#bones and glowing goo
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Ain’t we all made of stardust of some such?
#space#stars#art#drawing#my art#artists on tumblr#digital art#cw: gore#I guess?#bones#there’s bones here#bones and glowing goo#I got nothin chief I just thought it’d look cool
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i should probably post this on my art blog but im too lazy plus it's headcanon relevant if i think abt it; sylvie will normally never show their horns in this form which is raw dendro energy, by default it's always been their bark/wooden version (with a 'bone' layer under that) which leaves them with no sensation in their horns bc the protective layers are too thick
w/o those layers though, their horns would look akin to their insides, plus some "vines" hanging off that would feel kinda like jelly to the touch
#[ zl isnt the only one who can get fancy glowing horns!!! ]#[ i mostly realized that my OG headcanon abt bone horns isnt relevant anymore ]#[ bc of the change of their internal make (dendro goo) ]#SYLVIE // TRIVIA.#OOC // MY ART.#SYLVIE // ARBORUM DEI.
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Toxic Kyuti
#toxic#radioactive#kyuti mcdemonpaws#cat#bones#skeleton#goo#fluffy#furry#neon#toxic waste#glowing#digital art#horns#claws#multiple arms
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iris
pairing: jj maybank x fem!reader
summary: jj maybank struggled all his life just to finally find home in your arms
warnings: fluff, slight angst at the start, no use of y/n, english isn’t my first language
word count: 3.9k
a/n: bringing myself comfort after the spoilers for the final of s4. my baby boy deserved a lot more.
ᯓ★ now playing…
goo goo dolls - iris
And I don't want the world to see me
'Cause I don't think that they'd understand
When everything's made to be broken
I just want you to know who I am
IT WAS SOMETHING COMPLETELY DIFFERENT — something so profound that JJ couldn't begin to describe it in words. Yet, he felt it in every cell of his body, in the deepest, most secret corners of his soul. It was as if he was staring into the vastness of the universe, into the boundless, all-consuming darkness that had terrified him since childhood. But now... now it glowed with a hundred, a million, a billion tiny stars — simple, yet magnificent clusters of light that transformed everything in an instant. You became his universe, his everything, and in that moment, everything changed.
JJ would be lying if he said he didn’t remember the exact moment — the exact second — he first met you. He remembered it vividly, like it was etched into his very bones, because that moment was his Big Bang. It was the spark that created the whole universe from nothing, with you as its center, pulling him into an orbit he never thought he’d find.
It was an ordinary day — at least, by JJ’s standards. A typical day filled with drinking, weed, hanging out with Pogues, and the all-too-familiar beatings from his father. After the last one, all he craved was solitude — just to be alone, to fade into the nothingness. To disappear. To stop feeling the weight of pain, to stop wondering what he had done wrong, to stop seeing the pity in his friends’ eyes whenever he showed up at the Chateau, bruised and broken.
For a fleeting moment, he wished he could stop being JJ Maybank — the lost, troubled boy everyone knew — and just be... himself. If only he knew who that was anymore.
It was night — a surprisingly cold summer night. The air carried a chill that seemed at odds with the warmth of the season, but even so, JJ found his haven between the soothing waves. The ocean cradled him gently, rocking him like a child in a mother’s arms, as if the water itself was trying to heal him. He lay on his stomach, his face dipping under the surface, seeking solace in the cool embrace of the sea, trying to drown out the swarm of thoughts buzzing endlessly in his mind.
How long had he been lying there? He couldn’t say. Time had blurred into the rhythm of the waves, and for a moment, he didn’t care. He didn’t expect the next moment to be so... startling.
You stopped just a few meters away, your breath coming in quick, heavy gasps. Your hair clung to your face, and the water began to bite at your skin with its coldness. And yet, in that brief flash of moonlight, JJ swore he’d never seen anything more beautiful than you — divine, even. The glow of the moon reflected off the water, casting a silver sheen over you, making everything seem surreal. Your slightly parted lips, your wide eyes, all caught in the stillness of the night, made something inside him twist. At that moment, he realized something, something terrifying: he was a goner.
"What the hell?"
The words slipped out in unison, an awkward moment of shared surprise. You raised an eyebrow, the frustration and relief mixing in your gaze before you splashed water in his face.
"Are you asking me what the hell?" you said, voice tinged with disbelief. "You were literally floating face down! I thought you were dead!"
JJ blinked, caught off guard, and shook his head, sending droplets flying in every direction. He didn’t respond immediately — his mind was still trying to catch up. He just stared at you, the way the moonlight danced on your skin, how the cold seemed to wash away everything else. There was something about you that both unsettled and comforted him, a mix he couldn’t quite place.
"Yeah, well," he muttered, a half-smile tugging at the corner of his lips, trying to brush it off. "I wasn’t, like, dead. I mean, not really." His voice was hoarse, raw with something he hadn’t let anyone hear in a long time. It barely masked the emptiness he’d been drowning in just moments ago. "Just needed a swim. Didn’t mean to scare you."
You crossed your arms under the water, rolling your eyes, but a soft smile played at the edges of your lips. "Just an ordinary midnight swim, huh?" you teased. But there was a knowing look in your eyes, like you could see through the mask. "I thought I was going to have to explain to the police tomorrow that some guy was found swimming in the ocean. ‘Local girl finds body in the water,’ you know? Not exactly the first week I imagined."
JJ raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite himself. "Wait... you’re new here?"
You nodded, brushing your wet hair from your face, a small sigh escaping you as you did. "Yeah, I moved here a few days ago. Needed to start fresh, I guess." Your gaze shifted toward the shore, distant, but not quite lost. "Thought the ocean might help clear my head."
He could relate to that, more than he wanted to admit. He nodded without thinking, something about you felt... different. "Yeah," he said softly, his voice almost vulnerable. "Outer Banks isn’t paradise, but... it could be worse." The words slipped out before he could stop them, softer than he wanted, like a door that had been closed for too long suddenly creaking open. He hadn’t expected to share anything, but with you, it didn’t feel like sharing — it felt more like breathing.
The wind picked up, sending a chill over the water. You shivered slightly, pulling your arms tighter around yourself. JJ noticed, instinctively stepping closer, despite still standing in the water.
"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice gentle but laced with concern. "Cold night for a swim."
The irony of the moment wasn’t lost on him — he, too, had come to the water to escape, to disappear. But with you standing there, he didn’t feel quite as invisible. And that scared him more than he wanted to admit.
You shrugged, looking toward the shore, but your eyes softened. "Yeah, just... a tough day, I guess. I thought the water might help me forget for a little while."
A bitter laugh slipped from JJ’s lips, and he didn’t try to hide it. "Well, looks like you found the right company for that," he said, his words more raw than he’d intended. But somehow, it felt natural to talk like this, to say things he hadn’t said to anyone in a long time. With you, it didn’t feel so forced.
You turned toward him, your expression softening. There was understanding in your eyes — like you’d been there too. "Tough day too, huh?" you said quietly, your voice almost lost in the stillness of the night.
For a while, neither of you spoke. The world seemed to hold its breath, the ocean around you a calm, sacred space. In that silence, something passed between you — unspoken, but real. As if for that moment, you both shared something intangible, something neither of you could put into words.
Finally, you broke the quiet, your voice teasing but gentle. "So... are you always this mysterious, or did I just pick the perfect time to meet you?"
A laugh escaped him, more genuine than he expected. "Maybe a little of both." He let the silence stretch on, comfortable now. For the first time in ages, he felt seen, and it wasn’t as frightening as he thought it would be.
It was ridiculous, he thought — how could a complete stranger, someone he’d just met in the middle of the ocean, at some ungodly hour, feel like they were filling a space inside him he never knew was empty?
But when he looked at you, he felt something shift, something deep inside. Something real. Something alive.
"JJ," he finally said, his voice breaking the silence. The sound of his own name felt unfamiliar, like a piece of himself he hadn’t shared in too long.
You gave him a soft smile that reached your eyes, warm and knowing. "Nice to meet you, JJ."
AND THERE IT WAS — his universe had changed. The Big Bang.
After that night, JJ couldn’t think about anything but you. Your presence consumed him, yet in a way that felt like coming alive for the first time. He found himself drifting into your orbit, again and again, as if fate itself had been guiding him toward you all along. But while he believed in fate, you thought it was just chance.
It wasn’t long before JJ began to learn more about you, obsessing over every little detail. He learned that you loved spending your free time on the beach, reading books. Books that he had never bothered with before, but now he listened to them at double speed just to be able to talk to you about them. You had a habit of finding solace in the water, the way the waves seemed to ease the weight of the world from your shoulders. And he learned that you worked in a small diner on the Cut, a place that barely registered on anyone else’s radar but was now a part of his daily life.
It became his mission to visit those places. To catch your eye, exchange a few words. He even went to some Save the Turtles event with Kie — something he’d never have attended before — just to see you, just to find a reason to talk.
He didn't know why he was so drawn to you. Why waking up felt a little easier when he thought about you. Why his days felt less suffocating when he could see you by the ocean, or feel your warmth when you wrapped him up in your arms. And most importantly — why, in a world where he wanted to stay invisible, he wanted you to see him. Because no one, not even the closest people in his life, had ever truly understood him like you did.
It might have sounded corny, but JJ knew you were different. He didn’t want to undress you or get you into bed first, like he did with other girls. He wanted to talk to you. He wanted to know you. He wanted to be near you — not in a rushed, desperate way, but slowly, patiently, like the world had all the time for them. And that terrified him. Because everything in his life felt like it was bound to break, and he was scared of getting too close, only to watch it all fall apart.
But you made him feel like he was floating, like he was finally seeing the light at the end of a long, dark tunnel. And even if it didn’t last forever, he would take it. It was worth it.
Because at some moment you became his safe place. His home.
JJ DIDN'T REMEMBER THE EXACT MOMENT HE FIRST CAME TO YOUR HOUSE, or why he couldn’t go back to the Chateau after the latest fight with his father. He just knew that he had found his way to you. It wasn’t a conscious choice. It was as if the universe had decided that, for once, he deserved peace. So, he climbed up to your balcony, hiding from the world, just to see you.
The moment he stepped inside, he felt the weight of everything lift from his chest. You didn't need to ask questions, you didn’t need explanations. You just held him — no judgment, no demands. Just there. Your hands gently cupped his face, and in that simple gesture, everything felt easier. It was like you knew exactly how much he needed to be held together. The comfort in your touch was so raw, so real, that it felt like he could stay there forever and nothing would ever hurt him again.
"Hey, JJ," you whispered softly as you cleaned the cuts on his knuckles. "You're okay. It's just another day. We'll get through it."
Your words were soft, but they carried a weight. The kind of weight that made him feel like, maybe, for the first time in his life, he wasn’t carrying all the burden on his own.
"Yeah, we will," he whispered looking in your eyes finding solace in it. "How'd your day go?" he asked quietly, almost as an afterthought, as you dabbed at a cut on his forehead.
You smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “You know, the usual. Serving coffee, cleaning tables... Same old stuff. But then again, it’s a good distraction.”
And JJ realized, right then, that this wasn’t just about him. It wasn’t just about the mess of his life. It was about the way you understood him without needing to understand everything. You were healing him, piece by piece, without even knowing it.
You were there, not because you had to be, but because you wanted to be. And when you laid him down in your bed, curling up beside him, you whispered about your day at work, your own small struggles. You shared your world with him, and somehow, it made his feel a little less heavy.
IT WASN'T LONG BEFORE JJ OPENED UP TO YOU, really opened up in a way he had never done before. It was a slow burn at first. He kept his distance, guarding you from the mess that was his life. But the longer he stayed, the more he realized that you were the one who saw him. All of him — the messed-up, broken parts that he tried so hard to hide from everyone else. And when he realized you weren’t scared of that, he finally let go.
"I used to think that if I told you about my life, you'd leave," he admitted one night, his voice thick with raw emotion. "But... you didn’t. You stayed."
You looked at him, your expression tender, your hands tracing the edge of his jawline. "I'm not going anywhere, JJ. Not unless you want me to."
And that was the moment he knew — he had found someone who understood him in a way no one ever had. No one ever would.
One night, after sharing stories and secrets until the stars outside had started to fade, you both found yourselves standing close, the air thick with unspoken words. There was a nervousness between you, but also a tenderness that neither of you had known before. JJ leaned in, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he kissed you.
It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t desperate. It was soft, hesitant, and filled with the kind of understanding that only comes when two people truly see each other. His lips were warm against yours, the moment suspended in time. And as he pulled back, his forehead resting against yours, he whispered softly, “I don’t want to be alone anymore.”
You didn’t need to say anything in return. The truth was already in your eyes, in the way you pulled him closer, your hands tracing the lines of his back like you were memorizing him. He didn’t need forever. He didn’t need promises. He just needed this. You. Now. And that was enough.
THE EVENING WAS SETTLING INTO ITS QUIET RYTHM AT THE CHATEAU. The Pogues were scattered around, some laughing, some lost in their own thoughts, and some just lounging by the bonfire. The air smelled faintly of saltwater and smoke, the crackling warmth from the fire barely reaching the edge of the pier. The world felt suspended in a beautiful hush, as though the universe itself had exhaled, and for the briefest of moments, everything stood still.
But despite the presence of his friends, despite the fire, the laughter, and the constant noise that filled every corner of the Chateau, JJ was focused only on you. Your presence was like gravity, pulling him closer to something real, something tangible. You were his escape, his universe — shaped not by chaos and pain, but by a quiet peace he had never known until you.
"What are you thinking about?" you asked softly, lifting your head from his shoulder. Your voice was gentle, threading through the sea breeze that fluttered your hair, causing it to stray in wisps across your face. You frowned slightly as the breeze brushed against your skin, the hair teasing at your cheek in an almost playful, yet annoying way. He loved how you could get lost in these little moments, how even the simplest things seemed to pull you in.
JJ, ever the thinker, gazed out at the vast ocean, where the horizon was a delicate line between the fading light of the day and the endless mystery of the night. There was something about the sea — so unpredictable, so endless — that made him feel both small and infinite. It was like he could feel the weight of the universe pressing on his chest, but at the same time, it gave him a sense of freedom, of release.
He shook his head, not really having the words to explain the depth of his thoughts, of how you had become his entire universe in such a short time. He leaned down, brushing his lips against your forehead in a kiss that felt like a promise, like a quiet vow he was ready to keep forever.
"I love you," he said simply, the words falling so easily from his lips it startled him. It was like his heart had always known the truth, but now, with you, it could finally speak it. He turned to face you, his hands gently cupping your face, and pushed a strand of hair back behind your ear. Your hair had tangled slightly in the breeze, and his fingers brushed against the soft strands as if trying to keep you grounded in this moment.
You smiled up at him, your eyes warm with affection, and for a brief second, JJ wondered if he had been imagining all of this — the way your touch made him feel alive, how your laugh filled him with a joy that felt as though he was living in a dream. He had never been one to express his feelings out loud, never been able to put his heart on the line like that. But with you, everything felt different. Everything felt right.
"I love you, too," you whispered, the words barely escaping your lips, but JJ felt the weight of them — felt how real they were, how they shifted the space between you, making it smaller, warmer, more intimate. It was like the universe had shifted in that moment, like the stars aligned just for the two of you.
But you, ever the one to keep things light, laughed softly, breaking the moment in the most perfect way. Your laugh rang out like music, a melody he couldn’t get enough of. "But everyone knows that, stupid! It’s no secret that you’re head over heels in love with me," you teased, brushing his hair out of his eyes, as if trying to bring him back down from whatever cosmic place his mind had drifted to.
JJ chuckled, the sound deep and sincere. There was no pretense, no walls. Just the two of you, surrounded by the night and the ocean, and for the first time, he felt like he was exactly where he was meant to be. His smile was soft but real, and he kissed you once, gently, on the tip of your nose, then moved to the corner of your lips, then your cheek, your forehead, each kiss like a reassurance that this moment, this feeling, was real.
"You don't get it, do you?" JJ murmured, his voice a little more serious than the moment required. He let the silence stretch between you before continuing. "It’s not just... about love, doll. It’s about everything. It’s the way you make me see the world in a way I never thought I would. The way you make me feel like... like I’m enough." His voice softened with a vulnerability he hadn’t known he could express. "Before you, everything was just a blur. I didn’t even know how to be, to feel. But with you? It’s different. You make me real, love."
You looked at him, your gaze tender, understanding. Your eyes softened, and without a word, you reached out and pulled him in for a tight hug. JJ rested his head against your shoulder, inhaling the soft scent of your skin, and for a moment, the world seemed to stop spinning. It was just the two of you, and for the first time in a long time, JJ felt truly alive.
He had spent so many years running from everything that hurt him, pushing away anything that could cause him pain. But in that moment, wrapped in your embrace, the fear was gone. There was nothing left but the two of you, standing on the edge of the world, with the ocean stretching out before you like an endless promise.
"I never thought I’d say it," he whispered, his words coming out in a quiet rush. "But you’re my Big Bang. The thing that changed everything for me. Before you, it felt like I was drifting through the void, like there was nothing in this world worth holding on to. But now..." He pulled away slightly, looking at you with a newfound intensity. "Now, you’re my everything. You gave me a reason to stay."
Your fingers lightly brushed against his cheek, the touch so gentle it felt like a feather. You looked at him, eyes searching his face, and you smiled softly. "You don't have to be alone anymore, JJ. You’ve never been alone." Your voice was quiet, but the sincerity behind it struck him like a bolt of lightning. "We're in this together."
A small laugh escaped him, a sound that felt almost foreign but so freeing. The way you made him feel — like he was seen, understood, held — it was beyond anything he could have imagined. You were the gravity in his universe, pulling him in, holding him steady. And no matter how far out he drifted, he always knew he'd find his way back to you.
"You make me feel like the world is full of stars," he murmured, his gaze drifting toward the horizon. "Like everything that’s ever happened to me — good or bad — led me to you. Like I was just waiting for you to come and show me what it’s like to be."
You grinned, a playful glint in your eyes. "Well, don't get too carried away, Maybank. I’m not that amazing."
JJ smiled, but there was something raw in his expression, something that hinted at all the things he could never quite put into words. "You are," he said softly. "You are my everything. And for once, I’m not afraid to let myself feel it."
The world stretched out before you, both of you standing at the precipice of something so beautiful, so uncertain, yet so undeniable. The stars above shimmered like tiny promises, like constellations forming their own quiet narrative about two souls finding each other in the vast, infinite expanse of the universe. And in that moment, the ocean, the stars, the wind, and the night itself seemed to pause, holding its breath.
"I love you. So much," JJ whispered again, his voice filled with the certainty that had settled deep within him. It was simple, but it was everything. The words echoed, not just through the air, but through his heart, through his bones, reverberating in a way he never thought was possible. And as the night embraced them both, they realized that they had found their place in the world. Together.
And for the first time, JJ Maybank wasn’t afraid to be seen. Because you saw him. And that was enough
thankx for reading <3
so, that’s it. jj maybank deserved the whole world but only got this shitty ending. am i gonna watch obx4 now? probably not. am i gonna write for jj like there’s no s4? definitely yes! i think we’ll all agree that obx ended on s3 and after that nothing happened.
but every time i see the posts about jj i feel so sad… like it literally hurts on some level because he deserved his happy ending more than anyone. even if rudy wanted to leave the show they could have written a good ending for him. not one more fucked up father, but one that would take him to see the world or shit like this. i just wanted him to be happy.
i chose iris because this is so jj coded for me. i haven’t listened to this song in ages and when it popped up in my shuffle yesterday – i just wanted it to be about jj. with all his struggles, all his pain, but also with a hope for something good. so, i rly hope that you liked this work.
and again thank u for reading. thank u for liking, reblogging and commenting - it’s rly means a lot to me. you can always share your opinion in comments or my inbox :3
- your santi 🪐
masterlist
#– santi 🪐#jj maybank x reader#jj maybank x y/n#jj maybank fic#jj maybank x you#jj mayback imagine#jj maybank x fem!reader#jj maybank fluff#jj maybank#obx x reader#obx fanfiction#obx x you#obx fic
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ⅲ▬ ⁽ 𝒹𝑒𝓂𝑜𝓃 ⁾²
part one
𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 ♡︎ : ₇˖₅ₖ ˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡
𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 ♡︎ : mdni----- unedited, NSFW, explicit content, teratophilia, demon/human, rough sex, unprotected sex, creampie, cunnilingus (both receiving), overstimulation. ₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎
𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 ♡︎: with your escape from your kidnapping, you find yourself now stranded in a world unfamiliar to you, how will you get home?
꒰m!demon ₊⊹ afab!reader꒱
𝒴 ou find yourself lost in thought, pondering how long you've been sitting outside. Your trusty (albeit broken) silver watch stubbornly displays midnight, but time seems irrelevant in this alternate world where minutes stretch into eternity. The rhythmic patter of raindrops keeps you company on the balcony, drawing you in with its soothing melody. Despite the allure of a cozy bed mere steps away, you remain entranced by the stormy night. Rain has always been your sanctuary, a source of comfort in turbulent times. And much like the rain, you find beauty in the fog that accompanies it, shrouding the world in a veil of mystery and distorting the passage of time.
In this enchanting world, you find yourself drawn to its allure. The raindrops fall delicately, resembling glittering diamonds, while the thick and mesmerizing fog gracefully enveloped everything in sight. Despite its seemingly monotonous nature, the sound of rain became a melody that resonated with your soul, especially during the serene nights when your neighborhood fell into a peaceful slumber. However, you were no longer in the comfort of your own home. Instead, there was a certain allure in venturing outside in this strange world during your unconventional waking hours, embracing the rain as it transformed the radiant light of the two moons into a muted glow amidst the stormy clouds. The lantern lights shimmered briefly, casting a magical glow before fading away. This was the embodiment of tranquility.
Your eyes trail to where the last lantern light on the garden flickers out, and your body turns rigid as something, tall, lanky, and dark comes slinking your way, well not necessarily your way, but down the path in your direction. The rain intensifies, drumming against the balcony railing and soaking your legs and feet. Perhaps your mind is playing tricks on you? You were stressed and scared. A crashing sound of thunder startles you, a trail of goosebumps crawling up your arms. The sensation of them developing sends a quiver down your spine, one that leaves your bones rattling and achy.
As the rain continues to pour down heavily, the path ahead becomes a blur, even with the faint light of the moons flickering through the clouds. You can almost feel the wetness of the soil beneath your feet, the sensation of it squishing between your toes. The raindrops relentlessly peck at your face, while the gentle rustling of the trees creates a comforting hum. It's as if Mother Nature herself is embracing you. Suddenly, a sharp pang of unease shoots through your chest, causing your eyes to flutter open.
You raise your head from its tilted position and peer down the path below the balcony. It's not a long stretch, the length of a car and then some. Your breath catches in your throat as you spot something peculiar. The figure that had been walking along the trail earlier, which you had dismissed as a figment of your fear, now stands at the end of your balcony. It is drenched and covered in a mysterious black substance. Although still tall, it no longer possesses its unnaturally thin appearance.
A terrifying grin stretches across its mouth, revealing a multitude of razor-sharp teeth, causing an uncontrollable scream to burst from your lips. In a frantic scramble, you seek refuge within the confines of your room, desperately hoping to evade the horrifying sight. The name you scream had meant to scream was Elmira, but out came, "U-Ulysses!" Your body turns into a puddle of goo, hot, sappy goo when a large hand settles over your eyes to obscure your vision. "Well aren't you a troublemaker?" he remarks, his eyebrows minutely creasing at the warmth emanating from your forehead and skin. As your hand rests upon his, he takes note of the clamminess of your palm.
"Do you like the rain?"
