#assuming you can read it without setting something on fire

[xmo-rmon]

Drinking game called "Vain Repetitions" where you read the book of mormon and take a drink every time a verse starts with "Again,"

[lowrisemiller]

ᴛᴏᴜᴄʜ-ꜱᴛᴀʀᴠᴇᴅ

bucky barnes x fem! shield agent!reader

first time writing for bucky <333

safe house, during a storm. after a long mission, you’re stuck sharing a room with bucky. you’ve always assumed he keeps his distance because of his past. but when the storm knocks out the power and you curl up on the couch, cold and shivering, he finally opens up — and his hands, calloused and careful, don’t stop at comfort.

masterlist | 3k words | soft!dom Bucky, praise kink, reader receives oral (f), unprotected PIV(she on da pill), morning sex, deep emotional intimacy, touch starvation themes,, reader is referred to as “sweetheart” and “baby”, slow and loving sex, post-orgasm cuddling, mentions of past loneliness, body worship, Bucky is obsessed and down bad, vulnerable!Bucky, safehouse setting, canon-typical trauma referenced, no use of y/n

The rain hasn’t let up in hours.

It batters against the tin roof like it’s trying to get in — thunder rumbling over the hills like a warning. You’re curled on the couch in a pair of flannel pajama pants and a worn S.H.I.E.L.D. hoodie, one knee pulled tight to your chest, a book in your lap you’ve read the same page of five times. The fire’s dwindled to glowing coals.

And Bucky’s sitting across the room like a statue.

He hasn’t said much since you both got in hours ago —wet, bruised, exhausted from the mission. Just stripped off his tac gear and sat down on the edge of the bed, mechanical hand flexing like it couldn’t settle. He’s been like that ever since you joined his team —polite, helpful, quietly protective. But always… distant.

Like if he got too close, he’d ruin something.

Another crash of thunder shakes the cabin. You flinch without meaning to, hand clutching the blanket tighter.

He notices. Of course he does.

“Come here,” he says, voice low but solid.

You blink up at him.

“What?”

“You’re cold,” he murmurs. “Don’t argue, I can tell. C’mere.”

You hesitate. He looks so serious, dark hair still damp from the rain, black T-shirt hugging the hard lines of his chest. His expression is guarded, but his eyes are warm — warmer than you’ve ever seen them.

You cross the room slowly. He shifts, leaning back against the headboard, lifting the blanket beside him in invitation. Something tight coils in your chest. You’ve slept in the same room before — hotel rooms, bunkers, quinjet corners — but never like this.

You sit beside him. He wraps the blanket around your shoulders, pulls you in.

And suddenly you’re tucked under Bucky Barnes’ arm, your head resting against the soft fabric of his shirt, the sound of his steady breathing in your ear.

Your body relaxes before your mind can catch up. He’s warm. Unbelievably warm. And strong. You feel it in every inch of him —the way his arm curls protectively around your back, the subtle press of muscle as you lean into him.

“You okay?” he asks after a while.

You nod, barely. “Yeah. Just… long week.”

His chuckle is barely audible. “Understatement of the century.”

For a moment, it’s just the storm and the soft rhythm of your breathing. Then he speaks again — so quietly it barely registers.

“I hate seeing you scared.”

You look up. His jaw is tight, his gaze focused on the firelight.

“I wasn’t—”

“You were,” he says gently. “It’s okay.”

You swallow. There’s something aching in his tone —something raw.

“You don’t talk this much,” you say softly.

“I know.” He turns his head, meets your eyes. “Doesn’t mean I don’t think it.”

Your breath catches. His eyes are ocean-deep, stormy like the night outside, but warm — so warm.

“Can I tell you something?” he asks.

You nod.

“I think about touching you all the time.”

Your heart stops.

He keeps going, voice steady but trembling at the edges.

“Not just sex. Not even that, really. I think about… brushing your hair out of your face. Holding your hand. Pulling you onto my lap just because I can. I think about waking up next to you.”

He swallows hard.

“But I don’t. Because I don’t want to scare you. And because I don’t know if you’d want that. Want me.”

The rain seems to hush for a moment, like the world is listening.

You reach up slowly, fingers brushing the edge of his jaw. His eyes flutter closed like he’s afraid to believe it’s real.

“I’ve been waiting for you to touch me,” you whisper. “I thought you wouldn’t want to.”

His eyes snap open —like you just lit a fuse.

“Don’t move,” he says hoarsely.

You stay still.

His hand —warm, broad, careful —comes up to cup your face. His thumb brushes your cheek, then your lip. His other hand, the metal one, rests on your thigh with featherlight pressure, like he’s scared you’ll flinch.

You don’t.

You lean in.

And he kisses you.

It’s gentle at first —lips soft and reverent against yours, like he’s still scared he’ll wake up. But then you press closer, fingers tangling in his shirt, and he deepens it —groaning into your mouth, tongue brushing yours, hunger bleeding into every movement.

You shift into his lap, straddling him instinctively, and Bucky grabs your hips like he’s grounding himself —like if he lets go, he’ll wake up alone again.

His pupils are blown wide, lips swollen from kissing, and the look he gives you is hungry —like you’re the first warm thing he’s touched in years.

“You’re driving me insane,” he growls. “You know that, right?”

You rock against him gently, and his jaw goes tight.

“You can touch me,” you whisper, hands in his hair. “Anywhere. However you want.”

He huffs a breath like he’s trying to keep from losing it.

“Fuck, sweetheart…”

His metal hand grips your thigh, spreading you wider over him. His other hand slides under your hoodie and up your back, warm and solid, tugging the fabric over your head and tossing it aside.

When he sees you —bare, flushed, breathing hard —he curses under his breath and cups your chest with both hands, thumbs dragging over your nipples until they stiffen. You gasp, grinding against the hard line of him beneath his sweatpants.

“Lay back for me,” he murmurs. “Let me take care of you.”

You do —breathless, already aching —lying back on the bed as he kneels between your legs.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your flannel pants.

“Every inch of you.”

He drags them down, slow and deliberate, along with your panties —eyes never leaving yours as he exposes you. When you’re naked and spread out under him, he runs his hands up your thighs, parting them wider with firm, reverent pressure.

Then his mouth is on you again.

Warm, slow, worshipful.

He kisses your inner thigh, then the crease of your hip, teasing you until you’re trembling, trying to press yourself against his mouth. But he pins your hips with his metal arm and groans, low and broken, like the taste of you has him spiraling.

He laps at you slowly, teasing your clit with the flat of his tongue before sucking softly. You moan—high and sharp —and tangle your fingers in his hair. His tongue circles, flicks, licks deeper until you’re whimpering, thighs trembling.

“You’re so wet for me,” he breathes, voice muffled against your cunt. “So perfect, so good…”

You try to respond, but your hips buck when he slips one thick finger inside you, curling it just right.

“Oh—fuck, Bucky—”

“That’s it, baby,” he growls. “Let me hear you.”

He adds a second finger, fucking you slowly with a perfect rhythm as he sucks your clit again. The pressure builds like a wave — deep and hot and inevitable.

“I—I’m gonna—”

“Do it, sweetheart. Come for me.”

You fall apart on his mouth, writhing, gasping, your hands pulling hard at his hair. He doesn’t stop — licking you through it, holding you firm until your body finally slumps back against the mattress.

He looks up at you, lips slick, eyes glazed with want.

“You okay?” he asks softly.

You reach for him, dazed. “Need you inside me.”

That’s all it takes.

He strips fast — sweatpants gone, briefs gone — and your eyes go wide at the size of him, thick and flushed, already leaking at the tip.

“Condom,” he mutters, reaching for his bag—

“No,” you whisper. “I’m on the pill. I want to feel you.”

His eyes darken. “You sure?”

You nod, pulling him in. “Please.”

He lines himself up, rubbing the head of his cock through your slick folds, and groans like he’s barely holding it together.

Then he pushes in —slow, stretching you inch by inch, until he bottoms out and you’re both gasping.

“Jesus Christ,” he pants. “You’re so tight. So fuckin’ perfect.”

He stills, letting you adjust, kissing your shoulder, your cheek, your jaw. “You okay, baby?”

You nod. “Move.”

And when he does —slow and deep at first, then faster, rougher —it’s like the world narrows to just the two of you. His hands grip your hips, his mouth never leaves your skin, and every thrust drives you higher.

He murmurs praise like a prayer—

“So good for me.”

“You feel like heaven.”

“I could stay inside you forever.”

When he feels you tighten around him again, he fucks you through your second orgasm — hard and deep — before groaning into your neck and coming inside you with a shudder that rocks his whole body.

He doesn’t pull out. Not yet.

Just stays there, buried deep, breathing against your collarbone.

“I’ve never—” he murmurs. “Never had this. Not like this.”

You stroke his back, warm and damp with sweat.

“You have it now.”

He kisses you then —soft and slow, like a promise.

And this time, it’s not about hunger.

It’s about home.

The fire’s burned down to embers.

Outside, the rain has stopped. All that’s left is the gentle patter of water dripping from the eaves and the faint glow of early morning light peeking through the curtains.

You’re warm —so warm —tucked beneath the threadbare sheets, wrapped in Bucky’s arms.

His body is solid heat against your back, chest rising and falling steady with sleep. One hand is splayed across your belly, the other curled under your neck, holding you close like he still doesn’t quite believe you’re real.

You shift slightly, and his breath catches. The hand on your stomach tightens, thumb brushing your skin like a reflex.

“Did I wake you?” you whisper, voice soft.

“Mmm,” he hums sleepily, lips brushing your shoulder. “Been awake. Just didn’t wanna move. S’too good.”

You smile, turning in his arms to face him. He’s a mess of tousled hair and morning stubble, blue eyes heavy-lidded and soft.

“Hi,” you murmur.

“Hi.” He leans in, noses at your cheek. “Can I kiss you?”

“You never have to ask.”

The kiss is slow —tender and lazy, mouths fitting together like they’ve always known how. His hand cups your cheek, thumb brushing just beneath your eye, and you melt into him like you’ve been waiting all your life to be held like this.

When you shift again, your bare thighs brush his —and you feel it.

He’s hard. Already. Pressed warm and thick against your stomach.

You pull back to look at him.

His cheeks are pink. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to—”

“Don’t be sorry.” You reach down, wrap your hand gently around him. His hips twitch.

“I want you again,” you whisper. “Just like this.”

He swallows hard, eyes locked on yours. “You sure?”

You nod. “Slow n soft.”

His jaw clenches, just a little. Then he exhales and kisses you again —sweeter this time, deeper, like a slow ache.

Like gratitude.

The sheets fall away as he shifts over you, pushing your legs apart with his hips. He slides his metal hand beneath your thigh, lifting it gently as he rolls his body over yours.

He’s big —broad and warm and so careful —and you feel yourself open for him all over again.

“I didn’t hurt you last night, did I?” he murmurs, brushing your hair back.

“No,” you whisper. “You made me feel so good and safe.”

He groans softly, like that this alone is enough to undo him. Then he reaches between you, guides himself to your entrance, and sinks in slow.

The stretch makes you sigh —familiar now, but no less intense. He presses deeper until your bodies are flush, his cock buried inside you, and stays there for a moment, unmoving.

His forehead rests against yours.

“I could stay like this forever,” he breathes. “You feel so good. So warm. So perfect.”

You wrap your arms around his shoulders, legs around his waist.

“Then stay.”

He moves slowly, rolling his hips in deep, rhythmic strokes —not chasing release, just feeling you. Making love like he has nowhere else to be, like your body is the only place he’s ever felt peace.

The way he looks at you —like you hung the stars —has your whole chest aching.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers. “Can’t believe I get to touch you like this.”

You kiss his cheek, his jaw, his shoulder. “Touch me more.”

And he does. Big hands exploring your body all over again —your waist, your breasts, your thighs. He never stops moving inside you, never pulls all the way out. Every thrust is slow and deep and intimate, like he wants to leave a piece of himself inside you.

When you start to tremble beneath him, he cups your face with both hands.

“Let go, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”

You come with a soft cry, clinging to him as your body shudders. He follows moments later, gasping your name, cock pulsing inside you as he buries himself one last time and spills deep.

You stay tangled together afterward — skin flushed, breath slowing, heartbeats syncing.

“I think I’m addicted to you,” he murmurs against your neck.

“Good thing we’re stuck here another day.”

He chuckles, pulling you tight against him. “Don’t tempt me.”

But his voice is soft. Sweet. Like he wants to be tempted. Like he already is.

divider by @cursed-carmine 🏷️ @zevrra

[casssmalefantasy]

LUCKY NUMBER ONE

PAIGE BUECKERS X READER

| synopsis: you’ve been best friends with paige bueckers since you were ten. she just won a national championship, is about to be the number one pick in the draft, and is everything she’s ever dreamed of being. but tonight, she only wants to show you one thing—that she knows exactly who’s been there with her through it all.

| warnings: smut (18+), sub!paige, alcohol, language, suggestive/explicit content, softdom reader, mutual pining, friends to lovers, years of built-up tension finally snapping, childhood best friends with so much history, lots of touching/flirting, emotional vulnerability, fluff + filth

| word count: 3.4K?

| author’s note: draft day! just wanna say so proud of paige and can’t wait to watch her in the wnba. go dallas wings 😋

you didn’t make it to the championship.

you tried—really tried—but life’s messy sometimes. your internship extended last-minute. your mom’s birthday landed on the same weekend. flights were outrageous, and honestly, you didn’t want to take away from paige’s moment by getting on a last minute flight, so instead, you sent her a four-minute long voice memo, followed by a bouquet of her favorite flowers and a text that read:

just win. then we’ll celebrate in new york like we always said we would.

and she did.

of course she did.

—

you were packing your suitcase when she called, her name popping up with that stupid contact photo of her from freshman year—smiling through a mouthful of froyo and barely holding her phone up.

“yo,” you answer, on speaker. “you alive?”

“barely,” her voice is a breathy groan. “new york. storrs. new york. hartford. back to new york tomorrow. i’m gonna combust.”

“damn,” you grin. “you really hate being famous, huh?”

“shut up,” she laughs, and you can practically hear her flopping into a hotel bed. “i miss you.”

your chest tightens. “you saw me like, two weeks ago.”

“too long,” she murmurs. “new york’s not gonna be the same until you’re in it.”

you roll your eyes, smile curling at your lips. “you always this flirty before the draft?”

“just with you,” she fires back, quick and easy.

you’ve known her since you were ten—rec league basketball, both of you too tall and too fast for your own good. you were paired up for dribbling drills and hated each other for half the season. but something shifted during a snow day makeup game, when she passed you the ball for the game-winner and tackled you in a sweaty hug before you could even react. been best friends ever since.

best friends who talked every night.
best friends who held hands under blankets.
best friends who almost kissed in the backseat of your mom’s car that one summer.
best friends who never talked about it.

until now. maybe.

—

you land in new york two days later.

paige demanded—her words, not yours—that you stay in her hotel suite. she’s not there yet, still in hartford for the uconn parade, but she left your name at the desk and made sure everything was set up.

paige buckets

paige: text me when you land. and when you get to the room. and when you lock the door. actually just facetime me. i miss your face.

you do. she answers with geno in the background yelling at someone about parking. azzi waves from the passenger seat.

“you safe?” she asks, eyes soft.

“yeah,” you say, smiling. “room’s huge. kinda lonely without you, though.”

she hums. “few more hours.”

you wander while you wait.

grab coffee. hit up a bookstore. text azzi to check up on paige, assuming she might be sleep in the car to answer. and get a long, sappy response back about how paige is good and how she’s lucky to have you.

it makes your throat tight. you don’t say it, but there was a time when you thought maybe it was azzi and paige. when their chemistry on the court bled off of it, when their inside jokes got too private, when you found yourself jealous and you hated that feeling.

but it was never like that. not really.

paige always made space for you. always answered. always showed up.

—

she shows up again, hours later.

hair tied back, hoodie slung low, tired eyes but a sleepy smile just for you. you let her in, and she drops her bag, instantly wrapping her arms around your waist.

“hi,” she mumbles into your neck.

“hey,” you whisper back.

neither of you moves for a while.

you talk that night. about the draft. the future. texas.

“i’ve never even been to dallas,” she admits.

“you’ll learn it,” you say. “you learn everything.”

she glances at you. “wish i knew what was gonna happen next.”

you don’t ask what she means. she doesn’t clarify.

—

draft day hits like a wave.

you wake up to a glam team at the door—hair, makeup, and paige’s stylist, brittany, ready with a pulled look just for you.

“she said to make sure you matched,” brittany smirks, holding up a sleek, black dress and chrome accessories. “like, matched matched.”

“she’s insane,” you mutter—but you still wear it.

when she sees you, her jaw goes slack.

“you look... wow,” she says, eyes dragging down and back up. “like, real pretty. dangerously pretty.”

you smirk. “you’re not so bad yourself, number one.”

she’s in an all-black suit, cut sharp and cropped at the waist, paired with an expensive top that leaves just enough skin. she looks like money and power and something you want under your hands.

“you look good,” you say.

“i know,” she teases—but her ears go pink.

at the draft, the lights are blinding.

paige looks calm, collected, nodding at people, shaking hands, posing for photos. but you know her. the way she tugs on her thumb ring. the slight bounce in her shoe. she’s nervous.

you squeeze her hand under the table.

“with the number one overall pick in the 2025 wnba draft... the dallas wings select... paige bueckers from the university of connecticut.”

you swear you don’t breathe until she stands.

the rest is a blur—hugs, cameras, the walk across the stage. you wipe a tear before anyone sees.

—

the after party is chaos.

paige changed into a fitted black crop top and slacks, her chain catching in the light. she’s laughing, flushed, dancing with teammates, drink in hand.

she hasn’t stopped touching you.

a hand at your waist. her fingers brushing your thigh. her mouth too close to your ear when she says, “you looked so good tonight. might be the reason i got drafted.”

“stop,” you laugh.

“i won’t,” she says.

later, she leans in, warm and tipsy.

“i want you,” she murmurs, lips barely grazing your jaw.

you freeze. “what?”

“you heard me.”

your heart trips. “paige—what do you mean?”

she grins, smug. “you know what i mean.”

—

she stumbles into the hotel room first, laughing as she kicks her shoes off, one hand still tangled in yours.

“you’re drunk,” you tease, shutting the door behind you.

“i’m happy,” she corrects, spinning around to face you. cheeks flushed. pupils blown. she looks fucking gorgeous.

“and loud,” you say, taking a step forward.

she doesn’t back away.

“and maybe a little needy.”

you raise an eyebrow. “needy, huh?”

she bites her lip. steps closer. the tension has been building all night—hell, for years—and now it’s finally about to snap.

“you looked so good tonight,” she murmurs. “like... fuck, you don’t even know.”

you smile, slow and dangerous, backing her toward the bed. “oh, i know.”

she lets out a breathy laugh as her knees hit the edge of the mattress. you push her back gently until she’s sitting, legs spread just a little, hands at her sides.

“take your top off,” you say, voice low.

her eyes go wide—but she listens. always listens to you. fingers slipping beneath the hem of her crop top, dragging it up over her head. her breath catches when you lean in and press a kiss just under her jaw.

“you’re so pretty,” you whisper.

“so are you,” she says quickly. like it bursts out of her. “like... fuck. i’ve wanted this forever.”

you kiss her before she can say anything else—deep, wet, messy. you climb into her lap, straddling her, grinding down just enough to make her whimper. her hands find your hips. you grab her wrists.

“uh uh,” you smirk. “you don’t get to be in control tonight.”

her whole body shivers.

“lay back.”

she obeys.

you kiss down her chest, slow, dragging your tongue between her breasts, mouthing at her skin until she’s squirming. her breath stutters when you suck a bruise into her ribcage. when you pull her pants down, she lifts her hips for you like she’s been waiting her whole life.

“fuck,” she whispers, eyes fluttering. “please...”

you raise an eyebrow. “please what?”

she swallows. “please touch me.”

you push her thighs apart and press a kiss to the inside of her knee. “use your words.”

“i want your mouth,” she says in one breath. “please. i need you.”

“i got you baby,” you murmur, grinning.

when you finally press your tongue to her pussy, she gasps—sharp and desperate. her hips buck up immediately, but you pin her down, arms hooked around her thighs, keeping her open for you.

“fuck—fuck, please—” she moans, eyes glassy, head thrown back.

you hum into her, tongue flicking fast over her clit, then slow again—just to hear her whine. she grabs a pillow, covers her mouth, like she’s trying to stay quiet. you pull off just long enough to look up at her.

“you better let me hear you.”

she whimpers. nods. “i will—i promise, just—don’t stop—”

“i don’t plan on it.”

you keep going until her thighs are shaking and she’s begging, voice hoarse, gasping your name like a prayer. when she comes, it’s loud and messy—her whole body trembling, fingers clutching the sheets, her face twisted in pleasure.

you crawl up her body, kissing her as she catches her breath. her lips are soft, slow against yours, like she’s thanking you without words.

“you okay?” you whisper against her mouth.

“that was so hot i think i blacked out.”

you laugh into her shoulder. “you’re so dramatic.”

she pulls you down beside her, still breathing hard. “i’m in love with you.”

you smile. “i know.”

“and you’re mine now, right?”

you kiss her again. “was always yours.”

[v33sworld]

It should be obvious

(Sevika x Fem!Reader)

Premise: Most people would be able to make a cup of noodles by themselves without setting a fire. You are not most people

It's currently 8 in the morning (perfect time to be awake and making a bowl of instant noodles), and you're stood in your and Sevika's apartment kitchen, attempting to read the instructions on the noodle packaging, which is split down the middle after being torn open with intense, and unnecessary aggression.

You manage about five minutes of squinting and scanning over the words before immediately assuming you know what you're doing and throwing away the packet. Then, you proceed to carelessly rip open the noodle packet and let the stale clump of pasta drop into the ceramic bowl with a loud 'C L U N K', making your heart drop for a second. You'd somehow managed to escape Sevika's rigour mortis-like grip, and you weren't going to risk waking her up because of a stiff cube of noodles.

After recovering from your momentary heart attack, you proceed to tear the packet of seasoning in two, not even bothering to spread it before ever so carefully sliding the bowl into the microwave, shutting the door as gently as is physically possible, and pressing start.

Twenty seconds of mindless zoning out later, you start to notice a scent. A scent that smells a lot like... burning. That, paired with the flickering orange light coming from the microwave, gives you the sense that something might be wrong. Luckily, just as you got the bright idea to open it and grab a bowl of burning noodles with your bare fingies, a torrent of heavy footsteps comes down the stairs as Sevika rushes into the kitchen with a concerned, but not surprised, expression.

"What did you do? "

She asks accusatorily as she picks up the fire extinguisher

"Nothing! I was just making noodles. "

You reply defensively while Sevika opens the microwave and puts out the fire

"Making noodles shouldn't end with me putting out a fire! Did you even read the instructions? "

She says disgruntledly as the white foam settles the flames

"Of course I did, I'm not dense. I put the noodles in the bowl, put the seasoning in, and put it in the microwave. "

You answer as if it weren't the densest sounding sentence in Zaun, making Sevika's expression fall flat

"What about the water? "

She asks, making your singular brain cell falter for a moment

"...

What water? "

You reply innocently, Sevika already able to feel a headache coming on

"Baby girl, please tell me I'm dreaming and that I didn't just hear you say you tried making noodles w i t h o u t w a t e r? "

She asks hopelessly

"I guess I missed that part on the instructions. "

You reply with an embarrassed smile, a light blush tinting your cheeks that makes Sevika's blatant annoyance somewhat soften. She massages her temple with her fingers and sighs loudly

"Just... go back to bed. You shouldn't even be up at this time, let alone setting fires. I'll clean up down here. "

Sevika says, her tone a mixture of irritation, fondness, and a twinge of amusement at your ridiculousness

"Are you sure? I feel bad leaving you down here. "

You reply as a yawn slowly drawls from between your lips, your early wakeup starting to catch up with you

"Relax, sweet girl, I can handle it. Now go on. I'll be right next to you before you know it. "

She agrees, hooking her finger under your chin, lifting it, and pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead before gently pushing you to the doorway, starting you on your journey back to bed.

♡

Hope you all enjoyed, and my apologies for the y e a r long hiatus. (P.S: this fic was inspired by real life events 😶)

[lostpai]

Xià Fěi and Vein’s Dual Powers

Vein and Xià Fěi hold the powers of Foresight and Hindsight – here's how I came to believe it. Get ready for a lengthy post—this is the first in a series. (30 mins read).

Have you heard of the dual power theory? Let me explain this beautiful theory first caught by @miyamiwu (GIFs and correlating posts can be found here and here).

For those who missed it, Vein and Xià Fěi’s frames in the LULL Bridon arc credits feature VFX that spill into each other’s frames. As seen in her post, this does not happen with any of the other four characters, all of whom have confirmed powers. We know that Link Click never does anything without a reason! What does this mean, and why are these two characters highlighted over the others? Well Miyamiwu threw it out there that maybe it correlates to them having a dual power. And that theory makes so much sense.

