyun around the hallway. "we'll just be at the canteen, okay? press the 'lil button on your bracelet and we'll be right there!"

shaking your head with a slight smile on your face, you entered the classroom, sat in your usual spot, and did some of your readings from our other class to kill time. you hardly hear the screech of the chair next to you as it was pulled back. not like you cared much for whoever sat down next to you, but you can't deny there's that feeling of missing jaehyun when he used to force his way into the lecture.

"settle down! settle down, people!"

the professor enters and the class begins.

you were meticulous with your note-taking system. it's thorough, leaving no room for information to slip you. having already printed hard copies of the powerpoint presentation and simply jotting down some extra key points mentioned by your professor.

you were just about to raise your hand for a question when you feel something warm graze past your arm. you absentmindedly look down.

the breath is sucked right out of your lungs.

hi, soulmate

there, scribbled with an ominous red crayon on a small piece of paper. it was almost laughable how innocent it looked but when you follow the ring-clad hand, up the black hoodie he's wearing, and finally to his face—

"hi! i'm yuta."

his cheshire smile spikes up your heartbeat. it makes you want to throw up, makes you want to slam your head against the desk. the fight or flight hormone you have is making you restless, eyes pinned on the serial killer sitting next to you, scared that if you avert your gaze, he's going to take out that desert eagle and shoot you until your skull caves in and the bullets in his magazine empties.

"but judging by your reaction, i don't think introductions are needed, hm?" his tone is easy, conversational even and it shoots a freezing jolt of fear right up your spine. it makes you sweat profusely because you don't fucking know what to do, your thoughts in complete and utter disarray.

"just press the little button here and we'll be there before you can even finish shouting 'help!' – hey, i was just kidding! what's with the face?" you swallow, sneakily pressing the button without breaking eye contact with the serial killer sitting in front of you.

"look upfront. now." yuta orders and you nearly snap your neck as you turn your head with lightning speed.

"i thought i was above the soulmate rules, but here we are. my soul is either too tainted or too great to be tied to such trivial things, but oh well, we learn to work with what we have. surprisingly, i learned to like dreaming about how your day went."

you feel something sharp poking at your thigh and when you look down, he has a silver butterfly knife pointed against you. the precision of the angle he held it with doesn't slip your notice. one slice of that knife, no matter how small, and he'll be spilling your guts in this classroom.

a fat tear rolls down your face.

"can you imagine how much my heart broke when i learned you were spying on me? leaking information to that snobby detective? to those incompetent cops? bad baby, that was very bad of you."

"yuta—"

"you think the cops can save you from me?"

his other hand comes in contact with the nape of your neck, holding your head in place as he leaned down to invade your space. he scoffs, and you can picture that terrifying cheshire grin you've seen one too many times in your dreams.

the knife digs through your coat, the tip hardly poking your skin only because he doesn't want to drive it into you yet. how did he even manage to get inside the university? not to mention the weapons he possessed? shouldn't anyone be suspicious when they see a man dressed in all black, clad in jeans and a hoodie, into a university—

he even dressed the part. with that hood drawn up and carrying that one notebook, he looked fairly normal. someone who can easily blend in with the crowd.

you eye your professor, willing him to look at you but your soulmate is having none of that. you squirm when he drives the knife further, at the base of your stomach. with his other hand, he twirls a lock of hair around his finger. "now, now, soulmate. you don't want half the people here to get hurt, do you? unless... that can easily be arranged—"

"no!" you whisper, head jerking to the side to look at him humming in satisfaction. damn. out of all the faces he's seen contorted with fear, yours is his absolute favorite. with those pleading, glassy eyes and parted lips, yuta is tenting in his sweats.

"thought so," he chuckles. "let's get up. we're leaving. that old crook doesn't care if students just up and went in the middle of his lecture."

you don't want to think about how he even knew that because it implied attending the lectures a good amount of times. it's with sinking realization that jaehyun was right. if it weren't for him insisting to sit next to you, nakamoto yuta would've long gotten you in his claws.

you tried gathering your things until he purred into your ear.