Amidst the relentless downpour, his voice cuts through the noise, smooth and velvety. It's reminiscent of savoring a fine whiskey, leaving a warm trail down your throat. You can't help but wonder if he tastes just as divine or otherwordly, and that thought alone makes your eyebrows furrow softly. You can feel his eyes on you, curious and searching. Knowing. Your words come out almost incoherent, but he doesn't seem to mind. His hearing is ten times sharper than yours, after all. Your voice, like a serene lake, barely makes a ripple. As your lips part, his eyes follow every movement with unwavering attention.
“I do.”
The rain has been falling relentlessly for hours, the constant pitter-patter on the ground and roof soothing you into a cozy and passionate state. Your affection for the rain is unwavering, it's a love that will never fade. Observing it brings back memories of your dreams, those beautiful dreams where you're standing in a vast field, letting the rain drench your clothes and moisten your skin. It's just you and the raindrops. The rain brings you solace. That's why you have no qualms about watching it endlessly.
“Do you like the rain?”
Your question catches him off guard, yet he craves the feeling of vulnerability you display by trusting and relying on him, despite your previous lack of trust.
“No.”
As your sight remains obscured, you're swiftly hoisted off the ground, the creature beneath you fading from your mind and your heart gradually returning to its normal rhythm. You hesitate to inquire further, realizing you're essentially a prisoner in this situation, with him as your captor.
“Why.”
As you both walk in silence, there is a sense of comfort that envelops you. It's a silence that doesn't make you feel awkward or embarrassed about the lack of response from him. Suddenly, a thought crosses your mind - where exactly are you heading? Although the bed assigned to you wasn't too distant, it feels like you've been strolling together for quite some time.
"Where are you taking me?"
As soon as your question leaves your lips, the unmistakable sound of a door slamming shut echoes through the room. Suddenly, you find yourself being gently placed onto a much larger bed than the one you were initially provided. "You'll be staying in my quarters until I can resolve the issue with the infestation,"
As your vision returns, you sit upright on the bed and fix your gaze upon him, your eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "Are you talking about mice? Or rats?" A blush spreads across your cheeks when he glances at you sideways, emitting a small chuckle devoid of humor. "Sure," he replies.
Sliding off the bed, you cross your arms protectively over your chest. "I won't be staying in a room with you. Find me another one." His eyebrow quirks and his eyes narrow, causing you to take a step back instinctively. "I have no intention of laying a finger on your body, especially considering you're human," he retorts. Offended, your mouth hangs open in disbelief and you take a step towards him.
"I wouldn't let you touch me, even if you begged!" Your words are sharp as he approaches. "Calm yourself, ao bewl ¹, I'll be in the next room over." ( my love )¹ A sudden wave of heat washes over you, causing your vision to blur and your breath to quicken. Ulysses remains unfazed as he steps closer, grabbing your wrist and pulling you towards him, his other hand lifting to touch your chin and check your forehead. "Silly woman, how long have you been out in the rain?"
Ulysses notices your lack of response and tenderly lifts you up from your slouched position against him, carefully placing you back in bed. "The rain in Lomaliue is unlike anything you've experienced in the Upper Realm," he whispers under his breath, his cool hands gently brushing against your forehead and then your neck. You peer at him through blurry eyes, your heart pounding in your chest. "Is this the end for me? Am I dying? I'm dying, right? " Fear grips you as tears stream down your face, and the room starts to spin around you.
The Demon can't contain his amusement and lets out a deep, rich chuckle. "Come now, little human, no need for theatrics. You're not dying. It's simply the unfamiliar weather and atmosphere of the Under Realm that's causing you discomfort. You'll be alright." Sweat clings to your body like a second skin, drenching your hair and clothing, leaving little to the imagination. A wave of intense pain surges through your abdomen, causing you to wince and squeeze your eyes shut. "It hurts, it hurts."
Ulysses sighs and softly caresses your complexion from top to bottom, hovering just slightly over your face. Your eyes slide shut and sleep takes over. He doesn't even startle or rise when Elmira enters the room, eyes worried. "She'll be fine, bring my papers from the office here, cancel the board meeting, and rearrange it a sennight from now." Elmira nods obediently and laces her hands behind her back. "Of course Master." Before she can turn to leave, he he adds, "The Guard, have them hunt down the Helkuma that made its way in. I'll be conducting a border check to identify any lapses in security."
"Yes Master." Elmira leaves the room and shuts the door behind her softly, leaving the two. Ulysses rises from the bed, intending to make his way to the plush velvet couch, but his progress is halted by a gentle tug on his loose tunic. Your small, tender hand clings to him with an intensity that suggests a desperate need for his presence, while the worry lines between your eyebrows deepen. "It seems I've been mated to a clingy human."
For the next coming days, Ulysses spends his time doting on you as you're in and out of sleep, while also doing a lot of the work that had piled up in his absence. Surprisingly, in your drowsy state, you show no fear towards him; in fact, you become quite affectionate and touchy. On the seventh day, your fever finally breaks, and your pretty eyes no longer hold that bleary look of exhaustion and pain; it soothes Ulysses more than he cares to admit. Elmira hands him another stack of reports, her smile tinged with guilt as she notices his exasperated glare. "Just a few more to go, and we'll be done, except for the east wing reconstruction," she says, but stops when he raises one of his hands (from his third arm, the others are busy with paperwork) "Don't remind me."
Ba-Bump. Ba-Bump
The feline demon's ears twitch as your heart rate quickens. "Master, My Lady has awakened," he hums in acknowledgment, placing the two out of the three pens down and rising from the desk he had relocated to the room. "Ask the Chef to prepare a light meal and gather medicine and a sweet treat." Carrying a few crucial documents, he settles onto the plush velvet couch, flipping through them. Elmira nods in understanding and swiftly exits the room, gently closing the door behind her.
"I am aware that you are awake, my dear 'captive'."
He finds your bewildered grunt incredibly amusing, much more than he had anticipated. With a slight chuckle, he resumes his task of signing, paying no attention as you ungracefully slide out of bed and stumble toward the couch farthest from his position. Wrapped in the sheets, you look absolutely adorable, with it trailing behind you as you settle into the comfortable couch. "What time is it? What day?"
"It's been a sennight since you've come down with fever, that makes it Woedenes dæg, and it's noon." He steals a quick glance at his watch, indicating that he's running out of time and you have a feeling that he's about to go. "Which also means I have my meeting soon." And your intuition was spot on.
Ulysses stands up and carelessly tosses the pages onto the table. "Elmira will bring you something to eat. Take a brief stroll in the gardens and enjoy the fresh air. Just remember, not more than 10 minutes. Your body needs time to adjust to this environment."
You give a slight nod, feeling a bit disoriented and not up for a debate, the situation still feeling surreal. A sudden feeling of bashfulness overtakes you, making your cheeks burn. "Have you been here the entire time?" "Yes, the employees here are not accustomed to dealing with humans. You're also mine. My responsibility and I allowed you to become ill, and for that, I am sorry."
Your heart skips a beat and your stomach does a flip, but it comes crashing down when he finishes. "I also didn't want to put them through the pain of your snoring and clinginess." Ulysses finds amusement in the glare you send his way, observing as you settle back into the couch, appearing at ease in his presence. "Aren't you supposed to be somewhere else? Hurry and get out." His eyes soften and a smile quirks his lips, "I'll come to visit you after." You huff and wave him off with a middle finger. "Don't bother!" Your voice trails off weakly as he walks out, shutting the door with a solid thud.
Just as you are lost in your own thoughts, Elmira enters the room carrying a tray of steaming soup. Her face lights up with a warm smile, and her steps exude a contagious energy. "My Lady, I'm overjoyed to see you recovering. Your illness had the entire castle in a frenzy, and the servants have been sending their good wishes." It's puzzling, isn't it? You were just an ordinary person who stumbled upon this grand castle one day. Your interactions were minimal, and you couldn't even recall the names of those you encountered. So why all the fuss?
Elmira seems to read your mind and responds with a gentle smile. "In the sennights you've been here, your presence has brightened this place. The Gardeners feel like they have a purpose, the Chef gets to cook more often and the other maids love to dote on you." The Garden. The mere thought of dining in the garden brings a smile to your face as you sit up from your previously huddled position. "Elmira, I would like to eat in the garden."
The walk to the Gardens (a place you had never been to) was quick and pleasant, with the suns shining brightly at noon. The knights on patrol greeted you warmly and in a slightly cute and chaotic manner. Stepping outside, you slipped off your new flats, lifted your dress, and ran into the grassy plains with a soft smile and squinted eyes, the sun's rays shining in your eyes and warming your skin. A gentle sigh of contentment escaped your lips as you wiggled your bare feet in the grass of the garden. With a slight breeze in the air, Elmira draped a shawl over your shoulders before heading back to the table to prepare your breakfast.
"Elmira, why is it that I've never been here before?" you inquire, your voice gentle as you lower yourself, your gown spreading over the earth and your hand encircling your knees. The scent of the air is pure and invigorating, a stark contrast to the environment you're used to at home. Your fingers trace the outline of a dandelion-like flower, smoothing over its bright yellow stem before picking it. Raising it to your face, you inspect the pink fluff that surrounds it. The clinking of dishes is the only sound until she interrupts.
"This is the Master's private garden, in order to come here you would need approval. While you were recovering, I told him that you enjoyed being outside and in Nature, and he gave you access to this Garden." Elmira answers, occupied with the dolly that holds the tea and soup that had been prepared prior. As you listen to her words, a soft smile graces your lips, and your heart flutters with excitement. You take in a deep breath and let out a puff, air releasing from your lungs and onto the flower. The pappus soars through the wind, taking flight and drifting further and further away from you. The garden mesmerizes you with its meticulous upkeep, vibrant hues, and the intoxicating fragrance of the dew-kissed plants. Every plant thrives, leaving you thoroughly delighted.
You now longed for a book to read, so you could lose yourself within the garden and experience something you had yet to want until now. But, after realizing that perhaps all the books were in the language of this new world, you would have to ask Elmira or Ulysses to get you something. Ah, you said it so easily, as if staying here was a forever thing, but perhaps it was. Ulysses had hit the nail on the head about your old life - no caring family, a job ready to let you go, and no one waiting for you back home. You weren't living, just surviving miserably. With a soft groan, you rose from your crouched position, hands moving up from your knees as you straightened. Your eyes roamed and landed on a beautiful glass table that Elmira was setting the dishes onto. It was clear, almost see-through. White placeholders were facing the chairs that came with the table. "It's so beautiful here." Your voice barely above a whisper, your fingers glide along the smooth glass surface, the set looking as if water had stilled. It could've been mistaken for ice if the warmth from the present sun didn't beam onto everything in its path. You hesitate, stealing glances at the elegant table, unsure if you should dare to sit. The opulence of the furniture makes you question if you might tarnish it. "Elmira, is it alright for me to sit here? It looks expensive." The cat demon nods absentmindedly, focused on arranging the items. "Certainly, the furniture is meticulously cleaned every day." "Oh," you respond, your brows furrowing. Your gaze swiftly shifts to your hand, a delighted smile spreading across your face as you notice something unexpected. "What is this?" you whisper softly, bringing your hand closer to examine it.
Perched on the back of your hand is a mesmerizing bug, its vibrant blue hue adorned with delicate white spots. At first glance, you might mistake it for a ladybug, if not for its peculiar shading and the menacing stinger at the end of its abdomen. Elmira's expression changes as you inquire about the bug, her face turning pale. With a sense of urgency, she urges you. "My Lady, quickly blow it off your hand!" You look up and away from the bug and glance toward her, panicking slightly at her tone. "What? Why? What's wrong–." Before you can comprehend her warning, a scorching sensation surges through your veins, engulfing your body in unbearable pain. As you glance back at your hand, you discover that the bug's stinger is now embedded in your skin, while the insect itself has vanished amidst your frantic state.
In an instant, you're sprawled on the ground, and Elmira rushes over, tenderly cupping your face in her palms. It's hard not to ponder why a mundane day is an elusive dream in this peculiar world, where nothing ever seems to be ordinary.
"—The Hundyai Region has become overrun with–."
The atmosphere in the meeting room instantly turns heavy as a sudden knock reverberates through the door. All eyes turn towards the interruption, their curiosity piqued. It is a rare occurrence to interrupt a meeting with the fearsome Demon Lord Ulysses, it had never been done before, or well, successfully done. Before he can even speak, Elmira enters the room with a sense of urgency, her steps quick and purposeful. Bending down to whisper into his ear, she imparts crucial information to their Lord, causing a ripple of tension to spread across the room. The council members watch intently as Ulysses' eyes narrow and his jaw tightens in response. With a stiff nod, he acknowledges Elmira's message, prompting her to exit the room gracefully. Bidding a respectful farewell to the men at the table, she disappears as silently as she had arrived.
Standing up from his spot at the head of the table, Ulysses straightens his cuff links. "Let's postpone the meeting for now. Feel free to wait in the lounge with some refreshments." There are no protests, no irritation, just unwavering loyalty. "Understood, my Lord." She can't seem to stay out of trouble.
"How long ago was it?"
Elmira anxiously clasps her hands together as she hurries alongside Ulysses, makes his way to his bed in a few long strides."It couldn't have been more than five minutes. I rushed to your side as soon as I could. Ghallahan brought her back here," she explains. Ulysses tenderly cups your chin in his large hand, observing as your eyes glaze over and your lips part to take a deep breath upon his touch. Your skin feels warm and moist with a thin layer of perspiration, causing him to curse himself for his lack of attentiveness. "Bring me something to alleviate the pain and swelling within 10 minutes. Clear out the staff near my room and instead attend to our guests. If I need anything, I'll call for you." Elmira, though reluctant, nods and shuffles out of the room. "What's happening to me?" Ulysses, captivated by the alluring and breathy tone of your voice, shifts his attention back to you. He nonchalantly rolls up his sleeves and unbuttons his shirt ever so slightly. "While in the Garden you were stung by a Fern. Their venom can intensify one's libido to a dangerous extent if not treated correctly. It can also lead to swelling in the limbs and even the brain, depending on the specific type of Fern."
In the midst of your poisoned state, your eyes widen with a mixture of fear and disbelief. Your thighs involuntarily clench together as your heart beats erratically in your chest. The overwhelming realization that death may be imminent engulfs you, and you find yourself uttering desperate words, "Oh God, I'm going to die, I don't want to die." However, amidst the chaos, a strange sensation begins to stir within you. Your nipples harden beneath the fabric of your dress, the sensation bordering on painful. Ulysses gently brushes his hand against your, puffy lips sending a jolt of electricity through your body. His touch trails down the side of your neck, leaving a trail of anticipation in its wake. "For it to stop, I need to pleasure you." Your body tenses at the information and your cheeks flush. "I'll just do it myself. Why can't I do it myself?"
"It doesn't work that way, little dove."
The thought of him touching you so intimately sends tingles of white-hot pleasure down your tummy. Another wave of heat hits and beneath your dress your wet, sticky thighs rub together, desperate for a touch of any kind. You can feel your clit swell and ache as your blood rushes to it. Your panties are damp with your arousal. As you lock eyes with him, his passive yet sharp features, and his deep, alluring red eyes, you sense a hunger that sets him apart from the rest. The sinewy muscles of his arms ripple, captivating your attention, and you boldly cup your breast within your small hands, embracing your own provocative nature. It becomes clear that the mere thought of his touch has the power to bring you to the brink of climax.
You can't help but feel a little shy, but there's no denying the effect he has on you. The way his voice rumbles sends shivers down your spine. His deep, sultry tone stirs something deep inside you. "Dove, talk to me." His voice is almost pleading, and you comply with a quick nod, gasping as his lips press against yours, dominating and all-consuming. His tongue dances over your lower lip, relishing the addictive taste of your mouth. His teeth sink in, causing a pleasurable moan to escape into his mouth, your fingers desperately clinging to him; as his fingers trail calmly down your waistline and tickle your belly button. Slowly, they make their way back up to the neckline of your dress, effortlessly tearing it off, and exposing your breasts to the cold air, causing goosebumps to rise. Though his warm mouth chases them away.
Your thighs tighten around his waist, feeling the hot, pulsating bulge in his pants pressing against your stomach. The most sultry, erotic moan he's ever heard pierces his ears and the deep, primal groan that he lets out makes you whimper. He lifts his head to gaze into your eyes, seeing the raw desire and intense need reflected at him.
His fingers delve into your hips, reassuring and light as he pulls you closer to him, his mouth continuing a slow, tantalizing assault on your nipples. Each time his teeth nip you, you mewl wantonly and arch into him, hips grinding against him. Tears trickle down your cheeks at the discomfort between your thighs, a fire that slowly starts to eat you alive.
Ulysses' hand caresses your breast, thumb teasing your wet nipple. And you let out the most sinful, obscene moan he's ever heard; and you attempt to stifle it with your hand. " It's only me and you here, dove " He states, kissing down the valley of your breast, eyes flitting upwards to gaze at your tortured face. His breath leaves his lungs in a shocked rush, and a surge of emotions engulfs him when his eyes find yours, they're wet with tears and you down at him through thick lashes, eyes so trusting and yet so scared.
"In this life and the next, you possess the power to consume me entirely." His voice, a mere whisper, and his hands cupping the soft weight of your breast. He bends his head, his teeth scraping over your left nipple. His other arms work on taking off the top half of his clothing, carelessly ripping them away. You sob out, the sound unlike anything he's heard, it makes his cock strain against his pants. Once again, he claims your breast, his mouth unyielding. Suckling vigorously, his tongue dancing across your nipple, while his fingers tease and caress the other. Your cries echo, as you entangle your fingers in his tousled locks.
As he lifts his head from devouring you, his gaze fixates on the vibrant hues that adorn your bosom, and you gasp at the color of his eyes. He knows you see the dark red of his eyes, a lust-filled predator, and yet you don't seem to care one bit. Instead, you yearn for him, your arms entwining around his neck to meet him in a kiss. Ulysses revels in the sensation of your body melding seamlessly with his, surrendering to his dominance as he ravishes your mouth with a fervent hunger, relishing the taste of your fervor. Your mouth, an addictive nectar, surpasses any pleasure he has ever savored in his two millennia of existence.
As your perky nipples graze against the chiseled contours of his muscular chest, a shiver of pleasure courses through your body, leaving you breathless and emitting a delicate whimper. He hungrily devours your sounds, his lips relentlessly claiming yours, until your once tender lips become swollen, evidence of his insatiable desire.
“More," You plead softly. "I need more." You can't help but squirm against him, hips bucking. Hungry. Needy. Demanding. The poison inside you ignites a fiery hunger, and only he can quench it. All you desire is him. His touch, his kiss, rough and demanding. You yearn for the numbness that envelops you when he tilts your head back, dominating your mouth repeatedly. Your cries are filled with urgency, and you don't care if you have to beg him to get what you want. What you needed.
"I can feel the heat of your cunt through my pants, dove," He whispers softly, and to you? He murmurs gently to you. He exudes pure, sinful allure. Temptation. Forbidden and devilish. The brush of his teeth on your neck causes your eyes to close and your lips to part. "I bet your panties are drenched, aren't they?" The question has another wave of slick dripping from your pussy.
He doesn't bother waiting for your response; instead, he plants a series of kisses from your lips to your neck, and then down to your breasts. Every gentle bite or caress sends a surge of heat directly to your pussy. The heat is intense, scorching, pulsating between your thighs, and you can't help but squirm. Your pussy twitches, clenches, and weeps with hunger.
"I want to see for myself," He states, nipping under your breast and then down along your ribs. "I need the taste of you on my tongue, my mate." His sensual words make you flush red, but sends your stomach clenching in anticipation, it goes straight to your core. You weren't certain you could survive. Certainly if he didn't speed up his teasing you wouldn't, you truly didn't want your brain to swell and explode.
His stalling mouth doesn't stay very long but continues to journey down your belly, his tongue dipping into your navel. Gracefully, he slides off the bed and kneels in front of you, urging you to the edge and pushing your thighs apart. "Rest your feet on my shoulders," he commands, his voice thick and velvety. Filled with dark promise. A shiver runs down your spine at the sound and another pulse of hunger shudders through you. There's no thought in your mind that think to defy the edge in his tone. Without hesitation, you comply, soft feet settling over his broad shoulders.
You would do anything for him at this moment. You had never in your 20+ years of living ever felt so desperate or needy. The feeling was so strange but, so intense, your body shook with it. Your heart raced, blood pounding in your ears and flushing your cheeks. Ulysses' face bore a dark, erotic lewdness. Intense. Savage even. Feral and untamed, it stirred something deep within you, something you didn't even realize was there. You hungered for him so much that you could feel the warm wetness of your arousal smearing your thighs and gathering between your folds in anticipation.
A soft whimper escaped your lips as you gripped his locs of hair, your breathing ragged. You were completely bare to him and you should have been embarrassed to have a demon you just met buried between your thighs, but instead, you were all the more desperate for him to do something—anything.
"So wet. So sweet." His gaze fixates on the luscious, soft curls on your mound, damp with heat, his eyes hooded and hungry. With a low, primal growl, he exhales a cool breath directly onto your feverish folds, and you sob, oversensitive and gripping his horns to steady yourself. "You belong to me," he declares. You don't even have time to process his words because he lowers his head to the feast between your shaking thighs. Your cry is hoarse. Broken. Mewling. He doesn't just give a tentative lick. Ulysses takes what he wants like a starved beast. He consumes your mind, body, and soul with a ravenous appetite.
He consumes you. His tongue delving deep to extract the musky, sweet taste of you. He nibbles, sucks. He dominates you with just his mouth and nothing more. Powerless to do anything but hold on, you grasp his horns, his firm hold on your thighs, keeping your legs spread wide for his plundering mouth. It was beautiful. So good. Better than anything you could have imagined. Your mind refuses to function, focusing on the sheer pleasure escalating like a tsunami. The sensations are indecent, and arousing, the intensity escalating the insatiable desire within her higher and higher.
He releases a fierce hunger within you, his tongue flicking, diving deep repeatedly, caressing and teasing. His deep snarls only added to the sensations battering through you. The flames roar back with a vengeance, tantalizing your nerves and scorching through your veins, a blaze of passion across your stomach and down your legs, along your spine, and deep inside your sopping pussy. You were so close, the tension coiling so tightly you cry out with need as his mouth envelops your hypersensitive bundle of nerves, he licks just enough to overwhelm you with sensations, but not enough to release you. "Ulysses," You whimper his name in a desperate plea. Begging. Longing. Knowing he would fulfill your desires in his own time. Your body was his. He had claimed it and he was making sure you were aware of that. "Please," You whisper, fingers now clutching his black tresses.
He looks up at you and you feel the added intensity of his twinkling eyes. Your hips involuntarily thrust against him, craving the tantalizing sensations that tease you just beyond your grasp. His mouth covers your sensitive clit once again, his tongue flicking, licking, pressing with broad, flat strokes and caresses, driving you higher than you thought possible, until you scream your release. The rapid, relentless rhythm pushes you beyond your limits, causing you to surrender to the overwhelming release that consumes you. Overwhelmed by ecstasy, you bury his face deeper into your pulsating core, grinding against his tongue as your thighs tremble with desire. "Ulysses." You sob his name like a prayer. He tenderly traces the inside of your thigh, soothing your senses with his gentle touch. Slowly, your eyes flutter shut, your racing heartbeat gradually returning to its steady rhythm. Exhaustion washes over you, and the sweet embrace of sleep claims you.
With a soft knock on the door, the demon eases you back into bed, pulling the duvet over your body. Elmira glides into the room, placing the requested items on the table. "Escort the guest back to the meeting room, we'll resume the conference."