Where have we seen the use of dual powers? We've seen dual powers used before with Lu Guang and Chéng Xiǎoshí, as well as with the siblings Li Tianchen and Li Tianxi. So, this isn’t something new. In fact, of the 7 confirmed characters with powers, 4 of them are in pairs. This makes it highly probable that two new complimenting characters who act as a duo are also connected in this way. The symbolism is clear: the two share something deeper, just like the other powerful pairs. If four others can have dual powers, why not Xià Fěi and Vein, a pair so tightly connected both in contrasting personalities but equal and parallel in their relationship? Now that I've explained this dual theory my goal was to figure out and prove which powers makes the most sense for either of the two to have. To help me I've set up two cannon-bound rules that helped me find what it is. Rule #1 Dual powers means the characters would either have parallel powers with complementary abilities or opposite powers that act as a counterbalance to each other. Vein and Xià Fěi are constantly contrasting in these frames. Not only do the characters themselves contrast personality-wise, but their friendly dynamic complements each other. Given this dynamic, their powers would either need to complement or contrast with one another, or exist in the fine line between. It also goes to show that assuming Vein has smoke or immortal/resurrection powers would not work, because it needs a fitting connecting power.

Rule #2 There’s no reason to assume Link Click's powers are elemental. Based on what we've seen, Powers are tied to photography, time travel, or something related to the body or the mind. Introducing elemental powers would, in my opinion, mess with the established lore.

Assuming Xià Fěi has light powers doesn’t quite fit, even if it aligns with Rule 1 about having a parallel or opposite. Similarly, the theory of Xià Fěi having fire powers falls short if Vein’s doesn't seem like he would complement or contrast with that power in any way. In my quest to narrow down the possible powers, I couldn’t help but find a loophole that had me wondering why Xià Fěi and Vein's eyes always glow so brightly, as if their power is constantly active. Even the other main characters' eyes dim when their powers aren't in use. This led me to a third rule—more hypothesis than canon-based, so your free to ignore it— My biased Rule #3 - If both character’s power is one that stays on, it could be a passive or constant ability, always active but perhaps unnoticed until the right moment. This rule genuinely backs you into a corner, but it only managed to put my last two remaining theories on a pedestal... So, after digging myself into dozens of holes including loopholes to find potential powers that actually fit within a time-travel story, I finally hit on foresight and hindsight—and suddenly, everything clicked. Maybe its called link click because everything always clicks into place. hahaha....just pretend I'm funny. These concepts not only make sense for both characters story arcs, but they’re backed by existing theories and new evidence I've uncovered. Now, I’ll dive into each of their respective powers, explaining the why, how, and what that support my theory.

Vein: "Immediate Foresight" Memory that does not transcend time, but transcends a series of moments.

GIF by ydotome

Vein’s foresight works differently from Lu Guang’s—while Lu Guang’s power transcends time, Vein’s memory doesn’t carry over through each reset. I will stand by my belief that Vein didn’t know or recognize either Lu Guang or CXS before they were introduced to each other in episode 3— otherwise he would have simply killed them both.

While it looks like Lu Guang is on the edge of having both foresight and hindsight, I'd like to argue his power is more akin to clairvoyance. The difference in these powers is significant, but different enough for it makes sense for characters to have such similar abilities. Let me explain further. Vein's power is PREDICTIVE Lu Guangs power is TRUTH

Foresight - Vein's power is about predicting what might happen, based on the present circumstances. It’s more about a sense of anticipation or intuition—He would know what’s likely to happen. The where and how is clear, while the why and when remains predictive until within that moment.

Clairvoyance - Lu Guang’s power is about seeing specific details of the future, present, or past. He wouldn’t just predict what might happen; he has seen and experienced clearly both the past and future as if it were happening right in front of him. It’s about truth—the direct and clear perception of events, like he’s watching a film. 

Since the director mentioned that Lu Guang always stays within his own timeline, I don't believe their powers see different timelines or possible outcomes, but rather 'the timeline's current outcome' in varying levels of clarity. This view of Foresight aligns with Vein's almost superhuman reflexes,

Next 3 GIFs by ydotome I invite you to take a look at this scene until you REALLY understand it. On second glance there's something subtly off about the timing of Vein's reactions.

Study how swiftly Vein moves—it looks effortless. Too easy. Upon closer inspection, it even feels like Vein's own movements anticipate a frame or two before than the other even prepares to strike. Like he is one full moment ahead of each strike. I have several frames here for example (this gif is originally 69 frames long)

While many anime characters can dodge like this, few do it with their eyes closed for three full swings without some kind of 'extra sense perception.' So I'm calling it evidence. Here Vein is showing complete confidence in his knowledge that he won't get hurt. 

Just the fact that he stands still with that smug ass little smile screams that he is in control of the situation. I'm hypothesizing that Vein learns the truth of the moment only within that moment; everything before is predictive. The closer he is, the clearer the information becomes. In that instant, he can dodge every strike because their next move shifts from a probability to a complete certainty. This gives him a sense of control and explains why he often looks so pleased.

I believe Vein is constantly downloading new information about his opponent and surroundings mid-battle, making him the perfect, constantly adapting adversary. Vein is the embodiment of 'right place, right time,' and I doubt need to elaborate further. But I'll show some more GIFs instead.

This post is kinda long already but I also invite you to look into the Vein vs. Shao Yuanyuan fight as well. Because it feels like another use of his foresight abilities (Video link here) and finally Vein's fatal limitation.

If too much is happening in too short a time, it’s possible to slip through the cracks of his foresight. He may fail to react to an immediate danger simply because his attention is divided between too many things. While he might have the right information, he is still human. In a scenario like this, Vein could potentially be open for attack but never taken completely by surprise. So why was Vein blindsided by his own death?

There could be better theories to this part specifically, but maybe Vein never saw the possibility of the attack coming, because Vein's death was never supposed to have happened. It was too fast, and everything he thought would happen changed too quickly. Simply because a more powerful third party had inserted themself into the situation. (From what I understand Lu Guang changed something in their timeline and Vein had never been killed before).

GIF from @shantechni The REAL genuine fear shown when Vein is called by his real name, and during the heart attack show how caught off guard he was. His mind racing, dare I say it had little to do with the fact that he couldn't breathe, but that there was a flaw within his foresight. That he was finally unable to take control of his precious moment. He didn't know what was going on until it was too late to prevent it. But there is nothing wrong with Vein's foresight, because he still figures it out. But at the moment of his realization, Vein's death is already in motion—an attack happening in real time without even touching him, its not something that he can run away from. And it is this eye opening realization on the brink of death where Vein is given the answers he's looking for.

He knows his killer, he knows what happened... and all he can do is laugh at having been one-upped. It's all so very interesting—and he would love to see who plays the next piece in this game of chess. Vein's death is now a certainty. His own tricks used against him. And his final words,

“So that’s how it is…” I'd like to slide in another extra piece of proof for my Foresight theory. This is the 6th episode's cover art. I think its pretty self explanatory.

Screenshot @mysterialistic (posts relating to this sentence here, here, and this) Thank you so much for bearing with me, but we're only halfway done! I already cut this bad boy into two separate separate posts too! Next up....

Xià Fěi: "Hindsight" The tragedy of only ever figuring it out in hindsight. Power born from memories and a grief that transcends the present...

"I’ve made up my mind. No matter how bizarre the truth, I’ll find out what happened."

The idea of hindsight comes from it being the inverse of foresight, and fitting Xià Fěi's potential character development. 

I propose that he always had the power and it wasn’t 're-awakened' until Vein’s death. With Vein’s foresight gone, Xià Fěi's hindsight is born.

I think Xià Fěi always had the ability but was too young or traumatized to use it. His time at Chéng Wěimín's school raises questions. There’s a solid theory that the school was full of children with powers. (here and here).

(if you look up this scene you'll see Chéng is mouthing something, and from there we never see young Xià Fěi's eyes again, as they remain cast in shadow). There are a lot of inconsistencies with this new information, wasn't Felix only an exchange student for college? What's with this scene? What did "it's time," mean? Here me out, what if Xià Fěi's memory was altered by Chéng Wěimín? Xià Fěi seems unaware of what 'Bahati' was. He doesn't seem to know about the fire or the meaning of the word. If he remembered he could've helped them- or maybe warned them. But instead he was perfectly comfortable helping CXS question his previous boss, as well as Vein. Also how interesting is it, that he ended up working once in the same place that he went to school in at one point?? Xià Fěi feels like a character that follows the theme of returning back to the past. If not during the Bridon arc, that at least because we known off screen he's going to dedicate his life to finding out what happened to Vein. Another thing that stood out to me during episode 3 was when (time stamp 14:30) when CXS said "Bahati" there was a magical sound effect. I study these Link click sound effects a lot and they're always happening. Mostly when someone notices something or when one could make the case that someone is subtly using their power. For example the sound effect shows up the most around Vein and Lu Guang. And its always the same sound effect. What if Xià Fěi remembers when the name is spoken, but anything related to CXS's father is a trigger word for a memory wipe on the subject? Another piece of Xià Fěi's story. (Found by @joyokosuka, post here)

I want to believe Vein's interest in Xià Fěi has to do with their close connection and not just because there was a subliminal connection that comes with dual powers. If you believe in fate and all, which I’ll get into the next post. But I don't think either were actually aware of Xià Fěi's power, as it wouldn't have re-manifested until Vein's death. It also makes sense, because Xià Fěi was open to powers existing. Xià Fěi discovering his own past, and using his gift of hindsight would open up a whole can of worms for everyone. The good and the bad, and the past that should've stayed buried.

I imagine Xià Fěi will be pretty upset when learning about the past and revisiting his memories before Vein’s death. It’s going to destroy him if he figures out that Lu Guang and CXS were involved. I could see him using his power in a way that might allow him to re-experience or analyze past events but not actually go back in time. He will constantly search and long for for what he missed out on.

And if not to attempt revenge… then for closure.

Xià Fěi is taking up the gauntlet of an unwanted legacy for closure. How sad and ironic that Vein could've potentially been using his power along side him but Xià Fěi never realizes until the death of his counterpart. Xià Fěi's power gives an ulterior meaning to what he told our mains.

“but I’ll remember the time I spent with you guys forever”

It's so haunting. Knowing he was backstabbed by his friends. This feels like a self-fulfilling prophecy. The tragedy of hindsight.

Now after explaining where Hindsight would fit into the plot, I'll share the rest of the evidence for why Xià Fěi's power is Hindsight, more than just because he is Vein's inverse/parallel. In another post by @miyamiwu (Click here) beautiful theory by the way. There was one thing she said that stood out to me.

She explained that “In Mandarin Chinese, time is viewed in a vertical fashion. The past is above you, while the future is below you.”

Because of this I asked my friend for an impromptu lesson in Mandarin, to help me analyze that the name 夏斐 (Xià Fěi) can be linked to the idea of time. Thank you so much to Yuqianqian 🌸💕 for dealing with my madness.

In Mandarin the past and future is viewed in a vertical fashion only through a spoken fashion.

Let me introduce you to “The Four Mandarin Chinese Tones” which are used to identify the TONE (shēngdiào) of a word. You use each tone to help you pitch your syllables. All Chinese words have tones.

First tone: a level and higher pitch Second tone: rising, start from a lower pitch and end at a slightly higher pitch Third tone: falling rising, start at a neutral tone then dip to a lower pitch before ending at a higher pitch Fourth tone: falling, start the syllable at a slightly higher than neutral pitch then go quickly and strongly downwards

The reason the future is viewed downwards And past is viewed upwards is because they pitch upwards and downwards when you say it!

Fun fact you can figure out out which tone both the first and surname are in by using these diacritical marks.

1st tone:  ā 

2nd tone:  á 

3rd tone:  ǎ 

4th tone:  à

Neutral tone - a  (no pitch)

So Xià (is the 4th falling tone) followed by Fěi (the 3rd falling/rising tone). 

Chinese people usually give their kid a 2 words name or 3 words name. If the words in a first name were both the same tone it’s would be hard to pronounce. 

谐音 is a literarily trick similar to how a writer can use homophones in English to symbolize something. 

谐音 is when words can sound the exact same but be are spelled completely differently. 

“By, bye, buy” “To, too, two”  “Flour, flower” “Knight, night”

夏斐 Xià Fěi’s name actually uses 谐音

夏 is Pronounced Xià it means “summer”

下 is also pronounced Xià it means “down”

It changes meaning depending on the word next to it though, but other meanings of Xià still include; Downwards, Under, Below, Descend, Fall, Give birth too, Spate...

'Second of two parts'... guys is it obvious I ship Veinfei 下 is not typically not used anymore unless it refers to very specific instances of time, directions, or positions.

This play on words of Xià and the concept of 下 “down” works in tandem with the 4th tone. And brings us back to the original idea of “the future being below you.” It perfectly relates the idea of time to the name, while also holding symbolism. The future is below Xià Fěi.

And who is future?

Vein's name is first pointed out by @rainibao (here). That Vein’s true name - 萧未影 Xiāo Wèiyǐng relates to the concept of the future! 

I’d like to add that 未 by itself does not mean future, but rather it’s 未来.

未来 - Future 未 on its own means “not yet”  Both are falling tones.

Just in case I made this pretty confusing. I gave Xià Fěi's name as proof to show that he is RELATED TO TIME and related to VEIN. Meanwhile every example of Vein points to downwards symbolism as well. And even though Xià Fěi should represent Upwards symbolism, the fact that he also represents downward symbolism felt like it does help my case in relate to hindsight as well. But either way, heres some pretty obvious Upwards symbolism for Xià Fěi too.

This is a post by miyamiwu (here) guys wtf I already ran out of image space Here with the water Lu Guang is drowning and falling downwards into the Future Vein pulls Xià Fěi upwards above water into the past. Once again it also references unwanted legacies left behind by Vein.

In the end we see the huanting idea of Vein as a concept of life after death Xia Fei as a concept life before death  And Lu Guang representing death itself

Thank you so much for listening to my theory! I feel like this theory has revolutionized the way I see these two. Feel free to contact me or disprove or add to my theory. I took like a whole weeks to make this. Soon I will release the second part of my theory (yes I have more evidence). This time in relation to Liú Xiāo, how he fits into this entire equation, and what his other power may be. And what happens Post-Vein's death. PT. 2 (TBA)

[timkontheunsure]

Narcissistic family structures

Guesses about Blitz and Barbie Wire's relationship

Blitz says they used to be soo close, but she's not in the flashback to the circus.

Not the around during Fizz and Blitz performance, or his traumatic flashbacks to the accident. (I'm not counting her not going to Mammon's concert as that was clearly ment to be a date, but both Blitz and Fizz bottled it. Blitz even bought Fizz's ticket).

There could be any number to reasons for that, but I'm going bet on the logical one of + a bit of a twist here.

The invisible child

We've seen Cash set up antagonistic positions for Fizz (a kid who worked for him) and Blitz (his own son).

As Fizz the golden child, with all the conditional love that can be withdrawn if they are less then perfect.

And Blitz as the scapegoat, who is blamed for any and everything that goes wrong.

Cash is a narcissistic, and the most common 3rd child role is the invisible child. Barbie looks she was talented enough to keep her head down around her dad.

Not getting the abuse of the scapegoat, but not getting the attention either. Being neglected by her dad. And childhood neglect can be a risk factor to addiction. Initially it can also be a cry for help, and some of the attention they are lacking too.

I think she's missing from these memories, because she was overlooked generally.

This could go a way to explaining why she as a teenager she's scratched out her Circus tattoo. And flipping off the camera in their act poster. (Blitz has no scars so they have to be younger than 19. We'd probably see his braces if we could see his teeth).

If pre fire her dad has no use or time for her, what use or time does she have for him.

But that's no longer completely true. Barb's back in contact with her dad. (That who Blitz phoned).

And Cash was the one to sign her out of rehab. (Blitz is most likely who checked her in when things got really bad).

Mental health clinics/rehab normally want family to be involved in discharge. So the person has a place to go, and won't be made homeless.

That why Blitz is confused how she could leave without him knowing.

They've also talked since the fire; because she knows the name he's been using the last 5 years.

Which means unlike Fizz; she does know the fire, that killed their mum, was an accident.

But Barbie fall back on toxic family pattern of blaming Blitz when things go wrong.

People who haven't been in these relationships assume the kids will band together against the abuse. But that doesn't happen. They can be close unless the abuser turns up, or till something goes wrong. Like Barbie dose.

Her dealer dies as part of a random accident with a firework, and she immediately screams at Blitz for it. Reverting to his previously name for extra spite.

Then laughs at him for trying to be a family. I mean yes Blitz really should be reading the room here, but she's still going all in as daddy's little girl here.

With how she touches their mum's necklace, and the joint birthday card, and got of other happy pictures; it clear both twins loved their Mumma.

But it seems likely without Fizz, or Blitz; Cash would probably occasionally turn up to captive audience Barbie in rehab. So they could mutually lick wounds, and scapegoat again.

To truly get over an addiction you need to take a hard look at yourself and your trauma; and not just the things that were outside your control.

Because while they can make you more susceptible, ultimately it was normally your choice to rely on that substance. Be that alcohol, cigarettes or opioids.

(There are cases of showbiz parents force their kids to take substances. But don't know if that Barbie or not).

And I'm not sure Barb's taken that look yet at herself yet. The nurse who's takes odd delight in first blocking access to Blitz visiting Barbie, and then telling him she left months ago saying something pretty interesting. (Perfectly fine to block who you want from hospital, but the nurse is being strangely gleeful).

She calls Blitz a deadbeat. Which doesn't really make sense. Blitz is Barbie's brother. He's not the parent to her. He isn't responsible for Barb's bills, or care. She's an adult who seems to want honest work, (good for her🙂).

But that would definitely be how Cash would see it. Narcissis see children as tools to be used for the good of the narcissist.

This tells us that Cash has been at rehab frequently enough to charm the nurse on side. Instead of her trying to get Barbie to take a fuller look at herself, and her actions.

Unfortunately invisible child are more likely to be roped back in by narcissistic parents; if they get shown some of that attention they've craved when small.

I'm hoping that the longer she's out the less contact Barbie's going to have with Cash. With more of a life she'll no longer be as useful to Cash's ego.

And she didn't appear to tell him about her job with the chemists... Though that come be wasn't paying attention? Blitz does ask if Cash even asked... I'll cross my fingers that she gets to work things out alone for a wee while.

Basically all this is to say I buy that they were close pre fire. I buy Barbie, Blitz and their mum having a good relationship.

But I can't see a world were Barbie would feel secure enough to risk sticking her neck out for Blitz.

She's too much ingrained in the dinamic that things going wrong are Blitz fault.

Yep could end up being wildly wrong, but her being missing from the flashbacks, and being the invisible child would just kinda work for me. 🙂

[gay-dorito-dust]

Heres an idea what if ford and his infant baby BOTH got sucked into the portal? How would ford cope with jumping across the multiverse while trying to raise his child?

I’m going to assume the reader is the baby, so this fic is obviously platonic from here on out.

The man gets grey stress hairs at like 23/25 (no clue how old he is when he got sucked into the portal but I’m going to assume for this)

Ford didn’t mind if it was just him that got pulled into the multiverse, he would’ve found a way to handle it but being in a multiverse full of potential dangers with you, his child? The man is doing everything he can to set you up to survive and one day escape the multiverse and go home, regardless if it’s with or without him.

Ford is putting you first and foremost as you were the future, his legacy and his protege.

It was a daunting task to not only try and survive the multiverse but also dedicate time to raising his own kid, it was taxing on both an emotional and physical level for Ford as he made sure you were kept warm and well fed as possible while leaning himself with little to nothing, but he didn’t mind because as long as you had everything you needed to grow and be strong, that’s all that matters to Ford.

You grew up traveling with bandits, learning to speak 13 languages, read ancient texts, become royalty when Ford was king of the finger dimension for a brief period of time, only for a seven fingered man to take the crown and becoming a wanted criminal in multiple dimensions before you were even twelve. Your childhood was far from a normal one as your memories of home were mainly from stories Ford told you about at night when you were both sat near the fire.

It saddened Ford to know that you viewed home a lot differently than you did the multiverse but he couldn’t blame you. You had near enough spent most of your developmental years running from dimension to dimension, aiding rebellions and surviving say to say that if you both were to ever get home, Ford knew you’d be out of your element as all you’ve ever known was the multiverse and him.

This thought occurred to Ford on many occasions that he blames himself for ever letting you get dragged into this mess because if you didn’t then maybe you could’ve grown up with Stanley and lived a perfectly normal life. You were robbed of a childhood you could look back on in fondness and Ford couldn’t help but believe himself to be the cause as he stays up to watch over you, seeing his child mentally grow up faster then you should be allowed for your age broke his aging heart.

Would you be ridiculed for being weird if you were to ever go home much like he was as a kid? If so then he’d much rather stay in the multiverse for your sake rather than his own.

You had been through a lot and seen more then a child your age should and while Ford will forever be proud of the person you had become. His only wish was that you got to at least experience a portion of your life back home before all this, just so that you didn’t look at everything so weirdly and so alien.

Ford knew that sometimes there will be moments where there’s a disconnect between you two, something he had to accept that as the truth instead of trying to logically fix it, and instead try to meet you halfway in a comforting manner when you start to think that you were too weird for home as you sat on the rooftop of the shack.

‘Won’t Mabel and dipper find me…odd?’ You asked.

‘No of course not sweetheart, they love you and see you as their cool older relative they can trust to keep them safe and happy and seen.’ Ford reassured you with a pat on the shoulder before pressing a kiss to the top of your head. ‘You’ll be loved, so loved my little sharpshooter. I promise.’ He adds as he sees you yawn and instinctively brought you into his side, once again watching over you as you slept peacefully for the first time in a long while.

While Ford hated that you had practically been raised in the multiverse but he couldn’t help but be proud of who you’ve become when you pointed out a flaw in his plans for the quantum destabiliser weapon that he had overlooked. You were going to be okay, Ford knew it.

[sleepyangelkami]

PAINS AND ACHES e.williams

 ☆ WORD COUNT - 2.4K

ELLIE WILLIAMS X FEM!READER

 ☆ SUMMARY - ellie returns home from a late patrol to find you crying in the bathroom with your hands wound around your stomach. The red blotch on the bedsheets tells her everything she needs to know. Luckily for you both, she knows just what to do to take good care of her girl.

 ☆ WARNINGS - fluff! mentions of periods/blood, comfort, crying, mentions of eating? reader being dramatic because what other way would we have it? petnames, use of 'good girl' and other praises, domestic dom!ellie, nakedness (not in a sexual way), use of y/n, intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread 🩷

ellie stood in front of the stables, putting shimmer away while hopping from foot to foot. "you okay?" jesse questioned, eyeing her weird antics.

she was shuffling partly because it was freezing out and the jacket around her was doing next to nothing to keep her warm and partly due to the fact she was stressed. she was stressed because she knew you were stressed. this patrol with jesse had been late. she hadn't intended for it to be as so but they had got a little caught up on their way back with a couple stalkers. "yeah, just wanna get home." of course, ellie had no intentions on telling you about this run in with the stalkers when she did get home, she knew you worried about her enough as it was.

jesse nodded his head, yawning as he stretched his arms outwards. "you can say that again." as ellie finally clicked the bottom door of the stables shut. "see you tomorrow, tell y/n i say hi." you and jesse were close, he was practically an older brother, ellie knew this.

she pressed her lips into a short smile. "will do." before bidding her goodbyes. her eyes glanced down to the watch sitting on her wrist, you had given it to her for her birthday after countless times of her loosing track of the time. she was really bad when it came to that kind of management. it was now half eleven and pitch black if not for the power generated street lamps down the paths.

sleep was something you adored more than anything, sometimes ellie thought you may actually choose sleep over her. she knew you weren't one to stay up late. if it had been any other night, you would have been conked out asleep by now but ellie knew better. she knew that you needed her with you to fall asleep. she felt her guilt grow thick.

she made an effort to pick up her pace as she made her way down the path, finding herself at your guys' shared home in minutes. she could tell through the window that the living room lamp had been left on. you always left it on even when the girl scolded you countless times for it.

opening the door, the girl allowed the heat to envelope her. the fire was still alight, setting warmth throughout the house. sighing, she placed her jacket up against the rack next to the door, kicking off her boots afterwards.

it felt good to be warm again. she was sighing with her eyes closed, stretching out her neck as her feet carried her to the living room. she assumed you'd be there, either sitting by the fire reading a book or placed on the couch attempting to doze off, or stop yourself from doing so as you felt yourself grow needier for the comfort of your girlfriends embrace. upon realising you weren't in the living room at all, ellie's brows furrowed. "baby?!" she called out from the bottom of the stairs.

there was no panic laced in the girls voice, just mere confusion. she knew you were here, there was no way you'd be anywhere else, especially not without her. it was just unusual for you to be in the room without her, you always said it made you feel weird, it made you miss her impossibly more. she found herself climbing up the stairs, awaiting a response from you.

her head peaked through the bedroom door. "baby? you in here?" but she was met with mere silence. she found her feet shuffling towards the bedside table, switching on the lamp. she could see clearly now, her ears strained. she thought she could hear... crying? her eyes snapped towards the bathroom door that lay inside the bedroom, confusion dawned over her as she placed her ear against the door, knocking softly. "angel? what's wrong?"

you were crying rather loudly, not harshly but enough to cause concern. "els." you practically whimpered out from behind the door. you had been in excruciating pain for hours, awaiting your girlfriends arrival home. after a while, it seemed as though she may never come home at all.

ellies heart broke at the sound of your voice, choked out and small. "i'm coming in, okay?" though she didn't wait for your response, merely pushing the door open, slowly and carefully in case you had been standing close to it. the last thing she wanted to do was hurt you.

the sight she was met with caused her heart to completely shatter. there you sat, in an almost feeble position. you were curled up completely in on yourself, allowing your legs to fold into your chest. your cheeks were tear stained, lips bitten and wobbly. you thought you looked a mess and even though you needed her comfort so bad, you really didn't want her to see you like this. but to ellie? you were nothing short of perfect, the way you always were, the way you'd always be to her.

but that didn't stop her heart from aching. she hated seeing you cry. "oh, honey." she gave a sympathetic look as she sunk down onto the ground herself, opening her arms and letting you crawl into them. she watched as you instantly enveloped her, pressing your head into the crook of her neck. she could feel your hot tears against her skin. "c'mon, angel, tell me what's wrong."

but you only shook your head, pushing your face into her more. she tried gaining a look at you but all attempts were failed as she frowned, wondering what had happened. Her eyes were dancing around the bedroom, spotting a little red splotch on your guys' pink sheets. they were a baby pink, you had enforced this upon seeing them, you instantly fell in love. you loved just about anything pink.

realisation dawned on ellie as she realised what had happened. "awh, baby." she sympathised, hearing your choked whimper as you pulled her impossibly closer. "is it your tummy, hm?" her voice as soft as feathers. you needed her to be soft.

a nod fell against her skin as she watched your hair bounce slightly. "hurts." you cried against her, arms doing everything they could to keep her close. and it did hurt, god did it hurt, you had tried laying in bed in hopes that it would go away but it didn't it seemed as though nothing you could do could make it go away.

you just needed ellie. your ellie.

