#but then nobody gets to accept a death and move on because there’s always a chance they can come back

[libartz]

The great thing about characters constantly dying and reviving on Supernatural is you can just bring back anyone without explanation

‘So I’m writing a fic and they’re alive now’

‘Why’

‘Every main character has been revived without explanation 15 times this season. I think this underused character who died in season 5 gets to come back once. As a treat.’

[literaryavenger]

Happy Birthday

Summary: It's your birthday and the only person who doesn't seem to be excited about it is you.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of death. Angst. Fluff. Language probably. My poor attempts at being funny.

Word Count: 2.5K

A/N: This story was completely self-indulgent, but I hope someone out there likes it!

Masterlist

You’ve always been very reluctant to celebrate your birthday.

You haven’t had a birthday party since you were 12. The following year your mom died a couple of days before and neither you nor your family were in the mood to celebrate anything.

It wasn’t by any means unexpected, she had been sick for a few years, but it still hit you hard.

You were the youngest and were far too young when she first got sick to really understand everything going on.

You were 8 and all you really remember is watching your mom get more and more sick until eventually there was nothing more the doctors could do.

Her death hit you hard and you closed yourself off, never talking about it or even crying after the day of her funeral. To this day you’ve still never cried, in front of others or even by yourself.

You started exercising to channel all your energy, refusing to do anything more like the therapy your family suggested. 

When you were 15 you discovered SHIELD and decided you wanted to help others, so you signed up for the SHIELD Academy, working your hardest and pushing yourself to your very limit.

You ended up being not only the youngest cadet ever, but the youngest to actually graduate and then the youngest recruit at SHIELD at only 16 years old.

Natasha was very impressed when she heard about you and took a liking to you, convincing Fury to make you part of her team during her missions and teaching you everything she knows.

That’s how you ended up in the Avengers Initiative, not that you felt you didn’t deserve it since you know how hard you worked and everything you gave up to work towards this achievement. 

The team themselves were initially skeptical since you were barely 18 during the battle of New York, but they were quickly proven wrong when they saw how well you handled yourself against the Chitauri. 

You were devastated when SHIELD fell, but carried on as an Avenger, battling Ultron and then moving to the Compound with the team.

You met the actual Bucky for the first time when you were 22, during the whole Civil War thing with Baron Zemo. Like Natasha, you were on Tony’s team, fighting mostly Pietro, but the conflict eventually ended. 

It took Tony some time to get over the whole “Bucky killing his parents while brainwashed” thing, but, as he likes to say, he can’t call himself a genius without admitting that Bucky didn’t have much of a choice. 

Thanks to Tony’s help Shuri was able to find a solution to Bucky’s brainwashing faster than she would’ve alone, meaning Bucky didn’t have to go back into cryo and was pretty quickly cleared to join the team, about a year after the airport battle in Leipzig.

You were warmly accepted by everybody and, the more the team grew the more you felt at home with these people.

And now you wish you could burn down the whole compound because, somehow, Tony convinced you to have a birthday party for the first time in 13 years because, in his words, 'you only turn 25 once'.

Good news is you managed to make him limit the guest list to the team and other people close to you like Maria Hill and Fury. Bad news is you’re still gonna be the center of attention, which you hate.

You couldn’t stop Tony from making everyone dress up for the party, and you couldn’t stop the team from getting you gifts even though you insisted all you wanted was everyone together and to have fun with them since for the longest time nobody ever even knew when your birthday was. 

What you didn’t realize was that the only person more worried than you about your gifts was Bucky.

Since he joined the team the two of you have gotten close, starting with his first training with the team where he very loudly told Steve about his disbelief that someone as young and small as you could actually be an asset to the team.

You quickly put him in his place by taking him down after less than two minutes of sparring, taking full advantage of his underestimating you because he “didn’t want to hurt a pretty little thing like you.”

Admittedly he was impressed and wasn’t shy about letting you know that, while the rest of the team snickered at his initial shock when you pinned him down.

You became friends after that, not as close as you’d like but friends nonetheless.

If you were honest with yourself you’ve been harboring a little crush on the supersoldier, but he’s never shown any interest so you resigned yourself to just being his friend.

Something that you did come to treasure, though, is your and Bucky’s late night talks.

It started with you walking in on him in the kitchen on a late night where you couldn’t sleep, nothing new to you, but the two of you barely talked other than acknowledging each other.

You took a bottle of water and left.

A couple of days later you ran into him again and you stood there in silence while you made yourself a cup of tea and then left for your room.

A few days later again he was just sitting there and said nothing as you made your tea, except this time you put a cup in front of him and silently took a seat next to him at the counter.

Two nights later when you arrived at the kitchen he was already there with a cup of tea in front of him and one in front of the seat next to him.

You didn’t want to assume it was for you, but you took a chance when you noticed it was the cup you always used, a blue mug with Stitch on it that says “Let’s get weird”. Your favorite in fact.

You hesitantly sat down next to him and, without you having to ask or without even looking at you, he told you that the nights you stay up late because you can’t sleep you tend to be more quiet during the team dinners and while you hang out afterwards.

You didn’t say anything in return and just sat there, trying not to overthink how much he seemed to watch you.

But the more nights you spent like that, the more you two talked and you gathered quickly that Bucky is a very observant person, nothing more.

You loved the time you spent together after dark where you’d talk about everything and anything, but come morning it was almost as if it never happened, which you came to accept.

It weirdly made the nights you spent talking even more special, which was almost every night.

But back to the present, you’re currently getting ready with Natasha and Wanda, who know much more than you about hair and makeup and are always happy to help you out with getting ready for Stark parties. 

You put on the black cocktail dress with rhinestones all over the corset and a slit down the left side, then the three of you make your way to the party room and you take a deep breath before entering.

Everyone is already there, all dressed up in fancy clothes as they all shout “Happy Birthday”.

You laugh and say hi to everybody while they all take turns hugging you, there’s not too many people but everyone important to you is there.

Even Laura and Clint’s kids are there, which you consider a second family at this point, since Laura always did treat you like a daughter.

You hate to admit that it's a nice party.

Knowing you, everyone makes an effort to not put you too much at the center of attention and you just go around talking to your friends like every other party.

Eventually time comes for the cake and, the moment you kind of dreaded, opening the gifts.

Since it's the first birthday you allowed the team to celebrate everyone decided to go all in for your gifts, which you picked up on from the very first gift you open.

Pietro got you a first edition of “The Picture Of Dorian Gray” which is your all time favorite book, Wanda and Maria got you a leather jacket and an amazing pair of boots that you knew were expensive because you were all out shopping together when you came across them.

Steve got you a gold heart-shaped locker with a picture of the team inside it, Natasha got you a charm bracelet with a little charm to represent everyone on the team, and Sam got you a cute necklace with your birth stone on it.

When you open Fury’s gift you start laughing since it's a gun, a SIG SAUER P226 to be precise, which is very Fury.

“It was my first gun when I joined SHIELD.” He says with a smile and you smile back, knowing how much thought he put into this gift.

You open Clint’s gift next, a bow and arrow that he already taught you how to use, and Laura got you a pair of diamond earrings.

Your heart melts when you open Lila, Cooper and Nathaniel’s gifts, respectively a friendship bracelet, an Avengers action figure of yourself and a Stitch plushie.

The three of them hug you tightly as you say thank you and now you only have two gifts left, Tony’s and Bucky’s, and they’re both little boxes. 

You open Tony’s next, thinking it’s some fancy necklace or earring but you frown when you see a car key.

“Is this the key to your car?” you ask Tony, knowing full well you’re holding the key to an Audi R8 Spyder, the car Tony’s let you borrow so many times you’re now wondering if he’s gifting you his spare set of keys.

“No.” He says casually “It’s the key to your car.”

You’re even more confused and simply stare at him with your mouth gaped, not really processing the information.

“Y-you… You got me a car?!” You almost yell out of shock and everyone else starts laughing at your antics when you start basically jumping up and down and hugging Tony, squealing like a little girl.

“Well, come on, let’s go see it!” Tony says enthusiastically after you’ve calmed down, and you get up, just as enthusiastic, but are stopped by Steve’s voice.

“Wait, wait. You have one gift left.” He says, picking up the small box and giving it to you. “It’s from Bucky.”

You were so pumped up by the car, you almost forgot about it and completely miss the mischievous look Steve gives Bucky and the murderous glare Bucky gives back.

You also miss Bucky starting to protest before you open his gift, but he instantly shuts up when he sees your face falling the second you open it.

It’s a small necklace with a blue rose in it, it really looks like something you’d give a little girl more than a 25 year old woman.

You look at it for a minute, running your finger on it before you raise your head and look at Bucky.

The whole room goes silent as they all watch you worriedly, everyone noticing immediately that tears are streaming down your face.

Nobody understands what’s happening and nobody knows how to react or what to do, it’s like they’re all frozen by the sight of you being vulnerable for the first time ever. 

Meanwhile Bucky’s heart is beating so loud he’s sure everyone around him can hear it, and he feels himself starting to panic at the thought of having ruined your birthday with that stupid gift.

Everybody else got you expensive gifts and all he did was get you a small, cheap necklace that reminded him of a story you briefly talked about once on one of your late night talks about a necklace you had as a kid.

He saw it at the mall while looking for a gift for you, remembering the sweet smile you had on your face when you mentioned it and the fleeting sad look he thought he saw when you told him you lost it when you were 12.

He was really proud of himself for that gift, but the more he saw the other gifts you got the more he regretted his choice, especially after Tony gave you a fucking car.

And now you were crying, not saying anything while just looking at him.

He doesn’t know what to expect from you at the moment, nobody does, he thinks you might yell, throw his gift back at him, tell him how much you hate it and him.

But you surprise everyone by throwing your arms around Bucky’s neck, hugging him tightly while crying into his shoulder.

You honestly forgot telling Bucky about that story and certainly didn’t expect him to remember it, especially since you always got the feeling that he didn’t care about your talks as much as you.

You just assumed that come morning he deleted everything you told him to make room for more important things, and you didn’t blame him.

But he didn’t.

What you didn’t tell him about the necklace is that your mom gave it to you because blue roses were her favorite, you had that necklace since you were born but you somehow lost it the day of her funeral.

That day you lost the two most important things in your life and cried yourself to sleep, and that was the last time you allowed yourself to be weak and cry.

Until today.

Bucky hesitantly wraps his arms around you, rubbing your back hoping to get you to calm down. He looks around at the rest of the team, panicking a little and not knowing what to do.

Everyone else is as clueless as he is, never having seen you in such a state before.

Bucky starts apologizing, his heart breaking at the sight of you crying, and he feels horrible that it’s because of him.

You shake your head quickly and pull away a little to look at him, wanting to reassure him you’re not sad or angry but incredibly happy, but words refuse to come. You take a deep breath to calm yourself and finally manage to speak.

“Thank you. You have no idea how much this means to me.” It’s quiet, but it’s something, and it’s enough to make Bucky let out a breath of relief at knowing you don’t hate him or his gift.

He brings you back in for another tight hug, almost forgetting about everyone else in the room as you hug him back without hesitation.

You’re honestly not even embarrassed at crying, all you care about at the moment is Bucky, his arms around you while he lets you bury your face in his neck, like you’ve been wanting to do for years now.

“Happy birthday, doll.” He whispers in your ear and, for the first time in 13 years, you really feel like it is.

[katyawriteswhump]

Steddie Wiggly Wednesday🪱🐛🪱🐛

Thanks for the tag @wheneverfeasible and @medusapelagia and possibly some other lovely moots. Sorry, I move in ice ages!

CW for original character death. Don't worry, Steddie and all canon characters are safe.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Steve has an older brother, Cal, less than two years older than him. He loves his brother and hates his guts because Cal is stupidly perfect.

Not just grade A student perfect and state championship tennis finals perfect. Cal is so ridiculously, effortlessly nice. He floats above the High School popularity monster on some cotton-candy cloud of perfection—so high above all the shit that he can play Dungeons and Dragons with Eddie ‘freakshow’ Munson every week and walk away untarnished.

Steve’s pretty popular too, but he’s laboring for it the hard way— hanging with the ‘right’ crowd, dating the ‘mean’ girls. He’s sweating it out on the basketball court, barely scraping through the classes that Cal aced. Of course, his parents are pissed, and he knows he’ll never emerge from Cal’s perfect shadow.  Cal secretly gave Steve all his old class notes to copy and offered to coach him, but Jesus, who’s gotten time for that shit?

So yeah, Steve hates Cal, and he loves him too. When Steve figures he might be bi, he’s in need of his brother like never before, though can’t find the right words. He’s got a dumb crush on Tommy H and… Ugh, it’s not like he can tell Tommy, and even when Steve gets over his crush, nobody in Hawkins is gonna accept that kind of shit.