As you wake up from your poisoning-induced slumber, the darkness of night surrounds you, the castle eerily quiet except for the gentle sound of raindrops. Sitting up in bed, you slowly rub the sleep from your eyes, allowing the events of the day to slowly return to your mind. "Oh God." The events from earlier today rush back to you in vivid detail. You cover your mouth with your hand, shaking your head in disbelief. It must have been a dream, an incredibly lifelike, tantalizing dream. But the dampness between your thighs and your labia tells a different story. "I must have been dreaming."
"Of what?" The deep voice that you were starting to get used to startles you. Ulysses closes the door behind him, striding over to his desk. "I came to check on you after what happened earlier," His muscles tense and a surge of desire flickers in his eyes. Oh, and you were naked beneath the sheets. "So, I wasn't dreaming?" Ulysses chuckles humorlessly. "With the taste of your pussy still on my tongue, I don't think so." You try and ignore his lewd words, cheeks heating, instead you question him. "Earlier, when, yeah— you called me your mate, are we talking like, Australian mate? Pirate mate? Ahoy. What did you mean by it?"
"As in soulmate, predestined. You belong to me as I belong to you." His voice is gravelly and tinged with weariness, and you almost invite him into bed with you. "How? And how do you find me? Why me?" "Soulmates for Demons are rare, not many have them and they usually outlive them. Stumbling upon you was a fluke, but one I wouldn't change." Ulysses studies your reaction with a bated breath, searching and wondering. "I discovered you through your heartbeat. Your emotions. I could sense them all. Your fear, your relief, your longing."
"As simple as that, I got attached. Part of me wanted to leave you there, to never lay eyes on you again. However, your emotions anchored me. The solace you found in the echo of my voice and the sense of security you experienced, impelled me to protect you." Ulysses saunters closer, pausing to rest against the bed frame. "Your clumsiness, magnet to trouble, love of nature, and politeness to the staff, only made you more irresistible."
Your heart pounds relentlessly in your chest, a rhythmic thump that resonates with the intensity of a confession. "Whether you desire to depart from this place is inconsequential, for I have no intentions of releasing you," Is it sinful that you find yourself utterly aroused? The way his smoldering eyes possessively roam over your figure sends a tantalizing shiver down your spine. His eyebrow quirks in a provocative gesture, and his eyes sparkle with a magnetic allure.
You felt your cheeks flush and your heart pound. He knew exactly how to turn you on. It was wrong, but it was also thrilling. The way he gazed at you made your pussy drool. Your clit throbbed with excitement. A part of you blamed it on the poison still gliding through your veins. "I don't see a reason to go anywhere," you murmur, relaxing your grip on the sheet. Ulysses' jaw tightens as he advances, his lips crashing onto yours forcefully, swallowing your moan before breaking away.
"I'll put your mouth to use little human."
The thought of his throbbing cock sliding deep into your throat sends delightful shivers down your spine and the way his gaze darkens lets you know that he can also feel what you think as well. With a hint of shyness, you cautiously approach him, allowing the sheet to gracefully slip from your body, settling on your knees right before him. Craning your neck to look up at him, captivated by his towering presence. At his staggering height, you had no problem being face-to-face with his bulge. Your lips form a sultry pout as he gently cradles your face in his hands, while his other two hands firmly grip your hair, a hold that is both biting and intoxicating, leaving your pussy dripping.
A primal hunger consumes you. He was an irresistible temptation, and you had already indulged in a sinful taste of him, otherworldly and enigmatic. You yearned for more. "Put your hands on my thighs," He says softly, his gaze burning into yours. You inhale deeply, your head shaking in disbelief, your eyes sparkling with desire. "I've never done this before."
"I know." Those two words swirl inside you. Makes you shiver. With his remaining hand, he deftly undoes his pants, revealing his cock.
As you inhale deeply, your throat tightens and your eyes feast upon him. His jet-black hair is elegantly swept away from his captivating face. With broad shoulders and narrow hips, he possesses a striking V-shaped silhouette. His thighs are thick, lean and firm, but your gaze is centered on his pulsing, jerking cock. He's bigger than you imagined a man would be— well a demon. He's long and thick, perfectly matching his purple-grey skin tone, but there is an otherworldly quality to it that leaves you craving more. Intricate ridges and pulsating veins adorn its length.
"Keep looking at me, dove. I need to see you, to make certain you want this."
Your gaze swiftly ascended, locked in a passionate connection, for in that very moment, you were ready to surrender the world to him. He envelops his fingers around the base of his cock, guiding it towards your awaiting mouth, an act so tantalizingly arousing, it surpasses any previous encounters. (Not that you've had many, but…) Ulysses presses the velvety head against your lips, and the sensation of his precum moistening them ignites a pulsating surge of pleasure within your core. Driven by instinct, you part your lips and sensually lick the glistening droplets, taking the offering and savoring his taste.
His groan is deep as the flat of your tongue dances over his sensitive tip. He retreats momentarily, causing you to whimper in protest, which is quickly silenced as he abruptly sinks into your mouth, giving you what you want. He moves unhurriedly, each stroke taking him deeper until he's nearly at the back of your throat, careful of you. But you can feel the way his body responds as you suckle hard. It's orgasmic, the violent way his muscles contract from the burning pleasure. His gaze, dark and intense, follows every movement of his cock as it slides in and out of your mouth; tip and shaft sloppy now, dripping with saliva.
You revel in the sensation of his intense gaze watching your pillowy lips enveloping his cock, and this feeling alone from you has his cock swollen and engorged, so much so that your jaw aches. You sensually trace circles around the tip before lavishly slurping the underside of his shaft. Your eyes lock with his as he spasmodically twitches within your mouth.
"Enough." An order, his voice rough. He can't help himself. He had to have you. The plea in your eyes, the pure fire burning there, swallowing him whole, is too difficult to oppose. With one final thrust, he plunges deep into your throat, holding you there until your eyes well up with tears, before sliding his cock from your mouth.
Ulysses follows you down onto the bed, your arms circling his neck. Your thighs part, thighs glistening and pussy glittering in the soft, dull glow of the moons. And oh, he seizes the opportunity, lodging the wide head of his cock into that fiery haven. A growl rumbles low in his chest as your pussy clenches, squeezing around the tip of his cock.
Your cunt felt like molten lava engulfing him, so intense that he feels he might explode. Ulysses slowly applies pressure, short bursts that push through your resistance. It's scorching. So perfect. Too tight. Strangling him in a vice grip. The sensation is sheer bliss, your body stretching and igniting, reluctantly surrendering to his invasion.
Ulysses halts as he knocks dully on your thin, virgin wall and holds himself still, jaw ticking and hands gripping the bed frame, causing it to splinter. To give your body the time it needed to adjust to his incursion. He wasn't nearly in deep enough. The effort to remain still is almost unbearable. "Dove, look at me." he pleads. He had to see your eyes. Your lashes flutter and then lift. His stomach muscles contract malevolently. His body shudders and his cock thickens, and throbs, desperate for more.
You looked absolutely breathtaking.
"I need more," You whisper. "Please, hurry. Please. I'm burning up. I need . . ."
"I know what you need." Three of his arms embraces your hips, lifting you effortlessly. In an instant, your legs coil around him, ankles clasping at his waist, and fingers entwining at the back of his neck, eyes pleading. Ulysses takes a deep breath, for the sight of you is overwhelming.
He thrusts forward, with unrelenting intensity. Breaking through your innocence and forcefully entering your tightness, the scalding fire seizing him, and your tight pussy has no choice but to accept all of him.
You cry out at the bite of pain, but he feels you surround his cock tightly, tugging him deeper until he's lodged all the way, kissing your cervix. Your tight muscles contract around him, gripping and pulsating. Your hips buck. A small whimper of need slips from your throat. The need to fuck hard and deep into you repeatedly nearly sends him over the edge. "Are you ready? Breathe for me, dove." Your eyes meet his. Wild. So untamed, his breath catches in his throat. He holds you still while you try your hardest to grind against him, desperate to move.
"Please, fuck me." Your voice sends him over the edge. He moves then, drawing back and then plunging deep into your drooling cunt. Your tightness, like scorching silk, grip his cock. He feels the last of his control snap and he begins to drill into you. It's rough, too rough for your innocence, but he can't help himself. The pleasure consumes him, almost bordering on pain in its intensity.
He can feel you rising toward your orgasm. Surging toward it. He grasps your hips firmly, holding you, for a moment, savoring your tight, dripping cunt, and then he surges into you over and over with hard, deep strokes. Ulysses feels his balls tighten at the sudden, overwhelming convulsion of your pussy. The intense fluttering around him. Your moans fill his ears—his very being. Pleasure overwhelms him.
Each hard jerk of his thick, creamy cum spilling into you is a wave of pleasure. He raises his head and looks down at you, at the helpless, cute, bewildered pleasure on your face. Your lashes flutter and before you can open your eyes all the way, Ulysses slants his mouth across yours. Gently. Completely at odds with his roughness earlier. And you respond softly. Tiredly.
"Sleep, we have all of eternity."
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SWORDTEMBER DAY 10 : HEALER
Ambrosia, of cold metal and warm nectar 🍯🦋 “The healer returned with a large, spherical jar. Inside was a thick, yellow liquid. It sloshed and bubbled, a gentle buzz filling the air and a faint amber glow filling the tent, casting a golden shine on the various tapestries, herbs, and other trinkets hanging from the fabric walls. ‘Here.’ She scooped a handful of the liquid out with her fingers, and spread it generously across your leg. You winced at first, a sharp pain shooting up your side, then eased as you felt it. Warm, gooey, a faint numbing buzz. You felt your skin stitch itself up, your broken bone shift - not uncomfortably so - back into place. Your marrow knitting closed, muscle threading firm and strong. It was so warm, and smelled so sweet. You smiled, and felt sleep fall over you like a heavy blanket. Familiar, and safe”
Love animating some goo :} the only downside is now I really wanna eat this stuff…
Yesterday’s sword!
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Will You Take Care of Her (Part 8)
Previous | Masterpost
TW: descriptions of violence
Danny ran to the tube and before Jason could say anything Danny had punched it, shattering the glass and badly cutting his hand, not that he seemed to notice. Alarms started to blare as Danny dragged the girl out and onto the floor, Jason slammed the door shut before people could rush towards them, jamming it closed. Leaning against the door to make sure it stayed closed as he watched Danny with ‘Ellie’. He didn’t know what was happening, but he knew they needed to save this girl and Danny would need time to do that so Jason could buy some time.
“No nonono,” Danny murmured as the girl started to melt, her fingers and feet starting to collapse into some sort of green goo. “Don’t you dare destabilize on me, we’re the only ones left,” Danny nearly snarled, changing back into his ghost form. The transformation was quicker this time and as soon as it was done he lay her down on the floor, pressing his hands against her chest.
It looked like he was about to start doing chest compressions but instead he sent a wave of some sort of crackling green energy through her body. She arched slightly but didn’t otherwise respond, Danny snarled louder and did it again.
Jason could hear the pounding of feet behind the door as people rushed down to find out what was going on. There was yelling as they tried the door and it wouldn’t open. Jason set his back more firmly against the barrier. Danny hadn’t even noticed the noise yet, too focussed on saving the girl.
“Come on, come onnn,” Danny muttered as he sent a third shock through her and then she gasped and coughed, white rings of light flashed over her body and her hair turned stark white, her clothes turning into some black and white outfit with a P on the chest, and her fingers reformed. She hadn’t opened her eyes but she was alive and Danny looked like he was ready to cry with relief.
When he looked up his eyes were glowing green in swirling patterns that drew you in and refused to let go. You could see the angry and unnatural flames dancing behind his eyes. “Jason, come take her and then stay out of my way. I’ll clear the path, get her out as soon as you can. I’m bringing this entire place down,” Danny growled, his voice reverberating and echoing.
Jason nodded and dived away from the door and past Danny, scooping Ellie up as Danny stood up, his hands morphing into long, curved claws not unlike his usual choice of weapon. They glowed with bright green energy that bubbled and warbled unsteadily, nothing like the Timerean’s other than the colour. When the agents managed to force open the door Danny shot immediately, the power ripping through the person right behind the door who went down immediately, gurgling on their own blood as Danny flew forward hot on the heels of his first blast. He roundhouse kicked the next asshole in white into the wall and Jason heard the crunching of stone and bone and he was sure that one was dead as well.
He had never seen Danny fight like this, he never used his powers and Jason could see why as Danny absolutely tore through the bodies blocking the hall outside. There was already blood splattered over the bone white of Danny’s mask, and he didn’t seem inclined to stop. Up until now Jason had wondered why only he seemed to have episodes of blinding green rage, but it turned out it just took Danny more to get to this point. It was impressive, it was horrifying and bloody, and Jason was mostly disappointed that he wasn’t going to get any kills of his own after seeing what these people had done. But Danny deserved this vengeance and catharsis more.
Jason followed behind Danny with his gun drawn and Ellie held close to his chest, watching his footing on the blood slick ground. He couldn’t fall behind now, Danny’s blows were shaking the foundations of the building and they needed to get out as quickly as possible. As angry and out of it as Danny was Jason couldn’t be sure he wouldn’t accidentally hurt them while trying to protect them.
Danny was living up to the name Hyena as the skull that Jason had been sure was a mask opened and powerful bone jaws ripped an agent’s throat out leaving the canines dripping with fresh blood. Hyena shot through the nearest goon opening a bloody hole through their chest. Someone tried to shoot him and Danny snarled as the impact threw his shoulder back and tore a hole through his flesh dripping with a thick green substance. The hole quickly reformed, the same couldn’t be said for the goon when Hyena threw them to the floor and crushed their skull.
Jason got the chance to finish off a few who were still alive on the ground after Danny passed and as soon as he got a clear line to the door he made a break for it, sprinting out with Ellie. Danny was on his heels, defending their back until they were out, or just indulging in as much bloodshed as he could. Jason skidded to a halt a few meters back when he realized Hyena wasn’t behind them and turned just in time to see Danny take off his mask. He opened his mouth, his jaw unhinging as energy gathered on his tongue before a Sound split the night. A shrieking wail that vibrated the very air, and Jason barely managed to not drop Ellie to cover his ears as the concussive blast cracked the walls of the base.
Jason’s ears were ringing too much to hear the screams he was sure were there as the part of the facility that was above ground collapsed in on itself. Danny’s scream took out… he had no idea how much forest behind the lab as well, well he could see what Danny had been talking about with collateral damage before. Jason shook his head and pulled the detonator out of his pocket, pressing the button, listening to the muffled sounds as, below the ground, the bombs took out whatever was left of the base. The fire from the bombs spread quickly and soon the burning fascility lit the night as Jason and Danny stood in front of it, panting and, in Danny’s case, crying.
“Red Hood, what happened?” Tim- What the fuck Tim!? When did Tim get here?! Asked.
Jason glanced around and saw that the entire Teen Titans were there, well, except Impulse who Jason suspected was trying to find non-existent survivors. The best Jason could do was give Robin a helpless little shrug before looking back at Danny.
“Hyena?” He asked softly, snapping Danny out of his daze he turned towards them.
He approached and went to rest a hand on the girl's hair before hesitating, noticing his hands were covered in blood. He let out a bitten off whimper and tried to wipe it off on his suit as much as he could before he touched her, stroking her wet hair back from her face. “Oh my Little Star, I’m so sorry,” Danny murmured to her.
“Thank you,” He told Jason softly before taking the girl from his arms, holding her close as he glanced around, spotting their audience. “Robin,” He sighed, some tension releasing from his shoulders which wasn’t really the reaction Jason was expecting. He approached them slowly, changing back into his human form as he went, and thank god Tim had already had dinner with them a few times so he didn’t jump to attacking them. Jason wouldn’t have blamed him, this did not look good, and Danny was covered in blood.
“You,” Hyena said, his gaze drifting to Superboy. “You’re Superboy, you’re the clone right?” He asked, and Superboy glanced at Robin before nodding warily. “She is too,” Danny sighed looking down at her. “Back when I was still a hero my nemesis made her, she’s… my daughter, in every way that matters, my flesh and blood but I… the way I am now I can’t take care of her. I never could really, since I was still just 15 when she was made,” He said with a self deprecating little laugh. “I managed to stabilize her but I can’t keep her.”
He looked up at them, tear tracks carving their way through the blood on his face. “She goes by Phantasm when in costume. Will you take her? She’s… she’s a good kid, she needs someone better than me. Your team, or if she needs an adult she’d do well with Wonder Woman of Martian Manhunter.”
Superboy had a determined set to his jaw as he nodded and held out his arms, letting Hyena pass Phantasm over to him. “Thank you,” Hyena sighed, tired and sad. “Tell her her template loves her, and tell her where to find me and she’s welcome to visit. Just warn her what I am now, I was very different when she knew me.”
“What happened here?” Tim asked again.
“Remember I mentioned being experimented on by mad scientists?” Danny asked wryly, Tim nodded and Danny simply gestured back at the facility. “I didn’t realize they still had her or I would have burned the place to the ground a long time ago. Here,” He said, fishing a USB out of his pocket and holding it out to Tim. “This has info on the organization, I meant to give it to you eventually anyway.”
Tim took it and Danny slumped back, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. “Come visit me soon, and tell me how she’s doing if she doesn’t want to see me. Please? I… really care about her.”
“Right, okay,” Tim agreed awkwardly. Danny nodded and then turned, walking back over to Jason who lifted his arms, letting Danny walk into them.
He held Danny close to him and felt a cool wash of invisibility fall over both of them as Danny transformed again and wrapped his arms around Jason’s waist before taking off again. He flew them back to where Jason had left his bike in silence. Once they landed and Danny had transformed again, every time he did it seemed quicker and smoother. Jason drove them home, not caring about the blood that soaked into his back from Danny’s clothes. It wasn’t exactly the first time he’d been covered in blood.
“You didn’t tell me you had a clone,” He said softly into their shared com when they were about half way home. He’d wanted to wait till Danny was ready to talk about it, especially after such an emotional experience, but he needed to know.
“I thought she was dead like the rest of my family,” Danny murmured back, pressing his forehead against Jason’s shoulder. “I saw her destabilize myself. I didn’t know they had any way to keep her alive. And I don’t like to talk about the people I’ve lost, it hurts too much, and they’ll still be gone either way.”
“I get that, but we have to talk about it soon now, you know that right?” Jason asked, and felt Danny nod against his shoulder.
“Yes, I know. Tomorrow okay? I’m so tired, and I need a shower.”
“Ya, we’ll both feel better after a shower and some sleep,” Jason agreed as they arrived back in Crime Alley and headed for the nearest safe house with good water pressure and a bed.
-------
Danny took a while to go to sleep, once they were both clean and in bed he broke down. Jason didn’t know how long he held Danny while he cried softly against his chest, but he didn’t mind, Danny needed it. Finally they both fell asleep, though Jason knew he slept better than Danny.
In the morning Jason woke up before Danny and carefully slid out of bed, dressing and going to pick up breakfast and coffee for them. This wasn’t their main safehouse and didn’t have many groceries or he would have made them breakfast himself. Danny was just starting to stir when he returned with breakfast sandwiches, Danny’s Deathwish coffee, and a normal one for himself.
“Hey Moonlight,” Jason murmured to Danny, putting the food down on the bedside table and leaning down to kiss Danny awake properly. “I brought breakfast,” He said, waiting for Danny to sit himself up groggily before pressing the cup of coffee into his hands.
“Thank you Boo, you’re so good to me,” Danny sighed as he accepted the coffee with his eyes still half closed. Jason hummed and leaned against Danny’s shoulder as he drank his own coffee and ate his sandwich. Watching as Danny drank about half of his coffee before reaching for the sandwich, by the time he’d finished he looked a little more alive.
“How are you feeling?” Jason asked softly once they were both finished, bunching up the empty packaging and shoving it back in the bag.
“I’m alright, I’ll be able to talk today, but I’d like to go back to our nest first? I feel safer there,” Danny admitted, giving Jason completely unnecessary puppy-dog eyes, Jason would never have said no. He knew Danny was happiest there, in the nice apartment near the center of their territory, Danny’s haunt, that they had decorated and really made Home.
“Oh course. You get dressed while I throw out the trash and then we can head home,” Jason agreed and Danny nodded. They both slid out of bed and did their assigned tasks before Jason drove them both home. It wasn’t that far, but covered in blood and exhausted as they were last night Jason had wanted to drive through as little of Crime Alley as possible.
Once they were home Danny collapsed on their couch with a slight groan and Jason went to make them both a cup of tea. He brought them back to the livingroom and put the cups down on the coffee table before nudging Danny to lift his head so Jason could sit down and Danny could rest his head back in Jason’s lap. He combed his fingers through Danny’s hair gently, and waited quietly for Danny to organize his thoughts.
“I got my powers when I was 14, after I died. It took me a couple months to figure out how to control them, but once I did I went into being a hero pretty much immediately, I called myself Phantom. The same portal that killed me let a bunch of really powerful ghosts through into our world and they started picking fights with me and causing damage, so I protected my town. Even though most of the town seemed to think I was evil too and all ghosts were bad.
“I had my two best friends, Sam and Tucker, helping me, and then later my big sister Jazz when she found out what I was doing. My parents were incredibly prejudiced against ghost, the GIW got most of their information and weapons from them if that gives you an idea, so we never told them.
“Then I found out I wasn’t the first like me. When my parents were in college they built a prototype portal and it opened on top of their college best friend Vlad. He wasn’t a true halfa like me, more like a human with ghost powers, maybe 70/30 at best but he got obsessed with me, he’d already been obsessed with my mother so my mother’s son with his powers… He tried to kidnap me, he wanted me to renounce my dad and go live with him, be his perfect son or whatever. When he realized I never would, he started trying to clone me.
“Enter Ellie, the only halfway stable clone, because ghosts are basically impossible to clone. He sent her to me to gain my trust and betray me. She said she was my cousin at first, and I accepted her right away, before she shot me in the back so Vlad could kidnap me again. He said the only way to stabilize her was… I don’t remember exactly what he said, but whatever it was I basically let him torture me to try and stabalize her. And then once he’d gotten what he wanted he admitted he’d never been planning to save her, he was going to let her and all the other clones die once he had what he needed for a ‘perfect clone’.
“Ellie freed me and we fought him together after that. I knew she was my.. At least my little sister, if not my daughter, I would have tried to care for her, even though I was a kid and my parents were threats to both of us, but she’d been trapped in Vlad’s lab for all her short life. She wanted to be free and to travel, so I let her go and helped her where I could, and when she asked.
“When my parents eventually found out about me and they… didn’t react well, they denied I was their son and captured me. They would have experimented on me themselves if the GIW hadn’t found out they had me and demanded they ‘hand over the specimen,” Danny paused with a bitter laugh and picked up the cup of tea. “Of course my big sister and my friends were home then too, trying to convince my parents they needed to let me go when the GIW decided the quickest way to get their hands on me would be to just… bomb the house. Of course they were… I didn’t die, but all the humans did.
“While I was still in shock they nabbed me. Vlad and Ellie actually teamed up to try and save me, but they were captured too, and there was no one else to come for us. I thought they’d both been killed during the experimentation as well. I’m sure Vlad was since I saw his body, but I guess they managed to pause Ellie’s destabilization and, you were there when we found her, and saw me restabilize her.” Danny finished and took another sip of his tea.
Jason drank as well, as he processed what was no doubt a very summarized version of a very fucked up string of events skimming over a lot of gory details. “Any other bits of your past that might pop up to cause us trouble?” Jason asked dryly and Danny winced.
“Well, my ex-rogues might, especially now that Em has seen me and knows I’m still around. If they do, I'll deal with it quickly. I was always gentle with them before when I was a hero, now I’d really show them why they shouldn’t mess with me,” Danny said, bearing his teeth in a brief snarl. “Other than that… there’s Dan. He’s an evil future version of me from an alternate future where he destroyed the world, that reality doesn’t exist anymore but thanks to time fuckery he still exists in this reality. I defeated and imprisoned him, but I lost track of the thermos he was trapped in after the explosion. It’s unlikely anyone will release him, but it is possible.”