"my poor girl." she cooed, brushing the strands of hair out of your face. "how about i run you a bath, hm? get you into some soft jammies and into bed then."

and even though it sounded good, you could still barely move your body, every movement sending shocks into your stomach. "ellie." you whined lightly, though the tears had subsided. "don' wanna move." your cracked and broken voice was enough to have ellie shushing you, not wishing for you to begin crying again.

"i know, baby, i know." patting your hair down with her hand. "but it'll help and when we're finished we can get you wrapped up in bed, all nice 'n cozy, yeah?" you huffed against her neck. she moved your face with her hands, matting down your hair against your cheeks as she held your head in front of her own, smiling softly at the sight of you. she'd been on patrol a couple hours, not a second went by that her mind wasn't stuck to you even when she was getting tackled by stalkers. "how's that sound?"

you wore a pout but murmured a soft. "okay." nonetheless."

"okay." ellie grinned, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose. "that's my good girl."

ellie helped you strip out of your clothes, making sure to be extra soft and careful with you, pressing kisses against your neck and shoulder blade, gently guiding you through the process of getting undressed while the water ran in the bath behind you. she unclapsed your single necklace too, making sure no jewelry was on before lowering you into the bath.

the bath was warm, cozy and you could have fallen asleep if ellie hadn't warned you not to. she told you she was going to pick you out clothes, getting the bed stripped too and that she'd be right back. you'd instantly apologised, stating you hadn't meant to bleed on the bed, the girl laughed. of course you hadn't 'mean't to bleed' she kissed your temple and told you to stop worrying.

that was the best thing about dating a girl, they understood completely seeing as they had periods of their own.

by the time ellie returned to the bathroom, you had almost dozed off. the only thing keeping you awake was the distraction of the bubbles. you played with them, pushing them into your hands and squeezing them between your fingers. ellie was now dressed in a dark grey sweatpants and a black t-shirt, holding a pile of clothes for you too.

she offered to wash your hair and who were you to deny the experience? "did you eat anything, sweet girl?" It was the only thing ellie disliked about you. she didn't dislike anything about you, not really. but she knew how you could get, forgetting to take care of yourself when she wasn't around. it made her sick to her stomach. it was also what drove her to work hard on patrols, making sure she came home. she knew that without her, you'd fall. she'd be damned if she let you fall.

your eyes trailed towards her, a guilty look on your face. you didn't need to say anything for she was already giving you a pointed look. "'m sorry, els, i forgot." she knew you forgot, you wouldn't do it on purpose.

"it's okay, baby." washing the suds out from your hair. "just means we're gonna have to go downstairs and get you something in your stomach before bed, 'kay?"

but at that you whined out. "els, you promised!" all you wanted was to be wrapped up in her embrace. in bed.

ellie pressed a kiss to your wet forehead which was now clear of any suds or soap. "i know, princess." standing up from her sitting position on the edge of the porcelain bathtub. "wouldn't have happened if you remembered to take care of yourself." she wasn't trying to punish you, she was merely showing you that your own actions had consequences.

you sat with a pout on your lips, arms outstretched. "i know." you mumbled, feeling slightly guilty. but you weren't hungry. the hot water had soothed your stomach a certain amount, the ache wasn't as strong but it was still prominent. you knew that the minute you stepped out of the water you'd be hunched over in pain again.

unluckily for you, the water would have only gotten cold so the one thing you could do was get up and get dressed. ellie, once again, helped you. she dried you off with one of the white towels, helping you get changed after. you wore a white jammies bottom with little brown teddy bears on it along with a white spaghetti strap, she offered the jumper but you politely declined. you had gotten a little warm after your bath.

somehow, you managed to get from the bathroom to the kitchen, sitting on one of the chairs with your head laying on your folded elbows. you were babbling on about something while ellie was toasting you bread. she kept murmuring things like "yeah?" and "really?" or "is that so?" truth was, even you didn't know what you were talking about. But ellie liked to make sure you knew she was listening to you, even if your words were complete and utter jumbles.

"now." turning around with a soft smile. "jam or chocolate?" on your toast, that was.

"mmm." your stomach still hurt but the chocolate seemed so much more appetising right about now. "chocolate please, els."

ellie grinned at your manners. "good choice." she all but cooed at you before taking out the spreadable chocolate. she used a butter knife to spread it across the toast before popping two slices onto a porcelain plate. not before cutting off the crusts, of course.

"thank you." you spoke, beaming up at her. even if you hadn't wanted to eat anything, you were still beyond grateful for the girl going through so much trouble just to make sure you had food in your body.

"my good girl, using her manners." ellie spoke in an almost teasing tone, pressing a chaste kiss against your cheek. you grinned, face warming as she walked away.

you attempted at your toast while ellie stood by the kitchen counter, waiting for the kettle to finish boiling. she had grabbed one of the hot water bottles on the way down. it had a grey fluffy cover with a teddy bear on it, sort of like your pijamas. she filled it up with the hot water, turning to find you ready to sleep on the table. you had eaten almost three quaters of the food but it was all you could stomach.

"thank you for eating something, baby." she murmured against the supple of your skin. "so proud of you." you couldn't fight the smile even when your stomach did feel like it was getting stabbed.

soon after the girl had made you take some painkillers with a glass of water, telling you to drink that too to ease the headache. you listened to her intently, doing everything she asked before ending up back in the bed. this time, with the living room lamp switched off.

the sheets were a cream colour, little blue flowers dotted around them. they were your third favourite. ellie held you close, your back against her chest, legs wrapping around one another. she moved her hands against your stomach, the part where the water bottle wasn't touching. "you okay, honey?" you left out a soft and tired 'mm-hmm' "still hurting?"

"a little bit." you mumbled, almost asleep already. "but you make it stop." ellie's lips turned downward into a smile, trying to contain herself as she pressed a kiss to your shoulder. she was glad. "thank you, els, for everything. you're the best girlfriend ever." the girl merely chuckled against your shoulder.

"i love you." she spoke, voice soft and gentle, calming you.

you were sure you were drifting. you were practically already asleep though your lips mumbled the words. "i love you more."

to which she responded. "i love you most."

main masterlist/ellie's masterlist

[grimysash]

one of my favourite things to contemplate about the sashanne dynamic development/change is the fact that their roles are flipped upside down pre-amphibia to wartwood resistance arc.

pre-amphibia and s1 anne is such a fucking loser. she is literally so insecure and just takes whatever she gets, never hoping for more, she allows sasha to walk over her, humiliate her and boss her around. she is lowkey floating thru life and hoping it will all work out in the end eventually without putting in any effort for it ever to do so. she relies on sasha to protect her and stand up for herself. she's a ball of nerves and can never say no to something she doesnt feel comfortable doing and buries everything into the back of her subconscious because she doesnt want to provoke any unnecessary fights

pre-amphibia, s1-s2 sasha, on the other hand, is opinionated and cocky. shes the "idgaf" typa girl who gets what she wants even if she has to cut her own arm off to prove a point. she's bold and smug and always crosses other people's boundaries because she just automatically assumes they'll be okay with it and suck it up for her sake. she's controlling and if something doesnt go her way for just a few hours, she'll throw a hissy fit until the other party gives in and cracks under the pressure of her manipulations. she knows she's better than you and she won't be afraid to show it. yeah maybe she's overcompensating for something, maybe she's just trying to conceal her fears but when it really comes down to it? externally, she's a fucking wild force to be dealing with and rest assured, if you cross her you are dead. she has anger issues so severe its a wonder how she hasnt set herself on fire at some point

and then, suddenly, it's the other way around. s3b sasha is awkward, fidgety, fussy, she's afraid of her own shadow in the sense that she feels immense amount of guilt and doesnt want to fall back into her old habits again. shes trying her best to please anne as much as she can and she tiptoes around everything so hard you can't help but feel bad for her.

sure, she still has a mild form of anger issues, and to be fair, she was sorta pushy in commander anne trying to do "damage control" if you look at it from a different perspective, but. she's kinda a mess. especially in turning point. she literally ugly sobs reading anne's journal and realizing just how much her past actions have hurt her. she goes to sleep in the barn on bare chunks of hay because she just feels so horrible about herself.

anne is the opposite. she feels more comfortable about herself, she has goals, she knows that her families (both adoptive and biological) got her back and she finally learns to own up to her mistakes and accept responsibility. she's scared, she doesnt know what's going to happen tomorrow or even today, but most importantly is that she likes who she sees in the mirror now. she can always fall back on herself because she feels confident enough to do so and she wont take no shit.

so its a veeeery hilarious dichotomy to see them interact during the resistance era. now anne is the one who has to give a little nudge to sasha to move them forward together. she's the one who has to convince sash to take the helm once again and she isnt afraid to speak up her mind if she doesnt agree with her at the moment.

sasha's lenient, tries to hide how she feels all in favour of making anne more "comfortable" and hangs onto her every word. she's unsure and she so desperately wants to show that she's changed, she ends up tripping on her own feet.

i wonder how anne felt about this new side of sasha. her friend was kinda her idol, the cool strong one her whole life, the kid that protected her & marcy at the swings quite literally first time they met and she was her "follower", slinking in her shadows and quietly supporting whatever sasha wants to do next even at her own expense. and then anne has to be the one to take the reins because clearly sasha isn't in the right headspace now to do so.

same with sasha. she was used to the fact that anne agreed with whatever she said, but you see that anne is ready to take her down a peg if she ever deems it necessary to do so. she's generally just outspoken and expressive. she has sudden anger outbursts because she just feels so worried for others. maybe anne doesnt need her anymore like she used to, maybe she can protect herself now, including but not limited to from sasha herself

idk guys. its neat. it really is. and i wish there was more sashanne introspective resistance arc fanfic expanding on that idea cuz when they finally reunite both of them are completely different people, so even though they may have used to be friends in the past and shared history and know all the deets about the other, they dont know this new person. at all. not in the slightest. having to settle in with this vastly dissimilar relationship they got going on in comparison to the previous, all in the middle of a fucking war. it's like stopping talking to one of your childhood best friends in elementary and randomly renewing your friendship in college. you two have grown and evolved so much that really, all you know is their name.

it's both an exhilirating and a melancholic experience at once.

damn. i love the gays sooo bad i love my blorbos guys

[acheronsociety]

✶ BALLAD OF FIRE AND ASH

summary: they say the muses abandoned olympus. what they don’t say is why. some claimed betrayal. others whispered that a god particularly feared their power more than any titan… but they didn’t die—they ran. disguised in mortal skin, hiding from the gods they once inspired. now the primordials have built the veil, a trap dressed as a game, and three have been caught. hunted. suspected. desired by the ones who should’ve protected them. and the games have only just begun.

MODT MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

pairing: hades x f!reader ( melpomene ) word count: 1370 content warning: angst ✶ almost smut ✶ basically hades and you fighting through teeth and... tongue? something like that. a/n: this is the first drabble of the series "muses of drowned truths" and each god will be paired with a muse, so this means you will be assuming a muse form while reading ( hopefully you like them as much as me )!

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒓𝒐𝒐𝒎 was made of obsidian—walls smooth as oil, swallowing light. It matched him, really. All edges, no softness. The sort of place meant for interrogations, executions, or confessions ripped out with bloodied hands.

Fitting, you thought, that it was where you met him again.

He stood at the far end of the room like a curse spoken aloud.

Tall—imposingly so—his shoulders broad beneath a fitted black tunic, the fabric stitched with subtle threads of silver that caught the low light like veins of lightning. Your eyes descended upon his back, falling to his cruelly lean waist, as if the gods had carved him for precision. For war.

"You should be careful," Hades said without looking at you, his voice a ribbon of dark velvet sliding over thorns. "Fire burns out fast in a cage."

Your laugh was a flame of sound. "Better to burn bright than rot in the dark. Or is that what you prefer, Lord of Shadows?"

He turned then, slow and deliberate, and gods, his gaze hit like the crack of a whip. Cold, calculating, and far too amused. The kind of look that made you want to slap him—or kiss him just to watch that smirk fall.

Your eyes set on the scar that ran from the arch of his left brow, slicing clean through his eye before it crook-turned and vanished at the edge of his sharp cheekbone. 

How Hades had gotten it was still a mystery around Olympus, and you would have risked braving the Styx to unravel it. Instead, all the talk surrounding it was that the wound had made him more monstrous. You disagreed. If anything, it made him mythic.

"You mistake this for a cage," he said, snapping you out of your awful-timed thoughts. "This is a crucible. And you—" He stepped closer, each movement measured and menacing. "You're melting."

Your breath hitched when he got close enough. You didn’t back away, though. You wouldn’t. You were tragedy incarnate, not some simpering nymph who wept at the storm. 

Instead, you allowed yourself to brave the molten silver tempest that were his eyes. Not the delicate shimmer of moonlight, but the kind of molten that sears, that promises ruin. From a distance, they might pass for black. But up close, they gleamed like mercury set aflame. "You think you can break me?"

"No," Hades inched closer, his mouth brushing your ear. "I know I can."

A fire ignited through your chest at the sound of it. Fury and heat and a wanting so sharp it felt like grief. This wasn't love. It wasn't even lust. It was something more dangerous—a recognition. A mirror with jagged edges.

You shoved him hard, palms against his chest, pushing him into the obsidian wall. “Try it then,” you hissed. “Let’s see who shatters first.”

He caught your wrist—lightning-fast—and twisted, not cruelly, but with purpose. You panted as your body followed, spun until your back was to the wall and he was a breath away, pinning you there like a dagger. One of his hands still held your wrist, the other hovered at your waist, just close enough to feel the heat of it through the thin dress you were forced to wear once you were captured.

Your voice came low, raw. “Is this how you get your answers, Lord Hades? Cornering girls with gods in their blood and fury in their throats?”

He tilted his head, studying you like a predator might a storm. “I don’t need answers,” he murmured. “I already know who you are.”

Your heart stuttered.

“You hide it well,” he continued, voice soft as sin. “But your soul sings. Even here. Especially here.”

Your lips parted, words caught in your throat as one of his hands fisted your hair, forcing your neck bare to him. He was too close. His scent—pomegranate, smoke, something old and earthen—was curling around your ribs like ivy. You hated him. You loathed him. And you wanted to taste him like you wanted to scream.

"Let me go," you whispered. Hades came to his full height then, eyeing you through long lashes. His hair, as dark as ink, was carelessly tousled, a chaos that shouldn't have worked on someone so composed—but it did. Gods, it did.

He leaned closer again, lips brushing your cheek, your jaw, stopping just short of your mouth. "Say it like you mean it."

You cursed him then, softly, fiercely, in the ancient tongue of Olympus. And then you kissed him.

Or maybe he kissed you. You didn’t know who moved first—only that when your mouths met, it was war. Teeth and tongues, challenge and surrender. Your hand twisted into his hair and you moaned. It was so much softer than it looked. His fingers dug into your waist in response, pressing you closer like he needed to feel every piece of you to believe this was real.

It wasn't tender. It was violent. Like something sacred had been cracked open. Like grief and rage and centuries of silence had exploded into a single, breathless moment.

Hades's hands explored you like they’d done it a hundred times in secret dreams. Sliding low, purposeful, greedy—until they curved around your ass, squeezing, grounding you against the unforgiving line of his body. He pressed into you like punishment, like a promise. Hard, solid, cruel in the way that made your bones sing.

You arched into him with a sound you didn’t recognize as your own—half-moan, half-challenge. Fever took your blood then. You felt reckless. Wild. Your thoughts, a blur of heat and him and the danger of wanting something this much.

His mouth, that along the way went to the soft curve of your collarbone, crashed into yours again, teeth grazing, tongue slick and hot. You kissed him back like you hated him for making you feel this, and maybe you did. But gods, you wanted more.

You lifted one leg, hooking it around his waist, needing him closer. Needing to feel how far gone he was. The almighty King of the Underworld groaned into your mouth as you did so, low and guttural, hips grinding into yours with a precision that left no room for misunderstanding.

Then you felt it—thick, hard, straining through his clothes. Your breath hitched. A gasp against his lips.

Your fingers curled into his shoulder, nails digging in deep. And even though your lower belly recoiled in pleasure, the rest of you quieted. That stopped him. For a moment, everything stilled—frozen in the gravity of what would come next. You could feel it spiraling, dangerous and inevitable.

He pulled back just far enough to look at you, eyes like spilled mercury unreadable.

“Tell me to stop,” he said, voice wrecked, rough around the edges.

You blinked, and then the fog in your mind cleared. Your skin refused to subside its feverish state, but you lowered your leg slowly. You didn’t know what was the biggest tragedy—having lost your mind or having it read so well by fucking Hades. 

And then it was over.

You pulled back first, chest heaving. Your lips were red, swollen, and trembling—not from fear. From rage. From longing. From knowing this was a mistake and craving more anyway.

“This changes nothing,” you snapped.

Hades, maddeningly calm, ran his thumb along his bottom lip. “No, Melpomene,” he said. “It changes everything.”

He stepped back, letting you go like you’d burned him. Or maybe like he’d burned himself. The space he left behind felt colder than the dark.

The Lord of Shadows stepped out of the room with such a roaring bang to the iron gate enclosing you inside that it sent your back sliding down the obsidian wall behind you. 

Hearing your name escape his lips with such certainty was an arrow straight to the throat, one you had never seen coming.

Hades was one of the most powerful gods, if not the most. He knew for certain you were a Muse. He was never one to be fooled with glamours; you knew that. But which one… How could he have known it was you?

You didn’t move. Couldn’t. Your heart beat like a war drum, and in your ears, you heard a whisper—not your voice, not his, but something older, deeper.

He is shadow and silence. You are fire and fury. Together, you are ruin.

And ruin, you thought, had never tasted so sweet.

© ACHERONSOCIETY / 2025, all rights reserved. do not steal, repost, translate and/or claim this work as your own.

[elitesheepi]

It’s pretty sad that the Stormverine relationship in the comics just go…unaddressed. Like they’re dating in the 2013(I think) Storm run, they have some pages together showing their relationship. Cut to the next issue he’s dead due to him losing his healing factor, Storm has to be flown into space just to grieve without setting the world on fire, and then…. Nothing.

Assuming I got the order, Hunt for Wolverine: Mystery in Madripoor happens, and we get this cover:

But there’s more focus on Betsy/Psychlock and the only Wolverine relationship is the past one he had with Domino. Storm get a single panel sequence, no mention of their previous relationship, nothing. Hell she’s incapacitated for much of it along with Rogue but still wtf.

So then he’s brought back and then….nothing. Like no mention no, anything. Maybe it’s in an issue I haven’t read yet but the fact that their relationship just goes unacknowledged and forgotten is so sad to me. Like we get pockets chances of something so good for both of them, a break away from the status quo

And yeah, it’s marvel comics that just what happens, anytime a characters happy they reset the whole damn universe for one bs reason or another. (One More Day, you sonuvabitch, we ain’t forget) but they are capable of changing the status quo but just won’t. Rogue and Gambit were able to get married and stay married up until now, so it’s not impossible.

In that same breath, I’m not asking for them to get married and have kids and all that, I’m really not. Hell I’m not even exactly asking for them to restart their relationship just yet enough, though I really do want that. All I’m asking is for like some more acknowledgement that they did date and how that effected them.

It isn’t like they broke up, Logan died. Like died-died, could’ve stay dead dead. Storm eventually had to move on cause that’s just the nature of grief, but beforehand she was handling his unfinished business. That’s not breakup behavior, that’s “I’m a widow in mourning of my partner” behavior.

So X of Swords teased them again, and the Storm (2024) run has then full on have sex before she leaves again. Which yknow awesome and we finally get a hint of their previous relationship by her calling him her “old lover.” Which again, nice, but man salt in the wound with her saying she regrets her actions when yeah, ouch and why tho? They’ve been implied to have slept together in the past a few times so idk.

I’m rambling/ranting at this point, but all I’m trying to get at is, they’re a cute relationship but the lack of attention the x-office is giving them really bites. I want someone to just bite the bullet and commit to writing them. It can be done, and it can be done well without centering just Logan, sidelining Storm or making either of them OOC, but it really needs to start with just pointing out what they once were and starting from their. Idk man ⚡️

[jarinnards]

About Messmer and Rellana

Spoilers will be under the cut, so if you haven't seen anything regarding these characters and you don't want to get spoiled, please scroll/click away‼️‼️

So regarding this post from (basically) yesterday, I want to expand on this topic a little and compile some bits I've seen people use as proof that Rellana and Messmer were in love and why I think it was most likely unrequited love on Rellanas part. I want to actually visit each of these points separately.

I will provide a link to each item description as it relates to each point where available. If there is no link, then it is because the point is self evident, (her sword having his flame) or there was no link I could find (the room where her shield is found) (since edited). If you know any lore or extra bits that I've missed, please do let me know and provide a source.

So on to the points I have personally seen:

She abandoned everything to "chase after Messmer"

She was given a sword imbued with his flames

There is a room in the Shadow Keep that has blue fire (like seen in Caria Manor and other locations associated with the moon) where you find Rellanas shield EDIT: added images to the appropriate section

She came to be known as "Messmers Sword" and was extremely devoted to him, even though she knew "the moon brilliance of the moon could not grant him succor"

Okay, so, starting with the first point:

She abandoned everything to chase after Messmer

I genuinely believe that could range from anything between platonic and romantic. With Messmer specifically, we see many people who showed similar devotion to him by abandoning their homes and swearing their undying fealty to him. Without further context, there's really nothing I can see that can be used in either direction to make this any more concrete, so I'll just move on.

She was given a sword imbued with his flame

I think point 2 is undoubtedly the weakest, as the Fire Knights were given swords blessed with his flames as well. In fact, all of Messmers soldiers had weapons blessed with his flame, or used his incantations. We see this with even the most basic Messmer soldier in game, so this point in specific I find rather baseless.

A room modeled after Raya Lucaria

I assume the reasoning behind using this as proof that they are in love is that it would be assumed Messmer himself modeled this room after Rellanas home out of his affection for her or something similar, and while that could be true given Fromsofts love of environmental storytelling, I do think this is too shaky to use as actual concrete evidence. Keep in mind, it is in a storeroom in the keep, and if you look, on the many levels of each of the rooms, we see numerous books, tablets, and other items used for study or knowledge, and many of them are based in different cultures and factions in the setting of the world, so having an area that would contain information regarding Raya Lucaria and associated magic or glinstone sorcery as a whole doesn't feel far fetched to me. Conversely, Messmer is shown to be very benevolent and caring towards those in his charge, so it would also be reasonable to assume that he would allow for her to have that part of the storehouse be modeled in a way that invokes feelings of home for her. But I don't necessarily believe that has to be romantic. I have no specific points to make on the contents of the shield itself, but I will link her shields description for any who want to read it.

EDIT: it seems to be an armory specifically. There are no books, and there are only shields and lances. Sorry I couldn't get a photo with all of the furniture intact, the Fire Knight destroyed it all... That said, I'm not sure if this being an armory would change any context, really.