Naturally, his perfect brother sees when Steve stops hanging with Tommy and the others. Sees when Steve stops dating. On that spring night, when it’s only the two of them and a sixpack at home by the pool, Cal knows. Even before Steve starts to inarticulately explain how confused and screwed up he is. Even before Steve tells Cal he’s over Tommy, but he’s definitely queer, and faking being the Steve Harrington the world wants to see is killing him. He’s failing his classes, and Hargrove is humiliating him on the basketball court. Steve’s got a totally messed up crush on Billy too, even though the guy treats him like dirt. Steve is scared Billy knows, and… Crap, why is his life such a mess?

He cries. He hates himself for it, but he cries, and it’s okay, because he’s got his brother, and he hates how perfect Cal is. But Cal is always gonna be there, and he’ll always have his back.

Cal is off to MIT in the fall. So yeah, that’s gonna suck, until… Cal doesn’t go. Instead, he gets sick.

Really sick. Steve’s worried, but this is Cal, he’s perfect. Everyone says that Cal is gonna ‘beat it.’ As if, because he’s a good person, he’s going to somehow exert his magic over whatever fucked-up biology is destroying his body.

Cal has three months to live.

Eddie is devastated. It was supposed to be Cal’s final campaign before he ascended to the higher plane of an Ivy League school. Now it’s simply final.

Suddenly, Eddie is moving Hellfire Club to Hawkins General Hospital, and then hosting it at the fucking Harrington’s. Nobody is shrieking or dousing him in Holy Water, and it would be hilarious, if it wasn’t so horrible.  Obviously, Eddie is determined to make it the greatest, most metal campaign he’s ever conducted. He’s crumbling inside. They all are. These are the last days he gets to share with the guy from the ‘right’ side of the rails who looked at Eddie and saw Eddie, rather than the con-supremo-spawn of Al Munson.

Cal’s a-hole kid brother, Steve, starts hovering around when they’re playing. For obvious reasons. He needs to cling to every last moment with Cal, too. Lurking in dark corners, Steve starts staring at Eddie so hard it gets creepy. Eddie knows he’s pretty magnetic when he’s in full-on DM mode, but this is weird. Obviously, Steve must want ‘in,’ so Eddie reluctantly offers to help him draw up a character card, and… shock horror.

Steve Harrington isn’t that much of an a-hole. Now, it’s just the two of them, laughing and sketching and conjuring with D and D ideas, and Steve’s oddly jumpy. He doesn’t seem to be able to look Eddie in the eye, keeps staring at Eddie’s mouth, then touching his own, licking his lips. Eddie is… confused. Steve Harrington is cute. He is also supposed to be a repellent jock—not this guy who swerves maniacally between hilariously bitchy sniping and self-effacing over-apologies.

Once Eddie gets Steve going in Hellfire, Steve is stupidly over-confident, almost back to dumbass-Steve-the-jock. Eddie has a billion chances to slaughter him, and he refrains. For Cal.

Oh, and because, Eddie’s got a stupid crush on his friend’s kid brother. He figures out there is barely a year age gap between him and Steve, though. Cal was old in his year group, and Eddie one of the younger ones.

Still irrelevant. Steve is straight. Eddie’s 100% sure. Well, he would be, if Steve would stop blushing and glancing away whenever Eddie seeks eye contact.

Then Cal calls Eddie one night, asks him to come over. Cal’s getting sicker, so he detonates the bombshell.

You’d be perfect for my brother, man.

What the fuck?

Okay, so he doesn’t press Cal for details. It’s implied that Steve is into guys, but… Woah! Too much! His sick friend wants him to date his younger brother? Like, a dying wish? Yeah, Eddie likes Steve, and now he’s starting to read Steve’s feelings into the way Steve acts around him. But no way are they perfect for each other.

He gives it a shot.

On their first date, Eddie takes Steve to a dive bar Cal used to love more that it deserved, and where Eddie sometimes performs with Corroded Coffin. They make out around the back, against some dingy brick wall. They’re slightly drunk, and the kiss is wet and messy, and they’re stupid happy and then both so stupid sad that they stop trying not to be. They can’t kiss away the pain, but they can kiss. They cry so hard.

Eddie has found another Harrington brother who actually sees him. It occurs to him, more gradually, that he’s the only person in the world, other than Cal, who actually sees Steve.

What the fuck AGAIN?

And then he’s the only person left in the world who sees Steve, and besides Wayne, Steve is the only person left who really sees Eddie.

Steve loves Cal so much, and he hates him. He was so fucking perfect that he couldn’t possibly ditch his little brother without setting him up with a soulmate.

🪱🐛🪱🐛

My ST fic on AO3

no pressure tags: @mugloversonly @tea42 @fuctacles @queenie-ofthe-void

[blitzyn]

shut up

childe x m!reader

request: none

a/n -> im sick and tired of winter WHERE IS SUMMER. help i wrote some of this in public so i had to stop myself from acting out some of the motions just to figure out how to write it lmao. guys i kinda made him a little mean i just got a little carried away oopsies. anyways one more non req and ill work on reqs i hope

wc -> 3.8k

cw -> very dubcon, hate sex, a lil bit of blood, anal sex, spit as lube, not a lot of prep, degradation, manhandling, throat fucking, asphyxiation, reader is a masochist, mean dom childe, spitting (in ur mouth like once), chokehold, prone bone position for like 2 seconds lmao, brief descriptions of fighting, reader offs someone cuz he felt like it kinda, it starts sorta abrupt tbh lol, not beta read

Childe fucking hated you. This was old news—absolutely anyone who had the barest idea who he was knew that. Everyone within a twenty meter radius could hear him arguing about something, and it never seemed to be about the same thing more than once. There always seemed to be something the two of you nitpicked about each other, throwing it out into the open which, more often than not, led to a fight with no clear winner.

There wasn’t anything anyone could do about it since the two of you were Harbingers. You were ranked tenth after Signora’s death and The Balladeer’s desertion, just behind Childe who was in ninth. But that didn’t stop you from riling him up relentlessly, even finding some type of enjoyment from his anger because you knew it wasn’t particularly common to see. Really, there wasn’t much of a power difference between the two of you other than the fact that you were less experienced.

As such, you were often assigned to missions together—if assigned meant that you simply joined him when you didn’t have anything important to do, much to his obvious displeasure.

This time, you followed him towards a hideout hidden between large rocks. It was simple, and you preferred that it wasn’t so easily accessible, but you supposed that hiding it in plain sight was acceptable for now.

“I don’t like how easy it is to find this place,” you commented, taking in your surroundings as if you were impressed by how large the area was compared to the small cave entrance. “It’s so obvious.”

Childe only offered you a grunt in acknowledgement, making his way past a few scattered materials on the floor. This wasn’t a facility that the Fatui used as much as before, but some machines were still operational and functioning.

“Ignoring people when they’re talking to you is rude, Tartaglia,” you chided, but you couldn’t care less that he wasn’t responding. “Besides, it’s not like you disagree with me. You wouldn’t want a poor, helpless child accidentally stumbling across this place while they’re playing a game.”

He glanced at you from the corner of his eye, and you could see him grit his teeth when he noticed the smug expression on your face. “Nobody’s gonna find the entrance. It’s been around for years and there hasn’t been a trespasser.”

“Really?” You hummed, nodding slowly to yourself. “If you say so.”

He eyed you warily, instantly skeptical of how quick you were to accept his statement. But that wasn’t important right now—he needed to retrieve some documents and collect money from a few debtors.

“Just… Just stay here. Don’t touch anything,” he instructed, unnerved by how you obediently sat on a rickety chair and watched him expectantly.

“Yessir,” you replied with a playful tone in your voice, crossing your arms over your chest comfortably.

He silently stared at you for a few moments. “What are you planning?” He blurted out, annoyed with the eyebrow you raised in question. “You don’t like listening to me.”

You rolled your eyes at his accusation. “I don’t really favor getting chewed out by whoever needs those papers, so hurry up and get what you need. I’d rather talk to the debtors, anyways.”

He didn’t move from his spot for a few more moments before hesitantly making his way toward an isolated room, seemingly accepting your response. You chuckled through your nose at his reluctance as you swirled your finger around, creating a small rabbit made out of Cryo. It was quiet and unassuming as it silently hopped around before you sent it out of the room, searching for any valuable items worth keeping as you waited.

You leaned back in boredom, shutting your eyes to focus on keeping the rabbit's form. You could feel a faint hint of interest radiating through you from your creation, cringing slightly at the smell of metal before you relaxed again. The rabbit was mid-search when an arrow whizzed past it, nicking its back. Quickly, it fled, leaving a trail of Cryo. The hunter cursed loudly and chased after it, but it wasn't long before it made it to its destination.

Curious, you released your focus on the rabbit as you stood up to pick up whatever it found. You looked up when the hunter suddenly walked through the cave entrance, slightly surprised to know that they hadn't stopped trying to go after your rabbit. The two of you stared at each other before you spoke up in mild disinterest.

"Can I help you?" You questioned, inspecting your find once again. It was shiny and had intricate designs on it, but ultimately worthless.

"Uh... Uh, yes! Yes, you can," they said after a moment, scoping the area in search of their nonexistent rabbit. "Have you seen a white rabbit run through here? Small, quick, and leaving some sort of trail behind it," they described eagerly, taking a few steps forward.

"I'm afraid you can't come in here," you said, raising a hand to stop them in their tracks. You analyzed them for a moment, taking in their appearance. They couldn't have been older than fifteen, with shaggy brown hair and tanned skin.

"Then why are you in here?" They countered stubbornly, crossing their arms. It seemed they forgot all about their hunt in favor of digging into your business.

"That's none of your concern," you replied, ignoring their questioning gaze above your shoulder. "If you don't leave now, I'll have to resort to force."

You bristled a little when you saw them roll their eyes. Too stubborn for their own good, apparently. "Yeah? Well, I'm the chief's kid. What's a weird-looking guy like you gonna do to me?"

You frowned, visibly offended. You stared at them for a moment before raising your dominant hand again, this time letting an icicle form on the tip of your middle finger before flicking it directly at them. In the blink of an eye, they went down with a loud thud. "Kill you," you replied to the body.

You walked up to them and lifted their head by their hair, examining the wound on their forehead with a hum. Blood leaked in copious amounts down their face, and you couldn't stop the grimace when some landed on your foot.

"Oh, shit," you hissed under your breath when you caught a better look at them. You wondered why they seemed so vaguely familiar to you when the realization suddenly hit you-the chief was one of the debtors. You pursed your lips before standing up with a shrug, placing a hand on your chin to ponder different ways to dispose of the body without tarnishing the Fatui's name even further. "I suppose I could just toss them in a lake? Or lure in a wild animal to eat them? Burning's too obvious..."

"What the fuck did you just do?" You heard Childe curse from behind you. You turned around to face him, eyebrow twitching in interest when you noticed his normally void eyes alight with fury. Honestly, though, you didn't quite understand why he seemed so upset. Maybe it was because of how transactions with the debtor may not go as smoothly as he wanted, or the fact that the person you killed was still technically a child.

"Someone found the entrance," you shrugged, unbothered by his reaction. "We don't want anyone finding important information about the Fatui, right? So I killed them. I told you it was easy to spot." You rolled your eyes like it was the most obvious thing ever, which only served to anger him. You tried to make your way past him deeper into the facility in search of something interesting to take when a sudden blur slammed your body into a wall. You let out a pained grunt, instinctively wrapping your fingers around the wrist where he pinned you down by your throat.

You knew he was ruthless when he needed to be, but you weren't given a chance to see it with your own eyes up until now. He was far from gentle, holding your delicate neck with such ferocity it made your skin tingle. It was exhilarating.

"Like hell they just conveniently found the entrance," he spat, his voice low as he glared deep into your watering eyes. "You deliberately lured them in here, didn't you? And for what? Because you were bored?" He refused to slacken the hold around your throat, internally finding that he preferred how you looked when you couldn't breathe.

"You—cough—You're much the s-same, Tartaglia," you strained out, trying to furiously blink away your tears. "Don't pretend you don't crave vi-violence, too."

You could see him grit his teeth just before he tossed you to the floor, watching you cough and regain your breath with disdain in his eyes. "No. Don't compare me to a fucking psychopath like you. I don't kill kids just because I feel like it!"

"To-may-to, to-mah-to," you groaned, rubbing your sore skin. You could still feel his hand around your throat, his grip burned into your flesh in a way that sent a familiar heat through your groin. He took a second to examine your body before zeroing in on the growing bulge between your legs, disbelief written on his expression.