“Why are heroes' lives always so complicated?” Jason asked rhetorically, rubbing his face with one hand with a soft groan. “Well, now I know so I can be prepared for any of this shit huh?”
“Ya,” Danny agreed sheepishly. “I’m really sorry Jason, you didn’t know how much drama and baggage I came with when we first got together… If you-”
“No, I see where you’re going with that and No. I love you, and it’s not like I have any less baggage, and if anything my baggage hurts you way worse than yours hurts me. I’m not leaving unless you want me to,” Jason said firmly, feeling Danny relax back against his lap.
“And I absolutely do not want you to,” Danny confirmed with a smile. “I love you too.”
“Good. And… I want you to know I’m really proud of you Danny. For facing your trauma last night, and for telling me about what happened to you. You’ve been handling all of this really well, better than I have really. I admire you a lot Cub, you’re too good for me really, but that just makes me want to be better so I can be worthy of you,” Jason said softly, unable to quite make eye contact with his boyfriend, embarrassed by his own emotional vulnerability.
Danny pushed himself up on one elbow and pulled Jason down by the back of his neck to kiss him sweetly. “That means so much Jason, and I feel the same way. The good you do, the way you channel your pain, it inspires me too. In the future where my family was killed and I ended up staying with Vlad instead of you, I destroyed the entire world. I didn’t even conquer it, I just killed… everyone. You keep me grounded, you remind me there is such a thing as an innocent human, and letting you command and channel my violence has kept me sane,” Danny murmured as he curled against Jason’s chest.
“I guess there’s a reason why ‘you make me better’ is such a relationship cliche huh?” Jason chuckled and Danny laughed before they settled into a comfortable silence as they finished their tea. “Do you think Ellie will like me?”
#dc x dp#danny phantom#jason todd#fanfiction#dead on main#ellie phantom#tim drake#superboy#dc impulse#Hyena!Danny AU#descriptions of violence#Posting earlier then usual because I'm going to pride today!#Happy pride everyone
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GOO GOO MUCK #2 — jujutsu kaisen x reader choose a storybook to open. aka my mythos take on jujutsu kaisen.
you've turned the page to: CHAPTER II. GETŌ SUGURU go back to the table of contents.
why are they all trying to make me a saint? oh god! oh god! i want to do things. stop turning me into a saint! andrei tarkovsky, journal 1970-1986
prologue. → a mortal man wears the skin of a serpent and wields dark sorcery with a lover's ease. suguru geto promises you a throne, a seat by his side and a kingdom on its knees. you understand why cautionary tales are written about foolish gods who gave their power away for silken chains, for those who would tear them asunder.
pairing. serpent king!suguru geto x goddess!reader (sfw!)
song inspiration. goo goo muck — the cramps / little dark age — mgmt
warnings. geto is manipulative as fawk, kind of dubious, suggestive behaviour from mr. suguru geto, angst, very much the premise of a dark romance, ambiguous and tragic ending, kissing word count. 2.6k
a/n. daphne write a happy ending challenge failed again but i can't help it teeheehee
ask/comment/dm to be added to a taglist 🩵
mp3. when the sun goes down, and the moon comes up, i turn into a teenage goo goo muck!
how can man claim a god?
the ancient texts say he can chain them, bind them to his own wills and desires.
the world around you sharpens slowly, revealing an altar carved from stone as old as time, with dark mineral veins that run through it, gleaming faintly in the dim light. the chains that have bound you are wrought of a metal that you do not recognise — neither iron nor silver, but something darker. and it feels almost alive. an ancient and all-consuming magic. each link is inscribed with cursed energy, winding around your wrists and ankles, cold to the touch and yet searing with power, holding you fast with a grip that sinks through flesh and bone. it has tethered your form.
the air is thick with dampness, the heavy scent of earth and rot mixes with the subtle perfume of nearby flowers, sickening sweet. you blink as you focus on ghostly white blossoms hanging on twisted and skeletal branches, each petal aglow with an otherworldly pallor. to your left, a pool of water shimmers in the stone hollow, black as midnight, with a surface that barely ripples — waiting and watching.
then, a sound — soft at first, but unmistakable in the silence. the faint swish of fabric moves in steady, deliberate strides. the one who has dared to summon and call you onto this mortal plane? but the air grows colder as the figure draws near, and he steps into view.
it is no lowly feat to summon a deity in a shrine, and an even greater feat to bind them, with such chains of power. you have never paid attention to the tales of mortals, little and less truly, but the serpent king is known. suguru geto is known for interfering with the divine plans for humankind, determined to wipe them out for his own misguided gain. your captor's violet robes catch the faint light, shimmering dark as they brush against the damp ground.
he steps closer, and for a moment, your wrath stills — because of him. the ghostly glow highlights his face, the sharp angles and fine lines as though he were chiselled from marble. it is the kind of beauty that mortals sing of in legends, a face that the gods themselves must have blessed, sculpted by divine hands. you wonder, fleetingly, if one of your brethren sired him, some forgotten affair between a deity and a mortal.
he draws near with a slow, sinuous grace, his movements almost serpentine, fluid and deliberate, his violet robes brushing against the floor in rhythmic waves. even his eyes—narrow, predatory slits of deep amethyst — glimmer with a strange, hypnotic gleam, unblinking as they take you in. mortal he may be, but here's something undeniably reptilian about him, something ancient and unsettling that lingers in the way he tilts his head, his gaze unwavering and utterly still, like a beast considering its prey.
a fierce snarl tears from you, and the stone walls echo your wrath. "do you know the price of chaining a deity, serpent?" you hiss, your words laced with venom. "do you understand what fate awaits one who dares to keep me captive?"
the air shivers with your warning, cold seeping into the air, yet he only observes you with that same unnerving stillness, a flicker of amusement gleaming in his narrow eyes. suguru geto tilts his head, a subtle, slithering motion, and reaches out with long, graceful fingers to test the chains binding you, his touch deliberate and controlled.
without warning, he leans in close, his breath brushing against the curve of your ear, soft and almost hissing. "you misunderstand me, goddess," he murmurs, his voice silken, carrying a subtle, hissing undertone. "i do not fear the gods. i have spent lifetimes defying them, one whisper at a time, one spell, one ambition." he pauses, his lips curling into a dark smile as his fingers trace the chains that bind you, "i will never be a god. but with a goddess at my side," suguru geto smiles, almost sincere, "a queen, i will be as close as one could ever be."
the gall of him, the sheer recklessness in his claim, strikes you like a spark to tinder, a hot rage flaring in your chest.
the audacity of him, the nerve — a mortal man, no a creature of shadows and serpentine, thinking himself worthy of even whispering such a treasonous thing.
"how dare you," you snarl, and each syllable drips with scorn, "how dare a mortal, a mere man, even think to claim one of the great pantheon as his own! you think yourself a king, but you are nothing. i am beyond you — beyond the hand of any man," and you writhe in the cursed chains, "i almost pity thy foolishness, arrogance of the highest order."
but suguru geto's laugh is dark and rich, and he does not even flinch. no, he does not even blink. his robes have a strange and mesmerising ripple. the folds undulate like liquid, shifting and folding in ways that no mortal-woven cloth should. nay, it is no fabric at all. it is skin, serpent skin — sleek and glimmering, slithering in tune with the man who has draped himself in it.
despite yourself, you shiver and in that moment, suguru geto leans down, lowering his face to yours. and his breath is warm, and soft against your skin. this is the closest that a mortal has ever gotten to you in eons.
"do you know how long i have waited for you?" he murmurs, and his words are hushed, almost a whisper — dripping with desire and laced with honeyed sweetness, "how long i have searched for someone who could stand beside me, for power and beauty? you call me mortal, so you will not fault me for my weaknesses, then. is it not my nature to chase after perfection?"
his eyes have locked with yours, mauve and endless, "i am not a god, but i have still seen lifetimes pass, but nothing compares to the burn i feel when i kneel at your altar, for your worship."
suguru geto's hand grazes the chains around your wrist, a feather-light touch that is almost gentle in its caress, as if testing your resolve that you do not sear through his flesh, "do you not see that i offer you a kingdom?"
the air between you is thick, and it is a traitorous heart within your chest that continues to beat at a quicker tempo. you have not missed the hunger in his eyes, and it makes you furious. by what right does he find the courage to speak to you like this? you have heard of others like yourself, others of your kind. gods and goddesses who threw away their divinity to be in the arms of mortals, those who offered something that the cosmic simply could not.
you fight it, your pride flaring, but something in his gaze makes you hesitate. there is a flicker, just a flicker, of doubt. of wonder.
what is it like to be loved like this? to be seen as something worth so much, even by one so dangerous, so impossible?
geto moves closer still, his lips brushing against your ear, his words now a soft promise, a murmur of desire. "you will come to me, my queen," he whispers, "for no man has ever loved you as i will. you are destined for me, and you will know no equal but me. no one else will ever touch you the way i will, feel you the way i will. only i can give you the eternity you deserve."
a flicker of doubt dances behind your gaze, a single, fleeting question pulling at the edge of your mind.
what is it you truly seek, serpent king? you are no fool; the gods know of your sorcery, of your schemes, of the wars you have stirred, the chaos you've unleashed, and the suffering you've caused. what greater ambition drives you, to bind me to you with sweet promises and the touch of your smooth, serpentine hands? is it truly a throne beside you, or something far darker that you covet, something more dangerous than a queen at your side?
"you are a goddess,” he murmurs, his voice a soft purr, "but do you see what the gods have done to you? you, who should have had a throne at the heart of the heavens, have nothing. you were left to drift, to be forgotten by those who claimed to love you. they never gave you a seat, never gave you the respect you deserve. but i… i see you, goddess. i feel you. and I will give you a place, a throne, beside me, where you will be honoured."
the heat in his voice stirs something deep inside you. how dare he? how dare he imply that the other gods have wronged you? what does he know of the beginning of the world, of the start of creation where the gods ran free on the green earth? your anger flares again, and you draw in a sharp breath, ready to fire back, to unleash the words that will tear him apart.
but before you can speak, his hands move, slow and calculated, slipping along your sides, the burn of his touch sending a jolt of something electric through you. his fingers, like liquid fire, trace the curves of your waist, the pressure so gentle yet undeniably possessive. the sensation makes you tense, makes you forget, even if for a moment, the chains that bind you. you shift, instinctively trying to pull away, but he only tightens his grip, coaxing you back toward him with a soft but unyielding pressure.
you would never — never — be swayed by this mortal’s charms.
and yet, the heat between you, the pressure of his hands against your skin, makes your words falter. you don’t understand it, the way your heart quickens, the way your breath catches in your throat. his touch, slow and deliberate, feels like fire and ice, and your body betrays you, trembling under the heat of the sorcerer's presence.
his lips brush your ear, soft and tantalising. "you are mine. always were meant to be."
you want to pull away, to demand he release you, but his fingers now run down your sides, the delicate pressure almost tender, as if coaxing you into submission, his touch a slow, sinful caress. each brush of his fingers sends a wave of warmth surging through you, and your breath catches, unwilling to admit how much you crave this sensation.
but what you do not realize — what you are too distracted by —is the spell he is weaving. his hands are not just teasing, not just caressing. they are binding, weaving an ancient magic around you, a net that tightens with each passing moment, each whisper of his voice. his dark powers wrap around your divinity, subtly pulling at the very core of your being, drawing it from you, sealing it into a cage of twisted magic.
you are caught, and you do not know it.
his lips are now mere inches from yours, his breath warm and inviting, the heat of his body an undeniable force. he leans in slowly, deliberately, as if savouring the moment before he seals your fate. "no one will ever love you as i will,” he whispers, his voice barely audible, but it trembles through you like a spell. "no one will ever see you as i do. and when you are mine, completely mine, you will know what it is to be cherished."
and then, his lips brush against yours.
the moment his lips graze yours, it is not a kiss of gentleness but one of purpose, calculated and slow, as though he is savouring each second before claiming you fully. his breath is warm against your skin, rich with a subtle sweetness, like honey mixed with something darker, more intoxicating. it is an invitation and a command, both at once.
as he leans closer, his body shifting with a fluidity that hints at something serpentine, something unnatural, you feel the very air grow thick with tension, as if the world itself is holding its breath in anticipation. his long hair, now fully free, cascades like midnight silk over his shoulders, and as his breath fans across your cheek, you can almost hear the faint hiss of it — like the whisper of a serpent’s tongue.
it is a kiss that coils around you, not just in the physical sense but in a way that makes your very being feel entangled in him, in his essence. his mouth is soft yet firm, warm yet cold, and the subtle pressure of his kiss sends shivers down your spine, like the touch of a thousand slithering scales against bare skin. it is not a kiss born from affection, but from domination — an assertion that he will have you, body and soul.
his hands, those impossibly smooth, long fingers, still move over your sides, but now, they feel like they’re not just caressing — they are pulling, shaping you. as his touch travels over your skin, there is a sensation of something prickling just beneath your flesh, as though his hands are drawing magic through your veins, weaving it into you, entwining it with your very essence.
the kiss deepens, slow and unyielding, as his tongue gently traces your lips, teasing the edges of your resistance.tThere is a strange coldness to it, a chilling presence that seeps through the warmth of his lips, as though he is not merely a man, but something far older, far more dangerous.
and then, with a sudden press of his body against yours, you feel the full weight of his power settle over you, the coils of his magic slipping into your mind, into your heart. his kiss becomes possessive, desperate in its insistence, and just as you feel the last remnants of your will begin to bend, a sharp, silken flick of his tongue inside your mouth sends a jolt through you — a pulse of energy that feels like a serpent's strike.
it is then that you realise it. for the mortals will write tales about this, use you as a cautionary lesson on the want and greed of the gods. and how easily they fall.
geto's kiss is not just a kiss — it is the seal of your fate. his power, snake-like and subtle, unfurls within you, sliding beneath your skin, taking root. you feel your divinity, your strength, slip away from you like water through your fingers, each drop being absorbed into him, into the snake who has become your captor.
the spell is complete, as his magic entwines with yours, twisting it, stealing it, leaving you powerless against him. his kiss pulls away just as you feel the last trace of resistance drain from you, leaving you breathless, weak, and utterly bound to him.
as suguru geto draws back, his lips curve into that wicked, knowing smile, and you see it now — his pupils, once narrow slits, have widened, glowing with the faintest light, like the predatory gaze of a serpent preparing to strike. his skin, pale as moonlight, seems to shimmer in the dim light of his realm, like the scales of a great serpent, and for the first time, you realise that this man — this king — is the serpent he claims to be. how could the gods have been so naive? so foolish?
and you, now bound to him in a way far deeper than any chains could ever hold, are his prey. your divinity, your essence, your power — it all bends to him, to this mortal man who now stands as your captor, your lover, your king. the serpent has claimed his queen. and you, despite yourself, feel the chains tighten, forever.
#suguru geto#geto suguru#getou suguru#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader#jjk#suguru geto x reader#geto x reader#geto suguru x reader#suguru x reader#works
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iris - han jisung
word count - 1k+ pairing - han jisung x reader warnings - none, just immense softness author’s note: *clears throat, taps mic* is this thing working? anyway, hi y’all i am VERY new to stayblr and to writing on stayblr. this is my first work ever on here. it was born out of my head full of han jisung’s cover of i love you so and my carnal, visceral, insatiable need for him to cover iris by the goo goo dolls... i can picture it already grrrrrr. anyway, hope you guys like this soft little hannie writeup like i did. show it some love if you can xx and i’d be very happy to hear ur thoughts on it <3
The rain pours outside and the pattering against the window creates a soothing thrum in the confines of your room. The lamp by your bed casts a warm glow. The strong earthy scent of the cups of coffee that you had brewed wafts in as you push open the door with your leg. Your boyfriend who lay on your bed, scrolling through his phone let out an appreciative hum and a deep sniff.
You slowly settle down into the mess of blankets and your boyfriend’s limbs. “Here you go, Hannie.”
“Thank you, baby,” he murmurs as he sits up, pressing a swift kiss to your cheek. He grabs a cup from your hand and throws the blanket over your knees as you cuddle up into his side. His phone now lay discarded by the bedside table and his attention was focused on you.
“I feel like every single thing that weighed down on me just fell away as soon as I stepped in here.”
A gentle smile makes its way onto your lips. “Yeah?”
“I missed you so much. I love work, but I missed you so much. It gets so hard sometimes. Somedays I’m tired to my bones and I want to fall apart. I don’t want to face the world or go on stage…Just wanna crawl into your arms and lock us away like this.”
You reach out to him, hands sweeping beneath the hood of his cozy sweatshirt, fingers weaving into his hair. “I know, baby. And you still went out there every night and put on the performance of your life. And now you have hours and hours to be in my arms, just like you want.”
Han looks down at you, eyes glimmering with a fondness that leaves them a little glazed. He leans over, lips finding yours in a soft press of flesh. He kisses you once, twice before he pulls back and away. His coffee mug joins his phone on the bedside table before he fumbles out of the bed, walking away.
“Be right back,” he calls out behind him.
You sip on your coffee revelling in the bittersweet taste of it while wondering where Jisung had suddenly disappeared. You looked at the window, the raindrops merging into one another in a glistening array of oranges and blues reflected on the glass.
A few minutes later, Jisung walks in with his guitar in his arms.
“Oh, are we getting some music to keep us company?”
He flashes you a wide smile as he joins you again. He settles back against the headboard, guitar resting over his thighs. “I have a song for you. Makes me think of you.”
Your heart flutters in your chest. Jisung always makes your heart flutter - as if he was still just a crush. Like your fingers just brushed against each other’s. Like you were sneaking glances and caught the other already looking. Like the first press of his lips against your cheek. Or your trembling fingers as they held his for the first time. Like the tremble of his breath in your ear that first night. “For me? Which one is it?”
He only smiles in response as his eyes focus on settling his finger over the right chords before he begins strumming.
“I’d give up forever to touch you, cause I know that you feel me somehow.”
As you register the words and recognise the song, there’s an immediate sting at the back of your nose building up. Your eyes quickly water as Han’s mellow voice bleeds through the room, reverberating around you, embracing you whole as it makes its way right into your heart, your soul.
He’s a vision, right there in your bed. His hood over his head, hair messy, in a pair of raggedy, old sweatpants. The lamp crowns him with a balmy halo as he gazes right at you while singing. He looks so at ease like he’s exactly where he needs to be, exactly where he belongs. He’s right there looking like the love of your life.
“And I don’t want the world to see me, ‘cause I don’t think that they’d understand.”
A stray tear finally escapes your glistening eyes, running down your cheek. Somehow, if it was possible, Han’s eyes only grew fonder.
“When everything’s made to be broken, I just want you to know who I am.”
You sniff quietly, wiping away the tear as quickly as it came. You weren’t sad, no. How could you be, with the man of your dreams sitting in front of you, in your little haven of a room, singing to you like you were the only one who needed to listen to his voice like this.
As the last chords of the song die out, Jisung sits there for a few seconds, his pretty doe eyes watching you carefully.
“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” You whisper, voice still a little watery.
Han’s lips curve into a tender smile. “I’m going to marry you.”
Your breath hitches. “Hannie…”
“I know it. There’s a lot of things I’m unsure of. But this is not one of them. I’m going to marry you one day.”
He quickly puts away his guitar when you surge towards him, finding himself with a lap full of you. Your hands cup his face as you lean your forehead against his. “You mean that?”
“Of course, baby. I mean it.”
You kiss him deeply, the taste of coffee on your tongue drawing out a hum out of him. You pull away only to pepper kisses all over his face - on his forehead, his nose, his cheeks, his eyelids, his ears. His laughter fills the air and his hands squeeze your waist affectionately.
“It seems you like the idea of it,” he mumbles, chasing your lips again.
You huff out a breathless giggle as he pushes you off his lap and into the mattress. “Well yeah, I am gonna marry you too, Han Jisung.”
A wide grin blooms on his face as he hovers over you. He’s tugging off his hoodie and leaning down towards you, as he whispers. “Wouldn’t dream of having it any other way.”
#my mind would not rest until i put this out#han jisung im begging u to cover this#pls#han jisung#stray kids han jisung#han jisung x reader#stray kids#stray kids x reader#skz x reader#stray kids imagines#soft hours#han jisung fluff#skz fluff#stray kids fluff#han jisung x you#stray kids x you#fluff#skz soft hours#skz soft thoughts#divider by cafekitsune#iris by the goo goo dolls#ivywrites
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Like Betta Fish Do Part 25
WC: 3,537 Masterpost CW: Canon typical violence
“I can’t believe I’m in a custom suit,” Danny said as he admired himself in the mirror.
“It is really weird the first few times,” Jason agreed as he did up his own cufflinks.
Danny twisted so that the very faint blue on blue pattern sewn into the suit caught the light. It gave the impression of rolling waves. “So how many fish things did you manage to fit in?”
He watched the reflection to catch Jason’s lips tick up into a pleased smile.
“Well there’s the fabric itself, deep ocean blue.”
“And patterned like waves,” Danny finished. “I caught that.”
“Your shirt and tie are sea foam white.”
“Okay, that one might be a stretch,” Danny said, but he touched the fabric gently.
Jason rolled his eyes. “I’m counting it. The pocket square, very nontraditional, is a Japanese indigo linen in a pattern that is a historic representation of waves. The buttons are abalone, the cufflinks red coral, and the tie pin is mother of pearl.”
“Six, if I give you sea foam white.”
“You better, I worked hard on this. And it’s actually seven, one last thing,” Jason said. He picked up a blue velvet jewelry box off his side table and held it out.
Danny took it curiously. It was bigger than a ring box, but smaller than a necklace case. He brushed his thumb over the soft covering before he snapped the lid open. His breath caught.
Inside was a set of earrings. Simple silver studs for for his cartilage piercings, a pearl earring for his left ear, and then the show stopper: a crystal studded and delicate woven silver betta fish on a chain for his right ear. Its black pearl eyes were bright. They almost made it seem alive.
“Jason…”
“I tried to stay subtle with the rest, but this I couldn’t resist,” he said. “You’re my fish, and everyone at the gala should know that.”
Danny carefully closed the box before he flung his arms around Jason’s neck and pulled the other down for a kiss.
“Careful,” Jason murmured when the kiss broke, “if we show up late and mussed Tim will frown at us the whole night.”
“That would be a shame,” Danny whispered back before kissing Jason again.
���I can’t believe I’m being the voice of reason,” Jason said, “but you have to let me get dressed.”
“Fine,” Danny said, even if it made him want to pout. “Maybe… I can take it off after the gala then?”
The pink that Jason blushed was more than worth being bold and Danny took a moment to admire it before he turned to put in the earrings.
Behind him, Jason knotted a white (or sea foam, Danny supposed) tie and shrugged on a matching jacket. The suit looked bright, almost glowing, against the rich blue dress shirt that complimented Danny’s own suit. He couldn’t be sure what it was from this distance, but Danny thought he saw the glint of white on white embroidery on the cuffs and lapels of the suit. It was the silver fish bone tie pin that made him laugh.
“People are going to have questions.”
“Let them,” Jason said with a cheshire smile.
“I’m starting to get what going to a gala with you will be like,” Danny said.
“Oh, this is tame for me,” Jason said. “I’m behaving.”
“I know, it’s part of your charm.”
“If only the press thought that,” Jason said, grabbing his phone as it beeped. “That’s our car.”
“I wish we could just take your bike,” Danny said, watching Jason put his phone back down, “and our phones.”
“Suit lines. I’ve got a connection to the family,” Jason assured Danny.