"ah, ah, ah. you wouldn't be needing those with where we're going."

the hallways were empty, not that you had much time to scream for help when he had a knife pointed up your back, shoving you into the fire escape stairs. within the tranquil confines of the staircases, the sad face slayer couldn't fucking care less for your personal space.

he disgusts you greatly, he needn't do anything but stand there in front of you but you can already smell the long blood trail from his path. it reeks of rotting flesh and that infuriating god complex he had left a sour aftertaste.

"you know, i genuinely wanted to get to know you," yuta pouts, shaking the hoodie off his head. his hair raven, it's ends kissing the nape of his neck. he looked like he came right out of a shounen manga but the bloodlust in his eyes is something that can never be masked. "i detested the soulmate connection at first, i thought i should just kill you off because you could be my loose end."

his humorless smile is enough to give you nightmares.

"but seeing how sweetly normal and untainted you are made me hold back," the butterfly knife appears before your line of sight, yuta teasingly dragging the tip right down your cheek to trace your tears. "so, why did you snitch, baby?"

you shiver when he noses the side of your neck, inhaling your scent as his other hand hooks underneath your top, freezing fingers making you jolt. when you don't reply, his patience starts to dwindle. then again, he was never a patient man.

"answer me, you bitch. why did you rat me out?" gone is the playful lilt in his voice. the vibrations surge through you as his deep, demanding voice scares you shitless.

you feel, hear, and smell him everywhere. this wasn't like any nightmare. this is real, and you won't magically wake up on your bed, sighing in relief, knowing he isn't there, that it was all just in your head. no, this was very much real and there's absolutely no escape.

"i didn't," your voice cracks. "i didn't mean to—"

"bullshit!" he yells. you wail in pain when he slams you against the wall, head aching as it came in contact with concrete. "because of you betraying me, i nearly fucking got caught, and i never get caught!"

you were full out sobbing at this point, noisy and unsightly as the snot mixes with your tears. your only hope now is he gives you a quick, painless death and that he doesn't carve and mutilate your face like what he always does to his other poor victims. "i'm sorry! please... i'm so sorry. i was scared—"

he coos mockingly, tilting his head to the side as he inched his face closer. "aw, scared? my sweet little soulmate was scared?" he places the blade flat against your neck. as humiliating and degrading as it was, you almost peed on your clothes. "how about now? i'm sure as hell that you're fucking terrified for your useless life right now."

you cringe when his hand abandons the expanse of your stomach, no longer inching higher, finding its purchase on the hair sitting at the crown of your head. he holds you in place like that, forcing your head parallel against the wall, with his whole body pressing up to you that it's nearly suffocating.

"just one quick little slice," he taunts. you hiccuped when you feel the feathery light scrape of the blade moving against your skin. "you won't even have time to scream… but i'm sure we don't want that, do we?"

you forgot how to speak. forgot how to breathe. whenever your mind wanders, you've always thought about how you'll give this killer a piece of your mind, with the amount of fear and sorrow he inflicts upon other people. but you guess realities were a lot more different than expectations. the yuta you dreamed of meeting is in handcuffs, but fate is a fickle little thing.

"do we?" he repeats, slicing ever so slightly at your skin. enough to draw blood in droplets, never a waterfall.

"n – no."

he smiles. "you can make it up to me. do you want to make it up to me?"

the butterfly knife digs even further. a warning. and if you value your useless life, you should be smart enough to know what to answer. drawing a shaky breath, you tried forcing the ends of your lips up to a smile. "of course, yuta."

your voice breaks as your sobbing grips your body whole. the fear consuming your entire being like a parasite consuming the host. you would've shut down altogether if it weren't for the calloused hands gently gripping your face. "i know, i know. i see how regretful you are, baby. don't worry, i won't hurt you. you'll make it up to me."

anyone would be fucking stupid if you believe those words coming from a serial killer.

in your wrecked state, you barely register that he's pushing you down to your knees. skin coming in contact with the freezing linoleum floor as you refuse to look at what his hands are doing. yuta has pocketed his knife. the sound of a belt unbuckling in itself added insult to injury.

you stare blankly at his shoes as he shoves his bottoms down enough for his cock to show. if you squint hard enough, you'll see tiny splatters of blood in the shoelaces. whether or not he feels you're unresponsive, he doesn't show. maybe he doesn't care entirely. he takes one of your hands and used it to wrap around himself. he gasps, sharp, followed by a hiss.

you feel it throbbing and it strengthens the disgust you feel. no way you're going to give him the satisfaction of eye contact when you're already forced to blow this psycho.