"There's no damn way," he muttered to himself as if trying to convince himself you weren't aroused by him strangling you. With a growl, he stepped forward and harshly pressed a foot on your crotch, merciless with the amount of pressure he used. He watched in disgust as your hips jerked in response, frowning deeply at the pained moan you let out. "You're seriously turned on?"

"If it wasn't obvious—" You were unceremoniously cut off by a swift kick to your jaw, accidentally biting down on your tongue. You tasted the metallic tang of your own blood that originated from your mouth and your nose, wiping it away quickly. Your cock only throbbed with an increased fervor in your pants that strained for release against the fabric.

"Shut the fuck up," he snarled, staring down at you for a few moments, deciding what to do with you now that he had this newfound information in his hands.

"What's gotten you so upset?" You teased him, obviously not taking your situation seriously. You felt a pleasurable chill run down your spine at the fierce look he gave you, sitting up a bit in anticipation when you saw his hand stray down toward his pants, roughly undoing them.

"You just can't shut your mouth, can you?" He hissed, leaning forward a bit to grab a handful of your hair. He yanked you closer, forcing you onto your knees as he pressed the tip of his flaccid cock against your waiting tongue. "Fine, then. I'll shut it for you."

You hummed at the salty taste of his skin, raising your hands up to hold onto the swell of his muscular thighs. He groaned quietly when you dragged your tongue along a prominent vein on the underside of the shaft, looking up at him through your lashes. You let out a garbled moan when he forced you all the way down to the base, seemingly satisfied with the way you gagged a little.

Your nose was buried within his pubic hair as your throat tightened and spasmed, feeling yourself beginning to drool as the thick strands of saliva seeped out of the corners of your lips. You could hardly breathe, but you loved it. You loved the way he tugged on your scalp, starting to move his hips back and forth. You tried to contribute as much as you could, but the way you could feel his cock hardening sent a pleasant ache through your jaw.

"Fucking hell... You're not fit to be a Harbinger," he spat, holding you still as he reached down to swipe a bit of the blood from your nose to messily wipe it on your cheek. You couldn't see what he was doing, but the patterned swipes made it clear what he was writing.

S, L, U, T.

The word sent a jolt of electricity down your spine. You could feel your cock twitch in your pants, leaking a profuse amount of precum that served to stain the fabric. You let out a moan and slipped a hand underneath your clothes, jerking yourself off shamelessly.

He let out a breathy scoff at the sight, but he couldn't help the way his dick throbbed when your throat squeezed around him. "You're too good at this," he groaned, gradually moving his hips faster until he was fucking your face. "You don't belong in the Fatui. You're better off at a goddamn whorehouse."

He relished in the sound of your chokes and gags, finding that he preferred this much more than your voice. He let out a heavy sigh and shut his eyes, tilting his head back in ecstasy as he lost himself in the sensations. He was unaware of how you shifted your hand lower, using your precum as a subpar replacement for lube to push two of your fingers in your hole. You weren't in any particular rush as you leisurely pumped them in and out of you, adding in the wet sounds to your strained moans and ragged breaths. You were brought back to your senses when you heard him bark out a mocking laugh, squinting up at him through the tears that accumulated along your lashes.

"You're fucking pathetic," he muttered lowly, almost to himself, but you knew it was directed at you. "Is this—shit—all it took? You just needed a dick shoved down your throat, huh? Should've known you were such a whore," he demeaned, and you could only whine in response. Suddenly, he leaned a bit forward to press the sole of his shoe onto your aching cock, watching intently at the way you choked in surprise. "Maybe the rest of us should get a turn with you? Turn you into our little fucktoy? Our good-for-nothing cumdump?"

A grin made its way onto his pale face, turned on with the amount of control he had over you. His left hand slid lower, maintaining a firm grip on the junction between the back of your head and neck as his other one moved up to pinch your nostrils shut. He thrust harder, faster, shuffling closer when you tried to tilt your head away. He ignored your muffled protests and focused solely on getting himself off, letting out satisfied groans that you weren't fully there to appreciate.

It wasn't until you could hear a high-pitched ringing did he finally cum, shooting his load down your throat without a care for whether or not you could properly swallow it. He held himself there for a moment longer before he pulled himself away with a harsh shove to your body. You coughed and panted hard, taking a moment to regain your composure before looking back up at him, eager for more.

"Still not satisfied?" He questioned rhetorically. You both knew you weren't done yet, not when you found out how he could get when you pushed his buttons just the right way. "Stupid question, huh?" He huffed a laugh through his nose before roughly kicking you onto your stomach, dropping to his knees not a moment later. He haphazardly tugged your pants and underwear down in one go, ignoring the pained hiss you made when you felt yourself sandwiching your drooling cock between your abdomen and the floor. He spread your ass apart to spit on your asshole, shoving a finger inside you for good measure before jerking himself off using some of his saliva.

"Tartaglia, please—hurry," you whined, looking over your shoulder to meet his gaze. It was satisfying to see you in such a pitiful state, but the sound of your voice, although hoarse and raw, annoyed him.

"Be quiet or I'll leave you here like this," he snapped, giving your asscheek a quick slap before positioning himself over your hole. He rubbed the tip of it against your skin for a moment before pushing himself inside, groaning loudly at the feeling of you clamping down on him so perfectly.

It fucking hurt; after all, you only used two meager fingers to prepare yourself, and even then, you hadn't done much. It burned like he was tearing you apart but in the best damn way. The pain of being stretched out so mercilessly only mixed in with the insatiable fire in your groin, shooting jolts of electricity up your spine so intense you nearly came on the spot.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck! Tartaglia, please, you're so—!" You cut yourself off with a moan when he suddenly slammed himself down all the way, ramming the head of his cock against your sensitive prostate.

"I said shut up!" He demanded, pressing his hips down to grind against you. He wasn't as deep as he could go in this position, but he still managed to fill you up just right. You groaned when he leaned down, pinning you to the ground with his body weight as an arm snaked around the front of your throat, pressing it against you firm enough to restrict some of your airflow.

Instinctively, you raised a hand to grab at his forearm, digging your nails into the scarred skin in a futile attempt to get him to ease up. You could hear every sound that left his lips, every labored breath that brushed the shell of your ear. It didn't take him long to start moving, pulling out until only the tip remained before slamming back into you mercilessly. You could feel every inch and vein with each drag of his cock, your body jolting alongside his harsh thrusts, grinding your dick up and down on the ground.

"God... you're so damn tight," he muttered, picking up the pace. A low moan escaped his throat when he pressed against your prostate just right, ignoring your fleeting struggle.

It was hard to breathe. You could feel him everywhere around you all at once, and it didn't help that he fucked you hard enough to knock the breath out of your lungs. Your moans and whines were strained and hoarse, clawing at his arm, but you knew you didn't really want him off. Your body ached at his rough handling as wet slaps echoed through the abandoned facility, briefly wondering if anyone outside could hear, but you could hardly maintain your train of thought long enough for it to become a concern. He fucked you fast and rough, hips slamming against your ass hard enough to sting, but he didn't find it in himself to care.

"Tar-Tartaglia! Slow...—!" You tried to plead, beginning to find everything overwhelming when you cut yourself off with a squeal. He quickly shifted himself, leaning back to hold your throat with his hands as he pulled, forcing your back to arch uncomfortably.

"No," he replied, tilting his upper half over you just enough to spit in your gaping mouth. He felt you tighten in response as he relaxed his hold the slightest bit, feeling you swallow his saliva eagerly. "You wanted this. So you're gonna fucking take it."

The heat in your belly intensified to an unbearable degree, and with the way he practically filled up every crevice of your hole, you weren't sure you were going to last much longer. With one hand on your throat, he moved his other one down to spread one of your asscheeks to intently watch his cock move in and out of you. He could feel every twitch and shudder you made, and it satisfied him to know just how easy you were to break down despite your initial resistance.

"Fuck... I can feel you," he groaned, yanking your head back a bit to get you to look at him. "You're about to cum, huh?"

It was hard to find the right words to reply when he fucked every thought out of your head, but the panic in your eyes made it clear that you didn't want him to stop so suddenly. And although he wanted to see you beg like the whore you were, he needed to finish this quickly. He still had a job to do, after all.

"You're lucky I still need to collect some money," he growled, glaring at you with familiar disdain. "Otherwise I would've left you like this for hours."

With renewed vigor, he removed his hand from your throat to roughly push your face down by the back of your head, tugging your hips up to bury himself deeper inside your ass. You cried out in ecstasy as your eyes rolled back, making an attempt to withhold your orgasm when he wrapped his fingers around your throbbing cock, jerking you off in time with his punishing thrusts, but to no avail. Barely a moment later, you came with a loud moan, cumming so hard it left you lightheaded and dizzy.

He chased after his own release, giving you a few more rough thrusts before he stilled, burying himself as deep as he could go inside you. You could feel his thick cock throbbing as he filled you up with his cum, shuddering at the warmth before you slumped back down to the ground. He remained still for a moment longer, catching his breath while he watched you tremble. With a sigh, he pulled out, grimacing a little at the sight of his dick slick with fluids, but he tucked it back in his pants regardless.

"Get up. We have to hide the body and get to the chief before anyone finds out you killed his kid," he said impatiently, walking towards the hunter to inspect it.

"Just... Just bury them, or something," you suggested, taking a moment to calm down before pulling your pants up. Finding a reflective surface, you summoned a bit of your Cryo and melted it with your body heat to wipe away the crusted blood on your face.

"Eugh... I can feel your cum," you found the energy to complain, turning to face Childe with annoyance written on your face. The audacity.

"Shut up and let's go. We're already behind schedule after your bullshit." He scowled, picking up the body, already having decided what to do with it. At least it wasn't your problem anymore.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say," you said, quickly fixing your appearance. If it weren't for the slight limp in your gait, nobody would be able to tell he just fucked you within an inch of your life. Perks of being a Harbinger, you suppose.

cross-posted on ao3

[yongility]

NEO TV # I LIKE ME BETTER WHEN I'M WITH YOU. (jaehyun x reader) 1/? [next]

genre: angst, suggestive, gang au, rich kid au, enemies to lovers (kinda), a lil of fluffy stuff.

warnings: drug use mentions, gangs, fights, use of weapons, adult language, illegal activities, cheating (not on the main couple), toxic family environment, addictions, manipulation, insecurities, illegal street racing, death mentions. jeno is jaehyun's younger brother, angst, smut and if I slip something my bad haha.

word count: 10k?

a/n: I’m a sucker for cliche stuff so as soon as this fic popped in my mind I had to write it down, english isn’t my first language tho.

if you want to be in the taglist, just lemme know;) enjoy!

At SM City, things were simple.

Either you were born on the North side of the city where everything was filled with luxuries, privileges, incredible status, and the newest and most expensive things in the world, or you were born on the South side, where your childhood and adolescence could never be enjoyed because you would live surrounded by illegal businesses, in which eventually you would end up being a part of even if you didn't want to.

There was no third option.

There never was, and it wasn't expected that there would be.

SM City was radiant and beautiful... as long as you were in the Kwangya area because as soon as you set foot in the Neo Zone; things turned completely dark. Things were not always like this precisely; at some point in the past, despite the notorious differences between these two areas, Kwangya and Neo Zone had a synchrony that created an almost perfect balance and kept the city in maximum beauty.

But it was impossible to keep things that way.

Being part of the North side had its advantages: wealth, privilege, extravagant parties, designer clothes, and everything anyone could want, it would be in their hands as soon as they asked for it. Did you want a trip to the other side of the world? Done. Did you want the latest Louis Vuitton outfit? Of course. Did you want the newest car? Okay. Having it was as easy as asking for it.

They only followed one rule: do not approach Neo Zone unless your life depended on it... which would never happen.

While growing up on the South side was something peculiar. It didn't matter what you dreamed of, it didn't matter your future aspirations or your talents. Just by being born in Neo Zone; your life was already prescribed.

You would end up becoming a drug dealer, a hitman, or anything that involved ilegal businesses. Those were your only options. There were no others.

Did you want to get out of Neo Zone? Yeah, good luck with that.

On the South side, bad moves, riots, and problems were so common now that residents were accustomed to it. They began to accept their life and what destiny had prepared for them, even if it wasn't what they wanted.

Your age didn't matter, nothing mattered; as soon as you turned fourteen years old, you started your initiation into the Neo Zone gang. Each person had a different initiation and they had to complete it if they wanted the support and respect of the other inhabitants of Neo Zone, if not... you would end up fighting for your life alone. Without anyone's help, without anyone's support, and ending up being a nobody.