“Still. But I guess those suit lines do really great things for your ass and it would be a shame to ruin that,” Danny agreed with a put upon sigh.
“You’re incorrigible tonight,”Jason said (not that he seemed to mind if his smirk was any hint).
“Maybe it’s just that new years mood,” Danny said with a little shrug, lacing their fingers together as they left. “This year turned out pretty great, and I bet next year is going to be even better.”
“Yeah? Any reason for that?”
“Well, I happened to move to a city that’s pretty weird but also pretty awesome,” Danny said.
“Good reason,” Jason agreed. “What else?”
“I’m finally in the degree for what I want to do, and I’m kicking ass at it.”
“Of course you are, you’re brilliant,” Jason said, holding the door open to the town car after he subtly checked the plates. “Nothing else?”
“Well,” Danny drew the word out as he slid into the car. “There’s this guy I met, maybe you know him? Tall, dark, and handsome?”
“I don’t know, he doesn’t sound real,” Jason teased and leaned into Danny’s space.
Danny leaned up and pressed Jason into a light kiss. “He is pretty magical.”
-
“The red carpet, less than magical,” Danny said once they were through the sea of reporters and photographers. “I’m going to be seeing camera flashes for weeks.”
“Only a few hours at most,” Jason said.
“I can’t tell if you’re joking or not, your whole being is just one blinding white blur,” Danny said, motioning at Jason, who laughed and caught Danny’s hand.
Jason pressed a quick kiss to the fingertips. The cameras went off in another round of flashes, apparently not having enough of the lost Wayne and his boyfriend. “Come on, let’s head further in away from this circus.”
“Is your family here yet?” Danny asked as they headed into the gala proper. Jason was skilled at keeping them moving without getting caught up by any one group, even as he greeted some of them.
“Bruce, Damian, and Duke arrived pretty on time so Bruce could greet people. Tim is around here somewhere too, networking I’m sure unless Bernard has distracted him. He’ll have arrived with Cass and Steph, who you haven’t met. Steph isn’t family, but she’s family, you know?”
“I think so?” Danny at least assume that meant she was in the Bat life.
“And Dick should be around here or will soon, likely with Barbie.”
“Barbie?” Danny took one of the drink glasses that Jason had snagged. The tart tang of cranberry bloomed across his tongue followed by the burn of alcohol and lingering taste of sugar. It was good.
“Yeah, but don’t call her that. Her name is Barbara, but she goes by Babs.”
“But you can get away with Barbie?”
“He was a very cute kid,” a voice behind them said. “Somehow he convinced me to let him.”
Danny spun and then had to look down to meet the gaze of the red headed woman in a wheelchair. He couldn’t help but feel a pang for Jazz, but it was softened by the fact that he���d get to see her soon.
“Bull,” Danny said with a smile, offering his hand. “I refuse to believe that Jason was ever not a little shit.”
“Oh, no, he was still a little shit,” Babs said, returning the handshake firmly. “But he was a cute little shit.”
Danny sighed dramatically and looked over at Jason. “Where did you go so wrong?”
“Hey, I believe it was you who were extolling the virtues of my ass in this suit not that long ago,” Jason said with just the hint of a pout.
“I think most of the press will be doing that too, so I’m not sure how much weight that has,” Babs said, painted lips ticked up in clear amusement.
Jason just sighed while Danny laughed.
“I like you, Babs. Is Babs okay for me to call you?”
“Of course, you’re Jason’s man, so you can call me Babs. And I really do prefer it to Barbara. The name is just a little old fashion, you know?”
“And you’re a modern kind of woman?” Danny asked with a smile.
“In so many ways,” Babs said. “But I better go make the rounds, or at least find where Dick is. He got distracted.”
“Isn't he always?” Jason said and bid Babs farewell.
“Are they together? Dick and Babs?” Danny ask as he watched her wheel away.
“Not anymore, but they were,” Jason explained. “They’re still really close. And Babs has been close to the family for a lot of years, so she’s special to all of us, you know? She’s a real inspiration to Cass and Steph.”
Oh, that sort of friend. “Wait, was she?”
“Yeah. So you know.”
“Yeah, I bet,” Danny said. The wheelchair meant something a little differently now. He took a breath and looked around the gala, which was already swarming with beautiful, laughing people. He felt out of place without Babs’ friendly face distracting him.
“Come on, I bet we can find some family to talk too,” Jason said, taking Danny’s hand and giving it a squeeze. “There are a few people who I’ll need to hit up tonight for the Foundation stuff, you know, try to get some donations from them or build up the start of that, but you don’t have to hang with me during any of that. There's plenty of siblings around for you to chat with and use as a distraction. Hell, could always introduce you to Lucius or some of the other inventors we have and you all could talk nerd shop.”
“Nerd shop,” Danny repeated with a sigh. “You say Lucius who I’m going to assume is the Lucius Fox and call it nerd shop like that man is not out there breaking barriers and changing the world with his inventions? And that’s just the stuff that’s been announced to the public! Who knows what else he’s been doing behind closed doors! It must be mind blowing.”
“Well, thank you, but I have a lot of very smart people working for me, so it’s hardly just my work that’s out there making waves,” a silky voice said from behind them.
Danny spun and couldn’t help the little squeak he gave.
Jason chuckled and reached out to shake the man’s hand. “Lucius, how are you doing? Did you manage to drag any of your family to tonight’s event?”
“Just my lovely wife. The rest found excuses, you know how it is.”
“I do. Sadly I’m in a position of note now,” Jason said, the words practically had air quotes around them, “so I’m afraid that my days of excuses are gone.”
“Oh, I’m sure that you can still find a few when you truly need them. You’ve always been mighty good at that.”
Jason just shrugged with an unrepentant grin. “Well, you know. But anyway, Lucius, this is my boyfriend Danny. Danny, this, as I guess you know from that sound you made, is Lucius Fox.”
“Of course I know. Really, sir, the work you and your teams have done… amazing.”
“Just Lucius, Danny,” the man said, reaching out to shake Danny’s hand. “If you’re dating Jason I expect that we’ll run into each other from time to time and I am too old for formalities like that.”
“Alright, just Lucius then. I can’t wait to tell my friend Tucker I met you.”
“Another one for, what was that you said Jason, ‘nerd shop talk’ like you are?”
“Totally. He’s in computer sciences, but he’s not bad at engineering some hardware when he needs to. Mostly to be able to get his software to run on, but I always make fun of his soldering.”
“So you must solder a lot then?”
“Yes s— er Lucius. Aerospace engineering, but I grew up always tinkering and things. I still do it some, but it’s harder here when I don’t have the space, you know? First dibs on tables and tools go to the other majors, which I get, since they need them more than us.”
“Still, hard not to be able to get your hands dirty when you want to. Are you going to be in Gotham for the summer? Not sure where you call home.”
“Well, at the moment, home is Gotham. I want to visit some friends and my sisters, but I’ll be here, yeah. I might take a summer course and get an advanced math knocked out or something.”
“A good plan. You should reach back out to me around early May then. I bet we can find a corner of one of the labs for you to at least use on the weekends when no one is around doing work much.”
“Really?” Danny said, hands twitching at just the idea of getting into a space where he could do some inventing. He had so many new ideas from his time at Gotham U on to improve some of his parent’s inventions or even make new things.
“Really. There will be the usual red tape and all, background checks and paper work and hours you’re allowed in, but those things can be worked out. Can’t keep a curious mind and skilled hands stagnant, now can we?”
“I know I can’t,” Danny said with a little laugh. “Thank you Lucius, really, I’ll definitely take advantage of that again. And start planning! I mean I have plans, of course I do, but a lot is just rough sketches, you know? I need to do some proper diagrams for a few things.”
He didn’t want to waste a moment once he had access to tools again— especially not the tools that were available to him at a place like Wayne Enterprises. Danny idly wondered if it would be out by summer that he knew about the Bats. Lucius had to be involved in that work and it would be so cool to take a look under the proverbial and the literal hood of those gadgets. Did they store the Batplane here?
Lucius chuckled and smiled. “Yes, I think you’ll fit right into that corner. You two boys behave now.”
“Never,” Jason said with a laugh and shook Lucius’ hand one more time as they parted ways.
The night turned into a slew of little meetings like that— people coming up to talk to Jason. Some of the conversations were enjoyable like with Babs and Lucius (Steph was overwhelming, but cool), some were with the many family members Jason had, and some were with the tpyical the socialite crowd. Those people seemed either to be there to get their claws in Jason or to observe Danny like he was some curiosity. Danny really could do without that type. Luckily, Jason seemed to know this, and Danny was passed off to Dick a few hours in and then freed to the food table after some teasing.
Really, even with the gawkers, the night was pretty fun.
-
“Hey Barbie, have you seen Danny recently?” Jason asked as he crossed her path at the party.
“No, but I’ve been talking tech. Have you tried over by the food?”
“That’s where I just came from,” Jason said with a little frown. These things were really too busy, one of the many reasons that he hated them. “I guess I’ll go try another sibling. Dick hadn’t seen him in a bit either, he got distracted by one of the people from the foundation that works with kids.”
“I keep waiting for him to join you there, you know. You could try Tim if he hasn’t been co-opted by Bernard yet,” she suggested. “How long has he been schmoozing?”
“Too long, Tim is worthless to me I’m sure. Cass would be—”
Jason dropped instinctively to cover Babs before he even registered the sound of shattering glass.
“Jason—”
The all to familiar muzzle of a gun pressed into the base of Jason’s head. “Turn around slowly. Try anything and I’ll shoot through you to get your lovely friend.”
Jason locked eyes with Babs, a thousand messages passed in that look as he slowly raised his hands and turned around.
It was one of the waiters.
Okay, it was a number of the waiters, Jason mentally corrected as he took in the room. Each of them with a gun pointed at some portion of the party. Jason spotted Bruce and Damian where they were being rounded up and Steph over on the edges of the room, but he couldn’t find Tim, Dick, or Cass on the quick glance at the space.
He snapped his focus back to the gunman at a popping sound. The man raised his left hand to his face and smeared the popped paint pellet across his face, coating half of it in a splotchy blue.
Guess they knew what Two Face was up to now. Speaking of the man of the hour, Two Face walked through the shadowed window, black and white suit spotless and fit for the event, and flanked by henchmen. He was clapping. Head tilted so that the bright lights caught his good side.
“Lovely event Bruice! Really, a shinning light in Gotham to ring in the new year. Don’t mind us, please, we’re just here to pick up the usual, jewels, watches, money clips, wire transfers. I’m afraid we need the extra funding…” He twitched, twisting so that the scarred side of his face was tilted forward. “Because the damn Bat made sure we lost it all! I’m hoping he shows tonight. I’d like to make sure he doesn’t make it to the new year!”
Dent cleared his throat; his right hand smoothed back his hair, tipping his head back the other way. “Sorry about that. Just some… linger resentment. You all know how it is. But let’s not get too serious yet! Brucie! And his adorable little spawn! Some of our guests of honor too! Behave if you don’t want to be shot in the head.”
Jason watched helplessly as Bruce, Damian, and several other social elite like the mayor were lashed together with rope. Two Face walked over after they were trussed and slapped a bomb to Bruce’s chest. While the the henchman secured it, Two Face turned to the crowd.
“Where is he? Our darling lost prince of Gotham?”
The gunman stuck the cold metal back to the base of Jason’s neck and pushed him forward.
The bomb started ticking down.
“There you are! When I heard you returned to us, my heart swelled, truly,” Dent said, looking up with his good eye as if praying to heaven. “And now! Now I hear you’ve found love!”
Dent bent over, cackling. The enlarged, yellow eye looked up at Jason from under the white bangs. “So let’s play a game while we count down to midnight.”
Two Face’s goons dramatically rolled out a podium. Two bright red buttons were mounted to it, right below a large television.
Danny was on the screen.
He was tied to a chair in some building’s basement. A bruise was already blooming to life around his right eye, deep blue as his suit. He had clearly caught a fist to the lip too. The fish earring was bright silver, catching light reflected from the pool of water that the chair was sat in.
“As you see, we’re giving your boyfriend some hospitality,” Dent said, smooth side of his face to Jason as he walked around the podium like some perverse Vanna White. “So you have a simple choice: decided what type of love is more important to you. Do you press the left button and save your boyfriend, letting your family and these other lovely people die to the bomb…”
He rounded the screen, scarred open eye starting at Jason accusingly. “…or do you press the button on the right and save the people in this room, but fry your boyfriend to death with electricity?”
Two Face snapped his fingers.
Danny’s head jerked up, unfocused eyes staring just to the right of the screen.
“Hey, dead boy,” Danny rasped. Just talking made the split on his lip crack and bleed again, adding another line of blood to his chin. On the screen the red was bright, bright, bright—
Jason clenched his hands. He was going to kill Two Face. “Hey, fish.”
“You know, the irony of this whole thing is that it does make me realize I'm pretty sure I'm in love with you.”
“Yeah? That's convenient. I've been in love with you for weeks.”
Dent cackled and motioned grandly at the trussed up people. The bright, bright red of the bombs’ timer counted down another tick. “Looks like you're all out of luck! True love always wins.”
He twisted to Jason with the scarred side of his face and growled, “Forty-five seconds left.”
“You know what you have to do, don't you?” Danny asked.
He was smiling at Jason, a soft calm thing. But Jason didn't know if he could trust it. He didn’t know Danny's limits. He didn’t know if this would kill him the rest of the way.
But he did know what Danny would never forgive him for. He knew he didn't really have a choice. “I do. I'm sorry.”
“Don't be.”
Jason lunged and hit the right button. On the screen, the wires sparked bright with electricity, lighting up the pool of water. And Danny screamed.
And screamed.
And screamed.
The camera cut out.
---
AN: We're finally here! To the scene I wrote last year! Aaaaaah~
I would say I'm sorry, but this time I truly am not. (Please don't stab me.) ._.
It will be fiiiiiiiine... right?
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Clone^2 - graveyard shift
The dinging of the door alerts Sarah of someone walking in, and she barely glances up from her phone to see who it is. It's past midnight and somehow her coworker John managed to convince her to take over his graveyard shift at their convenience store. He owes her one, because she's been standing here for an hour and nobody's come in.
Not a surprise to her - nobody likes to stay out past sundown in Amity Park, even after nearly three years of ghosts appearing all over the place.
But still, it happens sometimes. So she doesn't look up. The dinging bell just lets her know that it's not a ghost, and that's really all she can ask for. The last time she worked late and a ghost came in, she was cleaning the shelves from some weird goo for an hour.
However, the lack of footsteps in the store after a few seconds worries her enough that she forces her head to lift. And a frown weaves its way onto her face when she sees no one at the door, nor anyone in the closet aisles.
...Shit, was there really a ghost here? Can they ring door when they come in? Normally she sees them just phase right through. And normally they glow, bright and jarring that leaves a migraine building behind Sarah's eyes.
Her eyes quickly scan the shelves again, looking for anything out of place -- anyone with too many heads, or too many teeth, or snakes for hair. She's pretty sure a coworker saw that once when they were working graveyard.
But she still sees no one. Apprehension raises the hair on the back of her neck, and she straightens up from her lean against the counter. Fuuuck. Was this one of those... marshmallow ghosts? An animal ghost?
Sarah really does not want to have to fight off a three-eyed raccoon looking-thing with eagle feet. She's heard the horror stories. And there was no way to contact the Phantom or the Red Huntress to come pick it up -- and she wasn't gonna try her luck with the Drs. Fentons.
Her fingers itch for the broom hanging on the wall behind her. It probably won't do much against a mutant raccoon-ghost-monster, but it'll make her feel better.
There's a rustle and crinkle in the candy aisle, and Sarah's hands are curled around the broom before she could blink. Her heart beating in her chest. She walks out from the counter, the bristled end raised like a bat in the air as she creeps apprehensively towards the noise.
There's nothing there when she peers around the side, and the aisle shelves are tall enough that she can't see over them.
She raises the broom higher. Sarah was in softball. She could take out a raccoon-eagle-hybrid.. thing.... easily. She just... needs to pretend its a golf ball. Except golf isn't softball so that's a terrible comparison.
Oh god she was gonna get her face ripped off, wasn't she.
John so owes her one. So much.
Creeping down the aisle, she keeps her ears perked for any new sounds. But all she can really hear is the soft pop music playing on the store speakers -- chosen by yours truly from her own personal playlist -- and the hum of the freezers. Ugh. This was not good for her paranoia. Like, at all.
Sarah's down at the end of the aisle when she feels a quick set of taps on her shoulder. Her nerves are already shot, so she shrieks and whirls around on her foot, swinging the broom blindly.
Only to be met with sudden and blunt resistance. Blinking rapidly, Sarah stares up and sees a black gloved hand gripping the broom handle tightly, small white bandages peeking over the side around five fingers. Following the hand down connects it with an arm, and then a chest, and suddenly she's staring at a black hoodie and black jacket.
When she tilts her head up, Sarah comes face to face with the bone-white mask and the terrifying, unearthly green eyes of their local vigilante, the Phantom.
...Holy fuck. It was the Phantom.
He was taller than she initially thought. Was her jaw on the ground? Probably. It was flapping like a fish out of water. "I- uh, you-- buh--"
Slowly, the Phantom raised his free hand and wrapped it around the handle of the broom. Sarah watches, wide eyed still and stammering as he firmly plucked the broom out of her hands and turned to lean it against the shelves.
Something about him doing that must've kicked her brain back into gear, because the first thing that comes out of her mouth is; "Your eyes are really green."
And she was going to lock herself in the freezer in the back for that one. She feels her face grow hot with embarrassment, and the Phantom only looks at her blankly. Her eyes shift nervously. "Well, it's true."
It was! The green eyes of the Phantom was his most defining feature other than that unsettling mask he wore. Especially considering they were the same color as some of the ghosts. It was one of the many, many creepy things about the guy.
Looking at it gave her the same, faint headache as when she stared at a ghost for too long. So Sarah drops her gaze a little to avoid it.
The Phantom remains silent, but he raises his hands and signs something to her that she doesn't understand. Fuck, that's right. He didn't speak - and Sarah doesn't know any ASL.
Sarah cringes. "Sorry, I don't know ASL."
She can feel his burning green eyes boring into her, and he remains as silent as the grave as he reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a phone in a plain black case. She watches him turn it on -- or at least she assumes he does, there's a privacy protector covering the screen -- and type something into.
He holds it up to her face when he's done, and she squints at the screen. In the notes app, a small text reads; 'We're ready to pay.'
..Oh. This wasn't Sarah's night. Embarrassment flashes hot through her and she forces out a laugh in order to try and quell it, Phantom shoves the phone back into his pocket. "Oh! Oh, right! I'm sorry, I'll uh- get up to the front--" She stops in her tracks.
Wait. Did that message say 'we?'
She smiles nervously, tilting her head up at the Phantom as her brows thread together. "Um," she swallows dryly, "we?" Didn't... didn't the Phantom work alone?
As if startled, the Phantom jerks. And for the first time since he showed up, he blinks and turns around. Which personally, doesn't bode that well as the Phantom swivels his head from side to side like he's looking for someone.
Sarah thinks, after the Phantom stalks up to the end of the aisle and looks around, she hears him sigh. And when he walks back, he snatches the broom with an elegant twist and knocks it against the shelves.
Thud, thud, thud!
There's very, very quiet shuffling that Sarah would have missed if she hadn't been looking for it, and then silence for a few seconds, before suddenly there's a small child pushing past her side and over to the Phantom.
And in the process, scaring the shit out of Sarah.
She squeaks and jumps, nearly tripping over her own feet as the child makes a spot next to the Phantom's side. "Where did you come from?!" She says, her heart pounding against her ribcage.
The child says nothing, just stares at her through a creepy bone-white mask reminiscent of the Phantom's. Although unlike the Phantom, he was wearing some... kind of... dark red ninja outfit?
Sarah really wasn't quite sure. It was partially covered by a jacket that clearly belonged to the Phantom and with the sleeves rolled up multiple times to his elbows. The jacket alone nearly obscured the sword attached to his hip.
...Why the hell did the child have a sword.
She looks between Phantom and the child, at a loss for words. Why-- why did the Phantom have a kid with him, why was the kid wearing a mask like his.
"You have a child with you." Sarah says bluntly, her voice flat. It betrays how shocked she feels. The Phantom doesn't say anything, as she should have expected, but he does nod shortly.
The child bristles slightly, but says nothing. Part of his mouth was uncovered, and she watched it twist downward into a scowl at her. Unlike the Phantom, his eyes were not green. She couldn't see his eyes at all, actually. They were shadowed by the mask.
There's the sound of paper thwipping, and like a magician pulling out a card, the Phantom holds out a note card to her. He stares, expectantly, and Sarah reluctantly takes it.
Written in neat writing and bold sharpie are the words; "This is Wraith."
...And that's it. Sarah glances up at Phantom. Then at the supposed 'Wraith'. Then back at Phantom. "You're bringing a child with you to ghost hunt?" She asks, and okay, maybe she's not able to hide all of the judgement leaking into her voice. "And you gave him a sword?"
The Phantom stares at her blankly, or well, probably blankly. All of his expressions are unreadable with the mask he wears. But the kid, Wraith, bristles again like a stray cat. His scowl deepens, he puffs up, and he opens his mouth like he's about to say something.
...Only for the Phantom to immediately snap his hand out and cover his mouth. Wraith makes an angry sound, and Phantom drags the boy into his side, seemingly nonplussed as he twists his wrist and pulls another note card out of nowhere.
"He is perfectly capable of handling himself." The card reads, and then continues; "I would not have been able to stop him anyways. Wraith would have followed me regardless."
Did he have these prepared?
Best not to question it, Sarah decides. The Phantom has always been strange. So she just nods mutely and stuffs the two notecards into her back pocket. "Okay," she says, and moves around the Phantom. "I'll check you out up front."
#dpxdc#dp x dc#dpxdc crossover#dpdc#clone^2#danny fenton is not the ghost king#dp x dc crossover#dpdc crossover#danny covering damian's mouth as the phantom and the wraith will never *not* be funny to me#anyways i was thinking about this for the last two days and finally decided to write it#red huntress was also originally supposed to be here but i couldn't get a good flow going#had the idea of damian wearing danny's jacket as the wraith at first and needed to write it down#is it impractical? yeah. but its only until danny can get him a jacket that fits#amity park be cold at night okay?? damian is Littol he needs the extra layers#danny being bruce’s wayne clone -> bruce wayne being tall -> DANNY is tall#tried to kinda capture how lowkey unsettling the phantom can be from an outside perspective#was kinda successful? not much for him to do current that’s creepy tho other than stare
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you make me hard ;ᣟ݂ ✩͏⚹︎ᣟ݂
whirl x gn! masochist reader
nsfw content. warnings: sexual content. mild blood. dirtytalk. humiliation/painplay.
whirl being whirl. nasty ensues.
"quit yer squirming, fleshie."
his warning garbles to a thick, coated snarl which sends the wire thin hair of your arms erect. you can feel a dribble of warmth flood out your nose down your jaw instead, ignoring the bitter tang and panting out your grievances instead.
motherfucker had started all this by breaking it.
you don't even have the comfort that it was accidental, because despite popular belief whirl rarely does anything without some premeditated thought.
his claws make quick work of your uniform, shredding through supposedly the galaxy's most endurable nylon and mesh with a rattle to his engines. what a scam.
that glowing orb of an optic burns bright in your reflection, which between blotted lashes and stinging tears looks awfully pleased. another whine crawls free from your throat.