She came to be known "as Messmers Sword"

This, again, doesn't feel concrete to me, as far as proving anything happening between them. After all, not only were many of his soldiers incredibly devoted to him, but the Fire Knights in specific were the ones who knew him best, and each of them were the ones who answered directly to Messmer, as well as wielding weapons with his flame and his incantations in tandem. They were closest to him. And then there's Gaius, who was outright stated to be Messmers friend and the leader of his men. Lastly, I think being devoted to someone does not always imply romantic love, nor does the title of being their instrument of battle. Blade of Miquella is Malenias title, and I do not believe those two are romantically involved.

Some additional thoughts

I would honestly say that the most convincing piece of evidence to suggest that there were romantic feelings on Rellanas part comes from her sword, which reads: "here, and here alone, were moon and fire ever together." This, to me, is far better evidence that there were deeper feelings on her part than just devotion. However, it also clearly states how they were never together, which I feel is very much the most important part of all of this.

However, in general, while I do believe that all of the in-game lore suggests she may have had romantic feelings for him, I also think it could be as deep as pure devotion. We see it everywhere in this world, both in base game and the DLC. Malenia, Blaidd, Leda, Ansbach... Radahn and Leonard. (sorry) Devotion is seen in all corners of this setting. Messmer in particular seemed to inspire a great deal from many different places and in many people, so it's not entirely impossible that it would be the same for Rellana, though I do believe she has unrequited love for him.

Another thing to keep in mind is Messmers situation. He is cursed and was waging a cleansing war on untold numbers. He is slowly being eaten away at by a serpent that resides in his body, and that says nothing of the flame in him that he utterly despises. He also clearly has many issues where Marika is involved. All of this, coupled with the information that the Fire Knights were the only ones who truly knew and understood Messmer, it feels to me like romance would not only be something he was not concerned with, but also something he might not allow himself. I feel like he's far more worried about more important things.

In closing

At the end of the day, the nature of these games is that of vague droplets of information, even with the most important story beats. So unless there is something I've missed, I genuinely believe there is nothing in the game suggesting that they were in love with each other or that Messmer in any way returned her feelings, and in fact I think the game suggest the exact opposite: that Rellanas feelings were one sided. However, the only person who could say for certain is Miyazaki, and something tells me he wouldn't care to elaborate on this.

So until supplementary material is released that reveals new information or there is lore within the game that I have not seen or has not yet been found, I'd have to say I think it's relatively certain that they were not romantically involved, and that the feelings were very one sided, if any romantic feelings existed at all.

[nebulaedaniel]

since we’re now talking about the racism in the phandom, i’m very glad it’s being brought to light so thank you to @dapg-otmebytheballs @demonqueenart and everyone else talking about this, i want to talk about cancel culture.

now i’m as white as they come, so before reading any of this i need you all to read the posts made by some of the people starting this conversation. here’s some links. xx xx xx xx xx

the reason i want to bring this up is because it’s something i noticed in a lot of the posts bringing up the behavior that dnp have/have had. its bizarre to me that we as a society, but especially we as a fandom, feel the need to disclose that bringing up problematic behavior isn’t an attack or call to ‘cancel’ someone!

to be able to have an open discussion where people CAN evolve and learn, bad behaviors need to be brought up without the immediate assumption that the person talking about it wants to bring harm to the other.

i am not here to defend dan and phil, they are well old enough to have these realizations on their own and stand for their actions, but, without the space to point out these behaviors, there will be no change. if these questions are being brought up within fandom spaces, why assume that the person means harm? excuse my metaphor but why would they set fire to their own house? i can understand wanting to take something with a grain of salt if it was coming from someone not in the fandom spaces at all, or someone not familiar with dan and phil whatsoever, but since it is the fans bringing this up, the absolute least you can do is believe them and listen.

wanting to see change is far from the same as wanting to see someone ‘canceled’ or lose their platform. these discussions are good and important to have, and i want to again thank everyone who has taken time of their days to speak up about this. it’s labor you shouldn’t have to do, and i really hope that we as a fandom learn from this. i know i will.

[anyamaris]

Title: Antithesis

Pairing: Serial Killer!Hoseok x F!Reader

Summary: Your dream of seeing the glorious capital city has long been snuffed out as you find yourself outside the walls. Lawlessness and chaos reign as you find yourself imprisoned by the very people you thought you could trust. A fated encounter with a mysterious man sets you on a path that is much different than you ever could have imagined.

Word Count: 18742

Genre/Trope: Dystopian horror au-smut/angst

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Warnings: VERY heavy dark content trigger warning. This is a villain collab so read at your own risk. Adult language, vulgarity, blood, murder, captivity, dystopian themes, lawless society, graphic descriptions of torture and murder, allusions to a multitude of past traumas, mentions of human trafficking, very vague allusions to mistreatment of innocents (women and children), mentions of rebellion, reader is a bit of a masochist, unprotected sex, blood play, I mean he's a serial killer...obvious MDNI

A/N: This fic is my contribution to the Year of the Snake collab I was lucky enough to get an invite to! Thank you to @sanjoongie for including me and to all the other authors for this amazing and fun experience! I'd work with all of you again without hesitation.

Also, thank you so much to @pars-ley @frenchkisstheabyss @yoonguurt and @potatomountain for beta reading and helping me along the way, I couldn't have done this without you. @daemour is the genius behind the gorgeous banner as well. Thank you so much! And my always lovely @cafekitsune for the dividers.

I listened to alot of dark themed music for this, but especially Man On Fire by Ateez, it fits this Hoseok perfectly.

Consciousness permeates the deep black of sleep in the form of screams.

Wet, ripping noises cut through the fog.

Your head throbs in time with the steady thump of your heart, the desperate cries and pleading surrounding your entire being.

I’m too tired to beg anymore, you think.

So just stop.

Yet, the shrieks grow in volume, an almost eerie music blended with the low, soft humming beneath it all.  

A soggy plop fills the room around you and the screams are cut off with harsh gasping.

I can’t-

Wait.

Your throat works as you slowly open your eyes to the truth.

I’m not the one screaming this time, your brain informs you.

It takes long moments for you to process the insanity playing out before your dry, bloodshot eyes.

The normally dark room is illuminated by a three legged lamp, acting as a spotlight.

The scene it’s currently lighting up defies logic, your brain unable to comprehend what it is that’s happening.

The long, lean form of what you assume is a man hovers over a larger form, his back to you.

Rivulets of liquid trickle from the blade gripped in his hand as he lowers it over and over.

“You FUCK-” the prone form cries out, then the knife descends again, coaxing out yet another scream.  

What the hell was going on?

“Fuck you-” the large man, who you now recognize as your captor, screeches.

Throat tight, hands clenching, you can only watch with a numb fascination as this unknown man wreaks havoc on this disgusting monster.

Again, you think, as the blade plunges down.

Again, as an arc of blood paints the walls crimson.

AGAIN.

How is he still alive? You wonder, astonished at the weakening pleas.

“Just…kill….me….”

“Kill you? How boring.” the soft voice of the armed man fills the room around you.

Even in your starved and beaten state, you can’t help but admire the musical quality beneath the raspiness.

“Bastard.”

“Tch, such a mundane insult.”

The arm wielding the blade finally halts, the tall form crouching down to start working at something on the injured man.

You try to crane your neck to see what he’s doing, but his back is blocking your view.

Gurgles and moans echo within the room as you watch his back work, seemingly pulling something from the man.

“Fuck-” cuts through the disgusting noises, “Just…take…her then-” 

“Her?” your savior halts his movements, and you can see him cock his head at the man he’s looking down at.

Time seems to still as the room goes quiet.

This is the moment that will stay with you until the day you take your last breath.

This moment.

As if in slow motion, his head slowly swivels around, following the gaze of the horrid man who's held you here for who knows how long.

Damp tendrils cling to his forehead, trickles of red coloring his face.

The gleam of his white teeth all the more prominent with the carnage painting his skin.

“Well, well, well…I didn’t know I had an audience…” he whispers as his dark eyes meet your own, “Seems I’m not the only monster in the house.” he hums melodically as he studies your form.

Hands bound behind your back, lying on your side, he scrutinizes the variety of cuts and bruises littering your body, eyes narrowing at each new discovery.

“Tch…how pathetic.” he whispers, the depth of his eyes seeming to take on new life as his smile fades.  

“What’s that?” he asks, finally breaking the hold he has over you with his gaze as he turns back to the gurgling mess of a man before him.

I should be feeling fear, you think.

Terror at what this butcher is doing right before your eyes.

Yet, you can only watch gleefully as he yanks and tears at one of the horrible men who put you in your current situation.

Someone you once called “friend”.

Even if you die in the next few moments, you refuse to deny yourself the pleasure of listening to this monster’s screams and pleas.

Not once when you begged for mercy did they ever relent.

Elation thrums through you as his watery screams fill your ears in a heavenly song.

A harsh sound joins the chorus as your body jerks, straining to see the performance going on before you.

The unknown man’s head swivels back to you, eyes curious as a lopsided smile twitches his mouth.

It’s then that you realize that croaking laugh is your own.

The streets of this forsaken city were narrow, the nauseating scent of debris and rot pungent as the filth called humans brush past you.  

Shaking off the haze of your vision, you choke down the bile threatening to rise up at the disgusting smells around you.  

For all you knew, all you did was add to the stench.  

Rubbing your chafed wrists, your eyes stay locked on the solitary figure ahead of you as he brushes past the bustle around him.

For some reason you can’t understand, the murderous deity that unlocked your cage and freed you simply walked away without a single word to you.

Perhaps it’s because he rescued you…perhaps it’s just the lack of having anywhere else to go, but here you are; following a man who just eviscerated a living being right in front of your eyes.

You blink as he turns down a narrow alley in the distance, breathing ragged as you rush to catch up.  

You’re unsure what you hope to accomplish in trailing him, you had been lucky enough to not have become his second victim of the evening when he turned his back and walked out.

Rational thoughts don’t exist in this horrible world, you think, reaching out to steady yourself on the jagged rock wall of the alley as your head swims.

It’s a struggle just to keep your eyes open as you slowly make your way down the darkened path, straining to find a glimpse of that white jumpsuit.  

The lack of dirty yellow street lights down the narrow alley doesn’t lend to accomplishing your goal, and you find yourself sinking to your knees on the wet pavement as a wave of dizziness washes over you. 

Closing your eyes in agony, grimy liquid seeps into the fabric of your pants as your legs finally give, feeling the rush of the void coming to claim you.

Here it is, freed just to die in the streets-

You barely register the footsteps accompanied by the deep, weary sigh before everything goes black.

“Well…fuck.”

Your first sense of the afterlife is the sound of a soft humming fan, a cool breeze washing over you as sharp pain rips through your skull.

Confused, you wrench open your eyes, grateful for the dim light as you take in a deep, relieved breath.

Obviously, pain doesn’t exist in death, or so you hope-therefore, you must still be amongst the living.

Reaching down to push yourself up into a sitting position, you register the soft feel of the surface you’re resting on as you glance at your surroundings.

Rubbing your hand down the thigh of your pants, you are stunned to find them almost dry. 

The memory of the fabric soaking through as you fell is pretty vivid in your mind, the knowledge that you should be shivering to death in a frigid, grungy alley making your head spin.  

Swinging your legs off what appears to be a narrow cot, you push down the thin blanket that is covering you as your gaze brushes over the sparse room you’ve come to occupy.

Well, you aren’t chained up or incapacitated at all, so that is a good sign already.

The glow of a soft light is coming from the half open door across from you, and as your vision clears, you take in the crate perched next to the cot that the fan sits upon; the thick little throw rug that seems so out of place as your bare feet sink into its plushness.

For a moment, you just stare down as your toes wiggle in the soft fibers, blanking out as you take stock of the state of your feet.  

What a strange thing to concentrate on, you think.

Their ragged appearance helps you focus, though, pondering things as you take stock of every cut and bruise.

Someone definitely brought you here, and while this looks like a cell of sorts, the open door goes against that idea of confinement.

Slowly drawing yourself back to reality from your wandering daze, you bring your hand up to your aching head.

Curiously, your fingertips brush over the rough surface of what seems to be a bandage, causing even more confusion to race through your mind.  

Someone had come across you in that alley and had brought you back to a clean, quiet room.

Instead of assaulting you, or murdering you, they’d administered first aid as well.  

What the fuck is going on? You ponder, inhaling deeply to calm yourself, then letting it out gently.  

Curling your toes once more in the lush rug, you take a moment to listen to the noises surrounding you.  

Or lack thereof.  

Apart from the soft hum of the fan, you can’t hear anything but tranquil silence.  

You lick your parched lips, ignoring the scowls from your stomach from hunger; lack of food isn't a new difficulty for you.

This silence is though.

Silence like this was eerie, almost deafening relative to the cacophony you are used to in your daily life.

Ignoring the variety of aches and pains from injuries you’ve long gotten used to, you make your way slowly to the door and whatever lies beyond it.

Tentatively, you peek through the opening momentarily before slowly opening it the rest of the way.

Confusion and relief wash through you simultaneously as you take stock of your surroundings.

The large open area is clean, sparsely furnished and void of any living creatures, two legged or more.

What appears to be an abandoned subway car sits across the room, drawing your gaze as you make your way into the huge space.  

Glancing back, you notice that the door you’ve emerged from is one of two doors next to one another and the large area appears to be kind of like a common area.  

Your feet make tiny little slap noises as you pad across the cold tile, avoiding the small areas that are carpeted as you don’t want to dirty them.  

Whoever lives here seems to value their cleanliness and you aren’t going to tread upon their seeming kindness by not murdering you or worse.  

With that thought, you take stock of your soiled and tattered clothing along with the lack of any footwear.  

“Great.” you mutter, wiping your palms along your thighs just to frown at the way the dried mud flakes off.  

Before you can process how to clean the little mess you just made, and eventually yourself, the door to the subway car creaks open with a metallic groan.  

Your heart flutters in your chest as you recognize the man standing in the doorway staring back at you.

Freezing in place you can only gape, eyes wide, at the man who just a day ago was elbow deep in that scumbags entrails.  

The murderer who tortured your captor and ex-friend until his screams finally faded into nothingness.

He looks much different without the bloodspattered white jumpsuit, wearing a dark hoodie and beanie and a normal pair of jeans.  

Time seems to still as he studies you, his stoic face not giving away any emotion as you struggle to figure out what to say to him.

Swallowing heavily, you feel your cheeks heat as you finally sputter out, “I’m sorry about the mess….” 

His eyes follow your hand as you gesture at your appearance, your clothing and the flakes of dirt on the floor before you, yet he gives you no reaction.

“There’s a shower over there,” he flicks his hand to your right, drawing your attention to a door leading to another room, “Food is in the fridge. You can find something to wear in the closet here.” 

He jerks his thumb behind him, into the railcar he had emerged from.  

You merely nod, a bewildering mess of emotions swirling within you.

You didn’t feel any fear in his presence, only the obvious wariness of the unknown and it confused you greatly.  

This man had killed right before your eyes and seemed to enjoy it…yet he’d also saved your life twice and was now offering you the simple comfort of food and cleanliness.

“Clean yourself up, get your energy back.  I’ll be out for a bit and I expect you to be gone when I get back.”

His words are terse, but not angry.  

Clinical, simple, detached.

You hesitate, but then give him a single nod before he turns on his heel and leaves back through the door.

He wasn’t what you’d expected based on your first impression of him.

To be fair, he was elbow deep in entrails as he tortured your captor before snuffing his life out.

A few moments pass as you listen to his footsteps recede after another door opens and shuts, then you bring your hand up to touch your probably filthy face.

Gross, you think, finally finding your feet turning towards the prospect of a hot shower.  

At least you hope it’s hot.  

The room you find yourself in is completely tiled, both walls and floor, and there’s a drain in the center.

A partition leads to a sink and a toilet and you make quick use of both before taking one of the fresh towels from a small shelf before shedding your disgusting clothing and bandages before turning on the water.

After a moment you tentatively stick your hand into the flow of water and you sigh happily at the warmth.

Stepping into the glorious stream, you let out a shameless moan of pleasure as layers of caked on mud and filth begin to wash down the drain.  

You almost revel in the way the hot water stings each and every little cut and bruise, reminding yourself that you’re safe and alive and that’s all that matters.

Spotting a little shelf with soaps and such, you set about cleansing yourself without any haste, wanting to prolong the inevitable.

Steam fills the room as you ponder what in the world you’re going to do when you leave here, given everything that has happened.

Prior to finding yourself in that cage, your life didn’t look so bleak.

Well…not as bleak as being told you’re going to be forced into paying your debts with your body.

Forcing down the anxiety that keeps trying to crawl up your throat, you focus on scrubbing yourself thoroughly.  

It’s been ages since you’ve gotten a true shower, without disgusting calloused hands washing you, or their prying eyes gazing at you full of lustful thoughts.

When you’d decided to come to the city from your rural home, the last thing you expected was to be where you are now, running from the very people you called ‘friends’.

What kind of friends convince you that their ‘help’ is from a place of care, only to use basic human needs against you?

When they’d set you up with a place to stay, food to eat, clothes to wear you truly believed the best of them.

You’d trusted them, leaned on them naively and really thought despite the squalor of it all that you could make a life here.

It wasn’t the glamorous life that you’d been told about back in your childhood, it was nothing like what you’d read and dreamt of.

Yet, you found people you thought you could rely on.  

Memories of the night you’d been awoken by them, yanked out of your tiny room to be told that it was time to pay up flit through your mind.

Tears prick your eyes to mix with the moisture in the air as you hum softly to yourself, trying to soothe away the terrible thoughts.  

Lathering your hair, you find comfort in the way the soap streams down your face to sting your eyes.  

It was better than hopeless tears that did nothing for you.

Pushing away the useless thoughts, you focus on cleansing each and every crevice as if it’s a sacred ritual before you sacrifice yourself to your fate.

By the time you’ve finished, the water is going tepid and you let out a soft sigh as you reach out to turn the water off.  

Slowly, you grab a fluffy towel from a shelf and slowly dry yourself as you try to make your mind blank enough to enjoy these small moments before you have to leave.

Once you’ve dried your hair enough, you wrap the towel around yourself and make your way out to the main area.  

Picking through the tangles, you go over to the door that leads into the area the man had said clothing could be found.  

Opening the heavy door, you step into a long room furnished with shelves and a large closet at the end.  

There’s a desk at the other end, with a computer and some technological devices you don’t recognize.

It’s not abnormal, given your upbringing in the country, there are many things you haven't seen before coming to the city.

Ignoring the unknown items, and not wanting to snoop in someone else's space, you head to the closet and open it up to find a neat array of clothing stacked and hung.

You take a moment to admire how meticulous and neat this man is, in such opposition to how you first viewed him, kneeling and covered in your captor’s entrails.

Shaking away the memory, you reach out to touch various items, finally settling on a soft pair of jogging pants and a black tshirt.

Hopefully it fits, you think, dropping the towel to pull on the clothing.

The pants easily slide over your once well shaped ass, drawing a frown from you.

You’d lost weight from being starved and while you never cared too much about your body, it was obvious that prior to coming here that these pants may not have fit. 

Shrugging the thought off, you toss on the shirt, lamenting the loss of undergarments.

There was no way you were putting back on the filthy torn panties or remnants of a bra that now lie in the bathroom.  

On that note, you rush back to clean up your mess, too thankful for your host’s hospitality to leave any mess in your wake.  

After a bit of rummaging, you find a small trash bag to dispose of your old clothing, vowing to return these clothes once you’ve made it safely somewhere you can start over.

Your stomach rumbles loudly as you tie off the bag and set it near the door to take with you when you leave.

“Right…food…” you hum after returning to make sure the shower area is cleaned out.

A small fridge sits in a small kitchen area in one corner of the room, and you smile softly as you peer inside.

Everything is so neat and orderly, just like everything else in here.

You grab the closest thing to your outstretched hand, grasping something cylindrical and closing the fridge before making your way to the little table nearby.  

Unwrapping it, you don’t even hesitate before taking a large bite, eyes closing as the taste of spices, meat and veggies wash over your palate.  

It has been ages since you’ve been able to enjoy the simple act of eating, bathing, just breathing freely and you find yourself wiping at your eyes as you make your way through the wrap.

It doesn’t take long for you to finish the meal, sniffling a bit as you clean up and finally look around the place your savior calls home.  

It was a very simple living space that was uncluttered, neat and clean.  

In your mind, the most lavish homes described in the books you’ve read can’t compare to how safe and secure this place makes you feel right now.

It was going to be horrible to leave this behind. 

Swallowing heavily, you drag your feet as you venture back into the room you’d awoken in, making the bed and checking to make sure you haven't left anything out of place.

Unfortunately, you couldn’t do much about your filthy state before you bathed, but you didn’t want to take too many liberties with trying to strip the sheets or anything.

You have a suspicion that the kind killer that brought you here isn’t going to want you snooping around, even if it is for the purpose of trying to launder some dirty bedding.

You make a point to take a cloth near the sink over to wipe up the dried mud you’d trickled onto the floor before disposing of it.

Hesitantly, you eye the door leading back into the long room, and to the door that leads out of this sanctuary.

“It’s okay, it’ll be fine.” you self soothe, rubbing your palms over your thighs as you linger a moment longer.

Gathering your courage, you suck in a breath and walk decisively to the door, grabbing the bag with your old clothing as you make your way out.

Thrusting open the outside door, your breath catches as you realize that it’s not a door to the outside.

You stare at the abandoned subway station platform, pillars casting shadows as far as you can see down each side before terminating in a dark stairway upwards to the horrible streets above.

Your heart thrums in your throat as you contemplate what awaits you.

Vision swimming, you suddenly sway on your feet, hand still clamped onto the door handle as ringing in your ears threatens to overwhelm and deafen you.  

A strangled cry erupts from your throat as you stumble, doing your best to steady yourself against the doorframe before you’re bolting back into the living area.

You barely register the heavy slam of the door as you rush back inside, dropping the trash bag as you find the nearest corner to slump down in a heap.  

Closing your eyes, you bury your face in your hands as you do your best to hold back panicked tears.

You know you need to leave but…

You’d almost rather suffer an unknown fate from the man who resides here than return to the streets above.

You have no idea how much time has gone by when you hear the sound of the door opening and closing once more.

Your body aches from being curled up tightly on the floor, trying to force yourself to get up and leave yet being unable to.

The thunk of the inner door sounds, then the sound of footsteps coming closer before halting nearby.

“Tch...I thought I told you to leave?”

His raspy voice greets your ears, and you finally raise your head and remove your hands to peek up at him.

Taking a deep breath, you try to muster your thoughts, glancing towards the exit before settling your eyes back on him.

His dark eyes study you, but you sense no malice in them as he takes stock of your state.

He crouches down beside you, tilting his head at you without saying another word.

Hesitantly, you try to wet your chapped lips, frantically searching for a way to respond.

“I…I tried…” you whisper, your own voice sounding foreign to your ears.  

His lips twitch down into a deeper frown as he raises an eyebrow at you.

“You tried? Interesting.” He says, his eyes lingering on your bare, injured feet, “I’d think a captive little bird would want to fly away at her first chance.”

Letting out a resigned sigh he pushes himself back to his full height, towering over you as he seems to ponder what to do.

“Thank you for the food and the shower and-” You start to ramble, desperate to convey your gratitude for everything he’s allowed so far.

He hums and waves off your stuttering thanks, glancing around at the state of the space.

“At least you’ve cleaned up after yourself.” He says, toeing the trash bag filled with your discarded clothing.  

You can only stare up at him as he looks around, then settles those curious eyes back on you.  

“One night.” He all but growls out, holding up a finger to punctuate his words.

Your heart leaps into your throat at the offer.

“One night, then you’re gone.  Don’t make a mess.  Don’t touch what you shouldn’t.” 

Eagerly, you nod at him, scrambling to your feet as he speaks.  

A brief respite before the inevitable yet any time you can put between you and the real world is gladly accepted.

You lean over to grab your bag of soiled clothing, clutching it to your chest before rushing to the door of the room you’d awoken in.

His soft yet stern voice halts you before you can hide away.

“And one more thing, little bird.”

You turn to stare at him, ignoring the way your hands shake at his tone.

“If you don’t leave tomorrow…I’ll kill you.”  

There’s a weight to his words that freezes your tongue momentarily, only allowing you to nod briefly before giving him a small smile.  

His face is stoic, yet there’s a glint to his eyes that tells you he’s not making an idle threat.

“Thank you.” is all you say, turning with tears in your eyes before retreating into the little room you’ve already come to cherish.  

Hoseok just stares as you disappear into his bedroom, closing the door softly behind you.

“Thank you?” he grumbles, shaking his head in confusion.

What a strange creature, he thinks, heaving out a weary sigh as he turns to grab some food.

When he’d gotten the alert earlier on his watch that the outer door had been breached, he’d been certain that you’d left and he wouldn’t have to deal with you anymore.

Yet, there you were, crouched in a corner like a broken animal.

He’s witnessed this city breaking some of the hardest hearts, and here you were, invading his private world like a wounded dove with a broken wing.  