Welcome to Neo Zone, where there is an area as bright and welcoming as day and another as cold and dark as night.

______________________________________________

SM City was a small city, which meant there had to be at least one place where the inhabitants of Kwangya and Neo Zone had to mix and live together, and that place was none other than the high school. They shared the hallways, shared classes, the cafeteria, and that was not pleasant for either side.

Despite the always existing differences between the south side and the north side, the one thing the Mayor couldn't deny Neo Zone was education for its youth, and even though there were protests from Kwangya's parents about that abrupt mix, the mayor's idea would never change.

Because deep inside, he believed that the power of education would change his students and turn those Neo Zone vandals into good and promising individuals.

However, this opportunity served a completely different purpose for the youth of Neo Zone.

Because... What better place to do their business when it was Friday and many were looking to have a bit of fun on their weekend? It was no secret that the youth of Kwangya would take any opportunity to squander their millions of wones on some party made every new weekend. A party surrounded by the most expensive alcohol, the most relaxing and crazy drugs, and surrounded by hormonal teenagers who spent their time having sex whenever possible.

Jung Jaehyun wished that his business was different.

The boy let out a heavy sigh, frustration evident as he rubbed the bridge of his nose, quickly glancing at his friend before returning his gaze to the slender boy in front of him, who had his head bowed, hands and lips trembling and sweat drops were running down his forehead from fear.

Anyone facing Lucas Wong and Jung Jaehyun would feel fear.

"Look dude, this is the third time this week that I've come to look for you" Jaehyun said with a deep voice.

"I know, I know. It's just that..."

"I don't want to hear another lame excuse, you've given me enough of those already" he interrupted, dangerously approaching and grabbing him by the collar of his shirt, clenching his fists in it "look, I'll make things clear to you; you owe money to my boss, that shit you asked for is expensive, do you get it? He gave you a week and a half to pay for it, and guess what? The deadline ended... how long ago, Lucas?"

"Five days ago" Lucas, who was standing just behind his friend with his arms crossed over his chest, answered, flexing his muscles.

"Right, five days ago" Jaehyun affirmed, then looked to the side where the boy's Tesla was parked. He huffed with a sideways smile and returned his gaze to him, shaking his head slightly. "Those drugs won't pay for themselves, and you know it. You had a deadline to give us the money, and my boss was kind enough to wait for your little delay, and guess what? He's not very happy about it" he continued explaining without releasing his grip. The boy in front of him swallowed hard and nodded. "Daeho, you're surrounded by money, how hard can it be for someone like you to pay a few wones for the drugs you enjoy so much at those damn parties you throw?" he received no response, only seeing fear in Daeho's eyes and the fact that he couldn't give a good answer was starting to bother him.

He pushed him slightly with the collar still in his hands. Jaehyun clenched his jaw, and Daehyun closed his eyes momentarily.

"Jaehyun, let him go, I think he gets it" Lucas intervened when he saw his friend's white knuckles from the tight grip and knowing that if Jaehyun's patience was pushed further, things wouldn't end well.

"Sorry, I'm really sorry" Daehyun nervously apologized.

— Being sorry won't do a shit... your car is new, isn't it?"

At Jaehyun's unexpected question, Daeho furrowed his brow and shifted his gaze to Lucas, who simply nodded, then looked back at Jaehyun and swallowed hard.

"Yes, it is."

"Hmm, I see" Jaehyun examined the car meticulously, then scoffed and looked back at Daehyun with a smirk. "It's incredible to know that you can afford a damn car that costs much, much more wones than the money you owe us."

"My... my dad paid for the car. The money... the money is from my parents" Daeho stammered "I can't ask my dad for money for drugs, he would kill me" Daeho explained, avoiding Jaehyun's gaze and receiving a stern look from him.

"You should have thought about that before asking for them, you shitty addict" Jaehyun muttered, and Lucas placed his hand on his friend's shoulder, trying to calm him down.

"Let me talk to him" he requested, and Jaehyun, looking back at Daeho, finally released his grip, stepping back a bit, allowing his friend to continue. "Alright, Daeho, here's how it is: you owe us, your deadline ended a while ago, we've come to look for you three times already, and no matter the excuses you keep making up, you still haven't paid us. We want the money tomorrow, or the next visit won't be us, but our boss personally. And if you fear an angry Jaehyun, you should fear our boss more" he clarified while giving some not-so-gentle pats on his back.

"Tomorrow, at eight sharp, we want the money" Jaehyun announced, getting closer to the boy again.

"Tomorrow is Saturday, there's no school. Where am I supposed to give you the money?" Daeho asked, confused.

"We've looked for you several times, haven't we?" he questioned, not getting a response. "Haven't we?

"Yes."

"Good, tomorrow we have a race. Go to Neo Zone's main street and find us, we want the money with you" he requested, still smiling.

"Jaehyun..." Lucas called, and he shook his head.

"No Yukhei, we've given him many chances" he declared, approaching Daeho "Next time, you should think twice before asking us for more drugs if you won't pay on time.

Jaehyun turned around to walk away from the boy with Lucas by his side, but suddenly he stopped and chuckled. Returning to Daeho, he gave him a smile that made him even more nervous. Jaehyun looked around, making sure they were the only three people in the parking lot, and before Lucas could say or do anything, Jaehyun's fist hit Daeho's stomach, making him cough and place his hands on his abdomen, letting out groans of pain.

"Next time, don't play with us, you little brat" Jaehyun patted his back and winked.

Lucas hurried to take his friend by the arm and lead him away while muttering curses. They walked together to Jaehyun's car, and once they arrived, they got in. Lucas let out a heavy sigh as he shook his head, looking at his friend.

"I don't want to listen to you" Jaehyun spoke as he leaned back in his seat.

"We came to give him a little scare so he'd pay up, not for you to beat him up and ask for the money at tomorrow's race. Are you nuts?" Lucas asked, looking at him with disdain. "If Daeho goes to Neo Zone, they'll tear him apart, and you know it. As soon as he sets foot there, they'll know he's from Kwangya, and he won't be welcomed with flowers and claps."

"I gave him plenty of chances, and he didn't take them. Whatever happens to him next is not my problem," murmured Jaehyun as he tapped the steering wheel with his thumb. "Look, Lucas, I sold him the stuff, I asked the boss to give him a week and a half to pay, and now that he hasn't, the boss is getting on my nerves. He either pays or I make him pay. It's that simple."

His friend sighed and scratched his head as he looked out the window.

"At least make sure he doesn't have a rough time tomorrow."

Jaehyun scoffed. "Whatever. I couldn't care less about that rich boy"

____________________________________________

(Y/N) opened the large door of her house, and before she could say anything, Daeho took her by the arm and started walking with her trailing behind him. (Y/N) furrowed her brows and followed the confused boy, who began to climb the stairs and she almost stumbled trying to keep up with his pace. Her cousin continued the journey, then entered her room and locked the door. (Y/N) sat on her bed, breathing heavily, and gave a disapproving look to the boy in front of her.

"Could you stop acting like a damn paranoid and tell me what's going on?"

Just over half an hour ago, when she had arrived home from school, Daeho had called her sounding a bit nervous and asking if her parents were home. (Y/N) asked for the reason for his state, but he simply replied saying that he would come to her house and explain everything in there.

And not knowing what was going on was also making her nervous.

"Okay, it may sound strange, but I really need your help," Daeho pleaded, looking at his cousin with a plea in his eyes.

She looked at him confused and tilted her head, trying to decipher the look of the boy in front of her.

"What did you do this time, Daeho?" (Y/N) asked. "I'm not going to lie to your parents again if that's what you want."

"No, that's not it," he hurriedly replied.

"Then what is it?" she asked, crossing her arms.

They had grown up together, sharing everything from an early age. Wherever Daeho did... (Y/N) would also. Did she enroll in music lessons? Well, Daeho did too. Did he want to go to a summer camp? (Y/N) did too. They did everything together, they were always there for each other, and that's why they knew each other so well, too well, and every time Daeho said he needed help, (Y/N) couldn't help but to feel anxious. Her cousin always found a way to get into trouble, and the person who was always there to get him out of trouble was none other than his dear cousin.

"Hmm," Daeho scratched his head. "I need you to lend me some money," he said almost in a whisper, but loud enough for her to hear.

(Y/N) burst out laughing, and Daeho looked at her seriously, which made her realize that her cousin was not joking, and she furrowed her brow in confusion.

Of all the things she expected her cousin to ask for, money was the last thing on her mind.

Both families were among the wealthiest in the area. Their parents, being siblings, shared the same royalties in the family company. The same company that would soon be in their hands. Their parents were known for the international business they conducted, for the galas they organized to donate money to the city, and for the luxuries everyone knew they had. Money was never a problem for the Hwang families, so why was her cousin asking her for a loan?

"Money? Isn't it easier to borrow from your parents than from me?" she asked with a smirk.

"I can't ask them for money; I exceeded the limit for this week and now I'm grounded, they blocked my bank account for two weeks" he explained with frustration.

"Well then, how much money do you need?" she asked again.

"A few wones," he replied without looking at her.

"How much is 'a few wones'?"

Daeho sighed and nervously scratched his head before looking at her again. He closed his eyes for a moment and, without opening them, he replied, "545,000 wones."

(T/N) widened her eyes and then shook her head.

"545,000 wones?" she repeated, and he nodded. "What do you need that for?"

"It doesn't matter what it's for," he hurried to say.

"Well, it matters if you're asking me for a loan," she said simply.

The girl knew he could have expensive tastes, but she didn't know how he had exceeded his weekly money limit when the week wasn't even over yet, and he still needed more money. The same money he didn't want to ask his parents for.

So no, her cousin wasn't acting normal, and that worried her. First, he called her nervously asking if he could come to her house, then he took her to his room while asking if his parents weren't home, and now he asked her for money without intending to tell her what it was for.

What trouble did you get into, Hwang Daeho?

"If you don't tell me what you need the money for, I won't lend it to you," she warned him, and seeing that she didn't get a response, she got up from her seat and stood in front of her cousin, pointing a finger at his chest. "Fine, I won't give it to you, and I'll also tell my uncle that you asked me for money."

Daeho widened his eyes and shook his head hastily, taking his cousin's hands and looking at her with pleading eyes, pouting, and speaking, "Please, don't tell Dad, I don't need a lecture right now," she looked neutral, "(Y/N), please."

"Tell me what you need the money for, I won't tell anyone, and I'll lend you as much as you need. Even more, but be honest."

He sighed for the thousandth time that day and finally relented.

"It may or may not be that I asked for drugs..."

"What?" she interrupted. "Daeho, you told me you wouldn't use anymore," she said angrily.

"I'm sorry, okay?" he said, raising his hands defensively, "but we had that party two weeks ago, and I couldn't bear to spend a whole night with my parents and all those people asking me about my future, when I don't even know if I want to keep getting up every day!"

(Y/N) knew the pressure her cousin felt about his future because she felt the same pressure. Being the next in line for an international company left many people wishing, and every chance they got, they bombarded them with the same questions about it. Making both of them wonder if they were good enough to fill the big shoes their parents would leave behind. If they were capable enough to be the leaders their parents were. They knew they had carried that weight since they were little, that their lives were already determined from the moment they were in the womb. (Y/N) knew her place and her responsibilities. She was aware that any mistake she made would affect her future. She couldn't make any mistakes, not even one, or it would be the next topic at their father's business meetings.

Just like Daeho was.

She had always been like that; upright, responsible, making sure things went as they should. Almost perfect. The pressure was even greater on her, after all, many didn't trust her just because she was a woman. They believed that really the only one who could take over the company in the future was Daeho, and that hurt her pride because she tried. Really, she did. She put all her effort into that company, even when she was still in high school and didn't have time for her university career yet. However, from an early age, she was involved in the business world, she wanted to do more and be more. Because she needed to be the pride of her family. Her father's pride. There was nothing else she wanted more.

She wished she could shut people up.

And Daeho, on the other hand, was different. All eyes were on him, expecting him to be the only leader in the future, but Daeho hated everyone's attention.

Everyone's attention except his parents.

If there was one thing different between (Y/N) and Daeho's families, it was their parents. Daeho's parents were absent. They were always away on business trips, in the office, or anywhere but home. That was part of the reason why he was so close to (Y/N); during his childhood, he spent more time with his aunt and cousin than with his own parents. And that led him to do things that would catch their attention. Daeho was known as the rebel, yet people still expected a lot from him. He always threw parties whenever his parents were away on trips in the hope that they would return soon and spend time with him. He spent money on unnecessary things so that his parents would call him when they were away, and among all his needs to get their attention, it led him to drugs.