"eyes up."

you sniffled, vulnerability present in the tone you speak. "i don't want to. please, don't make me."

if words alone aren't enough for you to follow orders, maybe you'll feel more motivated if held at gunpoint. it's unmistakable, the infamous desert eagle you've only seen in your nightmares. the last thing you ever expected is to be on the side where the bullet comes out.

the barrel is freezing as he digs it into the crown of your head. "soulmate or not. i don't shoot blanks."

your eyes looked up then. glaring as the tears rolled down your face. "you're a monster," you mutter under your breath. where you got the confidence to fight back is unknown.

"i've heard that before, be more creative next time," he holds your hair tight in one grip, shoving you forward, eye-level to his throbbing dick. "now… suck, baby."

"freeze!"

you knew that voice, you've been hearing it for the last two weeks. "jaehyun–!"

yuta cuts you off, shoving the gun into your mouth. the safety clicking off resonating in the tranquil room. it's deafening, and it makes you immobile.

"hands up. step away from the civilian." whether or not mark is nervous as he points the gun at the serial killer, he's doing a damn good job of hiding it.

yuta sighs, exasperated as he throws his head back. his raised arms came down to tuck himself back in his jeans, and the action made jaehyun's calm exterior crack. "i said, hands up, asshole!"

"chill out, motherfucker. i'm just trying to wear my pants." the serial killer hisses, glaring at jaehyun over his shoulder.

"mark, call back up already. what are you doing?" jaehyun mutters, side-eyeing the young detective whose gun shakes as he holds it up. the taller cop takes a step forward, eyes never leaving the notorious killer as he addresses you curtly. "(name), come here."

just as you plant your palms to the ground to push yourself up, one of yuta's hands shoves you down quick as lightning. "no. she stays here, with me."

jaehyun scowls, takes another step forward. "and what makes you think i'm going to let that happen?"

"i don't think. i know."

there's a constant ring in your ear as the gunshot temporarily renders you deaf. you've shut your eyes in utter fright, hands shooting up to cover your ears but it was too late. you refuse to open your eyes, you didn't want to see a dead body lying before you, even if it belonged to a heartless serial killer.

but when your eyes fluttered open, it's not yuta bleeding out on the ground.

"no, this can't be – jaehyun!"

it was a bullet straight to the head, no one could've survived a shot like that. his eyes are empty as he stares at you, unblinking, stoic. the color is yet to drown away from his milky complexion. but you can't even manipulate yourself into thinking that jaehyun's still alive. not when his eyes are empty, not when he just looks so lifeless.

it couldn't have been yuta who pulled the trigger.

his weapons were on the ground and the shot rang too fast. the sad face slayer couldn't have crouched down for his gun to shoot the cop, it would've taken too much time. and among the three men, there's only another person holding a weapon, and that was –

"great shot, mark."

the detective smiles, but with the blood splattered on his face, it looked cold. "told ya i've been practicing."

yuta hauls you up by the arms, addicted to how frail your body feels as it collapses against him. he's finally got his little soulmate in his arms. and he will never, ever let you go.

the cops lost – you've lost.

yuta, with a sense of victory coursing through his veins, took the liberty of trailing little pecks down your neck as he mutters, "mine, mine, mine!" but you couldn't care less about his display of mocked affection. not when the other person meant to protect you, turned out to be everything you think he wasn't.

mark must've felt the gravity of your stare as he crouches before jaehyun's bleeding body. grabbing the fallen cop's gun, he took it upon himself to empty the magazine. the lopsided grin he sends you broke your resolve more than yuta ever could.

"i'm sorry. it's nothing personal."

jenoluck (c) all rights reserved