People like you didn’t belong here, and the sooner he could chase you out, the better.

Fighting against the pity he feels when he comes across your kind, he focuses on eating then heading into his makeshift office to check in with the others.

The last thing he needs is some innocent, fragile bystander getting in the way of the bigger objective.

She’ll be gone tomorrow, he thinks, sparing one last glance back at his bedroom before returning to his routine.

After waking from a long, restful sleep, you go through the motions to leave.

Trying to psych yourself up, you barely make it to the outer door before rushing back in once again.

“Looks like I’ve chosen death.” You whine to the empty room as you force yourself out of the corner you find yourself in yet again.

Trying to shake off the anxiety lingering from the prospect of going back home, you find yourself looking around a bit more.

He said don’t touch what I shouldn’t, you remember, poking around a bit.  

Certainly he wasn’t implying everyday things within his home.  

You aren’t disrespectful enough to go opening drawers and snooping, but you do take stock of things that are on display.

Not that it’s much; he seems to live fairly simply.

There’s a couch and a chair in the common area, and the kitchenette area is clean and neat.  

It’s such a  stark contrast to what you’re used to.

Your own rented room is barely the size of a closet, you think idly as you wander into the bathroom area to clean up a bit.

By the time you finish washing up, you find yourself eyeing the door that leads into the subway car.  

“I’m not going to touch anything, just look around.” you say out loud, as if asking for permission from the air around you.

Hesitating for only a moment, you open the heavy door and step into the room.  

It appears that he’s converted the car into an office area of sorts; the area where you’d gotten the clothes has a very organized area for shoes, clothing, supplies and storage.  

It’s the other end that makes you realize this is likely what he was referring to.

You still have no idea what they are for, nor do you plan on going any closer to figure it out.

What makes you curious though is that he’s obviously set himself up below ground, in this abandoned area yet he has equipment that looks as if it’s not easy to come by.

Mind your business, you chastise yourself, turning to go back inside.

There’s no reason to cross any lines here.  

Besides, you need to steel yourself and attempt to finally leave.

Just the thought has you almost spiralling back into a panic attack, and you close your eyes and breath slow and deep.

This is definitely not the life you had planned for yourself.

Back in what you used to call home, the books you’d grown up reading had spoken of the iconic city life and the luxuries that were abundant if you were only able to get there.

It had glossed over the fact that it was basically impossible to get inside the city walls.

These writings had omitted how the world that went on outside this utopian city was filled with lawlessness and chaos.

Your naivety had driven you to leaving behind the tiny, simple world you’d known up to that point into a nightmare of violence, fear and anarchy.

You can only mourn the innocence you once possessed before your world was upended by coming here.

It has been only a year, you think, yet how different I am from that horribly gullible girl.  

You could make silly wishes about doing things differently, if only you had the chance; yet deep down you know that it’s just the way it is.

Never meeting the group of people you’d once called friends wouldn’t matter as you know inherently that everyone you may have fallen victim to would be the same.

Your heart still pangs at how easily you’d trusted.

At least back on the farm with the other orphans you had people who were like you.

Unfortunately you fear that you’re becoming more and more like the hollow husks of people you live amongst now.

Why in the world would you ever want to leave this safe haven you’ve stumbled into?

The moment you begin to think of the man who’d brought you here, it’s as if you’ve summoned him.

Your stomach drops as you hear the sound of the outer door opening.

Would he follow through and kill you?

Honestly, that scares you far less than the fate you’d suffer outside of here.

The inner door opens and you’re instantly struck by his sharp gaze as his eyes meet yours.

He’s wearing a dark jumpsuit this time, but the fine blood spatter on his face alludes to what the darker patches are on his clothing.

Yet, you can’t help but ogle his unique good looks.

Of course I’m crushing on a murderer, you think grimly, I’m that fucked up.

He pauses, tongue in cheek as he studies you, tilting his head as if observing a specimen.

You have to remind yourself to breathe as he finally moves, making his way over to set down a bag he’s carrying.  

“You don’t listen well.” He finally says, back to you as he goes into the kitchenette area to wash his hands. 

You take a moment to think about your response, wondering if they might be your last words.

Honestly, for some reason, you didn’t feel terror or regret.  

At least I can look at his handsome face as he eviscerates me.

Pushing away your dark, twisted fantasies, you mentally slap yourself and finally answer him.

“I don’t.  I…” you start, but find yourself fumbling for a valid reason.

At least one that could spare you another day.

He turns and takes stock of you, looking you up and down before just clucking his tongue and giving you a small shrug.

“You’re lucky I don’t like making a mess in my own home.  Just stay out of my way.” he tells you, giving you a stern look before he’s walking past you into the bathroom.  

As the door shuts, you breathe out a sigh of relief and retreat into the bedroom, eager to not squander the time he’s given you.

Tomorrow, for sure.

For a week, the days play out much the same.  

You attempt to leave, you have a panic attack, you hug the corner you’ve now come to call your home.

In an interesting twist, the man has provided food, tossing a bag at you each day he’s come back.  

He’s stopped threatening you, seeming to begrudgingly be giving you the time you need to leave on your own.  

You’ve made it a point to clean up after yourself, of course, even going so far as to deep clean the areas you make use of.  

Life is pretty boring yet that in and of itself is a relief.

It’s much better than the living above, running errands and trying to make any kind of earnings only to be locked in a cage and told you’re going to be sold for your body.

He’s even left what seems to be his own clothing daily in the bathroom for you, and he’d even shown you a small little area behind the kitchen area that housed a laundry room.

How the hell does this man have so much and how did he even get it in here?

Those are questions you leave unasked for the time being, not wanting to push it.

He’s already done so much for you.

There is one question you need to ask, even if he refuses to answer you.

You tentatively approach him one evening as he sits on the couch, fiddling with your hands as he turns to eye you, seeming to sense your presence.

“What is it?” He asks, his voice raspy and tired.

You wonder offhandedly what he does when he goes out.

Besides the whole cutting people up part of course.

Clearing your throat, you take a breath and finally ask.

“What is your name?”

He raises an eyebrow at you, frowning in thought as he studies you.

He’s not going to tell me-

“Hoseok. My name is Hoseok.” He says easily, turning back to type on his phone.

“Hoseok.” You repeat, appreciating the name.  

The silence stretches as you ponder what other little things he may be willing to answer before you feel him staring at you.

“Interesting…and here I thought you’d offer me your name even if I didn’t ask, little bird.” He muses, tilting his head in curiosity at you.

“Oh…I-” you begin, yet stop yourself, shaking your head.  

Thoughts of the woman you used to be has you answering honestly.

“I don’t want to use that name anymore.  I...there are things I want to leave behind.”  You finally answer.  

He just hums, then nods slightly as if in thought. 

“Fair enough…it’s not as if you’ll be sticking around for me to use it.” he says, returning to looking at his phone.

He’s right, you think.  

“I don’t mind ‘little bird’ though.” You tell him, drawing his attention again.  

“Also, I wanted to thank you for being so kind-” 

He makes an almost disgusted sound in his throat, shaking his head and motioning for you to stop talking. 

“Don’t pull that ‘you’re my savior’ bullshit on me. You can’t be delusional enough to think I’m anything but another monster in a sea of monstrosities.  Just don’t get in my way.”  

His words seem harsh, and you recognize their objective truth, yet you still are beyond grateful to him.  

Perhaps it’s remnants of your once trusting nature, perhaps it’s that small glimmer of hope that not everyone in this disgusting world is an uncaring beast.  

You just silently agree, wandering off to make yourself scarce but you can’t help the little smile that curls your lips.

“Fuck, don’t you get bored?” Hoseok asks, plopping down his bag as he spots you cleaning in the kitchen.  

The only thing helping you keep time with the days passing is his coming and going, and at this point you’ve been lingering here nearing two weeks.

You turn to look at him, using your forearm to wipe at your nose.

Tonight he’d chosen the white jumpsuit and you take a moment to admire the artful pattern of crimson he has spattered all over himself.

Pushing away how fucked up that thought is, you just shrug.

“I used to read all the time, when I was back home.” you respond, finding yourself thinking back on the days spent losing yourself to colorful stories and imagining what the world was like.

He lingers at your words, watching you quietly as you continue.

“I grew up on a farm, lots of orphaned kids who worked the land.  It was pretty boring outside of the daily chores...I wasn’t aware of how hard it is to actually come by books.  One of our overseers had a small library and I would sneak them out sometimes.” you ramble, reminiscing.  

He doesn’t encourage you to continue, yet he doesn’t stop you nor does he walk away.  

Taking that as a cue, you just go back to cleaning the counter as you talk.

“It’s funny, though, the way they portray the city.  I came here thinking that it was a wondrous and glamorous world, so much better than life in the country. I suppose it still could be inside. They don’t go into what it’s like on the outskirts.” 

He snorts, shaking his head as you look over at him in curiosity. 

“Just because something is glamorous doesn’t mean it’s not rotten to its very core.  You’d be surprised at how pretty the most rotten fruit can be.” 

He seems to catch himself after he speaks, huffing in annoyance as he turns and leaves the room to go into the subway car.

You ponder his words, wondering what he knows about it.

You don’t mean to eavesdrop on Hoseok, yet it seems he’s slowly lowering his guard around you; that or he just doesn’t care about you listening.

On occasion, you’ve overheard him speaking to someone as you go about trying to stay out of his way.

Or a number of someones, you think, picking up what appear to be names here and there.

Joon, Yoongi, Tae-something…each time you hear him speaking, you catch a hint of them making some kind of plans.

For some reason, you’d assumed by his reserved nature that he functioned alone, yet apparently he has contacts of some sort.

You do your best to retreat either into the room or into the bathroom to shower at these points.  

There’s no reason to give him the impression that you’re nosy; until you can muster the courage to leave, you want to do your best to be non intrusive.  

He could still end up killing you in the end, waiting until you’ve left only to follow you and kill you away from his sacred space.  

It only gives me even more reason to stay.

“What’s this?” you ask, eyeing the box Hoseok pushes into your arms one day.

He looks away, not meeting your eyes as he shrugs and answers, “Sick of you wearing my clothes. Just some shit I found.”

You watch him as he wanders off, unable to conceal the way your heart leaps into your throat.

Gradually, he’s seemed less annoyed at your ongoing presence; even if it is delusion, you’ve started to fool yourself into thinking that maybe he’s even come to enjoy seeing you.

As much as his forever humourless face can depict any happiness.

Rushing off to the room, you gleefully pick through the contents, cooing over the items within.

They're nothing fancy but the clothing is wearable and there are even undergarments within that appear to be new.  Cheap, but unworn.  

Folding them as if they’re the finest silk, you place them aside and continue to look through the box.

There’s even a dress within; a cute little spring green dress with a black bow.  

It reminds you of the vibrant grasslands back home.  

Quite opposite of the dingy browns and greys of this grimy city.

Smiling, you set about folding each item reverently before picking out a pair of pants and shirt, scurrying off to shower and change. 

You don’t notice the pair of eyes following you, softening at your apparent delight before he’s disappearing into his office.

Every day that passes, you linger longer.

Every night that you don’t leave, Hoseok seems to accept your presence even more.

Your interactions are short, simple yet you’ve found yourself talking to him more openly.

He rarely shares anything, but he never stops you from chattering at him.

It’s been almost a month now.

Since when did it become less about fear and more reluctance? You think, slipping out of the bed you’ve come to start calling your own.

Less and less do you find yourself afraid of going back to your old life.

Your attempts to leave are failing simply because you long to stay.  

That was a dangerous prospect, you ponder, yawning as you open the door to the room.

Your foot connects with something on the ground and you halt, frowning as you look down to see what you almost kicked.

A small tattered book lay on the floor, looking as if it had been propped against the door before you opened it.

Your heart pitter patters as you kneel down to pick it up, barely noting the slight tremble of your hands.

Studying the cover, you smile at the faded picture, then turn it over in awe.

A book.

He’d gotten you a book.

It doesn’t even matter what it’s about, you think as your throat closes and your eyes sting with grateful tears.

“I don’t know how you can stay here, without being bored.” He’d said multiple times at this point.

He remembered.

He remembered the conversation about how you used to love to read.

Books are so hard to come by in this place…the last time you’d been able to actually read a book was long before you’d made your journey here.  

Clutching it tightly to your chest, you stand slowly and wander into the little sitting area in a daze.

Settling yourself onto the couch, you just take some time to admire the gift he’s left for you with open appreciation.

You can feel your cheeks heating and you place your palm against one side of your face as you realize that you’re blushing.

Oh no, you think, shock coursing through you.

Am I…falling for him?

Physically, you recognize his attractiveness despite how he tries to cover himself with baggy clothing and his shaggy hair covering his face.

Yet, you know all too well what it means to trust someone with your emotions.

Still, he has given you shelter and has saved your life more than you could ever repay.

The internal war going on right now isn’t good for your anxiety, so you refocus on the precious gift.

Realizing that he may come back at any time, you decide to try to do something for him in return.

Placing the book ever so delicately on the makeshift table in front of you, you can’t help but smile happily as you head into the kitchen.

He’s always bringing home bags of food from his delivery job, so-

Home?

You blink in terror at how your mind has twisted itself so easily into never leaving this place.

Staying.  

Forget it, I’ll leave soon enough.

For now, just focus on making something nice for him.

Your cooking skills have always been above average, it’s one of the few things you’ve always taken pride in.

Growing up in the countryside on a farm, you definitely know your way around animals and gardens.  

You halt, turning on your heel to rush into your room, rummaging through the box of clothing he’d brought to you and fishing out a dress from the pile. 

You push away the thoughts fighting against this decision, and quickly change into it before heading back into the kitchen.

It’s just a cute little green dress with a bow.

Just another piece of clothing, nothing special.

Sure, of course, you think, shaking your head as you set back to your task.

Gathering what items he has within his pantry and fridge, you turn to pull a large kitchen knife out of a knife block.

“Ohhh…” you murmur, admiring the glinting blade.

Of course all of his sharp objects are honed to perfection, smiling at the thought.

You return to your humming as you set to preparing the ingredients for your meal.

Not long after you start, you hear the tell tale sign of the door opening and closing, signalling Hoseok’s return.

You take your time finishing the current vegetable, a simple green onion, before turning to see what he’s doing. 

Hoseok just stands looking at you, his face unreadable as he stares.

A moment of panic threatens to overwhelm you before you gather your best smile for him.

“I hope it’s alright...I wanted to make a meal for once.  I promise I won’t burn anything or make a huge mess.  I’ll clean up as I go and it’ll look…perfectly…”

Your rambling trails off as he slowly makes his way into the little kitchen next to you.

“You can cook?” He asks, eyeing the neatly chopped onion that you just finished working on.

Your heart lurches at his curiosity, elated that he’s interested and not threatening to kill you for staying yet again.

You just nod as you push the onion to the side, grabbing a carrot as he watches.

He looks so good, you think idly as you try not to stare at him.

Why am I suddenly so nervous near him? You wonder, unable to help glancing at him from the corner of your eye as you start cutting.

“I used to cook all the time before I came to this city…” you tell him, finding yourself rambling on about the mundane life of a farm girl.

He slowly slips around the little counter, seating himself on a stool as he watches and you find yourself just talking to distract yourself from your inner thoughts.

Yet, they just keep breaking through even as you speak faster, scrambling to distract yourself.

How the tendrils of his hair brush against his cheek, the bow of his lips curve downward, his dark eyes fixated on you as if he’s hanging on every word.

Swallowing heavily, you shake yourself out of those kinds of thoughts and turn the conversation to something more important.

“Thank you.” you tell him, the heat creeping up your neck from showing as you duck your head a bit while you prep.

At his curious head tilt, you rush on.

“For the book.  I…it’s been so long since I have even been able to hold one, and you…remembered that I mentioned…” 

You shrug a shoulder as you fumble for the right words.

“And the clothing...I mean, I know you don’t really want me here, and you don’t want me to wear your clothing and I know I’m sleeping in your bed and I’ve been nothing but-” 

Your stammering just makes the heat flare up in your cheeks even more, and you wince at how stupid you likely sound.

Your hand seems to move on its own as you try not to panic.

It was just supposed to be a simple thank you-

Then it happens.

You’re unsure what caused it, whether it was how silly you sound, or how ridiculous you look panicking and trying to distract yourself.

Hoseok is smiling at you.

Your heart seems to drop out of this universe into oblivion as your entire being turns inside out.

You can feel your entire body tense at the sight, his already handsome face lit up brightly with one of the more gorgeous smiles you’ve ever been witness to.  

The transformation is so insanely drastic that you lose track of what your hands are doing and you feel the knife start to slip from your grip.

Without thinking, you scramble to grab it with your other hand, resulting in the stinging pain of the sharp blade against your inner palm.

“Oh fuck-” you gasp, stunned as it clatters to the counter, blood welling up quickly and rushing from the wound to drip onto the counter before you can cover it with your other hand.

The sound of the stool crashing to the ground startles you from your shock, then Hoseok is beside you, grabbing your wrist as crimson wells up through your fingers.

“”Sorry, oh no-I’m so sorry, I made a mess, I will clean it-” 

“Shut up. Calm down.” He all but growls, his eyes locked onto your clasped hands.  

“Alright.” You say tightly, heart beating in time with the pulsing in your hand.

You’re more concerned over upsetting him than you are any pain right now.

Did you just fuck up so badly that he will really force you out this time? You worry, feeling your entire body start to shake.

It’s enough to distract you from just how close he is, how he’s touching you right now.

“You’re going to get it on your dress…shit…” he hums, slowly prying your hands apart.

You can only stand still as he looks your palm over, getting his own hands sticky with your blood without any hesitation.

“I ruined the food-” you say softly, sadly looking at the carefully cut veggies that are now splashed in red.

“Why are you worrying over the fucking food when you’re hurt?” Hoseok snaps, yanking your wrist to turn you towards him, pulling you closer to stare into your eyes.

Blinking at him, even in his apparent anger and concern, you can’t help but admire him.

Fuck he’s so gorgeous.

What is wrong with you? You chastise yourself, even as you revel in how close you are to one another.

“I wanted to thank you by doing something nice, and I only made a mess.” You whisper, unable to stop yourself from leaning into him.

His eyes drift from yours to your wounded palm, his tongue darting out to lick his lips as he loosens his grip.

You immediately think he’s going to release you and push you away, but instead he slips his bloodied fingers into your hand, teasing at the injury.

“Does it hurt?” he asks, his voice low and rough as he lightly traces the lines of your palm with his fingertip.  

Dizziness threatens to overwhelm you as your entire body heats from his touch as the pain radiates right down between your thighs.

He seems to notice the momentary swaying as he slips his arm around you, tugging you flush against him without taking his eyes from your hand.

“No.” you finally answer, tightening your thighs together as the press of your bodies give away something you never expected.

Hoseok is hard.

Your body reacts instantly by pressing closer to him before you can think clearly, distracted by the deep need blooming within you.

A soft groan escapes his lips as he shudders, and before you can recover from that, he’s bringing his finger to his mouth.

“Oh god-” You blurt out, clenching so abruptly that you’re grateful for his arm around you or you swear you’d be falling over.

All of your senses rocket into overdrive at this, breath hitching as you slip your free hand up behind his neck.

Finally his gaze flicks back up to your face, his eyes gleaming brightly as he licks the blood from his fingertips.

The sight of his eyes darkening from the taste, his erection pressed against you and throbbing, your blood staining his bottom lip as he sucks on his fingers…

You throw all rational thought out the window and allow your more base desires to take over.  

Not taking your eyes from his, you force your injured hand between your bodies, and into the front of his pants.  

You’re grateful that he’s wearing something loose as you bloody his naked lower stomach, eagerly seeking his cock.

An almost animalistic noise forces its way out of him as your wet sticky hand finally encircles his dick, immediately stroking along the length.  

“Fucking hell-” He growls, thrusting eagerly into your hand.  

The motion brings forth more hot blood, coating his cock and stinging your wound. 

Your panties soak through in the confusion of pleasure and pain, causing you to moan loudly at the sensation.

“Goddamnit-” Hoseok rasps, turning and lifting you onto the counter and forcing your legs open.  

Your entire body feels like it’s on fire as he pushes down his pants, exposing the crimson mess of his cock you jerk him off.

He lets out a guttural groan and you can feel him throbbing in your hand as he pushes your thighs further apart.

The sounds of your combined heavy breathing, moans and cries fill the room as he yanks your panties to the side, his eyes frantically flitting between your face, his bloodied cock and your exposed pussy.

His breathing hitches as the motion of his hips stutters at the sight and without thinking, you slide your hand around his neck to wrap your fingers around his throat.

“Come-” You command, and a string of curses greet your pleas before he’s gripping your hips and crying out as he bursts all over you in a hot flood.  

Your motions don’t stop even as his entire body begins to shake from the sensation, basking in the feeling of him coming all over you in spurts of white.  

Your grip on his throat loosens as his shaky breathing starts to slow, his eyes hooding over as he leans in to rest his forehead against yours. 

A moment ticks by, then another as you both hover in the aftermath.

Before you can say another word, Hoseok seems to come to his senses, pushing away from you abruptly.

“What the fuck-” He stumbles back, and you’re momentarily distracted by the red stain your hand left on his throat.

“Hoseok-?” You ask in bewilderment, the sudden shift in the mood startling you.

“Why…what the fuck….?!” He snaps, bending to yank up his pants, eyes wild as he looks at you.  

A pang in your chest threatens to suffocate you at his reaction, rationality finally returning as he hastily turns and rushes out.  

The sounds of the doors slamming mark his exit, and you’re left seated on the counter, legs spread wide, covered in a mess of sticky come and blood and shaking from this senseless lust.

You feel the tears wet your cheeks before you realize that you’re crying, reaching up to brush them away, only to leave behind a sticky mess of blood in your hand’s wake.

What the hell did you just do? 

What happened?

A flood of emotions crashes into you all at once; disgust at your actions, humiliation at his reaction to you, shame threatening to drown you in all of it.  

You slip off the counter, lower lip quivering as you feel your legs wobble beneath the sudden weight. 

Steadying yourself, you take a moment to gather your thoughts, mind racing at what to do.

You didn’t expect any of this, you only wanted to thank him.

Yet all you did was act like a common whore, letting lust get the better of you and ruining everything.

Tugging down the hem of your dress, you grit your teeth and try to bite back the tears that threaten to overwhelm you.

Right now, you have to do the right thing and get the hell out of here.

Forget the mess you’re leaving behind, all you can think of is fleeing right now, getting as far away as possible.

There’s no way you can face him when he comes back.

This time, it's your fault and the disgust you feel at yourself right now is more powerful than any fear.

You blindly make your way out the doors, finally stepping onto the platform and letting the door close behind you.

Panting heavily, Hoseok finally gets his wits together enough to look around at his surroundings.

He rests a hand against a crumbling brick wall, glancing around the dimly lit alley he’s currently standing in.  

Taking slow, deep breaths, he leans over and closes his eyes to collect his racing thoughts.

An overhead light hums as it flickers on and off, the cacophony of people and vehicles from the main drag almost comforting at this point.

At least it’s something normal, he thinks as he blows out a harsh breath.  

“Fuck.” He curses, balling his hand into a fist and hitting the wall.

He’s not sure what is pissing him off more; that his emotions are so twisted he can’t get ahold of them, or the fact that he bolted immediately after…that.

He isn’t a stranger to physical exchanges, but that’s all they ever are.

A means to an end, a quick nut, then moving on.

It was never anything like what he’d just experienced with you.

Not even burying his blade into the gut of someone inconvenient had ever given him the rush he’d felt with you spread out before him, the delicious noises you were making from just touching him, your bloody hand coating his-

“FUCK!” he shouts, startling some kind of rodent living amongst the trash down the alley.

Normally he wouldn’t be lingering in such a disgusting place but he isn’t in his right mind at the moment.

A flash of your crestfallen face causes him to sink into a crouch and tug at his hair wildly.

Why did he just run out like that?

He can still smell the coppery scent of you on him, his hands tacky with your dried blood.  

He stares down at them, flexing them open and closed as he tries to figure out why the urge to scrub it off isn’t overwhelming him right now.

A shudder rushes through him as he raises his hand to trace where your fingers squeezed his throat, his cock stiff and throbbing already at the recollection.

He’s always in control.

Always.

Except with you.

He’d lost complete control of himself, submitting to his desires…giving in to you.

Impossibly he didn’t loathe it at all and that shakes him to his very core.

He’s suddenly brought out of his spiral by the chime of his watch, indicating that his outer door has been breached.

Spitting out a string of obscenities, he quickly rises to his feet, hand dropping unconsciously to squeeze his crotch to quell the ache.

Surely, you just tried to leave again but probably panicked.

The idea of you crouching in that corner, fear forcing you to make yourself small has his feet moving before he even comprehends what he’s doing.

Certainly, you haven’t left.

Yet with each step, doubt creeps down his spine and before he knows it, he’s all but running back home.

You’re gone.

You’d actually left.

He halts, his heart pounding in his chest as he takes stock of the empty bunker.  

The ruined remnants of the dinner you were preparing lay amidst dark red and brown stains of your drying blood.  