"(Y/N), I know I said I would quit it," the boy spoke again. "But believe me, right now it's the least of my worries. I need to pay for that stuff tomorrow, and I can't ask my parents," he explained impatiently.

"God, Daeho," she sighed. "Okay, I'll give it to you," she rolled her eyes and went to her bag, opened it, took out her wallet, took all the bills she had in there, then went to her desk and took a little more from one of her boxes. "Who do you owe the money to?"

Daeho swallowed hard at the question and looked at her guiltily.

"To... Jaehyun," he murmured, and she slapped her forehead with her hand.

Jung Yoonoh, or as many knew him: Jaehyun. If someone described him in simple words, it would be: leather jackets, tattoos, cigarettes, gangs, and drug deals. If she described Jaehyun, it would be with a single word: danger.

He wasn't just a drug dealer. Jaehyun was always in fights and in bad situations. Jaehyun participated in illegal races. He was the one who showed up to first period with bruised knuckles, a split lip, and a cigarette in his mouth. He was the one teachers respected – or rather feared – and never messed with him. He was the one you wouldn't look at for more than five seconds for fear that it might bother him, and things would end badly. Jaehyun screamed danger at its finest, and that caught the attention of many people.

However, if you wanted good stuff to have a good time, to escape your worries, or simply to annoy your parents, Jaehyun was the person you should go to. It wasn't a secret that he was one of the dealers at the high school. Hell, even the principal knew. Everyone did. He and his group of friends were the people you should stay away from if you wanted to be okay, the only reason you could or should communicate with them was to make a deal. Nothing else.

Being from Neo Zone, he was the last person you wanted to associate with, and there was Daeho, buying stuff from him, then owing him money, and asking her to lend it to him.

"Of all the people you could have asked for your damn drugs and then stay in debt, did it really have to be Jaehyun?" she asked with frustration, hitting him on the head. "You could have gone to that guy Taeyong. At least he has a bit more manners," Daeho lowered his gaze, and she sighed, "Okay, take the money and promise me... promise me that you'll never buy drugs again, much less from Jaehyun," she asked.

Daeho took the money from her hands and nodded with a smirk.

His cousin really was his savior.

"When do you have to give him the money?"

"Tomorrow," he replied as he put it in his wallet, looked at his cousin, and swallowed hard. "I might have to go to..."

"Please don't say Neo Zone, please don't say Neo Zone," she begged in whispers.

"Neo Zone," Daeho said again, lowering his gaze. His cousin covered her face with her hands while shaking her head vigorously. She sighed; why did her cousin always find a way to get into trouble? Revealing her face, she walked straight to her bed, where she threw herself onto it, grabbed her pillow, and put it on her own face before letting out a frustrated scream.

Daeho sat on the small couch in the room, looking at the money in his hands while thinking about all the possible scenarios that could happen the next day.

Of all the places her cousin could go, it had to be there... it had to be Neo Zone. She imagined what could happen as soon as he set foot there, and the thought that maybe her cousin wouldn't come out of there scared her. They had never set foot there; they didn't know for sure how things were done, but it was enough to hear the rumors about that area to fear it.

Now Daeho would go and get involved there.

And she would have to do something to make sure he came out with all his limbs intact.

She removed the pillow from her face and let out a heavy sigh, got up from the bed, and sat on it. She looked at her hands for a moment and anxiously played with her fingers. She thought about the words that would come out of her mouth: would she regret saying them? Possibly, could something go wrong? Maybe, but that's who she was. She would take care of her loved ones' lives before her own, because that's (Y/N) for you.

"I... I'll go with you," she said almost in a whisper. Daeho raised his eyes extremely quickly, almost panicked, looking at his cousin. He couldn't risk her, he couldn't put her in danger.

"(Y/N), you won't go. You'll stay here; we won't even argue about this," Daeho spoke, standing up and looking at her defiantly.

"It's my money you're carrying with you; I'm involved in this, and I'll go with you because I need to know that you'll be okay," she also said, standing up.

"Listen, me going to Neo Zone is already stupid and dangerous, you going with me is even more so I don't want to put you in danger; if something happens to me? Fine, it's under my responsibility, but I couldn't bear the guilt if you get hurt."

"Daeho, I won't let you go alone. We've always done things together. If you're in trouble, I want to help you. Just like you would if it was me," she explained, raising her voice.

"(Y/N), I really don't want to argue about this. You're not going..." he was interrupted.

"In one way or another, I'll go with you. Whether you want it or not ," she finished, crossing her arms.

Daeho looked at his cousin for a moment, analyzing her face. He knew that once she had made up her mind about something, there was no turning back. She was stubborn and determined, and if she had said she would go with him, she would.

He sighed and nodded.

"Fine, but I swear to you, (Y/N), if something happens to you, I'll never forgive myself," he said sincerely.

"Don't worry about me; worry about not making me regret going with you," she replied with a small smirk.

Daeho rolled his eyes and shook his head with a small smile.

Of course, his cousin was like that.

"You'll have to wear something less conspicuous," Daehyun spoke, breaking the moment.

"What do you mean by less conspicuous?" she asked, tilting her head.

He approached his cousin and put his hands on her shoulders, then looked her straight in the eyes.

"(Y/N), you can't go dressed like a rich girl. You'll attract too much attention, and it won't be good for you," he explained.

(Y/N) narrowed her eyes and shook her head, removing her cousin's hands from her shoulders.

"And what do you suggest?l she asked sarcastically.

Daeho smirked and shrugged.

"Just wear something that doesn't look like it costed you millions" he replied.

(Y/N) looked at her cousin incredulously and sighed.

What was she getting herself into now?

______________________________________________

(Y/N) took a quick look at the large mirror in her room and observed the clothes she had put on. Nothing extravagant, nothing expensive, nothing that screamed her social status. If she could keep a low profile, she would, and she hoped it would work.

She didn't know how to feel. Fear and nerves were running through her body and could be seen reflected in her eyes; her hands were sweating, and she had to wipe them on her pants, letting out a long, heavy sigh, trying to erase all the negative thoughts that came to her mind.

Would something happen to Daeho and her while they were in Neo Zone? She hoped not; she hoped they would just hand over the money and leave that place as soon as they could.

She grabbed her bag with her belongings inside and left her room as quietly as possible. She walked almost on tiptoe along the long hallway, passing her parents' room with great care and approaching the stairs. She checked the time on her wristwatch; it was seven thirty in the evening. The way to Neo Zone would take them about fifteen minutes, and hopefully, they would be there by the agreed time.

She cursed Jaehyun with all her being for getting them into this, but she cursed her own cousin even more for getting involved in these situations.

She began to descend the stairs, one by one and carefully. Her cousin was at the main entrance of the house, waiting for her, and the last thing she wanted right now was to run into one of her parents.

And it seemed that was exactly what she asked for.

"(Y/N)," her mother's voice was heard behind her from afar. "Where are you going?"

The girl closed her eyes for a brief moment and cursed under her breath. She adjusted her posture and turned around to see her mom leaning on the second-floor railing.

"Um, I'm going out with Daeho," she replied, moving her head slightly.

"Oh, has Daeho come?" her mother asked.

"Hmm yes, he's waiting for me outside," she replied.

"Well, where are you and Daeho going?" her mother asked again, this time getting closer to her daughter, descending the stairs and stopping before her.

(Y/N) swallowed hard. Lying to Daehyun's parents when he got into trouble was easy... lying to her own parents was something different. Very different. She tried not to move her hands anxiously as she always did, a movement that everyone in her family knew, something that betrayed her every time something happened.

She clenched one of her fists at her sides to avoid doing it and cleared her throat.

"Daeho said something about seeing a new movie and then going out to dinner. You know that my uncles are traveling this week, and you know how lonely Dae feels when they're not around," (Y/N) murmured the last part.

Her mother looked at her from above and squinted her eyes for a few seconds, then smiled as she nodded. She raised her hand and brought it to her daughter's cheek to stroke it slowly, causing her to hold her breath.

"Of course, dear. Keep your cousin company, offer to spend the night here so he doesn't feel lonely until your uncles arrive," she said, then pushed one of her hair strands behind her ear. She then gave her daughter a quick once-over and wrinkled her nose a bit. "Poor choice of clothing, dear. Too casual. Remember who you are; you can't go around like that... looking like a homeless. What will our associates say if they see you like this?" She put her hand on the girl's shoulder, feeling the fabric's material and wrinkled her nose.

(T/N) fought with herself not to roll her eyes right there and push her mother's hand away abruptly. She hated it when her mother told her what to do, what to wear, or what to say. She hated the phrase she always used against her, "remember who you are." It made her feel so small, as if her status or her way of acting were more special than what she thought. Than her own thoughts.

"Of course, mother," she replied simply, as she always did. No matter how many times she tried to gather the courage and say everything she felt... it never worked. Her mother's gaze would always manage to intimidate her, and she was tired of it.

She turned around to continue her way and walked through the entire place from the stairs to the main door. She left her house after a while, crossed the main yard until she reached the entrance. She greeted the security men with a simple nod, and they opened the doors for her to finally exit. Her cousin's Tesla was in front of her; as she got in, she saw Daeho tapping lightly on the steering wheel with one of his fingers.

"Why did you take so long?" Daeho asked impatiently.

"My mother stopped me as I was leaving my room," she replied, taking a deep breath.

Her cousin didn't reply; instead, he started the car and drove off. None of them spoke throughout the journey, possibly because of the anxiety it caused them. The city looked increasingly different as they approached the Neo Zone area. The streets were now darker and lonelier; (Y/N) could feel her chest pounding strongly. Her hands were sweating, and she felt a slight pressure on her chest.

May nothing go wrong tonight.

She shifted her gaze forward and finally could see the lights of Neo Zone in the distance. A few more minutes, and they would enter what would determine whether they would continue to live or not.

Was she being dramatic? It was just a part of the city. It couldn't be as bad as they painted it, right? Maybe everything they had heard from their parents or older people about that place was just an exaggeration.

Right?

She didn't even notice it. She didn't even feel when her cousin's car stopped. Daeho let out a sigh and lightly tapped the steering wheel in frustration.

"Well, we arrived on time," her cousin murmured, (Y/N) nodded, and they both got out of the car.

A few meters away from them, they could see a bunch of people. Some drinking, others smoking, others dancing, and others having passionate sessions with others. The music volume was loud, too loud for a public place. However, the car engines could be heard over it. Loud and clean. (Y/N) remembered Daeho mentioning that there would be a race... one that surely wouldn't be legal.

Daeho stood beside her, and they looked at each other. He nodded slightly, and together they began to blend in with the crowd. For a moment, they thought they had gone unnoticed. It seemed that many people were busy with their own business to even notice them.

Or so they thought.

(Y/N) stayed close to her cousin, who was leading the way for both of them. She bumped into some people from time to time, but none bothered to turn and look at them. It wasn't until Daeho felt a hand on his chest stopping him and causing (Y/N) stopped abruptly, colliding with her cousin's body.

"Oh, well," a deep voice spoke. "Who are you?" asked the broad-shouldered man. His arm muscles were large and with a particular tattoo. The Neo Zone one.

The girl swallowed fearfully and stayed behind her cousin.

Great. Just great.

"Excuse us," Daehyun spoke, trying to keep walking, but again the man stopped him.

"I hadn't seen you around here before," the man spoke again. "I repeat, who are you?"

(T/N) looked around, now seeing more people cornering them. The difference between them could be noticed. It was clear that neither she nor Daehyun fit in there. It was clear they weren't part of Neo Zone.

That had been a bad idea. A very bad idea.

Someone took her by the arm and separated her a bit from her cousin. They did the same with him. Placing him right in front of the big man, who impatiently awaited an answer.

"Aren't you the Hwangs?" someone asked from afar. Upon hearing her last name, (Y/N) turned her head to see who had spoken, seeing one of her schoolmates among the crowd.

She forgot that several people there attended the same school.

"Oh, the Hwangs?" the man questioned. "As the kids of Hwang Inc’s owners?”

Before anyone could even say anything. The crowd parted, and the tall figures of Jung Jaehyun along with Lucas Wong appeared. Jaehyun stood between the man and Daeho and smiled slightly, patting him on the shoulder.

"Calm down, Hanseok. They're with me," Jaehyun said firmly. He turned to look over his shoulder at the Hwang cousins and clicked his tongue.

"Hmm," the man, now known as Hanseok, looked at each boy and then at Jaehyun. "What are you doing associating with someone from Kwangya?" Hanseok approached the girl, and before he could get too close to her body, Jaehyun stopped him by placing his hand on his chest and Lucas slipping in front of her.

"Business," the boy replied. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to take him... take them to the boss," Jaehyun stopped looking at Hanseok and changed his gaze to the Hwang cousins. "Let's go."