"fuck, fuck, f-fuck! you fuck! stop tearing my shit, you're such an asshole—"
he must have liked that too. his attention doesn't wander though a servo does, catching your throat as a grizzley would salmon. it's strangely familiar to an animal planet special, you think, seeing his predatory frame dwarf yours.
no amount of struggling would have gone your favor anyhow.
whirl gives a mean laugh that shouldn't make you gush, but it does and he knows, especially as he uses your neck as a way to keep your hips grinding against the sharp corners of his sink.
"aw, don't be like that meatbag. and here i thought we were makin' progress!"
his spike bulges in you. you let out a shrill, wanton sob. he's grossly leering at your ass at this point, watching skin and flesh and muscle ripple the harder he goes. he thinks about the pinpricks he's left digging into you and how you take all the abuse he dishes so, so well.
"you getting.. ha.. ffff.. cold pedes, huh? you wish you were - slag, you're tighter than, shhiiii-- doing this with someone else? someone nice?"
the cackle you earn is maniacal as you manage to violently shake your head, a hand of yours slamming against the mirror as you fight to throw your weight back and meet his cruel affections.
it's difficult to find at what point your sanity finally unfolded and ended up in the lap of this psycho.
everyone is so, so nice. rodimus deemed it necessary.
everyone smiles at you, mostly. guides you, listens to you, enamored or curious or respectful enough to keep their dislike quiet.
it's excruciating. you don't like the unknown and you question the present, if it's genuine or not.
but whirl? oh, he made his opinions loud and clear. and when he insulted you and your size and the way your eyeballs bulged out your head like you were some scooped out animal when you got scared, there was a silent, shared understanding between you two as the crew tried to argue him to silence.
he saw you. he knew you and what you needed in a heartbeat.
an arrangement was made.
you aren't dating. you aren't in love and if you are it's in a way that doesn't fit standards. it's not as if you're worried though the previous entanglements where he managed to tug your jealousy from its shell leaves uncomfortable questions unanswered.
"hey. hey. don't you dare pass out on me. i want you awake when i overload. i want you alive."
a weak noise pitters when you force your control back into gear. slamming into glass shards isn't ideal.
not this time at least.
god, you are a freak.
"m-maybe you aren't hitting it like you need to be. go harder. i want to feel you burst my guts."
whirl doesn't stop but you see golden crescent, squinting at you. his claws delve into your hair and tug your scalp.
a yowl of joy is gargled with drool. limp and pliant, he now can fully destroy you and enjoy how noodly you get for him, almost as if the bones of your spine and arms and legs have disintegrated and he's fragging a puddle of goo.
"there's my nasty babe."
his spike swells. you can feel each inch grow fat with fluid, knocking into soft, sopping flesh and rubbing spots internally your fingers, toys and partners never had the expertise to find.
a claw, still holding your head hostage, is long enough to hook into your nostril. you think for a moment he's going to treat you like a pig and it makes you squeal, but it's whirl, remember?
he can't be too sweet with you.
so, he plays with your lips, still fascinated with how easily they squeeze between sharp prods. he finds the point where you truly struggle and squirm and gives you a second to breathe.
"a-angh!!!"
the air is knocked out from your lungs. it burns. you're babbling. an 'i love it' and an 'i love you' intermingle; you swear you hear whirl curse before he damn near breaks the sink, water rushing and treating you like a hollow toy.
"gonna.. gonna split you open. gonna make you break and break you again and again and again. never gonna like anything other than this. i wish i could eat you. crush you."
the closest to an confession you'll get.
you cum, crying for the third time.
"want it. whant yhu. wan' it, wan' it, harder, harder!"
hot, molten release coats your thighs sticky and thick. your arousal mixes with his, though he just keeps pumping you full until you groan.
he pulls out only to spurt over your back, hissing as he paints your skin and taps his spike crudely against your shoulder blades.
you groggily croak, curious as he rubs it between them, once. huh. strange choice.
a kink for another cycle. another nanoklik.
knowing whirl, you'll be back at it sooner than later.
"well. makes up for the little boo-boo, right?"
insufferable. maybe you will take up some of the lost light members drunken fantasies and toss him out the nearest airlock.
"ffffff..."
"fuck? me? yeah shortstack, ya' just did."
"yu.. you are suchh.."
"youuuu need me to call a medic? sounding kind of out of breath. could have 'em swing by... take a little looksie themselves."
your fire cools, a whine as you swipe back at him overwhelmed by the laughter that rumbles behind you.
#mtmte x reader#tf mtmte#tf whirl#whirl x reader#transformers x reader#transformers x human#/nsft#/nsfw#maccadam#first contact au#mtmte#valveplug#whirl transformers#transformers mtmte#mtmte whirl
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Goo Kim x Reader | The Forgotten
Disclaimer | fem!reader | Angst | Lots of Angst | Death wc|1.2k Note: I did not expect that I'd be gone for so long so sorry lmao. I don't know if this is a come back, but if I have the time to write I will :)
•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────••─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────••─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•
I'd say 14+ as death and kind of torture...| •─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────••─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────••─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•
You weren’t a hateful person. You’d like to think you were the type of person who’d give anybody the benefit of the doubt.
That was the reason you didn’t mind Ria at first. She was smart, headstrong; something Goo’s group of misfits lacked. Even if she hung at his every word, every move. Even when the sparkling look in her eye became something deeper than just simple admiration for a leader.
You would have liked to think the reason Goo kept you around was because of the contrast between your characters. You were silent, but not shy, strong but not boastful. You’d fed into the delusion of him seeing his long-lost friend, Gun, inside of you.
That must have been the reason he’d forgotten about you, the reason she became the apple of his eye. You’d simply become too complacent, too boring. He bored of your attitude, your exciting spark dwindling behind hers, until it’d been completely snuffed out, outshined in its dull glow.
You wouldn’t deny your feelings for Goo, your utmost admiration for the strongest man you knew. You knew you’d be able to support him from the back, from the sidelines, even if he relied more on her strategies, her ideas and her warnings.
Even when it started to hurt, when your days distorted into one blurry glow of nothingness, passing by like a muffled videotape. Only then, when your days became bleak and rainy, even when the starry sun shone in the sky, did you truly look at yourself.
Your gaunt face, sunken eyes, brittle bones; you were nothing but a corpse, waiting for one final push before you tripped and fell off that sparkly, golden bridge. It was no wonder he couldn’t bare to look at you.
You were no longer perfect, no longer strong.
You were a miserable, conniving beast; rotting from the inside as your organs decayed alongside your worthless heart. You’d be happy to be rid of the useless, betraying organ.
You’d have escaped this predicament if you’d been smarter, stronger. Like Ria.
Though, it seemed she wasn’t very smart after all.
She’d gotten herself caught, before you, nonetheless.
You’d have laughed if you weren’t nailed to the wall by chains. Though, it wasn’t really a wall, no, it was the mesh of a rickety plane, gliding a couple one-hundred feet over the ocean.
Ria wasn’t in any better state, purple and blue bruises marring her prefect skin. Though, you supposed, she didn’t have little chains shoved through the holes in her wrists. You flinched, shoving the thought of the dagger digging between your wrists, the harsh, grisly slide of metal heaving through your insides.
“Quiet, you shit,” one of the males snarled down at Ria, who’d been sobbing uncontrollably on the floor. You’d miscalculated her personality, it seemed. She was a weak bitch. A little punch and she’d started screaming her head off.
You’d barely made a wince when the daggers had pierced your veins, not making a sound as you felt the blood trickle down your palms, your life force along with it.
You could feel your consciousness fading with the lack of blood. Funnily enough, the chains shoved through your wounds were the only things currently stopping you from completely bleeding to death.
“Goo’s here,” one of the goons snickered, clutching his Glock like he would his shrivelled cock, which you’d make sure to rip off before you got out of here.
Unless the blood loss kicked in first.
Only someone like Goo would be able to infiltrate an aircraft hundreds of feet above ground with little detection. We all know he’s not here for you.
Of course he wasn’t here for you. He was here for his Ria, his light, his entertainment. As long as he got you out of the plane, you didn’t care what he did.
This was the final, pivotal moment, you told yourself to get over him. After this, you’d move on from him completely, find your own way in the world. You’d squash those feelings into oblivion and never think of them again.
“You know,” a snarky voice crooned from the side entrance of the plane. “I really hate it when lackeys touch my property.” His lips screwed into that familiar smirk as he looked over the masked men surrounding you and Ria.
That final look, now only a shard of a mirror of memories entwined like the ribbons of fate, was when you knew.
You knew it would come eventually, knowing Goo’s personality.
He glanced at your mauled wrists for barely a moment, no wince, not even pity or anger crossed his gaze. His eyes flickered to Ria’s bruised skin, and that when you knew.
He didn’t just find her entertaining. He loved her. The unemotional, murdering weapons genius was in love with Ria. Not as a fleeting, amusing conquest, he actually loved her.
He never even liked you, don’t be so naïve.
You watched in silence as one of the Goon’s snatched open the hatch of the back of the planes opening. You watched in silence as Goo jumped at Ria, wrapping her protectively in his arms without a second thought, not even throwing you a single glance.
You’d laugh if you had the energy for it, laugh at your heart being your own demise.
Your body scraped across the harsh metal floor, chains clanking against the ground, every nick and crack catching and grating against your wrists’ insides, carving away at the bone. You slid against the suction of air, it’s current pushing you closer and closer to the gaping opening, miles of blue sea expanding as far as your eye’s could see.
You glanced over shoulder, peering as far as your vision enabled. A deep, crooked part of you wished you’d never bothered to look.
In Goo’s strong, warm arms, Ria was wrapped in a safe cocoon, passed out in a heavenly embrace while her very own guardian angel peered over her with adoring eyes. He didn’t shed a single glance towards you, as you slid further and further away from them, shackles scraping like knives on a chalkboard.
Further and further, you slid away from the only man you’d ever… loved.
That man would never love you.
That man would never think of you.
That man would never spare you even a first glance.
And, predictably, you slid over the edge, body flailing about as the wind ruffled and ripped at your hair. Your body spun and spun, twirling lovingly with the punishing breeze as you hurtled closer and closer into the punishing blue.
As your body slammed into the unbreaking waves, neck snapping at the force of your unwanted body; your dying eyes gazed up at the cloudless sky; the grey that’d been clouding you dispersed into an array of azure blues.
Birds flittered and wound around each other, dancing and singing in harmony. A single, browning plane tittered into the distance, leaving not even a trace of its existence.
Maybe dying isn’t so bad after all.
But, as you slipped lower and lower into the depths of the blue sea, the new colour vanished, turning black before your body drummed across the seabed.
Your body floated aimlessly along the sand as your empty soul withered into nothingness, and before long, creatures and critters tore at your flesh as you decayed, rotting into nothing, as you had been when you were alive.
Forgotten.
#lookism#fanfiction#manhwa#goo x reader#goo kim#angst#tw death#tw torture#angst with a sad ending#lookism webtoon#lookism manhwa#lookism x reader
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Jiyan | The Teal Dragon
A dragon is strong. A dragon is proud. A dragon is wise. A dragon is powerful. A dragon is...
Jiyan opens his eyes, the sunlight of a new day's dawn filtering through his thick lashes. He breathes a sigh, a steamy fog escaping his mouth as the morning's cold clutches still cling the dew soaked earth. Jiyan runs a hand down his face, waking up every nerve that is part of his pale, yet unmarred skin.
The Tacet Discords have been quiet for a while now, and the Black Shores give no reports of potential cases of Retroact Rain. Everything, for the most part, is calm, calm enough to be able to breathe.
Sitting up, Jiyan rolls his shoulders, shaking off the sleep from his muscles and bones. He does his best to suppress a yawn, but ends up giving in, letting his jaw stretch as he rolls his head.
Jiyan quickly gets up from his cot and grabs his greatsword and spear. On the battlefield, your weapon should always remain within reach, especially when one is under the assumed precedence of peace.
"Good morning, General Jiyan!" a chirped voice says.
Only a small handful of people are awake this early in the morning, and most of them are from the night shift, eagerly waiting for their turn to rest. There is only one person, other than the general himself, that would be awake at this hour.
"Good morning, Sergeant (L/n), you're up early today. I thought maybe I could beat you, guess not."
A bright smile shines on the young sergeant's face.
"Nope, not today, General. I've already warmed up some porridge for you," they say, a soft chuckle escaping their lips.
Jiyan can feel a throb in his chest. His hand moves before he realizes and clutches his heart. Jiyan feels a sweat build up on the back of his neck.
"General Jiyan, are you alright?" the young sergeant asks, standing quickly and rushes to Jiyan's side.
"I'm... Fine..." Jiyan pants out.
He knows this feeling, this throbbing in his chest, he's felt this same feeling for a while now, and it's all because of them.
Every time they smile. Every time they laugh. Every time they stand proud over a defeated enemy, sweat dripping down their brow with a glowing appearance. Every time... they come close to him. Every time they do a kind gesture out of their way for him. Every time... Every time...
He knows this feeling, this throbbing in his chest.
But does he really?
Is this love he feels for someone? Is this a desire to be with them? The want to protect someone and stand by their side till time's end? The longing for companionship no other person can fulfill? Or is this a carnal need soldiers often get after being on the battlefield too long; the craving for sexual intimacy with anyone you might find even slight romantic affection for? His head spun every time he thought about what this emotion might be; whenever they got too close.
"You don't look fine. Come, let's get you a seat," they says, pulling Jiyan's arm over their shoulder and leads them to where his prepared meal sits.
The scent of their skin made its way to Jiyan's senses, causing his eyes to cloud over slightly.
The young sergeant sets Jiyan down on a small stool, making sure he's well enough to sit, gently pushing him forwards to lean on the table.
Jiyan's body fills with shivers at the feeling. Their fingers, although barely, grazed lightly against his Tacet Mark, sending waves of pleasure through his longing body. Jiyan has to restrain himself from turning around and pinning the young sergeant.
It's not their fault. It's not their fault. It's not their fault.
Trying quickly to sooth his mind, Jiyan quickly starts to eat the bowl of rice porridge that sits before him, steaming.
You've got to control yourself. They're just being helpful.
Jiyan uses his utensils to pick up the egg that sits on the side and quickly swallows it, the light yolk dripping down his soft lips. Noticing it falling, Jiyan uses his tongue to swipe at the runny yellow goo.
"Are you doing any better, General? For a second, I was worried you were having a heart attack! If not, I can always wake up out healer."
"No. No... Like I said, I'm fine. I just had a minor heartache, that's all. Nothing to worry about."
"A heartache should still be looked at. You never know if it could lead to something more serious."
Jiyan looks up and makes contact with their eyes. They're bright, beautiful eyes are wide with worry. Their plush lips in a soft pout. Their hands fiddle with one another, playing with the seams of their gloves.
"Thank you, Sergeant (L/n), for your concern, but I really am alright. Trust me, if it was something to worry about, I would visit out medic without hesitation. I'm really okay, I promise."
The young sergeant hums with doubt but nods their head.
"If you say so. I have put all my trust in you before, General, and I will continue to do so until I pass."
A smile graces Jiyan's lips and a soft hum escapes his throat. It's deep and melodious, sending away the negative energy that once surrounded the two far off.
"And I put all my trust in you, too."
The young sergeant's eyes widen like saucers.
"Th-Thank you! You're trust is important to me." They look away with a sense of bashfulness in their handsome features.
That look... it's all for me... and should always be only for me...
A dragon is selfish. A dragon is greedy. A dragon is possessive. A dragon does not share. A dragon hoards. A dragon is cunning. A dragon is...
Jiyan
-----
❥ Yandere!Jiyan loves you
❥ Yandere!Jiyan always wants to be with you
❥ Yandere!Jiyan will do anything to keep you by his side
❥ Yandere!Jiyan doesn't like having to send your team off to fight Tacet Discords
❥ Yandere!Jiyan would rather have you stay as a statistical analyzer, something far away from the battlefield
❥ Yandere!Jiyan who has to hide the burning desire inside his chest every single time he comes to see you
❥ Yandere!Jiyan who's nightmares used to consist of all of his comrades dying, now consist of you and only you dying in his arms
❥ Yandere!Jiyan who hangs around your tent after you fall a sleep for only a moment, for that is all he allows himself to have
❥ Yandere!Jiyan who itches to touch you
❥ Yandere!Jiyan who doesn't know if this is love or of this is simply sexual desire built up over time
❥ Yandere!Jiyan who in the end, doesn't really care, convincing himself its the former
❥ Yandere!Jiyan who can do nothing but glare and itch at the other soldiers who look at you, especially your little team of four
❥ Yandere!Jiyan who drags his nails down his face every time the passing thought of you with someone else crosses his mind
❥ Yandere!Jiyan who can feel his heart throb and can't seem to breath when he thinks about you passing away on the field
❥ Yandere!Jiyan who manages to get you alone
❥ Yandere!Jiyan who, after sometime, reports you as missing
❥ Yandere!Jiyan who has you tied up, away from prying eyes
❥ Yandere!Jiyan who explains everything that's been happening to you. You should still be allowed to be informed as to what's happening on the frontlines
❥ Yandere!Jiyan who loves you the most, but is not cruel enough to not care for his other soldiers, he just has a favourite
❥ Yandere!Jiyan who, after finally having you broken, needing him, will report having found you
When everyone is worried and sees the state your in, they as ❥ Yandere!Jiyan to take you back home
You're forced to retire from the Midnight Rangers which brings ❥ Yandere!Jiyan so much joy. You'll finally be safe at home
❥ Yandere!Jiyan who takes you back to his home, locking you up there
❥ Yandere!Jiyan who asks to marry you, not giving you a choice to refuse
❥ Yandere!Jiyan who, once he's finally able to leave, can stay with you
❥ Yandere!Jiyan always wants to be with you
❥ Yandere!Jiyan loves you
#wuthering waves#wuwa#jiyan#wuwa jiyan#jiyan wuwa#jiyan wuthering waves#wuthering waves jiyan#yandere jiyan#yandere wuwa#yandere wuthering waves#headcanon#yandere x you#yandere x reader#yandere jiyan x reader#yandere jiyan x you#jiyan x reader#jiyan x you
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Gun Park with Reader: Your biggest fan
Masterlist.Pure crack conjured up by and for @slimesam Don't wanna read? Pls scroll to the end 👇
Gun park is not immune to idol worship. His run in with Brekdak proved that. Whipping out his notepad and pen for an autograph even as Goo poked fun at him for weeks after.
Starstruck barely even describes his emotions for when he met you.
And you had heard of him? You calling him skilled? Talented? A prodigy?
True, it is undeniable that he is but he never thought you would be the one saying those words.
For once, outside of a fight, Gun completely loses his composure.
Cheeks turning bright red and ears burning crimson. He's not sure he has even felt such heat in his face before.
So when you ask him for a favour, how could he say no?
.
.
"Are you ready?"
Gun frowns at your question.
Is he ready? Not for this, no. He doubt he ever would be.
Yet when you smile encouragingly at him, telling him he is perfect, that he's everything you want, his frown lessens.
Gun swallows down any doubt and misgivings, and nods.
He has killed before, for crying out loud. Plucked out teeth with his bare hands. Shattered bone with his fists.
He can do this. He will do this.
Just... a little something for your introduction. A small performance as you are announced and make your grand entrance for your title match.
"You got your glow sticks ready?"
Gun nods once more.
.
.
The cameras were unexpected.
The match is broadcasted live in South Korea. An international spar held in Japan for a martial art niche. Hardly popular but enough for a handful of enthusiasts to tune in.
DG, Goo Kim, Jake Kim, Zack Lee. Each watching in their respective homes but mouth dropping open at exactly the same time.
Is that... is that fucking Gun Park?!
#ooc but jesus christ too funny not to#i cant believe i bothered to make that gif#truly too much time on my hands#and that pic of goo and gun lol#lookism#lookism x reader#lookism fic#lookism webtoon#lookism manhwa#gun park#gun park x reader#park jonggun x reader#park jonggun#wannaeatramyeon#slimesam hits again#god-monsters
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The Queen Of Busan.
Part one: the meeting.
Part two: defeated.
Part three: years.
This has been in my notes for so long, it was starting to collect dust. Had holes in it too like a fucking overused tissue. Took me way too long and way too much procrastination to do at least something with it. 😭
But here it is finally! Enjoy (pls.) Btw it’s s long, so make sure to grab some snacks and drinks and all before you begin. 🫶🏻
Three years.
Three, and perhaps a bit more has passed since then.
But who counts, right?
Well, not Nova.
Not in a sense that she marks her calendar, crossing out every day and counting down every minute with a sense of pride.
No, it’s a bit different.
She is a bit different now.
Victory has a way of leaving scars, even when the battle is won. For Nova, the echoes of her clash with Gun and Goo lingered like a ghost, haunting her in the spaces where silence should have soothed. She had defended Busan, saved her people, and reaffirmed her rule. But the harder she clung to the city she loved, the more fragile it began to feel in her grasp, as though the very act of holding it might shatter it to pieces. Paranoia crept into her like a thief in the night, curling its cold fingers around her mind. She began to see shadows where there were none, hear whispers in the cracks of laughter, and sense betrayal in the most loyal of faces. It wasn’t fear for herself—Nova had never feared anything when it came to her own life. But the idea of her people, her city, being destroyed by some unseen hand tore at her like a blade.
She became a hurricane disguised as a queen, her calm exterior hiding the growing storm beneath. Anyone who so much as looked like a threat, anyone whose loyalty seemed even a shade of gray, was erased from her world. She struck preemptively, not from malice, but from the gnawing dread of what might happen if she hesitated.
Busan remained alive, still thriving under her reign, but the warmth that had once defined her began to cool. The kindness she had wielded like a lantern in the dark was dimmed by the weight of her vigilance. Each decision made for protection, each life ended for the greater good, chipped away at the part of her that had once loved freely and trusted easily.
So, who is Nova now?
Nova had become something more than human, and less. There was a divinity in her now—something sacred yet terrifying, like the wrath of an angel carved in the firelight of old myths. She moved through Busan like a specter, her presence haunting and magnetic, commanding worship without a word.
She no longer sought connection; she had become untouchable, unreachable. People admired her as one admires a star—brilliant, distant, and wholly impossible to grasp. Beauty once made to disarm had become a weapon, sharper than any blade, the kind of beauty that made you question your own humanity. She was a marble nymph come to life, skin kissed by the moonlight, eyes glowing with the weight of a thousand secrets. Her lips could promise salvation or damnation; no one was brave enough to ask which.
Even her movements were a symphony of chaos and control, weaving between the earthly and the unearthly. She operated on a different frequency now, untethered by mortal logic. Her unpredictability was a blade that kept the city’s predators at bay, a dangerous dance of intellect and raw power that no one dared interrupt. Each step, each word, was deliberate yet chaotic, calculated yet mad.
The city felt her in its bones—her rage, her fear, her brilliance. In her, they saw something that outmatched even the chaos of Goo and the calculated terror of Gun. She had become a new breed of monster: fluid, unrelenting, and impossible to define. Busan was still hers, but it bore the scars of her transformation—the quiet streets, the muffled breaths, the lingering bloodstains in places she deemed necessary.
And yet, she knew this could not last. The whispers reached her like a cold wind. The King of Busan, the man who once ruled these streets, was returning. Released from his prison, where he had spent years plotting and waiting, his shadow stretched long over the city she had fought so hard to claim.
Nova had always been three steps ahead, but now the clock ticked louder. She could feel it—the shift in the air, the weight of her reign buckling under the possibility of his return.
“Well, it is what it is,” she murmured to herself, a short laugh slipping past her lips—dry, devoid of humor, like a hollow wind passing through dead trees. It wasn’t bitterness, nor resignation, but something quieter: acceptance.
No, Nova had never feared challenges. They were the marrow of her life, the thing that kept her alive in more ways than one. But she’d learned that some battles aren’t worth the blood they demand. Sometimes, the hardest choice is to let go.