The stool he’d knocked over still lay on the floor, and his eyes catch sight of little drops of blood he’d missed as he rushed in.  

The trail leads right back out the door.

She’d fucking left.

Emotions he’s not familiar with threaten to send him back into a spiral as he spots the tattered book he’d gone through so much to get for you.

Jaw clenching, he forces everything down, setting his mind to what his next steps are.

Day after day, he’d made it a point to tell you to leave, yet now that you’d actually found the courage to do so…

Anger wells up inside of him, making quick work of showering and changing before he’s hastily rushing back out.

He needs to get to the one person he can trust to find you.  

He has to find you.

He will tear this city apart to do so.

You keep wiping your hands into your eyes, trying to wipe away the tears, yet all you do is make them sting painfully with the mess on your hands.

Blood and come, the combination both causes your stomach to flip delightedly but also forces sharp pangs from your chest.

By the time you come to your senses, you’re far from the safety of Hoseok���s place, deep in the mania of the lawless city you’ve come to hate.

Lecherous eyes are everywhere you look, dark scowls and lewd grins threatening to send you screaming back to the security of the bunker.

The problem is, you have no idea how to get back.

Nor do you want to right now, the panic setting in from being exposed like this warring with the humiliation of what just happened.

You can’t deny how much you wanted just that to occur, to be touched by him, to be wanted…

The feeling of being discarded and abandoned hurts you to your very soul, feeling like a lost broken puppy roaming the chaos of the streets.

Increasingly familiar surroundings finally lead you to the tiny little room you called home for the last year.

The fear of your old ‘friends’ finding you is temporarily overridden by the need to get off the streets; at the very least, it’s been long enough that they likely won’t be posted there waiting right now.  

Still, you are cautious as you approach the dilapidated building, slipping quickly yet hopefully stealthily inside and making your way inside through the side door.  

As you finally twist the knob to your room in the way that will jiggle the lock open, you shut the door behind you and press your back to it.

Glancing around, you frown at the mess left behind by the people looking for you.  

The small room is barely a closet, and you didn’t have much to call yours, but they’d found a way to basically destroy it all.

Locking the door behind you, you slowly approach the torn pad you called a bed, sinking down to sit on it.

Exhaustion washes over you as you look down at yourself, eyes welling once more at the pretty green dress that is now spotted with dark stains.  

Cursing yourself for not cleaning up before leaving, you idly finger the specks as you ponder what the fuck you’re going to do now.

There’s no way you can stay here or you’ll just end up right back where you started.

Surely, your reappearance will be noticed.  

Yet, you have literally nothing but the clothing on your back.

Your gut wrenches at the predicament you’re now in, distracted suddenly by the semen caked over your thighs and dress.  

You don’t know what’s worse; fear of being caught and forced into whatever the hell they wanted to do with you, or the pain of not being near Hoseok anymore.  

Rationally you know that your very survival should be a priority, yet the agony of never seeing him again eclipses every other emotion right now.

Falling onto the ruined bedding, you curl into a ball and try to disappear, deluding yourself that the abyss of sleep will reset this grim existence.

“Hmmm…” Yoongi hums, tongue in his cheek as Hoseok gives him your description, nodding as he takes note.

Any other person might pry into why he’s looking for you, yet Yoongi is ever the professional.  

He knows better than to question anyone’s motives or anything beyond the necessary information he needs.

He wouldn’t have survived the chaos and anarchy outside of the city proper if he did.

Yoongi eyes the man before him, eyes flicking over his current state, his unusually controlled demeanor seeming to be falling apart as the moments tick by.  

“I’ll prioritize it.  The moment I get any info, I’ll ping you.”  

Hoseok just nods curtly, pulling his hood back up before he’s making his way out the door.

Of the small group of contacts he has, Yoongi knows these streets better than anyone.

He’ll find you; he has to.

He suppresses the urge to go stab someone to vent his frustrations, focussing on scouring for any sign of you.

He has no idea what your life has been like, what brought you to being locked in that cage the night he found you.

He’d never bothered to ask nor had you offered the information.

Regret fills him as he stalks intently through the narrow, winding side streets, barely noting the way people give him a wide berth.

Fingering the knife in his pocket, he clenches his jaw in determination, ready to draw it on the first person that gets in his way.

Fuck it, he may not even have the patience for a blade.

Whoever manages to get between him and his goal tonight will be choking on the limbs he rips from their body.

The first thing you are aware of upon awakening is the pulsing heat in your hand. 

The burning sting slams you right back into the reality of your situation.

Moaning softly in pain, you try to unfurl your contorted body, wincing at how sore your limbs are.

The disparity of waking up back here fills you with regret, cursing your impulsive past self for fleeing without thinking things through.

Your stomach growls loudly, reminding you that you have nothing to eat, nor do you have any way to clean yourself up right now.

There’s no way you can just languish here, starving and wallowing in your own filth.

Already the scent of dried bodily fluids and old blood taint your nose as you sit up slowly, glancing around the dark room with a sinking stomach.

The state of the room when you've returned lets you know that the likelihood of finding anything to change into is off the table.

Unless you leave here, you are doomed to wither away wearing the reminder of your reckless decisions.

Maybe….maybe it’s not too late to return. 

If there is a chance to find your way back to his bunker, perhaps he will at least give you the possibility of finding something else to wear…

Burying your face in your unwashed hands, you try to compose yourself enough to get the courage to do something, anything to move forward from here.

Hiding away until you turn into a pathetic corpse isn’t an option.

Standing wearily, you take a few moments to breathe deeply, collecting your thoughts, you slowly make your way to the door, sliding your bare feet along the debris on the floor.

Idiot, you chastise yourself, not even grabbing the soft slippers Hoseok had given you before you’d fled.

The door creaks as you open it slowly, peeking out to gauge if you can slip out unnoticed.

If you remember correctly, nearby was a small shop that you used to frequent and it was possible that the clerk might allow you to use the bathroom there to clean yourself up.

It’s wishful thinking but at least it was something to aim for.

At least the dark cover of night somewhat helped conceal you.  

By the time you find the particular building, your feet are already cut up and aching from the uneven pavement.

It didn’t help that you are drawing stares, arms wrapped around yourself as you rush past people who stop to stare as they bump into you.  

A litany of “Watch it, bitch,” and “Hey, come here,” comments have you mumbling apologies, doing your best to dodge the meaty hands that snag at you before finally spotting the familiar sign.

Hastening inside, you let out a sigh of relief at the familiar cramped space that you’d often visited.  

“Hey you can’t-” a male voice says as they spot you, but quickly he recognizes you and you give him a tentative smile.  

A look of concern crosses his features as he takes in your current state.

Before you can say anything, he’s rushing over, gently guiding you away from the door, glancing out worriedly before turning back to address you.

“Look, I dunno where you been, but people been askin’ after you.  You gotta get yourself scarce.” he whispers harshly, his gaze pausing on your scraped up bare feet.

“I dunno what kind of trouble is chasin’ you, but nothing good ever comes from their kind when they come askin’.”  

“I…I know…I wanted to know if…perhaps I could simply use a sink to wash my hands?” your voice is shaking, thin and trembling as you do your best to tamp down the fear at his words.

“Quickly, girl, but then you gotta go.  Far from here.”  He states, pointing to a small door near the back.  

Nodding as you rush quickly into the tiny bathroom, you swallow down the panic threatening to choke you.  

Relief mixed with pain wash over you as the tepid water rushes over your hands, and you use your thumb to tentatively clean the knife wound on your palm.

Mind racing as the grime sluices off your skin, you try to focus on your next steps from here. 

You know you want to find your way back to Hoseok somehow, yet your mind wars with that idea.  

What if he finally decides to follow through with his threat and cuts your throat open at your audacity?Worse…what if he just turns his back on you and tosses you back into the streets to be found by your pursuers?

Splashing your face with the water, you finally look into the cracked and dingy mirror in front of you.  

Your reflection just stares back, eyes full of fear and hopelessness.  

“Oh fuck off.” You hiss at yourself, making quick work of doing your best to clean up.

You return to the shop proper finally, the kind shopkeep bending down to grab something before he’s returning to your side.  

“Get yourself out of this place, girl.” He says, sympathy in his eyes as he drops a pair of slides on the floor before you.

Your heart pangs at this act of kindness, your eyes pricking with heated tears as he pushes a small paper bag into your arms.

“I ain’t gonna say you were here, but you make sure you don’t come back, yeah?” He whispers as you step into the slightly large sandals.

Your throat closes at the surge of gratitude, choking out a thank you before he’s pushing you back out onto the street.  

“Don’t let me see you back here.” he hisses before shutting the door behind you, gesturing in a shooing motion before you’re slinking away into the nearest alcove to peek into the small package.

Two buns peer back at you and your stomach loudly screams in joy at the prospect of food.

Sniffling, you wolf down the offering, rolling up the small bag and discarding it in the nearest trash can, trying to decide how to make your way back.

Yet, before you can even make it a few steps, an unsettlingly familiar voice calls out your name across the passersby.

“Well well well, look who it is.  I’ve been looking all over for you, sweetheart.”

The hard, dark eyes in that deceitful face freeze you in your spot, cursing your horrible luck.

There’s no mistaking that voice, that very particular scar on his mouth marring his otherwise handsome face.

A man you once called a friend, who betrayed you and is the reason you ended up in that horrid cage weeks before is flanked by two of his goons.

As they start towards you, your stomach twists into a knot before you can get your mind to work.

Panic has you contemplating what to do, throat tightening before your flight response kicks in and you’re fleeing down a side street then into an alley nearby.  

“Get back here, you little bitch!” His scream echoes behind you, the sound of their pursuing footfalls barely audible over the sound of your heart beating out of your chest.

No, no, no, you brain chant like a mantra to some unknown deity, please no-

It has been hours combing the main areas Hoseok is familiar with, each area presenting its own disgusting flavor of filth.

He is grateful that he’d brought his motorbike, making the search faster, yet he’s had no luck spotting you at this point.

He has no idea what he expected.

It’s not as if you’re just going to be out wandering the streets.

Yet he makes it a point to search each little alley and alcove; memories of the first night that you’d tried to follow him has him redirecting to find that particular area.  

A chime from his watch alerts him to a message and he stops his bike, yanking out his phone to talk directly to Yoongi.

“Did you find anything?”  He asks, discarding any niceties.  

Unbothered, Yoongi just lets out a weary sigh in response.  

“Not her exactly, but word is out that those trafficker fucks have been asking about her.  Doesn’t sound like they want to have tea and a nice chat.”

Baring his teeth, Hoseok’s face contorts in anger at the words.

It makes a bit more sense now, how he’d found you, the connection.

Their gang was well known and feared even amongst the shitty population outside the walls for indebting naive men and women into all kinds of gruesome work to pay them back.

It was all a front for human trafficking and Hoseok’s hand tightens around the phone as he tries to keep himself in control.

“Give me a location.” He demands, then his watch is chiming not even a moment later.

“Done.  And Hoseok…be careful.” Yoongi’s voice drops into a warning tone.

“Yeah yeah, I know.  I owe you one.”  He responds, already starting his bike back up.

“You sure as fuck do.” Yoongi says before ending the call, and Hoseok can’t even laugh at the man’s normal sign off.

He only has one thing on his mind and that’s finding these assholes before they find you.

Somewhere during the pursuit, one of the sandals had slipped off, then another and you find yourself running barefoot through the darkened, winding arteries of the city.  

Bursting out onto the main street, you grit your teeth as you stumble into passersby, followed by the curses of people as you ping pong through the crowd.  

You barely feel any pain from your wounded feet, the fear of being caught numbing them as it demands your full attention.

As you make your way into another narrow alley, you round and corner only to find yourself faced with a dead end.

The brick wall ahead of you mocks you, as you hear the pursuing footfalls behind you slow, then stop before laughter fills the little area.

“Fuck-” one of the voices pants as your mind races for any option to get yourself away from here.

Your eyes dart back and forth, cursing your horrid luck as you finally turn back around to face your pursuers.  

“Think you’re cute, huh?” Jugeum says, spitting to the side, then wiping his mouth as he stalks towards you.

The man behind him chuckles, catching his breath and pulling out his phone.

“I’ll call the car.” He announces, but Jugeum waves him off, never taking his eyes from you.

“Take your time, she’s not going anywhere.  Her and I need to have a little talk.” He says, a sinister smile creeping over his lips as you back up slowly.

Your entire body feels like a wound up spring, adrenaline and terror causing every part of you to shake uncontrollably.

“Please-” You try to speak, but he shakes his head, the nasty grin never leaving his face.

“It’s long past the time to be begging, don’t you think, sweetheart?” He hisses, closing the distance between you in a moment.

Your reflexes are too slow to dodge the hand that snakes out to grab you by the hair, the other gripping your upper arm painfully.  

Letting out a sharp cry as he twists his fingers and yanks your hair, he shoves you back into the brick wall that cuts off all hope of escape.

“I don’t know how you managed it, but killing Hyun was a mistake.  Now you’ve got me in a predicament.” he whispers as he presses his lips to your ear.

Your scalp protests as he tugs your hair, then he loosens his hold to pet you.

You close your eyes as if it’s going to help you in any way, trying to deny the reality of your circumstances.

His hot breath dampens the side of your face as he continues, “No, now I just want to tear you apart for the audacity.  And running from me?”

His laugh is filled with spite, drawing away to glare at you.  

You can’t even swallow as he finally lets go of your hair, his palm slipping down to cup your cheek gently before grabbing your face and squeezing hard enough to make tears spring into your eyes.

“I’ll find a way to pay you back-” You manage through the fear, but this only seems to amuse him.

“And here I thought you were at least mildly clever. It’s not about the money, sweetheart. I’ll make more off of you than any measly ‘payment’ you could ever make.”

He leans in, eyes flitting back and forth between yours as your noses almost touch.  

You attempt to struggle, but his hand is like a vice on your arm, despite twisting to get out of his grip.  

At this, his amused face contorts into a look of pure rage, his scar stretching and only making him appear even more monstrous.

He finally releases your face, but the momentary relief is only eclipsed by panic as his large hand settles over your throat, squeezing tightly.

“Though, you’re quickly trying me, and I may chalk you up to a net loss.”  

The loud din of the distant crowds fade with the ringing in your head as he lifts you enough so you’re barely able to feel your toes scraping the jagged pavement, his fingers tightening as he watches your reaction.

You grab his wrist with both hands, attempting to pry him off you, but it’s wasted effort and he laughs without any humor.  

“How in the world did a weakling like you manage to overtake Hyun? I’ll make a deal with you, sweetheart.” He snarls, loosening his grip to allow your airway to open up again.

Sucking in a deep breath, your throat burns with the effort, causing you to cough uncontrollably.

“Why don’t you tell me how you got out and overpowered him and maybe I’ll go easy on you, huh?”

Hopelessness overcomes you, thoughts of what brought you leave momentarily flashing through your mind.

Your stomach twists as you think about the what ifs.

If only you hadn’t left without thinking.

If only you hadn’t done something to make Hoseok leave like that.

At least I had a moment of happiness, you think before you abruptly bring your knee up between Jugeum’s legs.

The kick is weak, as you knew it would be, yet you are tired of begging and pleading to this horrible man.

“Bitch-” he growls, but he’s cut off as you gather all the moisture you can in your mouth to spit right in his face.

The sudden shock on his face would make you laugh if his hand didn’t immediately squeeze around your throat once more, tight enough this time to cause bright light to play at the edges of your vision.

Your hands claw at his arm, feet kicking wildly as he hoists you up by your neck and you resign yourself to meeting your end here in this disgusting place.

“Tell me, slut, or you’re fucking dead-” he hisses as you struggle against him.

But his words are cut off abruptly as a deep, harsh voice answers.

A voice you thought you’d never hear again.

“It was me, asshole.”

Your heart leaps in your chest even as you barely make out Jugeum’s throat opening, a sudden hot spray of fluid spurting all over you.

You fall to the ground heavily, wheezing and gasping for air as your sight is filled with red, your eyes watering at the sting of what appears to be blood.

A strangled cry draws your attention as you wipe at your face, trying to understand what just happened.

Coughing and clutching your throat, you watch in surprise as Hoseok straddles Jugeum, his knife rising and falling in a fury as he hacks at him.

“Hoseok-?” You try to say, but it only comes out as a weak whisper.

He doesn’t appear to have heard you, and you drag yourself to your knees, then try to stand but your head spins at the effort.

Over and over you watch as he stabs Jugeum, blood flinging from his knife each time he raises it up just to bring it back down.  

You slowly crawl over to him, unconcerned now with your assaulter, and only wondering how the fuck Hoseok found you.

But that thought is quickly overridden by the sheer joy.

He found you; he came for you.

“I think…” you rasp out, coughing as you finally drag even more air into your lungs.  

“I think he’s dead-” you finally manage, reaching out to touch Hoseok’s arm.

The look of pure rage as he turns towards you mid swing, his knife dripping with gore has you reeling backwards, falling on your ass painfully and raising your hands up instinctively.

The sight of you seems to snap him out of it, his eyes wild as he stares at you for a long moment.

A low whine leaves his throat as he looks you over, his lips drawing back over his teeth as he turns back to hack at the unmoving body beneath him.

You can only watch him as he begins to eviscerate the corpse, sickening wet tearing noises filling your ears as he spits out curses and unintelligible words before finally dropping the knife and leaning back to catch his breath.

He tilts his head back, his throat working as he looks up into the night sky above and you can’t help but admire his profile.

You’re reminded of the first night you met, but this is so much different.

He was so calm and collected, but this…

He turns his crazed eyes back to you, chest heaving with each gulping breath.

Without a word he pushes to his feet and stumbles over to you, pulling you up and trying to smooth back your blood soaked hair.

Your lip trembles at the simple gesture, tears stinging your eyes in a way the viscous blood hadn’t.

No words are spoken as he pulls you out of the place you thought would be your end, dragging you along to a bike parked nearby.

You barely register the sight of another body at the opening of the alley as he ushers you by.

I guess he never made that call.

He seats you in front of him before starting it up, allowing you to lean back against him as his arms cage you in.  

The ride back goes by in a flash, your eyes closed as you process your shock.

Everything has happened so quickly and you are struggling to make sense of anything that’s taken place in such a short period of time.

You’re unsure how much time has gone by when he’s slowing and pulling up to a deserted part of the city, parking the bike beneath a small copse of trees.

Hoseok doesn’t even look at you as he grabs your arm once more, opening a hidden door and rushing you inside.

You barely remember coming out this way, and you realize he’s taking you back home.

Home.

The thought has you hiccuping in a confusion of emotions and he is silent as he guides you down multiple sets of stairs, not even looking at you as you finally approach the doors that you’d spent so much time trying to leave through.

You can only stare at him as he punches in a code to a hidden panel beside the door, then he’s dragging you along into the common area, then right into the bathroom.

“Hoseok-” you whisper, confusion warring with uneasiness at his silence as he rushes to turn on the water.  

Now that you've stopped moving, you can feel how the hand on your arm is trembling; you can see how tight his jaw is as he finally turns to gaze at you with huge, dark eyes.

Without a word, he pulls you both underneath the shower, soaking you both as he finally releases your arm.

But instead of stepping away, he grabs the nearby soap, then he’s scrubbing your exposed skin frantically and you wonder if he’s about to peel your skin off to cleanse you of the blood.

“I have to get him off you-” he’s repeating over and over as the water beneath you turns red and pink before draining away.  

Recognizing the signs of his panic, you step closer and cup his face, gently trying to draw his gaze.

That’s fear, you register in surprise.

Not something you’d ever have attributed to this man.

Fear for you.

“Look at me.” You say softly, dipping your head until he finally locks eyes with yours.

The spatters of blood on his face are finally running off, tendrils of hair clinging to his forehead as he finally halts his movements.  

“He fucking touched you, he’s all fucking over you and I need to get him off-” the words are harsh, his voice almost a growl but his eyes look pained as you shake your head at him.

“It’s okay, I’m okay.” you murmur, pushing back his damp hair to help soothe him.

He bares his teeth as he spots your throat, dropping the soap as he reaches up to tilt your head and study the marks left behind.

“I’ll fucking kill him all over again.” he threatens, and you can’t help but feel your heart melt at his concern.

You try to suppress the urge to laugh at his words, but then he’s glaring at the once pretty green dress that is now pretty much ruined.

“Why did you leave?” He whispers, so low that you barely catch it.

He finally drags his eyes from your dress, to look at you expectantly as the water sluices over both of you.

Swallowing down the memory of why you left, you can only counter with a question of your own.

“Why did you?”  

Though he winces as if you’ve slapped him, he nods at you as he settles his fingers over the marks on your neck.  

“Any reason I give you won’t matter, even if I had one.  I don’t honestly know.” He answers, his dark eyes flitting from your face, to your neck, then to the dress.  

Before you can rethink it, you drop your hands from soothing him to grab the hem of the dress, yanking it over your head and discarding it to the side.

Though he seems startled at your actions, he physically relaxes once it’s no longer touching you.

“I left because I thought you wanted me gone.” You finally tell him, glancing at the cut on your palm as you raise your hand to cup his cheek once more.

His eyes flutter shut at your touch, droplets clinging to the dark lashes as he leans into it.

It feels surreal, standing under a shower half clothed with a murderer, yet feeling nothing but soft and safe as he wraps his arms around you.

“I don’t want you gone. I don’t want anyone to touch you. I’ll fucking kill anyone who does and I’ll kill you if you leave.” 

His voice is coarse, harsh but the only emotions that well up within you are pleasure and satisfaction at his admission.

A deep, resounding sense of contentment fills you as your fingers entwine into his wet hair.

“That’s all I want to hear.” you confess, all of your earlier confusion and pain evaporating in that one statement.

Before he can say anything else, you twist your hand in his locks and yank him closer, crushing your mouth to his.

Immediately, his hands are everywhere, mouth parting to slip his tongue along the seam of your lips.

Your head spins as you begin to tug on his soaked clothing, needing to feel more of him against you.  

He swallows all of the desperate noises you can’t stop making as he shrugs off his jacket, then parts from you only long enough to yank his shirt over his head and throw it to the side.

You can’t help but gasp at the sight of his dilated pupils; the sight of his lean, naked chest before he’s tugging you back into his arms has you needing to see more, touch more.

You barely notice him tearing off your bra as you pull at the button of his pants, unzipping and pushing them down as his hands slip down the back of your panties.

You swear your heart is beating between your legs as he grabs two handfuls of your ass and hoists you up against him, his erection seeming to throb in sync against you.

Your encounter before was hot and heavy, escalating quickly and this is much the same.

Except this time there was no uncertainty, no hesitation as he kicks off his remaining clothing and rips off your flimsy panties with a forceful tug.  

He lets out a low moan as everything separating you is finally gone, his hands trailing from your ass up to your hips, then skimming along your sides.

He slowly starts backing you up, his mouth never letting up as he blindly grabs for a towel.

Hastily, you dry each other, clumsily stumbling out into the common area still dripping with water.  

Uncaring, your nails dig into his shoulders, then rake them down his back as he pushes you into the nearest wall.

His groan has you clenching already as he grabs a handful of your hair.

“I don’t make idle threats.” He growls into your ear before dipping his head down to nuzzle his nose against your neck.

“I know-” you gasp, snaking your leg around his and tilting your hips in a desperate effort to alleviate your growing need for him.

“I’ll eviscerate anyone who fucking dares-” 

His breath is hot on your neck, the sensation of his tongue and teeth causing you to whine weakly as he sucks harshly at your skin. 

“I know.” you repeat as he slips one of his hands up to cup your breast, his thumb flicking over the already taut nipple.  

“Mine.” he snarls as he pulls you from the wall, hauling you up against him only to turn and toss you onto the couch.

You let out a small gasp at the action, and he’s immediately covering you, his knees forcing your thighs apart as he grabs your wrists to yank them over your head.

Your entire body trembles in desire as he hovers over you, his hungry eyes devouring you as he ogles you openly.  

“Say it.” He demands, ignoring how you’re lifting your hips and wriggling beneath him.

“Yours, I’m yours, please-” You cry out in anguish, knowing if he doesn’t touch you, if he’s not inside of you right fucking now you might just die.

His smile has your abdomen clenching painfully, the ravenous look in his eyes driving you mad with lust.  

Before you can cry out another plea, he’s skimming his fingertips down your raised arms, leaning down to press his mouth against yours before he’s making his way down your naked body with his lips.  

You keep your arms over your head as he drags his tongue between your breasts, trying your best to watch him leave marks with each nip and suck.

“I’ve murdered countless people.” he tells you, even as his lips brush over your sensitive nipple.

Moaning softly, you can only nod in response as he grins before making his way to do the same to the other.

“You know exactly what I am.” He hums, his eyes on you as his tongue rolls around the stiffened bud.  

You nod again, arching your back as his lips lock around your nipple, sucking harshly.

“I’m a monster, but I’m not cruel…” he says once your tit pops out of his mouth, licking his lips as he eyes you, “If you want me to stop at any-” 

“I don’t fucking care what you want to do to me, do it.  Fucking do it.” Your voice is hoarse, your entire body vibrating with need.