Neither Daeho nor (Y/N) uttered a word. They both followed Jaehyun and Lucas, who were heading towards what seemed to be a garage, which was surrounded by cars and was dimly lit. (Y/N) swallowed hard and kept walking. Thanks to Hanseok, all eyes were on them. They could feel each of them staring at their bodies, watching them meticulously. Waiting for a wrong move to pounce on them and tear them apart.

The air was tense, and Jaehyun knew it.

Now he was having second thoughts about bringing Daeho here.

But screw it. Daeho had let him down. He owed money to his boss, and his boss was being a painful nuisance in his balls.

He glanced back to see the Hwang cousins; Daeho walking cautiously and (Y/N) behind him trying to look calm, although she actually looked like a scared little mouse.

He clicked his tongue and shook his head. The idea was to bring only one Hwang. Just Daeho, why did he bring his cousin along? Something wouldn't end well tonight.

“I don’t remember telling you that you could bring someone with you” Jaehyun said without looking back at them. “The deal was only you coming, not your cousin as well” they both could hear the anger in his voice”

And before Daeho could answer, she spoke “I tagged myself along” (Y/N) said. “It wasn’t Daeho’s idea”

“I thought someone like you would know better” he gave them a side smile and scoff”.

Lucas stood beside him, and both stopped when they reached the entrance of the garage. Two of his boss's bodyguards were guarding it and looked at them with superiority.

"Cheol Uk, the boss is waiting for us," Jaehyun explained, looking neutral.

"Only two people can enter," Cheol Uk replied nonchalantly. Jaehyun and Lucas looked at each other, and the former sighed. He nodded and turned to the Hwang cousins with no expression on his face.

"You brought the money with you, right?" he asked Daeho, who nodded eagerly. Jaehyun clicked his tongue and looked at Cheol Uk. "The boy and I will enter."

Daeho quickly turned to look at his cousin, and she could see a bit of panic in his eyes at the thought of leaving her alone, but she straightened up and smiled slightly, mouthing a "I'll be fine."

"Lucas will stay with her," Jaehyun told Daeho, who turned to look at the mentioned.

"I'll take care of her," he assured, approaching the girl and nodding at her.

Jaehyun gave Daeho a little push, and they both approached the entrance even more, the bodyguards inspected Daeho, making sure he didn't have any weapons with him, and once they saw he was clean, they allowed them to enter.

(Y/N) swallowed when she saw her cousin's body disappear through the entrance.

Everything will be fine. Everything will be fine.

She felt Lucas Wong's presence beside her. Both standing side by side, saying nothing, and the atmosphere was weird. (Y/N) began to play with her fingers unknowingly and moved one of her feet slightly. Lucas looked everywhere except at the girl. He didn't know what to say because the situation wasn't really the best. His boss was angry, and he knew what his boss was like when he was in that state, so he didn't want to make (Y/N) panic right there because he wouldn't know how to calm her down.

It had been a bad idea of Daeho to bring her here.

The brunette straightened her back and with a little curiosity, she looked around. The night had completely fallen by then, the full moon reflected on them, and the lights of the city and the place created a contrast. The music could still be heard even from where they were. And from there, in her position, she could be a perfect spectator of what that scenario was.

The car engines roared, the girls in mini skirts stood in the middle of the highway to announce the start of the race. The young people, who were also (Y/N)'s classmates, drank effusively as they moved their bodies to the rhythm of the music. Some had a cigarette between their lips, others brought their nostrils to what seemed to be a key and inhaled strongly from it, and their eyes widened when the substance was inside them.

Lucas let out a sigh that (Y/N) could perfectly hear, looking at him, she noticed how the boy put his hand in his jacket pocket and from there took out a small bag and some papers to roll. He placed the substance on the paper and rolled it carefully, then after a moment, brought it to his mouth and lit it. He inhaled deeply, furrowing his brow slightly, and slowly released the smoke from his lungs, causing it to reach the girl, who coughed when she smelled the smell of that substance reach her nostrils.

"Do you participate?" she asked, trying to break the ice.

"In what?"

"In the races."

"Sometimes," Lucas replied. "Not right now because I'm fixing my car, the last race didn't end well," he continued.

"Oh..."

"Jaehyun does it," the boy said as he took another drag of his cigarette, then offered it to the girl, who quickly declined. "He's one of the best in the area."

"Is it fun?... racing like that?" she questioned, looking at the highway.

"Yes, it is," he replied simply, bringing the cigarette to his lips, sucking slightly, and holding the smoke in his lungs. "It's really a stress reliever, and it's even more fun when you get the final prize," he released the smoke, and this time, he didn't receive a response from the girl, but she remained silent and continued to watch the show in front of her.

A few minutes passed... (Y/N) lost track of time, but it really seemed like many minutes had passed, but finally, the garage door opened, and she looked up with shining eyes to see her cousin. However, she found only Jaehyun arriving at the place. (Y/N) frowned and looked behind Jaehyun's shoulder, searching for Daehyun, but the door closed, and he never came out.

A pressure in her chest became present, and she walked to the door to try to open it, but she was stopped by Cheol Uk himself. She tapped her chest a bit to let her go. Mumbling a couple of nonsensical things and kicking before feeling the pressure of a hand on her arm, holding her back. Cheol Uk sure had strength and was beginning to hurt her arm.

Where's Daeho? Where's Daeho? Where's Daeho?

If something happened to Daeho, she wouldn't know what to do. She wouldn't know how to react.

She didn't know at what point, but someone’s hands took her from behind and separated her from Cheol Uk. They moved her away from the door a bit, and then she slightly felt her feet touch the ground. She couldn't focus on what was happening.

(Y/N) always used to worry, and maybe that was her weakness. Thinking that something could happen to one of her loved ones drove her crazy in every imaginable way, and now there was Daeho, on his own, inside a garage with some mobsters. What if it ended badly? What if he got shot? What if he got stabbed?

"(Y/N)," she heard a voice calling her, and after shaking her head, her attention focused on the boy in front of her. On Jaehyun. Who looked at her with one of his eyebrows raised and without any emotion on his face.

"Where's Daeho? Why didn't he come with you?" she asked hurriedly.

Jaehyun glanced quickly at Lucas and then returned his gaze to the girl.

"My boss wanted to talk to him alone," he explained.

"Why?"

"He owed money, his deadline expired almost a week ago. It wasn't just a few wones he owed, and my boss wanted to make a few things clear to him," he explained again, staying neutral.

She swallowed and then squeezed her eyes shut.

It was now or never.

She had never imagined in her life trying to do business with someone from Neo Zone, much less with someone like Jaehyun, but as they said somewhere, "desperate times call for desperate measures." So there she was, on a Saturday night at an illegal race, with her cousin inside a garage with other mobsters, Jung Jaehyun in front of her, and her hands sweating like they had never done before.

So, to protect her cousin from future problems, she would have to do it.

"Jaehyun?" she called softly. Jaehyun looked up at that, his name, his nickname, sounded so different coming from the lips of that girl that it almost sent a chill down his spine. How weird that felt. "Can I talk to you?" she asked, and Jaehyun looked at her with confusion, then glanced at Lucas, who was in a similar state, and nodded. (Y/N) cleared her throat and smiled sideways. "Alone."

Again, a look of confusion crossed his face, and he glanced at his best friend, who was already moving away from both of them. He looked at the girl and noticed how she lightly played with her fingers. Then, she followed his gaze and immediately stopped her hand movements, embarrassed and feeling her cheeks heat up a bit.

"What do you need?" he asked, looking into her eyes, and before she could say a word, he spoke again. "I won't sell you drugs if that's what you want."

(Y/N) frowned and quickly shook her head.

"Hey! I'm not Daeho, I don't put that stuff in my body, and that definitely wasn't what I wanted to talk about," she replied, pointing at him with one of her fingers.

Jaehyun thought she looked cute with her annoyed face.

"Well, then enlighten me," he asked with a sideways smile.

She cleared her throat again and unconsciously started playing with her fingers again.

Yes, that was definitely a tic.

"I... wanted to ask you something," she murmured, and when she didn't receive a response from the boy, she continued. "Could you... could you stop selling to Daeho?" she asked without looking him in the eyes. Why couldn't she meet his gaze?

He chuckled softly and then received a glare from her.

"Oh, are you serious?"

Jaehyun looked at her in surprise for a few seconds. He observed every detail about her. From her slightly furrowed eyebrows to her lips that were almost pouting. Then to her hands that played with each other, and then to her clothes, which were very different from what he usually saw her wearing at school. This was more casual; it didn't scream 'look at me, I'm the heir to a billion-dollar company.' This felt more like her, it suited her very well.

But he shouldn't get distracted. Especially not by someone like Hwang (T/N). So he scoffed and gave her a sarcastic smile.

"I'm sorry, Angel, but business are business. I can't stop selling to Daeho just because you ask me to. He's my client, after all, not you" he said, crossing his arms.

"You know my name, Yoonoh," she snapped, mirroring Jaehyun's movement and crossing her arms.

"You know not everyone is allowed to call me Yoonoh," he approached her with a furious look.

His name was something different. Only his family and very close friends called him that, and no one outside that circle could or should call him that. It just wasn't allowed.

So now she was coming and doing it?

"Don't sell anything to Daeho," she asked again, this time with firmness.

"Business. Are. Business," he repeated, emphasizing each word.

"Let's negotiate then," (Y/N) challenged. "How much money do you want?" Without hesitation, Jaehyun burst into laughter and shook his head slightly, making the girl look at him with annoyance and clench her jaw.

Was Jung Jaehyun really laughing at her? Who did he think he was?

"Angel, things don't work like that," Jaehyun teased, running his tongue over his lips. "You won't just come here and tell me what to do or not do, who to sell my shit to and who not to. That's just how things are," he explained with some gestures.

"Listen, Yoonoh," she placed her index finger on the boy's chest and tried to push him, although it was in vain. Jaehyun was stronger and managed to stay in place, not even moving an inch. Jaehyun lowered his gaze a bit to see her eyes and narrowed them, but at that moment, it didn't intimidate her. "Daeho promised not to use again, but I know him. As soon as his parents leave the city again and he feels lonely, he'll come looking for you to buy more stuff. One of the times he did, it ended badly. They punish him every two weeks because he's overspending, and I don't want him to be late with his payment again, because now he's there," she pointed to the garage. "With your boss, who's angry, and I don't know what he's capable of. Daeho has changed a bit since he started using. I'm afraid it might become an addiction and end badly. He lost weight. He's sleeping less. I don't want his habits to change and harm him. If my uncles find out about this, they're capable of anything, even sending him away until he changes those thoughts," she sighed and moved away from Jaehyun a bit. "Daeho is like a brother to me. We've always been together, and I'm afraid something will happen to him, either because of an addiction, a late payment, or whatever. I promised myself I would always take care of him, but I'm failing, and if I can do something to change that now, I will. Just... just stop selling to him."

She murmured the last part, and after a few seconds, she looked into Jaehyun's eyes, hoping to find a response in them, but she saw nothing. Not even an emotion. Nothing. They were flat. Empty.

Why did she think that was a good idea?

Everyone thought that the great Jung Jaehyun had no weaknesses. Or at least that's what he always showed. That was his facade. A tough guy, a dealer who had been through so much that nothing scared him. That was his life, or at least that's what others believed. His body was covered in scars, possible results of the many fights he had had throughout his life. His character was cold, a result of all the hard things he had been through. Of everything that being and belonging to Neo Zone meant.

Of everything that being Jung Jaehyun meant.

Of course, he wouldn't accept the deal with (Y/N) just because of her sentimentalism.

Of course not.

"Ugh, forget it. I shouldn't have even thought about asking you that," (Y/N) murmured as she walked away from him and let out a small sarcastic laugh. Had she forgotten who the boy in front of her was?

But Jung Jaehyun did have weaknesses. Deep down inside him. Amidst everything he presented to the world, they existed, and although no one might know them, they lived with him; and Jeno, his little brother, was one of his weaknesses. He had spent his whole life trying to take care of his brother, trying to prevent him from ending up like him. Trying to keep him away from anything that could hurt him, and if taking on a great responsibility within Neo Zone, even if he hated it, to take care of him, it was necessary... he would do it.

His family would always come first.

Then, the image of a Sicheng came to his mind, causing his throat to dry up and his eyes to close for a moment. Listening to (Y/N) talk about her cousin and how she felt the responsibility for him fell on her somehow shook him. Maybe there was something similar between them.

Something small but significant.

He sighed, debating internally.