Vengeance? She scoffed at the thought. The two boys, and Charles Choi—they were never worth the weight of her anger. Rot always consumes itself, she knew that, and rotten fruit falls from the tree eventually.
And fall they did. The news came in whispers and headlines, carried on the tongues of her network and glowing screens alike. Charles Choi’s empire, the colossus of corruption and greed, had crumbled under the weight of its own secrets.
And then came the final note in his symphony of ruin: his leap from a skyscraper, a plunge into the abyss broadcast live to the world.
She hadn’t smiled at the news. There was no triumph in witnessing the inevitable. Only the quiet hum of the universe in perfect order, like a thread tying itself neatly in place.
And Gun—the unshakable, unmovable Gun—had taken the fall, as if shouldering the sins of his master. His prison sentence was whispered like a legend in the making, the kind of story that would ripple through the underground for years to come.
The mighty had fallen, indeed. Life worked its strange magic, whether cruel or harmonious, and Nova watched it all unfold from the throne she no longer wanted to hold.
Let’s rewind a little though, back to the aftermath of their fall three years ago. Gun and Goo—two untouchable legends brought down by a woman who operated like no one they had ever encountered. Her victory felt like something whispered in the dead of night, a fairy tale spun from improbable threads. A queen who felled kings.
And yet, such defeats linger. They don’t dissolve into the air like smoke but instead carve themselves into the memory, stubborn as scars. For most, it might have meant retreat, or the slow, smoldering fire of revenge. But for Gun and Goo, it became something far more dangerous: obsession.
For Gun, it was the kind that sharpened his senses and fed the hunger he lived for. She was proof that power could always be pushed further, boundaries could always be broken. Her strength, her unpredictability, and the sheer artistry of her defiance—it was intoxicating. She became his unspoken benchmark, the ghost of a challenge that whispered, Wow, can’t you do better than this? Better than her?
For Goo, the fascination was… messier. He’d always been a man who lived for the next big thrill, the next shiny thing to chase. And Nova? She wasn’t just a thrill; she was an obsession wrapped in silk and steel. That face, those eyes, that terrifying grace—she was every temptation he’d ever entertained, tasting like every dark thought he ever had. More than that, she was opportunity personified. She was a future, a wildcard, a queen in the making who could flip the board in ways he hadn’t even imagined yet.
She lingered in their minds, unshakable. For Gun, she was the fight that got away, the opponent he hadn’t truly bested. For Goo, she was a door left ajar, the promise of something more. Maybe a love interest? Well–give or take–yes.
Her decree had been clear: Gun and Goo were never to step foot in her city again. The words, sharp and final, had left no room for misinterpretation. She had built Busan into her sanctuary, her dominion, and their presence was a nuisance she would not tolerate.
For Gun, the ban had become a ghost he could not exorcise. Not because he feared her wrath—fear was an emotion long absent from his repertoire—but because he was caged. Locked behind cold bars for sins not entirely his own, he now had nothing but time to replay the memory of her. The way her strength had shattered his expectations. The way her movements had seemed to defy gravity, reason, logic. She was his unbroken record, the one challenge he couldn’t replay, and that haunted him more than any prison cell.
But Goo? Goo had no such limitations. He was free, unburdened by Charles Choi’s schemes and Gun’s watchful shadow. No longer a pawn in someone else’s game, Goo had become his own master, a chaotic force of nature with nothing to lose and everything to gain. His Secret Friends were thriving, his plans were unfurling like a meticulously crafted symphony, and the world itself felt ripe for the taking.
And yet, amidst all the chaos he orchestrated, she remained. A persistent thought in the back of his mind, like a song he couldn’t stop humming. Her image, her power, the electric charge of her presence—it was an itch he couldn’t scratch, a curiosity too tantalizing to ignore. The thrill of her had never left him.
Goo had always been a creature of impulse, but now he was something more: refined chaos. Experience had tempered him, not into a calmer man, but into a more calculated one. He understood the value of patience, the power of letting the game play out before tipping the board. But with Nova, patience was a luxury he couldn’t afford anymore.
The idea of seeking her out again wasn’t just tempting—it was inevitable. He didn’t care about her ban; in fact, it amused him. The queen of Busan thought she could draw lines he wouldn’t cross? She had underestimated just how far he was willing to go for the thrill of seeing her again.
And so, plans began to take shape. Subtle inquiries, discreet movements, the kind of groundwork that would lead him back to her city without a single warning flare. Not for vengeance, not for power—simply for the exhilaration of stepping into her world once more.
For Goo, the anticipation was everything. It was the prelude to chaos, the moment before the storm, and he relished it like a fine wine.
Busan’s queen didn’t yet know it, but the game was about to begin again. And this time, Goo was playing to win.
Playing to win. Only playing.
For Goo, life was a stage, a grand and unpredictable theater where he thrived on improvisation, on stirring chaos and watching the pieces fall where they may.
That day they were in his apartment. The room, dimly lit and filled with cigarette smoke, was a chaotic blend of personalities that somehow orbit around Goo’s gravitational pull.
Samuel Seo sat in the corner, tapping ash into a small tray. He was quiet, listening with that unreadable expression of his, his eyes sharp and calculating. Samuel rarely wasted words, but his silence carried a weight that even Goo acknowledged—albeit grudgingly.
Taejin Cheon, a stark contrast, sat stiffly, his cold and precise demeanor radiating a silent judgment of everyone else in the room. His calculating nature was as intimidating as his reputation.
Logan Lee, however, was the odd one out, hunched in the corner, picking his nose with no shame, his oversized frame slumped in the armchair that creaked with every move. His presence was always a question mark, his attitude laced with bitterness toward anyone more attractive, successful, or likable than him—which was, frankly, everyone. Yet Goo kept him around, maybe for comic relief, maybe for the sheer irony of it.
Goo was in his element, as usual, leaning back in his chair with his feet propped up on the table, juggling a golden pen between his fingers like it was a toy. He smirked as he spoke, his tone dripping with amusement and sarcasm as he laid out half-baked schemes and provocations, each one more outlandish than the last.
Yet deep down, he knew better. He knew when someone was several steps ahead, and even as he laughed it off, the thought of Nova’s face flickered through his mind.
She wasn’t playing. She never was. And that thought lingered, unsettling and undeniable, even as Goo turned back to his ridiculous plans with his mismatched crew.
Oh then there is Alexander, he was outside, “guarding the door”, so to say. He always been a man of pretense—bold when he could hide behind stronger shadows, and soft when the world grew too sharp around the edges. Goo’s plans—chaotic, absurd, somehow brilliant—had a way of infecting everyone with belief.
Then sound of heels—sharp, deliberate—echoed down the hallway like a metronome ticking against the silence. Each click reverberated with a weight that made his skin prickle.
He told himself it was nothing. Maybe a neighbor. Maybe someone delivering something. Nothing unusual.
But when he snapped out of his thoughts, a woman was already standing before him, like she just appeared out of thin air. Her frame cloaked in a sleek black coat that draped around her like liquid shadow. Her posture was relaxed, yet the air around her was suffocating.
Unsettling.
Alexander tried not to stare, but his eyes couldn’t help but be drawn to her like a moth to a flame. She looked out of place, but not in a way that suggested she didn’t belong—rather, in a way that suggested the space was simply too small to contain her. Her presence expanded and pressed against the hallway walls, filling every crevice with an unspoken tension.
Her hair was tied into a high, slick ponytail, the strands catching faint glints of light like threads of silver. Designer sunglasses perched on her face, shielding her eyes, but Alexander felt them on him nonetheless. Or perhaps staring through him. The coat swayed slightly as she shifted her weight, and for a fleeting moment, the golden sheen of her heeled boots caught his gaze.
He cleared his throat, trying to summon a shred of authority. “Uh, excuse me, miss… Can I help you with something?”
She didn’t answer immediately, her head turning ever so slightly as if deciding whether to bother acknowledging him. When she finally tilted her face toward him, no words came. Instead, she simply tilted her head down a little to peak above her sunglasses to look down at him, her gaze cool and clinical.
Alexander felt his stomach twist. Her eyes weren’t cold; they were empty—a void that somehow managed to feel like it could see right through him.
“Is Joongoo here?” she asked, her voice low and smooth, unbothered and yet somehow impossible to ignore.
Her tone carried the weight of someone who didn’t ask questions often. Someone who didn’t need to.
Alexander blinked, caught off guard by her directness. “Uh… And who’s asking?” he stammered.
She didn’t flinch. If anything, the faintest ghost of a smirk tugged at her lips. “It’s not important who’s asking. Is he here?”
Alexander’s confusion morphed into suspicion. She didn’t look like a threat—no visible weapons, no bruiser stance—but something about her was wrong. Danger oozed off her in invisible waves, subtle but suffocating, like smoke in an enclosed space.
He straightened his back, puffing his chest slightly, trying to muster some of the confidence that had carried him through lesser skirmishes. “Look, I don’t know who you think you are, but if you’re looking for trouble, you’ve come to the wrong place.”
Her lips twitched, and this time the smirk fully formed. She chuckled—low, dark, and amused, like a lion humoring a mouse before the pounce.
“Oh, trouble?” she echoed, her tone dripping with mockery. She adjusted her coat with a casual grace, the ponytail behind her bouncing ever so slightly as she moved. “No, no. I’m not looking for trouble.”
She leaned forward slightly, her voice dropping to something almost conspiratorial. “But it’s funny, isn’t it? What if someone is asking for trouble from me? That makes quite the difference, doesn’t it.”
The words shouldn’t have sounded so threatening, but Alexander’s throat tightened all the same. He swallowed hard, the gulp audible even over the weighty silence. And then she chuckled again, softer this time, stepping back just slightly to assess the door once more.
“You know what?” she said suddenly, the grin returning to her lips. “Hell yeah.~”
There was no malice in her voice, but something about the way she said it made Alexander’s blood run cold. He couldn’t quite explain why—it was as though the promise of something catastrophic lay just beneath her words, hidden in the velvet smoothness of her tone. He didn’t move. He couldn’t. His feet felt rooted to the spot as she shifted her weight, standing tall and poised, utterly unshaken by his presence.
And then, just as suddenly as the moment had started, she tilted her head slightly, letting the smirk linger for a heartbeat longer before settling back into her neutral, unreadable expression.
“Well,” she said softly, almost to herself, “time to see if he’s as amusing as he used to be.”
Three minutes. Who knows what happened outside under a mere three minutes.
It ticked by in near silence, punctuated only by the muffled shuffling of feet behind the door. Alexander appeared in the frame—a man who looks like they just faced death itself.
His forehead was wrinkled with a sheen of sweat covering it. His chest rose and fell in shallow, rapid bursts, a twitching smile on his lips betraying an undercurrent of horror. His eyes were wide, unblinking, like he’d stared into the abyss and seen it staring back.
Goo, seated with one leg draped lazily over the other, narrowed his eyes, irritation blooming across his face. “Did you have a very uncomfortable shit or something?” he quipped, his tone lilting with mockery, though there was a razor’s edge of suspicion beneath it.
Alexander didn’t answer immediately. His mouth opened, closed, then finally worked to croak out a single sentence:
“Someone is here… to see you.”
Goo groaned, rolling his head back and gesturing dismissively with his hand. “Tell ‘em I’m busy.~”
But Alexander didn’t move. Instead, his body gave a subtle tremor, his laughter bubbling out in an uncomfortable, broken chuckle that didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m afraid that would be… useless now.”
The air in the room seemed to thin as he spoke those words. Goo straightened slightly in his chair, the laziness melting from his expression as something more serious replaced it. His mouth opened to question Alexander, but before the words could form, the familiar prickle of danger crawled up his spine like a whisper.
Nova entered like she was born to command every eye in the room. Her movement was smooth, deliberate, each step exuding a lethal grace. The air shifted as though it, too, bent to her presence. She brushed past Alexander with barely a glance, and he collapsed without a sound, crumpling to the floor like a marionette with its strings severed.
But the others couldn’t spare him even a glance.
Samuel, always sharp and calculating, adjusted his posture with quiet precision, his fingers itching toward the cigarette perched between his lips. His narrowed eyes gave away his thoughts—Why is she here?
Taejin shifted in his seat, his impassive demeanor betraying little, but his attention locked onto her like a predator sizing up another. He had the look of a man who could feel the temperature of the room plummet and knew better than to underestimate what caused it. Logan scowled almost instantly. His lip curled, his beefy form tense with distaste, as though the mere sight of her polished beauty offended him. He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, muttering something incoherent under his breath.
And Goo… Goo said nothing.
He wasn’t the type to lose his composure too often, but something about the sight of her again—her presence, her ease, her smirk—momentarily knocked him off balance. The playful spark that usually danced in his eyes dimmed. His expression hardened into something that bordered on serious, a rare sight indeed.
“How the fuck did she find me..” He thought to himself.
Nova let out a slow, audible sigh through her lips, her hands buried deep in the pockets of her coat. Her smirk widened slightly as she took in the scene before her: the four men frozen in place, each one trying to decipher the storm that had just walked into their midst.
“Mmm…” she mused aloud, her voice soft but sharp enough to slice through the silence. She inhaled theatrically through her nose, tilting her head back before wrinkling it in mock distaste. “It smells like male desperation in here.”
It definitely earned a few blinks of bitterness and disrespected confusion from the others. Bristle they did indeed.
She shook her head, clicking her tongue against her teeth like a disappointed schoolteacher. For a moment, she seemed lost in thought, her smirk fading into something unreadable. She reached up to slide her sunglasses off, holding them delicately between her fingers. She inspected the lenses with the same casual care someone might use when checking for smudges on fine crystal, before pulling a cloth from her pocket to clean them.
The tension in the room stretched taut as a bowstring.
And she wasn’t in a hurry either.
It wasn’t what she said or did—it was what she didn’t do. She hadn’t barked orders. She hadn’t made demands. She hadn’t thrown a punch or even raised her voice. And yet, somehow, she had the upper hand.
Goo’s fingers tapped lightly against the armrest of his chair, his brow furrowing as he studied her. She was like him now—but more. More calculated. More bloodthirsty. More dangerous. It was as though someone had distilled all of his charm, his chaos, his danger, and polished it into something razor-sharp and terrifyingly deliberate.
Red lights flashed in his mind like a siren, but he couldn’t help the faint tug of a smirk at the corner of his lips.
Nova, oblivious to—or perhaps deliberately ignoring—the weight of the gazes on her, slipped her glasses into her pocket with the same languid grace. She finally looked up, meeting Goo’s eyes across the room with a knowing glint.
“I do have to hand it to you, Joongoo,” she said, her tone warm with mock amusement. “You’ve really gone and assembled quite the… crew.”
Her voice dipped just enough to make the word crew sound like the punchline to an unspoken joke.
She rocked back on her heels slightly, hands still in her coat pockets, tilting her head as if assessing her next move. The smirk returned, sharper now, her eyes glittering with something dangerous. She tilted her head slightly as she examined the occupants, her sharp gaze stopping on Goo. Slowly, her lips pulled into a faux pout, theatrical enough to rival any performance Goo himself has ever put on.
“But you know…” she began, her voice dripping with exaggerated hurt, “I’m kinda hurt…” she tapped her chest lightly, the feigned injury marked by a dramatic sigh. “Somewhere here, I guess.” Her perfectly manicured finger gestured lazily toward her heart, her expression shifting between mock surprise and wounded disbelief.
“How come I didn’t receive an invite to such an important meeting?~” She let the question hang in the air, tilting her head and raising an eyebrow. Her tone was syrupy, her cadence playful, but every word cut like a well-sharpened blade.
“And this crew?” Her gaze darted to Samuel, Taejin, Logan, and then back to Goo. Her lips quirked into a smirk, her voice dripping sarcasm. “How come I didn’t get scouted? Wow… I can almost feel my heart crack…”
The room seemed to hold its breath, the mocking edge in her words loud in the silence.
It was so him. So much like Goo that it felt like someone had taken his own brand of chaos, wrapped it in silk, and handed it back to him with a sharper edge.
But then came the laugh—a low, rich chuckle that curled around the air like smoke. She waved her finger at him, her smile widening. “Joongoo-ya..~” she cooed, her tone carrying that dangerous, teasing note. “You made it big now, didn’t ya?~”
Her eyes shone with something unreadable, the undertone of her words enough to send a chill even through Logan, who shifted uncomfortably in his seat, muttering something incoherent once again. Nova, unfazed, continued, shaking her head slowly as if she were in disbelief.
“Wow,” she mused softly, circling around him with the leisurely pace of a predator toying with its prey. Her sharp boots clicked against the floor, echoing through the room like a countdown. “I like what I see…” She paused deliberately before gesturing toward him, her hand fluttering in the air. “You. Polished and so handsome…~”
Goo didn’t say a word. His eyes followed her every movement, calculating, his signature smirk trying to hold steady but faltering ever so slightly at the edges. She chuckled again, the sound a deliberate contrast to the tension she was weaving. “I could just pinch your cheeks right now!~” She reached out as if to emphasize the thought, her tone sweet but dripping with mockery. Her fingers stopped just shy of actually making contact before she chuckled again, pulling her hand back and shaking her head.
Samuel shifted in his chair as Nova moved closer, stepping directly into his path. Her eyes slid over him like he was merely a piece of the furniture, and her smile widened playfully.
“Oops, sorry, hot stuff,” she said with a mischievous lilt, side-stepping with a deliberately exaggerated sway. “Step aside, please.~”
The casual dismissal of someone as sharp as Samuel was comical in a sense, designed to make its mark. And it did. His lips twitched slightly as he leaned back, choosing to observe instead of engage.
She grabbed an armchair with the ease of someone who had already claimed the room as hers. She dragged it across the floor, her strength apparent despite the soft scrape of the chair legs against the polished surface. It came to rest opposite Goo, right in the heart of their gathering. She sat down with an air of absolute entitlement, crossing one leg over the other and leaning back like she belonged there more than any of them.
It was a clear mirroring of Goo.
For a moment, she studied him. Her gaze was assessing, almost clinical, before she nodded approvingly. “Look at you…” she murmured, the mock sweetness of her voice still carrying that edge. “All grown up now…doing adult shit… playing big man games.~”
The others exchanged glances, clearly unsure how to process the scene unfolding before them. Nova wasn’t just commanding attention; she was demanding it.
“I am so happy to see you again.” She said finally, the words dripping with contradiction. The tone should have been warm, nostalgic, maybe even genuine, but instead, it carried a dangerous undercurrent. Her eyes, sharp and unforgiving, locked onto Goo, and in that moment, they weren’t just greeting him—they were dissecting him. Goo’s fingers twitched against the armrest of his chair, the first crack in his otherwise controlled demeanor. He wasn’t used to being on the back foot nowadays, and Nova seemed determined to keep him there. The smirk playing at Goo’s lips faltered for a heartbeat before he regained his composure, but by then, the power dynamic had already shifted.
Nova leaned back further, her smirk widening as if she could read the thoughts running through his head. “So…” she began, her voice light, almost playful, but carrying that undeniable weight. “Shall we get to the part where I tell you why I’m really here?~”
There were many questions brewing in their heads, but none dared to voice them.
Who was this woman? How did she find them? And, more importantly, why was she talking to Goo like they shared an infamous, bloody history?The answer was there, lingering like smoke from a distant fire, but none of them could grasp it. None, except Goo, whose eyes betrayed recognition and unease.
Nova let her head tilt to one side as she fixed Goo with a look that seemed equal parts mocking and predatory. “A little birdie told me,” she began, her tone playful yet deadly, “that you now feel bold enough to—not just make plans about—but actually step foot back into my city again.~”
Her words trailed off into a sharp, cold silence. For a fleeting moment, the air felt impossibly heavy, suffocating, as if the room itself braced for what would come next.
Then her expression shifted. The playful smirk melted away, leaving her face unnervingly blank, her sharp features cold and unreadable.
“I didn’t take you to be an actual idiot.” she stated flatly.
The air froze again, a tension that clung to the walls like frost.
And just as quickly, the smirk returned, disarming and unsettling in equal measure.
“I guess even I can be wrong sometimes, huh?” she mused, her voice light and teasing once more. She tilted her head, humming softly to herself. “This is the only defeat I’m willing to accept, then.”
It was the kind of emotional whiplash that left the room reeling, the kind that made it impossible to tell if she was moments away from embracing Goo like an old friend or popping his head off its place. Her tone, her body language, even the air around her seemed to shift with every word, keeping them all teetering on the edge of discomfort.
“Well…” She shrugged, waving a hand dismissively. “Don’t.”
The word hung in the air, weighty despite its simplicity.
“It’s as simple as that, ya know?” She straightened her posture, taking on a nonchalant air, but her sharp gaze didn’t lose its edge. “Actually, hold that thought until the former King comes back.”
The words landed heavily, a thinly veiled reminder of who still stood at the top in her mind.
“I’m a woman who doesn’t like being bothered,” she continued with a sigh, her head tilting back as she fixed her gaze on the ceiling. “And, trust me, my plate’s already full, especially because not long ago Busan became a little divided.”
She yawned audibly, a casual display of disregard for the danger the others felt pressing against their chests. Craning her neck to one side, she let it crack softly, the sound somehow more unnerving than her words.
Finally, Goo broke the silence. His voice cut through the air, low and sharp. “You changed.”
It wasn’t a question; it was an assessment.
The Nova who sat before him wasn’t the same as the one he remembered. The woman from three years ago, the one who had once been all soft-spoken charm and warmth, was gone. In her place sat something steelier, something forged in the fire of whatever trials she had endured since then.
She opened her eyes slowly, her expression unreadable as she nodded. “No shit,” she said simply, her tone blunt. “Who doesn’t?”
Goo leaned back slightly in his chair, his smirk returning as he tried to read her. “True…” he muttered, letting the word hang for a moment. Then, tilting his head, he asked with a smirk, “So what makes you think I couldn’t take you now?”
It was a challenge, one that carried the weight of history and unspoken threats.
But Nova didn’t flinch.
Her sly smile returned, one brow arching slightly as if she were indulging in a private joke. “Take me in what way exactly?” she asked, her voice slipping into a tone that was deliberately suggestive.
The innuendo was clear as day, and it caught Goo off guard, his smirk faltering for a fraction of a second.
She chuckled softly, her laughter like velvet laced with steel. “Ahh,” she said, waving her hand as if dismissing the very idea. “You never fail to not make me feel threatened.~”
The silence that followed was heavy, thick with tension.
Her gaze shifted to the others, lingering on each of them in turn. She studied them as if they were pieces on a chessboard, her sharp mind calculating every move before it was even made.
“So…” she began, her tone light but her words weighted. “What are they for?”
The question hung in the air, almost rhetorical.
“World domination?” she mused aloud, her tone dipping into mockery. “Business ventures? Making a bank?—Shit, opening a bakery? One would never know with you…” She shook her head slowly, disapproval flickering across her features.
Then she paused, her expression sharpening.
“But then again…” She tilted her head slightly, her eyes narrowing as she studied Goo. “I have a weird feeling, ya know? Like you’re trying to replace a certain someone with these people.”
The weight behind her words were undeniable.
“Which he would certainly take as an insult,” she added casually, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Hell, even I would too…”
The room grew impossibly tense as her words sank in.
Goo’s jaw tightened, and his smirk disappeared entirely as he realized exactly who she was referring to. There was no mistaking it now—she was talking about Gun.
The air in the room had turned into an almost dizzying atmosphere, as if the gravity of Nova’s presence had sucked all oxygen out. Her sharp words were laced with biting mockery, the kind that left wounds more emotional than physical.
“I mean, you miss him, I get that, but…” Nova hummed softly, her tone almost considerate as she tilted her head in thought, gazing off like she was trying to solve a mild puzzle. “If my ex-partner in crime were to ever try and replace me with multiple Temu versions of me, knowing the reputation I have… ouh brother—I would be seething.”