He raises an eyebrow at you, eyes darkening as he tilts his head at you.

“Dangerous words, little bird.”

You don’t know where or when he managed to get a hold of it, but he produces a small knife, teasing it along the line of your collarbone, then along the line of your neck.

Thoughts of how he reacted to your blood previously fill your mind, and you can’t help but lean up into the blade as he presses it to your skin.

He hisses softly as it pierces enough to draw a drop of blood, and you can feel the wet heat of it start to trickle down your throat.

“You’re fucking killing me,” he groans as you reach between his legs to wrap your fingers around his cock.

“I’m yours, Hoseok-” you say, slowly sitting up and he draws the knife back, your fingers tightening around his erection.

You push him backwards into a sitting position, tossing your leg over his thighs so you’re straddling him.

“-but you’re mine as well.” You whisper as you settle into his lap, your hand pumping at him as his head drops back against the couch.  

Gripping his shoulder, you watch as his eyes are drawn to the rivulet of blood as it cuts a path down between your tits.

A deep primal noise escapes his throat at the sight, his eyes rolling as you stroke him.  

You reach for the hand holding the knife, bringing it up to your throat as you guide the head of his cock against your cunt.  

Your entire body shudders as you drag the tip along your slit, crying out softly as you tease it against your clit.  

His free hand grips your hip, his eyes unable to find a target to focus on as he struggles to look at everything all at once.

Unable to wait another moment, you finally guide him into you, crying out in pleasure as you sink down onto him.  

He sucks in a harsh breath as he stretches you, his pupils blown out, lips parted as you finally seat yourself fully on him.

“Fuck, oh fuck-” He groans, his grip loosening on the knife as he lets it drop, sitting up and burying his face into the now freely flowing crimson running down your body.  

You wrap your arms around his head, twisting your fingers into the tangle of his still damp hair as you start riding him.

His fingers dig into your hips, pulling you down onto him every time you lift yourself back up.

The drag of his cock along your insides is enough to have you already moaning loudly, the friction of your bodies meeting teasing at your clit as you cling to one another.

The room fills with the noises of your joining, his low deep moans blending with your frantic whines and cries.

Yanking back on his hair, your head swims at the sight of his blood stained face and the wild, manic look in his eyes.

The world upends as he flips you both, yanking your arms back up over your head as he starts pounding into you.

“Hoseok!” You scream out, each bruising thrust edging you closer to losing control until your orgasm tears through you with such power, that your entire body is lifting off the couch.

Unintelligible curses drip from his lips as you clamp tightly around him, his own body starting to shake at the intensity of your climax.  

His hips begin to stutter as your cunt clenches around him, pulling out of you quickly and covering your body with spurts of cum.  

His hand still pins you down, his other wrapped around his dick as he milks himself of every drop before slipping back inside of you.  

Your eyes roll back in your head as he collapses on top of you, burying himself to the hilt deep within you as he tries to catch his breath.

He finally releases your wrists, allowing you to wrap them around him.

You let out soft little whines as he lazily rolls his hips, the overstimulation causing you to wriggle and gasp.

“I’m always making a mess…” you finally manage, combing your fingers through the tangle of his hair. 

He hums as he lifts his head groggily, eyes hooded as he gives you a gentle smile.  

“I like your mess.” he hums, tipping his head to rest his bloodied cheek on your now sticky chest.

Your eyes close as you bask in the moment, the realization that you aren’t alone anymore really starting to sink in.

Moments drift by as you relish the feel of him against you, within you, and you may have even drifted off to sleep before he’s softening and pulling out of you.

You let out a sad little whine at the loss, but then he’s hoisting you up off the couch by your arms, guiding you back into the bathroom.

“Let’s clean ourselves first.” He says, and this time you both wash one another slowly, deliberately, taking your time.

Of course, the moment your hand cups his balls and you begin to soap up his dick, he’s quickly stiffening and turning you around to bury himself within you once again.

Hands pressed to the wall, it’s hard and fast, but this time when he finally comes, he buries himself deep to fill you instead of pulling out.

He rests his forehead on your neck as he pants, littering kisses along your shoulder before turning you back around to kiss you deeply.

You sway in his arms, the exhaustion from the night finally starting to win.

Silently, he turns off the shower and leads you out to dry you off, taking his time on each part of you.  

It’s almost humorous how he can go from psychotic killer with a knife to this calm, sweet man who is looking up at you almost in worship as he towels your legs.  

A smile creeps over his face as his gaze locks onto your parted thighs, and you can feel the warmth of his cum seeping out of you.  

He bites his lip as he raises his hand, two of his fingers pushing the mess back up into you as you gasp.  

“Fuck, you’re insatiable,” you whimper as you notice him getting hard once more.

You barely remember falling asleep by the time you’re wrapped around each other in bed, but you do briefly smile at the thought of him finally being able to reclaim his bedroom before sleep overtakes you.

“I’m aware, Yoongi.  Did you talk to Jin?”

Hoseok’s voice rouses you, his tense tone cutting through the haze of your deep sleep.

The ache from various parts of your body throb delightfully, and you can’t help but smile into the pillow as you roll over to stretch yourself awake.

The partially opened door allows you to watch Hoseok pace back and forth, and you can’t help but recall the previous night's activities.

Curling up on your side, you find yourself catching snippets of his conversation as you admire him.  

He’s dressed already, you pout to yourself, yet even clad in the tshirt and jeans, he’s striking.

“It’s not as if I- …it’s complicated, alright? …Yeah, I’ll see you in a bit and we’ll talk.” 

His eyes meet yours through the open doorway as he says his goodbyes before hanging up.  

“You’re awake.” He observes, his solemn look brightening into a full, gorgeous smile.

The sight of him beaming at you flips your stomach and you have to grip the sheets to stop yourself from springing out of bed and tackling him all over again.

You just nod at him, chewing the inside of your mouth as you squeeze your thighs together.

“Hold on.” He says, turning and walking out of your field of view before returning to come sit on the side of the bed next to you.

He’s holding a small box, and you recognize the first aid kit as he opens it.  

“I’m alright,” you whisper as he takes out a tube of something, but his smile turns into a scolding look that has you quieting down quickly.  

“Infection kills more frequently than even I do.” He tells you, applying some to his finger before leaning in to dab it on the various cuts on your neck.  

You can’t help but laugh at this, drawing his grin back out, much to your delight.

A comfortable silence fills the room as he tends to you, allowing you to just study him before returning the favor.

As you finish making sure he doesn’t have any untreated wounds, he takes the medicine from your hands to place to the side before pulling you into his arms.

He places a kiss on your forehead, then your lips as you melt into his embrace.

Your heart threatens to tear its way out of your throat as he finally parts from you, petting your hair gently as he gazes into your eyes.

“As much as I’d enjoy a repeat of last night, I think it’s best that we should both recover some energy before that.” He tells you, the rasp in his voice giving away that he’s just as affected as you are right now.

Taking in a deep breath, you just nod in agreement before kissing his cheek.  

“As much as I want to argue…” You murmur, slowly letting out the breath and his smile lights up the room once more.

He pulls away and stands, allowing you to get up and go rummage for clothing.  

His harsh cough is a shallow attempt at covering his reaction to your naked body, and you can’t help but grin as he turns away while you pull on a top and some pants.

“Hoseok, I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation…is everything alright?” You ask him tentatively.

He turns to look at you, his smile fading a bit as he seems to mull over how to answer.

“It’s alright if you don’t want to-” you begin, but he shakes his head to stop you.

“Come out and let’s eat something…and I’ll try to tell you what I can.” 

He heads towards the kitchen, and you take a moment to follow, pondering what you’re going to learn.

You manage to push him away from the fridge as he rummages, directing him to sit down.

“I owe you a meal.” you tell him, remembering the previous kitchen encounter.

His lips twitch at the memory and he merely nods, placing his elbows on the counter as he leans forward to watch.

You don’t rush him as the silence stretches, allowing him time to collect his thoughts.  

Finally he starts to talk.

“I’m going to assume that from what you’ve seen of my comings and goings…and how you first saw me…that you know what I’m capable of. I’m violent, brutal.  I’m a murderer.”

He pauses as he studies your face, but merely nod as you continue to prep food.

“Your reaction to that both intrigues and terrifies me.” He states, causing you to stop what you’re doing.

“Why would that terrify you?” You ask him, genuinely curious.

He purses his lips, looking away momentarily as his leg bounces.

“Because I’ve come to … care about you.  It doesn’t make sense how you’ve gone through all that bullshit yet here you are, cooking me food and looking at me like…that.” he states, turning back to gesture towards you.

His admission has your heart stuttering, and heat rushes to your cheeks as you try not to grin like an idiot.  

“Like what?” you ask, voice cracking as you push down your emotions.

He gives you a look, and all you can do is shrug.  

“Look…people like us…like me, we don’t love, care, or trust easily.  I find more happiness in death than I do in this abominable world.  You…” He swallows, blowing out a breath as he shakes his head at you.

“I’m not going to use a vulgar word like ‘love’, so don’t ever expect me to.” he declares.

You find yourself pausing in your prep, not interrupting but making sure he knows you’re listening, understanding him.

He studies you before continuing,and you hang on each and every word.

“Letting someone into my life is not something I planned on.  You make me vulnerable, irrational, reckless.  I’m a murderer.” he repeats, as if to drive it home.  

“I know.” you whisper, and he sighs before running his hand over his face.

“There’s more to things…it’s not that simple-you told me before…you came here thinking that you would have a chance at a better life, to see what the city was like inside the walls.”  

His words aren’t a question, more of a statement and you just continue to nod as he speaks.

“What if I told you that what you see outside of here doesn’t even compare to the savagery that lies within the walls?” 

Your hands freeze, curiosity peaked at this announcement.

“What…what do you mean?” You ask, giving up on cooking and setting your knife to the side.  

His next words just floor you.  

“I come from inside.” 

Your heart stutters at this; for the year you’ve been here, not once have you heard anything but speculation about what was inside.  

Everyone merely said things like, “So I’ve heard,” or “Noone really knows but,” about what things were like.

Hell, no one even seemed to agree on how the walls even came into being.  

The rumors were, once you went inside, you never wanted to come back out.

Or you couldn’t.

“But…why…?” You start, your brain racing.

“We escaped.  Out here, there’s no law, there’s no one to police the vile things that go on.  We just exist and do our best to survive.  Inside…when you commit crimes, you suffer the consequences.”  

The tone of his voice drops a bit, eyes glazing as he seems to recall his past.

“I’m a murderer, yes, but in my eyes there are crimes far worse than ridding this world of the disgusting trash that gets in my way.  I’ve heard that once upon a time, this world had a balance, a form of justice.  Now we’re split in two, and both sides are appalling in their own ways.”

He halts for a moment, reaching out to slip his hand into yours.

You entwine your fingers with his, finding your way around the counter to get closer to him.

“The man who hurt you last night-” he starts, eyes flashing as he remembers how he found you.

You comb your fingers through his hair, waiting patiently for him to continue.

This was the most you’ve ever heard him speak and you weren’t going to say anything to interrupt now.

“I’m sure you’ve figured out that he’s part of a human trafficking ring.  He was one of the contacts, apparently.  Someone contacted me to tell me that his death hasn’t gone unnoticed.”

Your eyes widen, stomach twisting at the idea that you may have gotten the attention of someone even more horrid.

“I know he dealt with others, because he and his asshole goons talked about things after they took me before you found me but….” 

You shudder, remembering what could have been your fate.

Hoseok wraps his arms around you, noticing your reaction.

“The people they traffic, they end up inside.” He tells you. “Have you never noticed the lack of women, how scarce children are out here?” 

Your brain races as you recall many moments where you’d noticed that, but anytime you’d inquired, your ‘friends’ had changed the subject.

“I…when I first came here, those men-” you gesture, “the ones from last night…they took me in right away.  I thought nothing of it before, I just thought they were being kind.”

He grimaces, letting out a tense breath.

“I won’t go into details, but as I said before…there are far worse things than death.”

You shiver at the implication, your heart hurting for those who have fallen victim to this disgusting scheme.

Even in the country where you came from, the children you grew up with were almost all female.  

Of course the lack of others here caught your attention, but you hadn’t thought too much about it.  

You’d made excuses,  they were just keeping their heads down like you did, hiding away from the vile men who pawed at you at every turn.

What Hoseok is implying just turns your stomach.

“But…that doesn’t answer why you are out here.  Do you…?” you hesitate, not wanting to hear that he participates in anything so horrible.

He winces, shaking his head at your unspoken thoughts.

“No…as I stated, killing some asshole who gets in my way is one thing.  I don’t kill innocents.” 

You let out a long breath, relaxing at his admission.

“The others and I…we’re going to tear it all down.” He finally tells you.

Your heart leaps, immediately saying, “See, you are a saviour!”  

He grabs your hands to calm you, shaking his head at your misconception.

“I told you, I’m not a hero or savior, little bird.  We all find what they do vile and horrific, but I couldn’t give two fucks what happens to anyone once our plan succeeds.”  

His eyes darken and blaze simultaneously as a wicked smile creeps over his face, causing a chaos of emotions within you ranging from lust to horror.

The pure wanton sadism on his face makes you swallow in confusion, yet you’ve never been more intoxicated by someone.

“Compassion for the weak is for others to deal with.  My singular goal is to burn everything down and take as many as I can with me.”

Deep within the city, walls protecting the inhabitants from the chaos of the outside world, a tall man leans back in his chair as he taps the communication device in his ear.

He slips it off, opening a hidden drawer deep underneath the desk to hide it away.

“Was that Yoongi?” a voice draws his attention.  

Seokjin is staring at him from the window, drink in hand before turning to gaze back at the city down below.

“Mmm.” Namjoon answers, standing to join him.

“And?” Seokjin asks, not taking his eyes off the ordered roads as elites travel from party to party, unconcerned about what their extravagance costs others.

“And the plan may be moving along quicker than we anticipated.”

Namjoon’s voice is even, yet even Jin can sense the excitement beneath.

Hell, all of them have been longing for this.

Long before the others had escaped the confines of this elaborately lavish prison, they’d all shared the same vision.

That this entire world would burn brightly as they held the spark that started it all.

The wick had been lit by seven of them long ago, and the anticipation as it crept closer to the climax was almost too much to bear.

“Soon.” Jin murmurs as his lips curl into a malicious sneer. 

[safely-in-vhagars-belly]

The Song of Ice and Fire (DARK BOOKMOND X STARKREADER/OC)

Aemond (book) x Reader

🔷Summary: After getting kidnapped on your way to King's Landing, you end up in another time where you meet a dangerous prince.

🔷Author's note: Either hit or miss with this one

🔷Wordcount :6756

🔷Warnings: This is Bookmond because im a little too sad to write showaemond atm. Bookaemond is my deranged honeybee he can do nothing wrong. Ok almost nothing.

WARNINGS: Kidnapping, drugging, forced marriage and war crimes and aemond being a sexist little bitch. Also spankings.

Maybe it was for the best. You always dreamt of leaving the cold and quiet town of Winterfell behind. You dreamt of a bigger, exciting life. A life of tourneys, of exciting feasts, of noble men fighting for your hand. It should have been as simple as that.

Except it wasn’t.

Sansa, your sister is going to be the future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Your father would be the hand of the king, one of the highest positions at court.  You, Arya, and her will soon travel with him to King’s Landing.

Until something happened.

Something unexplainable.

And something terrible.

Lately, your dreams have been getting worse. From nightmares that you didn’t pay any mind to darker things, things you barely could keep to yourself. Nightmares and dreams filled with unexplainable things, unknown faces and the death rising and marching. 

_____________

It is clear to you that your mind is simply toying with you. You are likely nervous for the future that awaits you. You are nervous for the suitors you’ll meet and that your life finally will begin. It will just be like all the romantic novels you read. It will be ball after ball and feast after feast.

Your dreams always start the same way. You are alone, surrounded by trees as big as towers, in the snowy woods. You hear the sound of the crispy snow as you set feet on it, moving in any direction, to find something. Home, you assume. The stars above your head are the only light to guide you, and it is unforgivably dark in the cold forest.

The cold winter winds pick up and toy with your hair, sending it in all directions. You never know why, but you always turn your head slightly sideways. You can’t control it. You don’t have a say. As a chestpiece moving over the board, you do as you are told by someone controlling you. 

It is always a surprise to see the wall close by, no matter how many times you have dreamt this dream. The majestic tall, ancient structure that has been here long before you were born and will be there long after you have gone. Something about it tells you are not supposed to be here. You feel chills.

You had heard reasons why the wall was built. Wildlings, mostly. The Nightwatch was installed to guard the wall, to make sure no threat could climb over it. You know your brother, Jon, dreams of becoming a brave member of the Nightwatch. It is all the honor he will gain as a bastard anyway. You are the same as his twin sister. But your father kept your bastardy a secret.

But the most important reason why the wall was built was the threat of white walkers. Cold, icy and deadly soldiers of an army without needs and without a will, forced to march forever beyond the wall. And when you are all the way North, you can only go one way: South.

You knew it wasn’t true. You knew when your father told you about them, they weren’t real. But any Northern child grows up with the same tales. Creatures with eyes as blue as ice, that could freeze you in pure terror so they could easily squeeze your eyeballs out of your head, killing you. A fun tale in a tavern. But not in the castle. 

You aren’t a foolish girl, no matter what the world tells you. You don’t believe those lies. You never did. You are not as brave as Arya perhaps or as pretty and polite as Sansa but you never believe in those ghost stories.

But here, in your dreams, beyond the wall and far away from your safe warm room at Winterfell, even someone as skeptical as you could understand why people believed those stories.

What would come next in your dreams was also always the same. You turn your head away from the wall. In the far distance, you can make out someone standing there, holding a lantern. The person is hooded, unrecognizable. But the person would always lift the lantern, and wave with it. Your eyes follow the movements, as the light of the lantern becomes brighter and brighter, shedding light over the forest, making the snow almost look like liquid gold.

It always seems so magical, as a scam shopkeepers tell their far too trusting clients before selling them magical rocks or potions. You know the hooded person never reveals themselves. You tried running at them, screaming, but you couldn’t move nor speak.

Then, you notice you are standing on something. A great lake, made of ice. Gone are the trees of the forest. Through the ice, you make out the skeleton of a human being. Someone from a long time ago. You watch the skeleton, wondering how long ago this person met their end, and how. And beneath the ice, poking halfway out of it, is a steel forged sword with a black handle. The tip of it is still in the ice, covered in a dark rusty coat of old blood. You notice your hands reach for the sword, picking it out of the ice.

The sword feels different than most swords. Lighter, better to wield. Safer. It feels like wielding one of your own arms. It feels safe, comfortable. Yours. Impossible. Ladies do not wield weapons. Not such obvious ones, at least. Ladies wield lies, poison, tricks, schemes. 

You turn to the hooded figure, sword in hand, still standing on the ice, with the skeleton safely beneath your feet. The hooded figure is gone. As is the light. The world is once again covered in darkness. It is suffocating you, in a way. 

Fear and anxiety fight inside of you, as you try to get off the ice. But you can’t move. Not anymore. It is not your body, anymore. You don’t have a say, anymore.

The sword is starting to hurt your inexperienced arms, and you try at all cost to drop the weapon. Your head snaps as you hear the sound of something you never heard before, but somehow you  know exactly what it is. A dragon’s roar.

You never felt fear like that, as you look around the lake for any sign of a dragon. But instead you are met with a thin skeleton made of ice and rotting flesh that reaches out with their hands, trying to grab you. A white walker.

You scream.

But before he could grab you, drag you into the lake with him…

You wake up.

You sit straight up in your bed, clutching the sheets of your bed. Your heart is still beating and your fear hasn’t left your mind yet. You are glad to see you are in your rooms, at Winterfell. Several familiar stuffed animal toys glance back at you from their spots on high shelves, calming your troubled mind instantly. You are coming of age so put some of them away, but unlike Sansa, you could never throw them out. 

You climb out of bed and prepare yourself for the exciting day ahead. The day your life will change forever. You just had no idea how much. And how terribly.

As always, Winterfell is busy. Servants go about their day, greeting you with nods or smiles as they carry in potatoes or walk around with freshly washed linen.

Your father and ‘’mother’’, brothers and sisters are already at the table, gathered for breakfast. They seem to have been waiting just for you. You greet them with a relieved smile. The food smells delicious and makes your stomach rumble in unladylike ways. You sit down on your chair and begin eating. 

You can almost hear Lady Catalyn’s thoughts. Everyone seems to know it. This might  be the final time you might all be together. This is goodbye, in a way. Jon will go to the wall, and you and your sisters to King’s Landing. 

You grab an apple and begin biting down on it, while also making yourself a cup of nice honey tea. You can not wait to leave the boring North and the nightmares finally behind. The north is a boring and cold place. Nothing exciting ever happened. Your sister, Sansa, also looks more happy than usual. Normally, she is grumpy at this hour.

‘’Do we need to leave soon?’’ Arya mutters next to her, playing with a fork and a potato. Your parents share a look, and your father speaks to the youngest Lady of house Stark. 

Even with their differences, their arguments and their fighting, you can see that Arya dreads the day that her and her  would leave for the capital. She likely wants to remain here, in the cold North forever. Eddard speaks, smiling with pride and joy and you feel jealous of how easy Sansa will become the Queen. ‘’Sansa will be the Queen. I will become the hand of the King if all goes well. Perhaps you’ll like King’s Landing.’’ Arya’s brown eyes fill with worry at imaginary scenarios. She looks at her sister, who always was said to be prettiest and who always has focussed on how to be a lady. She imagined King’s Landing would be filled with Sansas.

‘’No, thank you.’’ she mutters. Yet she does not have a choice.

You begin eating the apple first. At that moment, Maester Luwin comes from the courtyard, bringing likely fresh news, plucked from a raven. He brings the news first to your parents, the Lord and Lady of Winterfell.  ‘’Lady Lynantha is expected to be escorted to King’s Landing today. Her carriage is already here.’’ You drop your apple, distraught as all eyes are on you. ‘’Why aren't we traveling together?’’ You ask your father. He does not meet your eyes. 

‘’I received a letter. A nobleman from King’s Landing, one of King Robert’s nephews, wishes to get to know you. It is of importance that you leave right away.’’ You know why. There are rumors you aren’t a true born Stark. That you are a bastard. Rumors that are likely true.

You understand. You are eager to leave, in a way. Lady Stark stands up from her seat. ‘’I wish you well, Lyantha.’’ You never liked her. She never liked you. But you do respect her. You nod, respectful as you make a final curtsy. 

Luwin coughs, reminding you all that time is not on your side. You finally stand as well, excusing yourself as you mutter. ‘’I must pack for the journey-’’ You will need clothing, books, maybe jewelry.

‘’O, there is no need, truly.’’ An almost magical light voice rings out. A woman with raven dark hairs, a green gown with beautiful gold patterns stitched onto her skirt greets you with a curtsy. ‘’The Capital has everything you could need.’’ She assures you, a sweet but horrible hollow smile on her lips. The Lady makes a bow for her as well. ‘’I am Lady Alys Rivers. I have come to escort you to your Prince.’’ You know that Rivers is a last name used for bastards and commoners, and wonder silently how someone as Alys could have acquired such a position at the royal court. But you would never dare to voice that concern. Of course not. A prince, a title, it is almost too good to be true. ‘’A prince?’’ You ask, beaming with excitement. Sansa huffs, and you see Alys nod, almost a little too pleased with your excitement. 

The woman smiles as if you two are long lost friends. ‘’A true born royal, a fierce skilled warrior and an intelligent man. Few are blessed in so many ways.’’ You are certain your smile only grows.

He sounds so charming.

So perfect.

So kind and gentle and gallant and strong. 

‘’Very well.’’ You say. Your father is the first to hug you, whispering in your ear that you’ll always be a Stark, and his little girl. If you have trouble, you could write to him and he’d be there before you could blink with your eyes.  

The Starks remain loyal and firmly rooted outside in the yard as the carriage slowly departs to the roads, leaving Winterfell behind. Such sorrow the Starks all share And such more sorrow they would share if they had known what would become of Lynantha.

–

The carriage is comfortable and to your liking. It is warm as a mother’s embrace and has soft pillows that make the long journey comfortable. You imagined you would stay at multiple ins down the King’s road. Lady Alys has been nothing but kind to you, offering you sweets and cake when the landscape and scenery outside of the window changed. 

The lemon cakes you eat are heavy on your stomach, and soon you feel tired. Exhausted for some reason. It must be the weird nightmares that kept you up. 

As a true future Princess, you  try to stay awake in the carriage but the more she fight against the instinct to sleep, the more tired you become.  Eventually, you fall asleep in the carriage.

This time you too dream of the strange sword, the strange lady with the Lantern and the wall. But you can hear a voice this time as well. ‘’Do not go to the wall! Return! You don’t know what you are unleashing!’’ You can not place the voice, and you assume it belongs to the lantern lady. But when you look at the normally covered lady, you see Alys instead, wearing the common cloak and dress, holding the same lantern. Her eyes are red and sinister, burning like hellfire and her smile spreads wider than it should.