“Do you want to negotiate? Then let's negotiate” his voice came out thick and a bit hoarse, (Y/N) turned slightly, surprised by the words that had come out of Jaehyun's mouth. “So, what do you have to offer me?” he prompted, raising his eyebrows.

(Y/N) moved her bag hanging from one of her arms to the front and began searching for her wallet. When she opened it, she remembered something: she didn't have any cash with her.

“Hmm, I don't have cash, but we can go to a nearby ATM and I can give you whatever you want” she said hurriedly, then Jaehyun laughed.

“So, you're offering me money, angel?”

“Well, yes, what do you need?”

Jaehyun made a pensive gesture and placed one of his hands on his chin. Then he looked at the girl and smiled slightly.

“Are you doing well in school?” he asked. Of course, she was doing well in school; she was the top of her class. (Y/N) nodded without understanding. “Alright, do my homework for the rest of the year.”

She frowned and looked at him incredulously.

“Of all the things you could ask for, you want... me... to do your homework?” she asked, confused.

“Look, I'm not doing well in some classes, and the principal warned me that if I didn't improve or maintain my grades, I'd have to drop out. And do you know what that means? That's right, no school, no clients. No clients, no money. No money, angry boss. Do you understand what I'm saying?” he asked, and she nodded “so do my homework, give me your notes, and let's make a deal.”

“You want my notes too?” she asked incredulously “besides, wouldn't it be easier if I gave you money? With whatever you ask from me, you could surely quit working. You wouldn't have to sell drugs anymore.”

Jaehyun scoffed and shook his head. “Do you really think it's that simple?”

“I mean… yes” she replied simply “I give you money, then you won't have to work on your own and stop selling. See? We both win” she said triumphantly.

However, he laughed. “Things don't work like that here, sweet cheeks. It's not just selling and that's it, there are other things, and things aren't that simple. Maybe where you live, it is. But not here. I can't just quit the business like that.”

(Y/N) sighed and looked into Jaehyun's eyes, trying to find something in them. Can't quit the business? She was sure that if Jaehyun was smart enough and asked for enough money, he could survive a few months without needing to continue his drug deliveries and without getting into trouble. So why would he pass up an opportunity like this?

“Jaehyun, just give me a number and I'll write you a check.”

“It's not just about the money for me!” he exclaimed annoyed “look, I'm not here for this... it's not something you'll understand, and it's not something I'll bother explaining to you. It was nice talking to you, Hwang, but I don't want your money” Jaehyun finished, turning around and walking away from the girl without saying anything else.

She closed her eyes and cursed under her breath.

“Wait... do you want my notes and for me to do your homework?”

He smiled slightly and turned around to face her again. Looking at her cynically.

“And a coffee every Monday, like those rich kids drink you have… Oh! And also, if I ever ask you for something, you'll have to do it” Jaehyun spoke playfully.

“What? Will I be your maid or something?”

“Deal?”

“Jaehyun...”

“Deal?” he emphasized this time, raising one of his eyebrows and giving her a hard look. Extending one of his hands, and she looked at him hesitantly.

Was it really necessary to shake hands?

Moreover, of all the things she could give him; money, clothes, jewelry... damn, she could even buy him a plane ticket to an island and a free vacation if she wanted to... did he decide that she would do his homework for the rest of the year, in addition to treating her like his servant whenever he pleased?

Jaehyun sure was interesting.

“Is there any catch?” she asked hesitantly, looking at the boy's hand.

“Take it or leave it. I can continue selling to your cousin, it’s up to you if you want to close the deal or not” he shrugged. (Y/N) gave him one last look and without saying anything else, she took Jaehyun's hand in hers and shook it.

“Deal” she murmured, looking at him directly.

Jaehyun gave her a sideways smile while still shaking her hand and nodded cynically. (Y/N) swallowed hard and quickly let go of the boy's hand.

She hoped he would keep his word, because as soon as he broke it, she would forget who he was, and she herself would kick his ass if necessary.

“It was nice doing business with you, Hwang (Y/N).”

Hopefully, she wouldn't regret doing business with Jung Jaehyun.

What could go wrong?

“You know that Daeho can go to any other dealer, right? I'm not the only one he can call” he questioned a bit obviously.

“I know” she replied, letting out a sigh “You take care of making your part of the deal, and I'll take care of the rest” he looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

“Do you know that you also can't go around offering deals or money to other dealers just because your cousin keeps getting into trouble?”

“I know, Jaehyun! I know..”

“The deal I made with you has been innocent. Believe me, another dealer won't ask you for homework and class notes. They'll take advantage of your vulnerability” Jaehyun commented “I'm just saying, be careful with who you talk to and who you get involved with. This is not your zone, you had never set foot here before, you have no idea how things are handled in business here, and nobody... nobody will spare a thought for your little story of the protective cousin who wants to save her cousin from an overdose.”

“You did it though” (Y/N) retorted defiantly.

Jaehyun sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumbs: “Look, I'll stop selling to Daehyun because I keep my word, but you can't make every dealer in Neo Zone do the same. Much less by offering deals to anyone who crosses your path, because money won't be the only thing they'll ask for in return” he continued, this time looking her up and down, making her feel small under his intense gaze. (Y/N) bit her cheek inwardly and then cleared her throat.

“I can take care of myself, thanks for your concern, Yoonoh” she replied with a fake smile.

“I'm not concerned” Jaehyun responded with a smile as he turned around “And (Y/N)?” he saw her over his shoulder “don't call me Yoonoh again. Good luck with your mission of taking care of your cousin as if he is a child, you can leave or stay, maybe you want to see me run.”

When Jaehyun was far enough from her sight, the garage door opened and a Daeho was pushed by Cheol Uk, until his cousin fell to the ground, letting out a groan and placing his hand on his abdomen as he writhed in pain, causing (Y/N) to run towards him with panic evident on her face. She knelt beside him and took his face to examine it, identifying the bruise on his cheek, the cuts on his eyebrow and lip, and the blood running from the latter.

Daeho smiled slightly and after coughing, spoke weakly: “The debt has been paid”.

You're an idiot, Hwang Daeho.

a/n: taglist is open! thank you for reading! wait 4 the next chapter!

next part

[farshootergotme]

https://www.tumblr.com/ruestheday/765956792656265216/one-of-the-biggest-lies-the-fandom-will-tell-you

Opinions on this post?

I'd say that I agree with what this person is saying. As much as I give Bruce shit for his parental skills (which are flawed and shouldn't be overlooked, don't get me wrong), we can say Alfred is partially one of the main reasons why Bruce is the way he is.

I won't say anything about "Alfred should've/could've taken Bruce to therapy" because then we gotta consider a lot of things about the decade when Alfred was introduced and his age in-universe, as Alfred might've not lived in a period in which therapy was widely accepted and even recommended. But I won't dwell too much on that.

Now, I don't think Alfred is necessarily an evil person, but he can be quite selfish and a coward when it comes to facing consequences (which he rarely gets, if ever).

When shit hits the fan, he's the first one to back out. Why should he be responsible? He's only a mere butler (until he goes and calls Bruce "his son").

He's always detached just enough from the situation that nobody will look at him when looking for someone to blame for a problem that Alfred was most likely involved in.

Bruce might be the Batman, but it's Alfred who works from the shadows and leaves the responsibility of his decisions to the rest.

Does he do this on purpose?

Hard to say. I think he's in a way aware of his cowardice and harmful tendencies, but he doesn't have an active intention of hurting others. However, lack of intention does not mean lack of action, and despite whatever he might feel or believe, he does many things that end up in someone's hurt and even death.

And don't many consider it, but to me it doesn't come as a surprise that Bruce is so emotionally constipated and an unavailable father when he never had someone to learn from about proper parental skills.

Bruce never knew where he stood with Alfred, and Alfred didn't help to make it clear. At first, Bruce was just his master. A responsibility left behind by his parents, but still with the authority to order around the person who's supposed to be his caretaker. And Alfred? We know how much of an enabler he is, but also how inconsistent he can be when it comes to letting Bruce get away with things. And how confusing that must've been for a child? To never have clear boundaries to respect, rules to follow and his behavior corrected.

Kids learn from habit and patterns, and I don't believe he'd see much of that with Alfred, who jumps from his role as a father to his position as a butler way too often for a young mind to fully comprehend. Add to that the fact Bruce already had a position as a rich kid, which would've led to even more people forgetting to set boundaries with him due to his influence.

Now it's not so weird to see him getting away with his toxic behavior towards his children instead of confronting his mistakes like a parent should, right? But I digress.

So, moving onto the next point: child soldiers.

The post you sent mentions Alfred's involvement in the later creation of Robins. But how can he normalize sending kids out there to fight a war that isn't theirs? Well, that's when you remember Alfred joined the army at quite a young age, and there he must've seen even younger kids working as soldiers. What are the chances he has a messed up view on what children should and shouldn't (have to) do?

Subconsciously, he must've internalized this idea of children fighting for their country, and when he saw Robin for the first time, it might've brought back that idea and so he allowed this child to fight for a city that was not even his yet. And then came Jason, then Tim, then Steph, Cass, Damian, Duke... They just kept coming, and Alfred kept pushing this idea.

Jason died? That's a shame, but war is unrelenting, and soldiers are expected to die. It doesn't mean the rest should stop fighting, right?

"Jason Todd, a good soldier".

On top of all that, Robin is good for Batman. Robin is the light Batman needs. Robin can help Bruce, his boy. His son. And who's Alfred if not a messed up man? He'll put the children at risk if it means helping the boy he failed to help before. And when he gets attached to said children, it'll be too late to try pull them out, and then they'll be just another repetition of what Batman came to be when he allowed Bruce to leave.

As for Julia Pennyworth, Alfred was separated from Marie—his then partner—due to war, and found out about Julia's existence only two years after she was born. Their relationship had been distant since then. Julia didn't know about Alfred, but he requested a friend to take care of her and kept sending money all the years to come after making his friend promise not to tell Julia about him, his real father. Why didn't he ever go to see her? That's because, according to Alfred, he was afraid to disrupt her life. But if I'm being honest, I think he also didn't feel ready for the responsibility. And when he became Bruce's guardian, he still was not ready, but Martha and Thomas were his friends, so there must've been a sense of responsibility and guilt influencing his decision.

To summarize, Alfred Pennyworth is an extremely flawed individual and he should not be absolved from any of his mistakes.

[bagerfluff]

Your My Rose

Nico di Angelo x Male Reader

Prompt - Royal AU

“No” Nico sighed.

This was the tenth woman that Nico had rejected. What’s happening, you ask. Well, Nico was a prince. He was the only royal left in his kingdom. So Nico needed to find someone to marry and have at least one kid with.

So all of the women gathered and waited to see if Nico would accept them and marry them. But there was one little problem with that, Nico was gay.

And in love with the gardener.

But nobody could know that. It wouldn’t be a problem if the gardener was a girl, but he was a boy. A boy named Y/n. You were about the same age as Nico, maybe a little older. You worked for Nico’s mother, the Queen before she died.

You worked because you didn’t have any family and you needed money and shelter. Nico’s mother, being the kind woman she was, took you in. As long as you tended to her flowers. Nico grew up with you.

You were one of his only friends.

You were kind, caring, shy, and funny. You made Nico smile after the death of his family. How could Nico not love you? But nobody could know. Though you loved Nico back, that didn’t matter. Nico didn’t want to marry someone that he didn’t love.

That’s what if mother said, “never marry someone you don’t love”. Maybe she said it because she knew her son was different or maybe she was just smart. At first it was fine. Nico could reject lots of girls because there were plenty more.

But girls were running out and people were getting suspicious. Higher ups, people part of the court wanted to bring in princesses and women from other kingdoms. Nico hated that idea, but he hated the idea of marrying someone that wasn’t you more.

Nico glanced down from his throne.

Nico saw the last girl. She was short with even, short brown hair. Her dress had holes all over it and she looked terrified. At first the guards brought higher up woman. Ones with lots of money and status. They just weren’t royal.

But Nico could tell that they were desperate. Bringing any woman that they found. Nico sighed and picked his head off his hand. Nico moved his arm off the armrest and looked at the girl.

Everyone in the room was silent. Nico could see people praying out of the corner of his eyes. “No”, Nico said sternly. The girl let out a sigh of relief, something very few did.

Nico got up and started to walk away. Nico knew that people were going to talk to him. Try to change his mind. Nico didn’t want that. “Your Highness!”

Nico turned around to see one of his guards running towards him. Nico took a deep breath. Nico turned around and folded his arms over his clothes. A black and gold robe. They looked like a suit but more free.

“The Crown Guard wants to speak with you”, Nico turned around. “Well, I don’t want to talk to them. Tell them and everyone else that I’m done for the day”, Nico walked away. Nico heard the yelling but he ignored it.