She cringed to herself dramatically, her nose scrunching in disgust. “The absolute disrespect… ouhh!”
Her exclamation was almost playful, but the undercurrent of insult wasn’t lost on the others. The three men stiffened visibly, their pride simmering into something volatile. She wasn’t just mocking Goo—she was outright dismissing them as well, labeling them nobodies not just compared to Gun but even as a collective group.
Nova wasn’t done yet.
“Either way…” She shrugged with an air of dismissal, her eyes half-lidded in amusement. “Now that he’s on topic, I was actually thinking about visiting him, ya know? For old times’ sake.”
At the last sentence the other three’s eyebrows knit together momentarily.
Her tone was casual, almost whimsical, but it carried a weight that even Goo couldn’t ignore.
He audibly scoffed, leaning back in his chair. “Good luck,” he sneered, voice low and laced with derision. “He doesn’t take visitors.”
It was true—Gun refused everyone, even Goo ever since he has been rotting away in jail. As far as he knows.
Nova merely hummed, seemingly unbothered by the obstacle. She crossed her arms, her gaze fixed somewhere in the distance. “Interesting…” she mused, as if the revelation were some grand mystery unraveling. Then she tilted her head slightly, her eyes narrowing ever so subtly. “Doesn’t take visitors at all… or just doesn’t take visits from you?”
The blow landed hard, and Goo’s smirk vanished instantly.
“Truth hurts, I get that.” She continued without missing a beat, her voice light and conversational, though the blade of her words remained sharp. “I mean, my time’s almost up as the one who reigns over Busan anyway… It’s right around the corner. Hell, it even makes my heart beat a bit harder, so I get it!”
She gave a little nod as if she were genuinely sympathizing, though the faint smirk tugging at her lips betrayed her mockery.
Goo, meanwhile, sat there brooding, her words cutting deeper than he wanted to admit.
Nova, ever perceptive, shifted her gaze to the other three, her expression softening into something resembling mild confusion. She leaned back slightly, one brow quirking.
“Why do they look so confused, by the way?” she asked, her tone genuinely curious as she glanced back at Goo. “Like they know who I am, but not really.”
Her words hung in the air for a moment, and Goo finally snapped out of his thoughts, his gaze sharpening.
“Especially when I said, ‘for old times’ sake. I definitely felt a shift in the room after my statement,” she added, her voice dipping into a teasing lilt.
And then, as if a realization dawned on her, she turned her entire body toward Goo, her expression shifting into one of mock shock.
“Don’t tell me…” she gasped, her voice dripping with faux disbelief. “They don’t know?~”
The silence that followed was deafening.
It was clear none of the three men—Samuel, Taejin, or Logan—knew what she meant. No one, except for her, Goo, and Gun, truly knew the history they shared. And Charles of course, but he already took this secret to his grave.
Nova pursed her lips, nodding slowly to herself as the pieces clicked into place.
“Oof…Now this is fucking awkward,” she muttered, rubbing her temples like she needed to process the absurdity of it all.
She sighed softly, lowering her hands and glancing back at Goo. “Well then, I guess I won’t run my mouth either.” Her voice was almost empathetic, as if she was doing him a favor. “You gotta keep your dignity intact? Understandable.”
And then, she slowly stood, her energy shifting once more.
Taking a step closer to him and ruffling Goo’s hair in an almost affectionate gesture, one that made him flinch slightly, and followed by two light pats to his cheek.
“I’ll leave you be then,” she said breezily, her tone as casual as if they were old friends. But just as she side-stepped him, she leaned in close to his ear, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.
“If I even sense you anywhere near Busan, you’re immediately a dead man. Yeah?~”
Her words weren’t a threat—they were a promise.
The chill in her tone, the sharp edge of her whisper, engraved itself into Goo’s very survival instincts. He stiffened, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end.
And with that, Nova straightened, her smirk returning as if she hadn’t just rattled the room to its core.
She waved to the others casually, like they were old friends she was saying goodbye to. “Be good, boys!~”
And then she was gone, the door closing softly behind her.
For a moment, no one spoke. The other three exchanged wary glances, each of them trying to make sense of what had just happened.
Finally, Goo let his head fall back against his chair, exhaling a long, shaky breath like he’d been holding it in for years.
“I love her so much it makes me wanna throw up…” he muttered, his voice laced with a mixture of admiration and dread.
Samuel crossed his arms, his jaw tightening. “Who is she?”
Goo didn’t answer immediately, his eyes still fixed on the ceiling.
“She’s trouble,” he finally said, his tone soft and almost wistful. “The worst and best kind of trouble.”
The others didn’t know whether to take that as a warning or an understatement… or what he even meant by it at all.
“But we’re still going to Busan, right?” Goo asked, his neck suddenly straightening, his tone light and almost hopeful, his eyes darting between each men, as if he could somehow ignore the very real danger that Nova’s words had cast over the plan. His mind, however, was still replaying her threat on an endless loop. It gnawed at him, and yet, despite it all, his typical confidence found a way to resurface.
Logan immediately scoffed from where he sat, his massive frame tense with disdain. “Do I look like I want to die by the hands of a girl? Fuck no.”
Without another word, Logan shoved his hands deep into his pockets and stood up, his expression sour, and strode toward the door. His presence had already been tested more than enough today, and he wasn’t about to let a single woman undermine him further—yet he wouldn’t dare challenge her, either.
The door slammed behind him, leaving the room one body lighter.
Hah. Puns. (author’s note: I really don’t fw him, sorry.)
Taejin, for his part, remained still for a moment, his eyes cold and calculating. But inwardly, he felt like the entire foundation of his confidence had been shaken to its core. Nova had stepped into the room and shattered that image in a matter of minutes.
He cleared his throat softly, nodding toward Goo with his usual air of politeness. “I’ll have to pass as well. I’ve seen enough for today.”
With that, he exited quietly, his footsteps deliberate.
Goo’s gaze flicked to Samuel, who had remained silent throughout the ordeal. He raised a brow expectantly, the ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips. “And you, Sammy? Don’t tell me you’re chickening out too?”
Samuel’s jaw clenched visibly, his pride warring with his self-preservation instincts. He knew better than to challenge Nova—especially after what he’d just witnessed. The way she carried herself, the sheer confidence she exuded, made it clear she wasn’t someone to trifle with. And the fact that she seemed to know things—deep things—about Goo and Gun made her even more dangerous.
“I’m not stupid,” Samuel muttered, his tone low and grudging. “If she says you’re dead if you go near Busan, I believe her.”
He stood, brushing imaginary dust from his shirt, his lips pressed into a thin line. “Good luck with whatever suicide mission you’re planning.”
Goo pouted, his usual playful demeanor masking the frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “Y’all are no fun…” He crossed his arms, rolling his eyes, but he understood their decision. It was the smart choice. No one should be foolish enough to go against someone like Nova, not with how powerful and untouchable she seemed. “What do you think, Alexander?” He asked, his voice light and almost hopeful.
Silence.
Alexander, still sprawled on the floor, didn’t even stir, his body utterly limp.
“Oh—never mind, actually,” Goo muttered, sighing as he rubbed the back of his neck. It was clear that Alexander wasn’t going to provide any answers anytime soon.
And so, in the aftermath of her perfectly executed performance, Nova left behind an impression that even Goo—master of chaos himself—couldn’t quite wrap his head around.
Ladies and gentlemen, and/or nonbinary people, this is how you utterly annihilate someone at their own game without breaking a sweat. No swords, no fists, no flashy moves were necessary. Not even a hint of physical aggression.
After all, why would she need to swing a katana at him? For comedic effect? She didn’t like those things anyway. The scar Goo had given her in their last fight, jagged and deep across her abdomen, served as an eternal reminder. Not of defeat, no—but of her own resilience.
Besides, what was the point of clashing swords when you could cut deeper with words?
All she needed was to dip into that unpredictable essence Goo prided himself on, twist it with her own chaotic brilliance, and let him taste defeat in a language he could understand—one he excelled at but couldn’t keep up with when wielded by her.
She was, in short, playing him better than he could ever play himself.
Why did she go through all this trouble, though? A fair question. The answers, as usual with Nova, weren’t exactly clear-cut.
Maybe it was the thrill of it—the pure satisfaction of planting herself so much more deeper in their heads that they wouldn’t forget her anytime soon. Perhaps it was a subtle reminder of the transformation she’d undergone, a subtle jab at the fact that her growth—her evolution—was, in part, thanks to them.
But most likely? It was to hammer home a truth they couldn’t ignore: no matter how much they evolved, no matter their blood and past, no matter how strong or smart they thought they were, they would never surpass her.
She existed on a level above them. Intellectually, emotionally, physically—she was untouchable, and she wanted them to know it.
The correctional facility’s visiting room was as sterile and uninviting as one would expect—grey walls, a faint hum of fluorescent lighting, and a large motivational poster hanging on the wall:
“LET’S LIVE A HEALTHY LIFE WITH MORAL INTEGRITY!”
Nova barely managed to suppress a laugh as she took her seat on one side of the glass divider, leaning back leisurely in the chair like she owned the place. The guards stationed nearby exchanged uneasy glances, her presence radiating an almost suffocating authority despite her calm demeanor.
Getting in here had been surprisingly easy. The request for the visit went as planned.
Of course, he accepted.
Gun’s initial reaction to hearing about the request had been predictable. The moment the guards mentioned someone wanted to see him, he’d been ready to decline outright. After all, he didn’t take visitors. It was a rule he upheld without exception… except for Daniel but– does that even need an explanation?
But then came the addendum, delivered with a mix of hesitation and disbelief:
“The person has kind of alluded to the fact that even if you decline, she will appear in your jail cell instead… which was sort of a threat and a promise at the same time.”
Gun had paused.
The guard’s tone was nervous—borderline frightened—but what caught Gun’s attention wasn’t the warning. It was the pronoun.
“She.”
He knew exactly who it was.
There was only one woman audacious enough to make such a statement. One woman whose promises, no matter how outrageous, weren’t just empty words but inevitable outcomes.
And now, as he was escorted into the room, the guards unlocking his cuffs before gesturing for him to sit, he finally saw her.
The first thing that struck him wasn’t her hair or her striking eyes, but the sheer presence she carried. There was no mistaking it—it was her, but different. Stronger. Sharper.
The guards seemed to shrink under the weight of her gaze, and even the most hardened inmates passing by stole glances, their expressions flickering between confusion and outright fear. She didn’t look like a woman visiting someone in prison. She looked like a queen surveying her dominion.
Gun took his seat across from her, his face carefully neutral despite the strange sensation churning in his stomach.
“Haven’t seen you in ages,” he said, his voice steady but tinged with curiosity. “I wonder what your reasoning is for being here.”
Her response was immediate, and it wasn’t at all what he expected.
“Just wanted to see for myself how funny life can be sometimes.” She smiled softly, leaning forward slightly. “And this right here in front of me? Is the butt of the joke!~”
Gun blinked. Once. Twice.
He didn’t know what to focus on—her tone, her words, or the sheer audacity of them.
“…What.”
It was all he could manage.
He had been prepared for a lot of things when he walked into this room—small talk, a bit of mockery of his situation, syrupy words and kind advice. But this? This casual, biting banter mixed with an almost childlike sense of wonder? It had completely blindsided him. Nova simply tilted her head, her expression unbothered, almost amused, like a predator watching its prey squirm.
“What do you mean ‘what’?” Nova’s voice was soft yet sharp, laced with mockery as she tilted her head slightly. “This is, like, the biggest joke I have ever witnessed in my 23 years of living!” she exclaims.
"And you know, real recognizes real...and you're looking pretty unfamiliar to me right now." She adds, looking him up and down while she reached into her coat, pulling out a slim pack of cigarettes. Gun noted the lack of reaction from the guards, their indifference as clear as day. They didn’t even flinch when she took one out and tapped it against the pack, settling it between her lips, even though smoking was prohibited inside.
“I mean, it’s especially funny that you’re the one in this predicament, not Goo… or at least both of you.” She exhaled through her nose, shaking her head slightly as she patted herself down. “I can’t tell if I should be disappointed… or just resigned to acceptance. Either way, it’s not surprising at all at the end of the day… you had your head stuck up so far up Choi’s ass, you didn’t even see where you were heading in life.”
Her muttering was quiet, more for herself than for him, but Gun heard every word. She frowned, her fingers brushing over her coat.
“I don’t have a lighter with me…” she sighed in mild irritation, before turning her attention to one of the guards stationed in the far corner. Raising her voice slightly, she called out, “Excuse me, sir? Can I borrow a lighter? You seem like someone who smokes.”
Gun blinked. He was certain the guard would ignore her, brush her off, or at least tell her she was not allowed to smoke here. Instead, the man moved without question, walking up to her and handing over his lighter like she’d cast a spell on him.
With a quiet click, Nova lit her cigarette, taking a slow drag before holding the lighter back out. “Thanks,” she murmured, her voice dripping with nonchalance.
Gun stared, his chest tightening for reasons he couldn’t quite explain.
But she wasn’t done.
She gestured toward him with her hand, her cigarette balanced delicately between her fingers. “Can I also give him one? He looks like he needs it.”
Gun stiffened at the suggestion, his eyes narrowing slightly.
The guard, however, shook his head, his tone apologetic. “Apologies, ma’am. Inmates aren’t allowed to smoke.”
Nova sucked in a breath through her teeth, her nose scrunching slightly as she nodded. “Ahh… right. Inmate.”
The word hung in the air like a slap.
To an outsider, her behavior might have seemed nothing more than arrogant—a woman with too much confidence and a penchant for theatrics. But to Gun, it was something entirely different.
This wasn’t arrogance. This was a demonstration.
It didn’t matter where they were—inside this facility, outside in the real world, or anywhere else in the universe. As long as Nova existed in the same space as him, her power would always eclipse his. The room itself seemed to bend to her will, her authority turning even his once-feared presence into an afterthought.
He glanced down at the blue uniform he wore, its number tag glaring back at him like a taunt. Here, in this moment, he wasn’t Gun Park, nor Shiro Oni. He was just another prisoner, indistinguishable from the rest.
The realization stung more than any insult she could have thrown at him.
“What a tragedy…” she began, her tone softening into something almost sorrowful. “You could’ve gone so far in life by yourself. You’re a capable, strong, and intelligent man—no dickriding intended,” She raised an eyebrow slightly, as if daring him to challenge her words. “But no...”
Her voice hardened, cutting through the tension like a blade. “You decided it would be a better idea to devote loyalty to an old fart with one arm who, by that time, wasn’t ‘Elite’ anymore but just a nobody. A nobody who used you like a cumrag, puppeteering you around because he knew damn well that he himself had no power left.”
Gun’s jaw tightened, but he remained silent, his expression unreadable.
“And if that’s not enough…” She brought her free hand up to her temple, as if the thought physically pained her. “…you took all the blame for it. All of it. How stupid can you be?~”
Her voice carried an almost sing-song quality, but the edge in her words was unmistakable.
“I mean, what about Goo? Your friend? I heard you don’t even let him visit you for god’s sakes..”
Gun’s hands curled into fists under the table, his knuckles pressing against his knees.
“He’s not my friend. I don’t have any.” He says plainly, making Nova cringe visibly.
“Eugh.. okay edge lord. Your self-rot is palpable… and smelly.”
She shook her head, taking another drag from her cigarette and exhaling slowly, the smoke curling around her like a halo.
“Anywho, now you’re here. In your stained blue coat…” Her lips curved into a smirk. “Looking like every peasant in there. Congradolances.~”
The word—a blend of “congratulations” and “condolences”—was the final blow, as fitting as it was infuriating.
For the first time in years, he felt utterly, undeniably small. Again.
Gun clenched his jaw, his teeth grinding together as he now forced his voice to rise again, though it came out low and taut, a simmering growl wrapped in defiance. “The world is all about results.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly, the phrase bouncing around her mind like a loose bullet. The corner of her mouth quirked, her cigarette lingering near her lips.
“Is he for real?” she mused silently, taking another slow drag, her lips curling just slightly as her eyes flicked back to his face. His expression was dead serious.
“Ohhh, he isss.~” She chuckled inwardly, a soft sound escaping her lips as smoke twisted from her exhale.
“It’s okay, Gun.~” Her voice was soft now, a touch of something almost tender threading through her tone. “There’s really no need to keep clinging to delusions anymore.”
Her gaze softened briefly, but the edge was unmistakable, like velvet draped over steel. She tilted her head slightly, her platinum hair catching the light as she spoke again, her tone almost patient, as if explaining a basic concept to a child.
“You know, it’s actually called the consequences of one’s actions.”
The words were deliberate, every syllable an arrow hitting its mark. She leaned back in her chair, her posture relaxed, a perfect foil to the storm brewing beneath Gun’s composed exterior.
Nova watched him, her pale eyes gleaming with quiet amusement as the reality of her statement struck him squarely in the chest, another crack in the fortress of his pride.
“But you know what? Let’s go with your little mantra…” She cleared her throat softly, still holding his gaze as she tapped ash from her nearly spent cigarette. Her voice dipped, taking on a smoother, more conversational tone.
“So… what kind of result is this one, then?” She gestured loosely around the room, the stark walls and buzzing fluorescent lights an unspoken testament to his fall from grace. “Or, better yet…” Her eyes narrowed, her curiosity genuine but sharpened to a fine point. “…is this the result you actually wanted?”
The question hung in the air, heavier than the cigarette smoke that curled between them.
Gun stared at her, his jaw tightening as he fought the urge to look away. The weight of her words pressed against his chest, every syllable forcing him closer to an abyss he’d never dared to look into before.
Nova tilted her head again, her tone light but unmistakably victorious, as though she’d just played her winning hand in a game he didn’t even realize he was losing. “Hmm, no answer? That’s fine.”
She stubbed out her cigarette—on the back of her hand, no less—and not even a single mark marred her flawless skin. The act was casual, but the power behind it was palpable. She smiled faintly, her voice dropping to a murmur that was somehow even more cutting.
“You live, and you learn, White Ghost.~”
The nickname rolled off her tongue with the weight of air—light, dismissive, and utterly devoid of reverence. From her lips, it felt meaningless, stripped of the fear and awe it once commanded.
Gun’s chest tightened further, an ache building in a space he didn’t want to acknowledge.
Nova suddenly clapped her hands together, the sharp sound breaking the charged silence between them. “Well then!” she exclaimed brightly, her tone breezy, almost cheerful. “I should go now. I have a life to live.”
She smiled warmly, but the dagger hidden beneath her words was impossible to miss.
Gun stiffened, her parting statement slicing through him far deeper than he expected.
“Thank you for allowing yourself to see me,” she added lightly, brushing a nonexistent speck of dust from her coat as she stood. “Glad to see you’re still in one piece. Alive? Well… that’s questionable.” She shrugged, her tone as casual as if she were discussing the weather.
Flattening her coat, she tapped a manicured finger against the corner of her nose, like she just remembered an itch, pretending to think of her conclusion. “So, it was nice seeing one another, eh?”
She straightened, her pale eyes locking onto his as her lips curved into a mischievous smile.
“Ganbare!~”
She sing-songed the word as she turned on her heel, her hand waving lazily over her shoulder.
Gun paled. Talk about a white ghost.
The word echoed in his mind, more deafening than any scream.
‘Good luck.’
It wasn’t just a farewell. It was a reminder of his insignificance in her presence, a taunt that lingered long after her departure.
His chest burned, anger, shame, and something deeper twisting together into a knot he couldn’t untangle. His fists clenched beneath the table, nails biting into his palms as he fought to suppress the storm rising within him.
And yet, despite the fury coursing through him, there was something else—a pull he couldn’t deny.
Gun sat in the suffocating silence of the visitation room, staring at the empty chair across from him, his thoughts whirling in a chaotic frenzy. It wasn’t the kind of storm that came from rage—no, this was deeper, darker, and infinitely more disorienting. The silence didn’t soothe him; it mocked him, amplifying her words as they echoed in his head.
Who talks like that? Walks and acts like that?
He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to shake the weight off, but it clung to him like a shroud.
Funny, though.
Because him.
He does.
It hit him like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, his breath stilled in his chest.
“Oh.”
The realization settled over him, heavy and unrelenting. He leaned back in his chair, the fluorescent lights above flickering faintly, casting his face in sharp relief.
It clicks.
There was no escaping the truth now. Her departure left him with a hollow ache that no fight, no broken bones, or bruised pride could compare to. He was utterly defeated by her, again, not just by her sharp words or her unbearable dominance, but by the sheer brilliance she held—a brilliance that mirrored his own.
Only this time, he wasn’t the one wielding it.
“This hurt a bit more than the previous ass-whooping I got from her,” he muttered aloud, his voice barely above a whisper.
The words tasted bitter, but they were undeniable as his fingers brushed against his own lips, almost in a manner of stopping it from more truths spilling out.
God, her presence was an inescapable weight. The way she carried herself, the way she knew—like she had stripped him bare without even trying. She didn’t need fists to hurt him; she didn’t need power or rage. She had cut him with precision, wielding her words and presence like weapons he couldn’t defend against.
He talks like that.
He could see her face, the faint smirk that wasn’t meant to mock but still stung all the same.
He walks and acts like that.
Her exit replayed in his mind, the lazy wave of her hand, the light delivery of his own words—a devastating parody that lingered like a ghost in the air.
“Good luck, huh?…” he repeated quietly, his lips twisting into a grimace.
His own mantra, thrown back at him, stripped of all meaning.
“Goddamn.”
He exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. No matter how much he wanted to hate her for this, he couldn’t. Not fully. Beneath the bitterness, beneath the anger, there was something else. It was the way she spoke with such clarity, such precision.
He hated her for it.
And yet–
He respected her for it.
No—more than that.
He craved it.
Her power, her brilliance, her ability to command a room without lifting a finger—it was maddening, infuriating, and utterly intoxicating.
Gun leaned forward, his elbows resting on the cold surface of the table, his fingers clasped tightly together. The burn in his chest hadn’t faded; if anything, it had intensified.
“God damn,” he muttered again, the words heavy with a mix of frustration and reluctant admiration this time.
She had walked out of his life just as quickly as she had entered it, but the mark she left behind was seared into him, impossible to erase.
She had been right about everything, of course.
That was what hurt the most.
And Nova strode through the bustling streets of Seoul with the kind of elegance that couldn’t be taught—only possessed. She moved effortlessly, a living enigma who didn’t seek attention but commanded it nonetheless. Her silhouette danced between the glow of city lights, her platinum blonde hair gleaming like a beacon under the neon signs.
“Today was very stimulating…” she murmured, her voice as soft as silk, laced with satisfaction.
Her gaze flitted across the passersby, their heads turning as if drawn by some unseen force. Men and women alike stole glances, their curiosity piqued by her undeniable presence. But Nova didn’t care for their stares or their admiration. Her thoughts were elsewhere.
The countdown was over.
Three years and some change since she had last stood face-to-face with either of them. Gun and Goo—two men who thrived on dominance, control, and a touch of chaos.
Today, she had proven them both right and wrong in ways neither could have anticipated.
Nova smirked to herself, the corners of her lips tilting upward as she exhaled deeply. “They’ll get over it,” she mused, kicking some rocks.
She cooked, ate, and left no crumbs, as today’s generation would so aptly say.
Her heels clicked against the pavement, the sound a rhythmic reminder of her triumph. She inhaled the cool night air, savoring the freedom of the moment. There was a strange sense of satisfaction in knowing she had set something in motion—a shift, a ripple in their otherwise unshakable lives.
“Three years,” she muttered, her tone reflective. “All for today.”
And it had been worth every second.
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