Once again, you wake up panting and breathing heavily. Alys is still near you, calmly knitting. You had hoped if you left the North, the nightmares would end. ‘’Welcome back, my Princess.’’ Alys says as she finishes her knitwork. ‘’We are almost there. Just a bit longer.’’ And at that moment, you notice a familiar basket that is half covered with a blanket on the floor. You would recognize that basket everywhere. And to be in King’s Landing so fast….Something is wrong.

‘’You don’t work for the King do you?’’ You ask, your voice soft and trembling. ‘’You’re not taking me to King’s Landing.’’

Alys only smiles, putting her needles and knitting work away. ‘’Just sit tight. I need to bring you to him alive, he didn’t say in what state.’’ He? Who is he?

You have many more questions, but you are not stupid. That was a clear threat and an order to shut up and so you will.

The carriage finally approaches its final destination. And halts.

When you look outside, all you can see is darkness. And the ominous yet sparkling stars above the carriage. Just as in my dreams.

It feels much colder here. And that smell. The smell of iron and snow. Alys takes her time with putting her hood on, and as you had  expected by now the hood had the same pattern as that of the Lantern lady. She smiles as she opens  the door. You don’t know what she wants. But it can’t be good. And you are not coming with her.

You clings to the carriage instead, refusing to follow Alys. ‘’No! I’m not coming with you! Bring me back!’’ You demand. 

Alys only chuckles and pulls harder, pulling you easily from the carriage as a flower being plucked. She puts you outside the carriage.

In the cold snow you take a good look at your surroundings, looking for any help or signs. And there it is. You turn around, as if you can already feel its presence. The looming tall wall of the North.

And you are clearly beyond it.

’Are you mad?!’’ you lash out at Alys. ‘’You have endangered us both! Who knows what’s out there.’’ Alys ignores you, shining her lantern around the ground, searching for something.

You rub your cold arms, regretting you didn’t bring a coat with you. The snow storm only grows worse and worse, as a storm unleashing upon a town. 

You look back at the wall, before stumbling on something beneath your feet, buried in the cold snow. Just like in your dream. And just like in your dream it is the sword. For a moment, you think about picking it up and threatening Alys with it. You reach out to grab it. ‘’What did you find there?’’Alys’s voice rings out, closer to you than she was before. You try to pick the sword up, but Alys is faster. She has a strange smirk on her lips when you backed away from the now armed woman. ‘’Such a good girl, finding the sword. I’ll tell him that you found it.’’ There’s that ‘’him’’ again. 

You become even more uncomfortable at her clearly condescending compliment, and for some reason she is more angry with you than before. Is it because you found the sword? And not her?  ‘’Now come. He’s not known for his patience.’’  You look back at the Wall. Alys sighs, clearly annoyed. ‘’Or you can stay out here in the cold and freeze to death.’’ She adds, with a careless shrug. ‘’I don’t mind.’’ She is right. You know she is. And you hate her for it. You won’t survive out here on your own.

The two of you approach a lake that is somehow not frozen despite the cold.  It is not the lake with the skeleton. You can tell. Red and green and black and yellow flowers grow around it too, and everything about it seems to confirm that this is nothing but just a dream. But you can’t wake up.

Alys grabs your arm, walking to the lake. You resist bravely but end up in the water regardless, yelping expecting cold, freezing water. But it does not feel cold. It does not feel warm. It does not feel anything, truly. It feels…soulless. Dead, in a way. 

Alys and you approach the deeper part, where you can no longer stand. Before you can ask what is happening, she pushes you underwater. You gulp, as water fills your lungs, convinced you will die. You close your eyes and at the moment you have given up all hope, something beneath you seems to open, and you fall down.

—

Your body is drifting between both space and time for a while, until someone pulls you up by your hair, and out of the waters, back into the world of the living. You gasp for air, spitting out the water and cling to the ground, looking around you as you thank the gods you are alive.

You are still near a lake. Just not the one you nearly drowned in. You look at the skies, and it is day as well. How long have I been gone?

This lake has flowers in just green colors, and has ruined walls around it, likely belonging to a palace from a time long ago. You look around and notice your captor calmingly sitting next to you, making a crown out of flowers. She drops her crown the moment she sees you have awakened. You can only glare at her, too stunned for anything else.

You hiss at her, close to strangling her. She cackles. ‘’You’re finally awake. I was worried you didn’t survive our little magic trip.’’ You sit up, taking in more and more of your surroundings, the sun warming your wet clothing, as you look at the ruins of a castle and people passing you both. 

You jump to your feet, ignoring your soaked clothing as you rush to a soldier. ‘’Hey, Hey! I need help! She abducted me!’’ You yell. The soldier takes one good look at you, before he sees Alys. Alys cracks her head sideways, causing bones to crack. That is all it takes for him to take off running. 

You huff, in disbelief and anger. ‘’Craven!’’ You shout, as he rushes off. Next to you, Alys doubles over cackling once more. She finds this extremely funny, for some  reason. She lays a hand on your arm, smiling at you.

You instantly shrug it off, disgusted. She doesn’t seem to even care, still smiling. 

‘’Come. We are almost here.’’ She says. You can do two things. You can dive back into the lake, and likely drown, or you can come with this woman. Both aren’t smart things to do. Alys offers her hand again.

At that moment, you spot a nice, big rock, just a few steps away from you. Most people here don’t care for abuctuees. They won’t care for murder either, you think. No one would know. No one would judge. And no one would tell.

This woman is a threat to your safety. And so you grabbed the rock, and tried to get Alys on her back. The woman cackled again, much to your annoyance. You did manage to get her on her back, and raise the rock skyhigh, ready to deliver the deadly blow. Alys laughs, before spitting in your face. Disgusted and caught off guard, you drop the rock. ‘’It seems we need to watch ourselves around you.’’

‘’Come, we must not let him wait any longer.’’ There it is again. 

You know you are going to regret going with Alys but you don’t have a say. Not anymore. ‘’Who is this him you speak of?’’ Perhaps the mysterious prince, her lover, or an enemy of Joffrey. It has to be.

Or, a Targaryen. You snort, in your head. The Targaryens had been defeated, like their dragons and their ancestors alike. They would not bother you or anyone else on the Westeros continent again.

‘’Your prince, of course.’’ There is something strange in her voice. Almost a scoff or an inside joke that you had yet to understand. However you perked up at hearing those words.

‘’The match my father arranged?’’ you ask. ‘’Is he here?’’ It couldn’t be. Could it? It would not explain the lake, the change of time, the wall, anything of it. But the thought that you soon would see your handsome prince again, gives you some hope.

Alys ignored you and did not confirm nor deny anything as the two of you walked to the castle gates. As you approach, you notice countless freshly dug graves. You gulp. You try to remember what castle this could possibly be. 

And that’s when you see it. The ruins remind you of a more polished version of the castle of Harrenhall. The cursed castle and the castle where dragon fire still burns to this day. The walls look younger, time has not been as cruel as it has been now. The fire burns, as always. 

The thing that scares you most, were the gates. Someone had put heads on the spikes, heads of people who all had their eyes wide open and full of terror of whatever killed them. A killer. A monster.

The smell makes you sick. And judging by their smell, they had been here quite a while. Alys doesn’t even bat a eye at the dead. But she did grab your right hand, dragging you inside of the castle. 

The doors open the moment Alys approaches them, her head high as a true queen. You walk next to her, your thoughts spiraling. 

You have just a moment to glance up at the banners decorating the outer walls. And you wish you hadn’t. An unfamiliar yet known sigil hangs there, proudly paraded by the wind and kept in place with pins.  You would recognize the three headed dragon everywhere. The Targaryens. But how? 

Yet this one looks different. Alys drags you in, the moment you finally draw the conclusion that this is the sigil of no other than King Aegon II.  The gold and the green made that clear. But what are his banners doing here, nearly hundred years after his passing? Unless….

You already felt sick because of the dead outside the gate, and now you feel even worse as an irrational and terrible fear begins to form in your head. A fear so insane that it can’t be true, but how can you deny what is right in front of you? Have I truly….?

Alys drags you with her, into the castle halls and into the throne room. The door has no guards. You can hear someone playing with a blade, sharpening it. You feel shivers and cold, in your wet clothes.

Alys gives you a push in your back, sending you into the room on your own.

‘’I’ve brought you something.’’ She says, her smile barely containing her pride. 

Whoever is there, they didn’t bother to open the curtains or to light candles. A truly terrifying conclusion. 

You trip over your dress, and fall. You regained just enough balance to land on your knees, instead of flat on your face. You know whoever is waiting here, orchestrated this whole thing. And if your gut is right, you know who it is. 

You laugh, quietly. You must be crazy, expecting an actual Targaryen prince to await you here. Stir crazy. But what other explanation is there? Why else bother with old banners, why else does the castle look better than it ever did in your time? 

You glance up at the man sitting the throne, his legs calmly placed on the arms of the lavious throne he sits upon. He is indeed sharpening a catspaw dagger, and his lips have the faint impression of a smirk and a smile blended into one as he takes in your soaked clothing and angry glare. Alys opens some curtains.

And the moment you do see his face, it feels as a relief and a shock at once. Relief because you were right. But also a shock because how, how can you possibly be right? 

You were treated as a silly little girl. You can only think of one reason why the banners were here, why the castle looked so good and why the dead were rotting above the gates. And this man’s face confirms it all.

In front of you, is no one else but Aemond Targaryen ‘’one eye’’ the Kinslayer of House Targaryen. You know him from the history books you have read. But those books barely mention him. Aside from his death and his atrocities at Harrenhal. 

And yet, here he stands. In front of you, alive and well. He is a true Targaryen with sharp classic Valyrian features like piercing eyes, and very light, almost silver coloured hair. 

He finally stopped sharpening his dagger, curiosity written all over his face as he takes you in, sitting on the floor, at his feet and glaring at him. He can’t help but smirk.

You glare. Whatever it was that is going on, it is all his doing. You can tell. And that prince Alys promised you would meet, that is him. A cruel joke on her behalf. You glare at her too. She simply makes another curtsy cackling once again.

Slowly, a smile creeps on his lips, amused by the audacity. ‘’I take it she was a smart lass and obeyed?’’ The question is aimed at Alys and you physically feel your stomach turn even worse by his words. 

You had not been a ‘’smart lass’’. If anything, you had acted insanely dumb. You resisted, you tried to kill Alys. You tried to run. You tried to resist in every way possible and more. 

You cross your arms, tired. Alys beams as she tells Aemond what has happened between the two of you, happy to see you punished by her Prince. ‘’She tried to kill me with a rock.’’ 

His face tilts, and although he tries to appear uninterested and cold, even a simple man could read the anger and murderous emotions in his eye.  ‘’I will see to that she’s punished for that.’’ He promises his loyal servant. To that, Alys smiles.

Aemond smiles at you, in a condescending way. You glance between him and Alys, aware you are in trouble now. ‘’I am not yours to punish.’’ He is not your husband, nor your king or father. No one should decide what happens to you but you. Your voice doesn’t sound scared or angry. Just annoyed.

Aemond shifts his legs, angry at your carelessness and casual behaviour. He slams his hands on the arms of the throne, causing you to flince briefly. He stands up, and you finally see just how tall he truly is. And how fast he stands in front of you. He sinks to his knees, the green leather cracking. He clearly enjoys the way you flinch as he reaches out to touch your chin and your cheeks, feeling your soft delicate skin beneath his fingers. He finally bothers to address you. ‘’Of course you are, Little Wolfling. If you touch and damage something that is mine, you will be punished.’’ He reveals. 

You understand finally that Alys is more than just his servant. They have a relationship. He loves her. And you tried to kill her. You must try to talk your way out of this. ‘’Your lady did not explain why I was taken from my home and lied to.’’ You hope he becomes more understanding of how terrifying all of this is for you.

Alys snorts and Aemond laughs. You curse quietly in your head. That was a failed attempt. ‘’As I ordered her. Alys obeys well and listens. You can learn a thing or two from her.’’ He tells you, finally getting up from the ground. 

Somehow, that makes you angry. The idea that he now thinks you will help him as some spineless pet and roll over for him when he wishes so, it makes you so furious that you are close to pulling him back by his eyepatch to slam his head against the stone floor. You do not have the sword anymore. 

You only have your clothes.

And …

Oh.

You patiently wait until his back is turned to your front, before sliding your shoe off and aiming at his head. You throw the shoe as hard as possible and it ends up hitting him perfectly on his head.

Confused, he turns around, looking for who dared to have hit him. When he notices you, smirking very proudly and missing one shoe, something changes. And you regret even blinking in his direction.

Prince Aemond storms back to you, as you can barely back away to escape him. He is faster and steps on your dress, trapping you easily. You feel the walls closing in and are truly in danger now. The Prince grabs you by your waist, lifting you to your feet and drags you to the throne. You try to break free of his grip, protesting. ‘’Let go of me!” You turn your head to look at Alys. Surely she has a say in this. But she only smiles.

Aemond let out a low chuckle as he sits down the throne, your body still in his grasp. He places you on his lap, as some disobedient little girl. He whispers in your ear, and your cheeks burn with shame. ‘’You laughed. Now it is my turn to laugh, Little Wolfling.’’ You let out an offended cry, struggling to get away from him as fast as possible.

He chuckles. ‘’I am not sure what they teach you in the North, but here, we are respectful to our princes.’’ He says, lecturing you. His cold hands feel the back of your dress, feeling the warm skin that it covered.

Until that moment, you had never been touched before. Instead of doing what you feared he would do, he picked out a different punishment. He does lift your skirts, but barely enough to touch you. Just to reach your small clothes but mostly your behind. And at that moment you know what he is planning. And you don’t want that. You try to escape again, kicking and slapping him.

Aemond grabs your hands, grinning. ‘’Calm down, Little Wolfling. It’s just a spanking. I’m sure you had plenty before.’’ Never. 

Your parents did not believe that that was a healthy idea. ‘’No! Never!”’ You declare, angry. ‘’And you are not my father or my husband. You aren’t allowed to punish me.’’ You say, bravely.

He only scoffs, and his hand lands the first hard blow on your behind, causing you to cry out in pain. You squirm over his legs, fighting stronger and harder. He increases his grip, tightening it. ‘’Tis for the best you learn now, Little Wolfling. I don’t have time and the patience to do this every day.’’

The blows only increase, hurting your delicate skin. You did try to keep from crying and from complaining. You wouldn’t grand him that satisfaction. Not anymore.

It is true that you were disciplined in this way, yet your body betrayes you in the worst way imaginable. 

You do not notice your arousal until it is too late. Your nipples are hardened and there is a wetness between your legs, growing. 

You stop fighting. Perhaps in shock of your own betrayal, perhaps only to show the prince that he could stop what he was doing to you. Finally, he stops. But not before your behind is burning and a painful mess. 

He helps correct your dress and covers you apprioartly as if nothing has happened. You are still in shock, and don’t move away from him at first. ‘’I hope I made myself clear to you both. You both will play nice to one another.’’ He tells both you and his lover.

Alys bristles. ‘’I am not the one picking up rocks and killing people.’’ But this time, Aemond has enough of her complaints.

He did all he could. ‘’The Wolf has been disciplined. I am sure my Little Wolfling will behave much better in the future.’’ You are forced to sit on his lap, as a prize he had won.

‘’Won’t you, Little Wolfling?’’ He whispers. He does not kiss you, but his lips come closer to your cheeks, and unwillingly you feel your cheeks burn bright as stars. He chuckles, amused. ‘’You can go now, Little Wolfling.’’ You almost look offended when he sends you away.

This madness needs to stop. ‘’I,’’ You catched your breath. ‘’I don’t understand a few things.’’ You say. You want the truth. Now. Before you offend him again somehow.

Aemond rolls his good eye, smirking. ‘’You are a woman. I imagine that happens to you a lot.’’ Even Alys glares at that comment but his royal highness does not see it.

You only blink, ignoring him. ‘’You are alive.’’ You say, cutting straight to the case. ‘’You were killed in a battle.’’ You don’t remember who killed him or with what or where but you are certain Aemond Targaryen died.

Aemond’s head perks up, listening eagerly to what you tell him. You can tell he is not listening, but he is eager. ‘’What am I doing here? Am I here to save the dragons?’’ You ask. ‘’Or to stop the civil war?’’ Not that you would even know how in the seven hells to do that, but that's another thing entirely.

That causes the head of the prince to snap to Alys, worry written across his face for the first time that you met him. Alys only makes a gesture with her head, and Aemond seems to calm down. He smirks, carelessly. ‘’Oh, don’t worry about the Dragons.’’ You never heard any Targaryen say that.

The dragons are their wolves. Their dragons are their war winners. You laugh, offended and still hurt. ‘’But, without dragons, I am sorry to tell you, your entire family will become ash and dust.’’ You even chuckle.

Aemond stands back up from the throne, raising his sword and pointing it at you, lashing out. ‘’You are a bold little girl, are you not? Perhaps my hand was too gentle.’’

You don’t even back down anymore. ‘’It’s the truth. Where I’m from, house Targaryen is dust. All thanks to you, your sister and your brother. Together, you caused the civil war and killed the dragons-’’ That is pushing it too far. 

Aemond grabs you by your throat, choking you lightly to warm you of not accusing him of another thing. ‘’Silence.’’ He barks.

You obey, glaring. ‘’Good girl.’’ he smirks, mockingly. ‘’Now, I understand, you must be so excited to see a dragon, hmm? You can’t shut up about them.’’ He stops choking you, feeling your neck.‘’I suppose, there is truth in what you tell me. The dragons are long gone where you are from. But you are now here, with me.’’

‘’The story is written.’’ You say. 

Aemond snorts, and there is something dangerous about his body language. ‘’The story is just beginning.’’

You have a terrible feeling. ‘’You see,’’ Aemond grabs hold of your left hand. ‘’I have some inside knowledge. You know how this will end. You will tell me how the dragons died out, and I will simply be always one step ahead of my enemy. I will be their worst nightmare, their downfall and the dagger that slashes their throat.’’ He grins, as you become truly terrified and even tremble.

‘’How will you stop your sister?’’ You whisper. But you fear you already saw it in your dream. ‘’How will you stop Queen Rhaenyra’s marching troops?’’ Your voice is a soft weak whisper.

Aemond leans in, leaving a soft kiss on your forehead. ‘’I heard a prophecy. The song of ice and fire. That is where you come in. You can help me find something, something very precious.’’ He chuckles.

The sword.

He wants to find the sword.

But why.

Unless…

‘’No.’’ You instantly say. ‘’You can’t.’’ You turn your head to Alys, watching her blank expression. She is fine with this. You watch as Aemond smirks in silence, confirming to you that he is planning to do the impossible. ‘’Aemond, you can’t.’’ You repeat.

Aemond’s grip only tightens. ‘’Think about it, little Wolfling. An army that never rests, never eats, never betrays me. An army that will help me conquer Westeros; An army of White Walkers. It is perfect.’’ He is insane. 

‘’I won’t help you.’’ You remind him. ‘’You might as well send me back.’’ 

He ignores your protests. You can see his smirk and grin only grow, and you are reminded of Targaryens and their insanity. Their fire. Their blood. ‘’You will help me, little Wolfling. You will. Because if you do not, you will never see your family again. I have the means to send you back. And I will. After you have helped me.’’

You scoff, so you must help him do gods knows what so he can send you back to your own time?  ‘’It doesn’t sound like I have a choice, do I?’’ Alys shakes her head. ‘’What will I need to do?’’ You ask Aemond, your head hanging in shame. How many will die because of you?

He lifts your chin, grinning. ‘’Now, now, don’t be so sad. To begin things, we must find the sword. And I want more information on how to better keep the dragons too.’’

You cannot do that. ‘’Dragons died centuries before I was born!’’ You don’t know anything about dragons. ‘’I don’t even know what they eat.’’ You almost whine.

‘’Meat. They eat meat.’’ Aemond says. ‘’Vhagar is right here with me. I will teach you about dragons, you will teach me what you know of the Dance and how it ended.’’ This all sounds like a horrible idea to you. ‘’And when the time comes, we must complete the prophecy of Ice and Fire.’’ That sounds vague. 

But you want to see your family again. More than anything. So you hold out your hand, and wait for Aemond to shake it. He smiles, kissing it instead. He leans a little closer. ‘’I can’t wait until we are married. I always wanted a Valyrian wife, but you’ll do.’’ You laugh, thinking he is jesting. Until you see how Aemond is looking at you. Like you are some delicious cake he can’t wait to taste. He mirrors your smile, allowing you to be in denial as he makes his way to his lover, kissing her openly on her lips. You watch speechlessly as the two of them walk away, their chuckles and giggles mixing as they likely picture their new world together, with them for once atop of it, instead below. 

You throw your head into your neck and try to process it all. What in the seven hells did you even become part of?

a/n

Ooh, i wasnt sure i even wanted to share this one.

But here he is xDDDD

Ok bye

let me know what you think

[damselneedssaving]

Hi! I’m new to Tumblr and I already love your content 💗. I wanted to share an idea I’ve had for a while

It’s about a neglected!reader who has a YouTube channel and suddenly goes viral for creating lifestyle content and showing off their singing (or any other talent you’d like). The internet loves the reader for being so random — like, they disappear for a while and then suddenly show up at a gala, getting interviewed about food or something.

I love u 💕

Long response ahead discussing what I think of neglected!reader fics!! Here's your warning ^^ <33

Hello!! I hope you're settling in well. I don't consider myself much of an expert, but tumblr has treated me pretty good so far, so I'm hoping it'll do the same for you.

As for your idea, while I love the creativity, it's just not for me. Since you're talking about a neglected!reader, I'm assuming you mean a platonic relationship with the batboys? I don't really write those—I'm into them romantically, not platonically lmao. There's only a few exceptions where I'd write a platonic relationship with them (and I mean very few) but those'll probably never see the light of day so nevermind them.

Also, I'm not actually a huge fan of neglected!reader fics in general because I'm a firm believer that Batman would never neglect a kid like that.

Exhibit A: In Season 1 of the show 'Young Justice', Batman asks to speak with Aqualad alone, and Dick (who was the current Robin at the time) gets jealous. Batman observes this (because he pays attention and does not neglect the kids he deems himself responsible of), and you know what he does later on when they get home? He sets up a one-on-one father and son basketball match between him and his adopted son as a way to quell Dick's jealousy and bond with him.

Evidence clip:

But that's just Dick, Bruce's pride and joy! Of course he wouldn't neglect him. The first Boy Wonder is practically Batman's favourite kid. That doesn't mean he wouldn't neglect another kid.

Au contraire, my friend, allow me to introduce you to exhibit b.

Exhibit B: In the Season 2 finale of Justice League Unlimited, we are introduced to a scene of Batman confronting a kid who was previously working with the Joker to take down the Justice League. She was a metahuman who had committed multiple crimes and, as they were talking, was actively about to destroy the world. This kid was not only not related to Batman in any way, either by blood or adoption papers, but she was also a criminal.

And yet, you know what Batman does? He listens to her. He listens to her story of how she was taken away and experimented on as a kid after accidentally driving her mother insane with her mind powers, and he refuses to use the device that Amanda Waller gave him to kill her. Instead, he sits with her. He sits with her because she tells him that her powers are killing her and that she's scared before asking him 'could you stay with me?'. So he sits right next to her on the swing until her time comes and he carries her body out of her hideaway himself.

Evidence clip:

I know some more recent official dc material like to depict Batman as an emotionally neglectful father, (or, at least, I'm assuming because of the amount of neglected!reader fics there are) but just because they're official material, doesn't mean they're writing the characters well or accurate to how their personality is. This goes for all media. Writers are fired and hired constantly, so yes, even official writers can get the characterisation of their own characters wrong. Batman is not neglectful towards children. He is quite a bit emotionally unavailable, but that doesn't make him incapable of taking care, or caring about, a kid.

Please don't get me wrong, I'm not trying to shame any neglected!reader authors out there—at the end of the day, this is fanfiction, and we all have the creative freedom to do what we want with it. I'm just saying that for me personally, I could never read about Batman being neglectful towards a child without being extremely put off by it.

I believe there's a quote somewhere along the lines of 'if your Batman can't comfort a crying child, then you haven't written Batman, you've written the Punisher in funny clothes' or something along those lines. I heavily agree with this quote. Batman isn't some stone-cold, inhuman superhero. In fact, he isn't even super, he's as human as you can get in a world of superheroes, so I like it when he's depicted as such.

This all goes to say, however, that even I can accidentally mischaracterise Batman as some stone-cold inhuman wall (not that I'm better than other dc writers, again, don't get me wrong. I just mean this as in, after saying this whole rant, I can still do the things I criticise, I'm only human), that's just part of being a writer.

Anyway, sorry for using your ask as an excuse to rant about why I personally dislike neglected!reader fics 😅 please don't let me discourage you from writing one if you wish to!! Again, we're all fanfic writers here, we can write whatever we want no matter what others think, so go ahead and write this idea if you want, I'm sure it'll reach people who enjoy it!!