Nico walked until he was right in front of the doors of the garden. At this time of day you would be working. You reached up and grabbed his crown.

Nico looked at it.

It was a silver ring with gold and bronze flowers around it. Nico loved it. He remembers taking it from his mothers head and wearing it. A bittersweet memory. Nico never wanted this. His older sister was meant to take the crown.

But she died.

Nico wasn’t even ready. He was a child when he was crowned. Now Nico is older. He knew he had to do this but he hated it. Nico wished that he could just run away with you. Nico placed the crown back on his head.

Nico pushed the doors open and walked out. The garden looked the same. It always did, you were very good at your job. On the right was a big tree. Nico remembers having picnics under that tree. And running around with his sister.

Nico grimaced.

To the left was a big patch of flowers. All different types of flowers. His mother told him the names of all of them but Nico can’t remember them. There was a large fence around the entire thing and beaches litter the field.

Nico heard humming and looked over to his right. There you were, wearing dirty clothes with even dirtier hands, with a smile on your face. You were watering the roses against the building.

When you looked up and saw Nico your smile widened. “Hello Beloved”, you placed the watering can on a bench. You walked closer to Nico and kissed his forehead. “Be careful”, Nico chided. “I know, but I couldn’t resist”.

Nico smiled slightly. You were as worried about being found out as Nico. Nico walked over to the bench where you placed the watering can and sat down next to it.

You moved the watering can to the ground and sat next to Nico. “You okay?” You asked. Nico was a little mad. He didn’t feel like talking but you always knew when Nico was upset. “They brought more girls in”, Nico said and that's all you needed.

Nico had told you this before.

How he hated what they made him do. Nico’s told you how he wants to run away. Nico’s told you how he wanted to marry you, that might have made you blush. “It’s okay” “No it’s not”, Nico grunted.

Nico looked over at you. Despite being covered in dirt Nico still thought you looked amazing. Hair fluffy from running your hand through it, skin tan from being outside all day, smile always on your face.

Nico looked away and looked at the flowers in front of him. They were daisies, or that’s what Nico thought. They were bright, not one hint of them dying. Neither of you said anything, you knew not to.

Nico needed a minute to think. “Well”, you looked over at Nico, “do what you want”. Nico looked at you confused. Do what he wants? What did Nico want? Nico wanted peace, to live his life how he wants to. He wants to marry you and rule his kingdom with you by his side.

He wants you. You stood up and walked in front of Nico. You grabbed Nico’s hands and held them in yours. “Whatever you do I’ll be right by your side”, you kissed Nico’s hands.

You dropped them and picked up your watering can. “And I’m sure they would be proud of you”, you walked away. Nico knows who you are talking about.

And Nico believed you.

Nico spent the rest of the day watching you work.

You two talked when you took breaks. Talking about the day, making out. It helped Nico calm down and get ready to sleep. A guard came out and told Nico it was time to rest.

Nico got up and walked away as you said goodbye. Nico wanted to stay, but you two had to be careful. Nico didn’t want anyone to know yet. He wanted to savor the time he had with you without everyone knowing about it

But what you said made Nico think. He would have to think about it more, but Nico had an idea about what he wanted. The guard walked with Nico all the way to Nico’s room. Then the guard bid Nico a goodnight and stood outside the door.

As Nico walked in he immediately got out of his clothes. There was no one to help him, Nico didn’t like that. So Nico removed his clothes and placed them down in a noticeable spot. So one of the maids could find it.

Nico then switched into his bed clothes. They were much more comfortable than his royal attire. Nico walked over to his bed and removed his crown. Nico looked at it before placing it on the table next to his bed. When Nico looked over to his bed he noticed something.

A single rose.

With the thorns plucked off, on his pillow. Nico knew who it was from. Nico smiled as he picked up and smelt it. Nico looked at the rose with a smile before placing it in a jar, with other flowers.

Nico got into bed and turned so he was looking at the jar of flowers. Each one made Nico smile. Nico blew out the candle and closed his eyes.

As wind blew into the room from the open window that overlooked the garden. 

[milliesfishes]

How about modern reader encountering ghost Billy? Thanks

꣑ৎ౨ৎTender Is The Night꣑ৎ౨ৎ

[fem reader] contains: mentions of death/dying, angst, reader is emotionally neglected pairing: billy the kid x fem reader summary: fem reader x ghost billy the kid author’s note: (modern au) based partially on @goosita ghost billy au (which I've been dying for an excuse to write for) which is based on lisa frankenstein (love) Pinterest Board Spotify Playlist

The graveyard was a desolate place for eternal rest.

Billy had wandered the hills, trailed through the forest in search of a better spot, but his fear had gotten the better of him. When one spends enough time in a place it becomes comforting, whether it originally was or not.

Time was a cruel wound, and it was never ending, which meant the pain of life's halt stretched long into the future; a destination beyond Billy's comprehension. He had hoped once the bullet stopped his heart that he would continue on into a next life.

Instead, he was stuck between worlds. A spirit ignored by the majority of the living, left to pace the earth until some higher power decided another fate for his soul. A century and some change passed, and he was hardly visited through any of it. Only a groundskeeper every now and then would come to tend to the tombstones, brush up the greenery a little, and then leave for decades.

His grave was unmarked by any name, his body below decayed into nothing. This was his resting place decided on by his enemies. The joke was on all of them though. They were just as forgotten as he was.

Occasionally a single person would come along to explore the land, maybe make note of it, but they never stayed and they never returned. Billy resigned himself to the fact that the years would slip through his fingers, and the world would continue to change except for one irreconcilable fact: that he was alone.

But that was all before you started to show up.

Pretty and full of sunshine, he'd been surprised when you appeared for the first time through the gates of the cemetery, surveying the space with curious eyes. At first, he thought perhaps you were lost, but then you ventured through the boundaries, examining each grave with interest.

Billy had perked up at that. You were the best visitor he'd had, and you'd hardly done anything yet. He waited with bated breath for you to stop at his grave.

When you did, not only did you look at it, you knelt down, brushing leaves and natural debris aside, seeming to want to read the name. A look of disappointment crossed your face when you discovered there wasn't one. All the other headstones had them. His heart sank and he expected you to move on.

Instead, you made yourself more comfortable, smiling softly as you did. Then your soft lips parted, and you whispered, "I'm sorry nobody wanted to remember you." Pressing your hand flat on the stone, you murmured. "I'll remember you if you remember me."

Billy moved closer to you, fascinated by you. Young and beautiful and kind. His heart rose from the depths like a sunken ship returning to the surface.

Maybe it was a good thing he hadn't been visited all these years. Because then you might never have come along.

After that first day, he hadn't expected you to return. Or maybe if you did, it'd be once in a blue moon. And he would have accepted it, been grateful for any glimpse of you he could get.

But you frequented his resting place, spending hours there in solitude. Often you brought a book with you or played music from your phone, just enjoying the peace. Sometimes you came bearing gifts; little flowers or shiny rocks you found on your way there. You left them surrounding the tombstone, and he admired them until you came the next day, touched that you'd thought of him.

Even though you couldn't see him, he always sat next to you, mirroring whatever position you were in. Sometimes you knelt. Other times you were sprawled on your back.

You sometimes spoke to him, and it made him happier than he could ever say. He learned more about you every time you visited, saving each piece of knowledge to try and form a whole picture about his lovely visitor.

"We moved here a month ago," you murmured, playing with one of the daisies you'd brought this time. A few were stuck in your hair, and more were lining the base of the tombstone. He felt decorated even though they weren't actually on him. "My mom died a year back, and my dad married someone new. She...I don't think she likes me very much."

He felt a pang of sadness at that. By now he was aware of how sweet and loving and gentle you were. How could anybody even dream of disliking you?

"She wanted my dad, not a daughter," you said, picking at the daisy's petal. Billy longed to tuck your hair behind your ear but every time he tried his fingers passed right through you. "But it's okay. I keep to myself. You're really the only friend I've made."

Billy reached out to you, not caring if his hand passed through. His fingers hovered over your knee, and he pretended to rub it gently. "I'm sorry, sweetheart," he said, wishing his words weren't falling upon deaf ears.

"Honestly, I kind of like being alone," you mused, leaning your head against the side of his tombstone. If he imagined it just right, your head was resting on his shoulder. "With you. I like being alone with you." Picking up your phone, you tilted your head, looking at the stone fixture as if it were him. "What should we listen to today? More Lana, or have you had enough of that?"

He shook his head even though you couldn't see it. Billy would have liked anything you played. You tapped a button and set your phone face down in the grass, stretching out on your back to stare at the blue sky. He laid down with you, listening to the melodic voice flowing from your little device.

Turning his head to the side, he looked at you with stars in his eyes. The sunlight was warming your skin, kissing the bridge of your nose the way he wanted to. The flowers in your hair made you look ethereal, like you somehow belonged in the cemetery, a place nobody was supposed to belong. Your hands fidgeted on your stomach, your eyelashes dipping to grace your skin as the lids closed. Billy could have stared at you all day.

It hit him like a freight train in that precise moment, when he took in the scene of you. He was falling in love with you. With someone who didn't even know he was there, who didn't even know who he was.

But looking at you now, and seeing your kindness shine from your insides out, he knew he was utterly helpless to your charms. You were a force he couldn't resist.

With that in mind he warily allowed himself to grow fonder of you. You were darling, a regular fixture in his not-life now. And even though he knew you would never be able to know of his existence enough to return his affections, he'd been so lonely for so long that even this was enough. Even feeling something other than hopelessness was all he needed to keep him going for the next forever.

As the spring bled into summer, you came almost every day. He worried slightly about how fulfilling your life was, but you had told him so often of your preference for solitude that he figured you would have done this anyway if he wasn't there. And he'd much rather you be alone with him.

On a bright evening, he was watching the trees, eyes following a bird nested in the branches when he heard the familiar sound of your soft footsteps. Lifting his head, his smile was immediate, but it dropped when he saw the state of you.

Tears were streaming down your face, taking a little of your makeup with them. He watched as you collapsed to your knees, chest shaking as you cried. Billy could have sobbed right along with you due to the fact that he couldn't hold you or comfort you the way he wanted.

He ghosted a hand over your hair, trying to make like he was smoothing it. "Oh, sweet girl...what happened? Whatsa matter?" Even though you didn't know he was real, he still thought of you as his girl. He might as well, because that was how much he cared, how much he wanted to protect you.

You cried for a long time, crumbling to the ground over where his body laid, knees curled up, head nestled in your folded arms. The place you'd fallen was right where he was kneeling, so it was like you had your head in his lap, right where he wanted it to be.

His hand hovered over your shoulder, and he tried to will his ghostly form the ability to brush your hair over your shoulder. "It's okay, darlin'. It's gonna be okay, whatever it is."

Somehow you calmed down enough to choke out what had happened. "I...was at...a party...and...and there was a boy who t-touched me...and I...I didn't want him to..." the rest dissolved into tears, and his heart smashed into a million pieces. Anger overtook his being; he wanted to tear whoever had dared to hurt his girl to shreds.

But instead, he sat with you, hoping you could feel his presence. You were akin like the statue of a fallen angel that had occupied the cemetery for a century before it was struck by lightning. Pure love seemed to beam from his being, and he could have sworn the hair he touched moved under his fingers.

When he tried again, this time it really did move. Billy's eyes widened in astonishment, and he stroked his fingers through your strands, hoping the motion was soothing and hoping you knew that someone was listening, that someone cared.

The last thing you uttered before slipping into sleep was, "I wish you were here."

Morning dew dripped onto your cheek, causing your fingers to flutter. You sniffled, stirring a bit and feeling the grass beneath your fingers. There was a little sunshine poking at your eyelids, and you made a little noise of protest, shifting in your spot.

The events of last night prodded your waking mind, reminding you of the fear and heartbreak you'd felt. You hadn't even wanted to go to the party- wary of beer splattered teenagers and loud music and the entire overwhelmingness of the scene. But you had been invited by one of the friendlier girls in your grade, and you weren't in a position to turn down kindness.

You had known it was a mistake to be there from the beginning, but persisted, trying to be normal. Most of your time was spent in a cemetery talking to a tombstone. Starting up a conversation with a more popular boy from your math class, you had gained hope. Maybe you hadn't completely lost whatever social skills you'd had before the move.

Then his hand was on your chest. Then you realized he hadn't been talking to you to make a friend. Pushing him away, you'd run to the one safe place you knew in this forsaken town. Your father and stepmother were on a cruise in the Caribbean, and you couldn't have confided in them anyways. The girl who'd invited you had long disappeared upstairs with her boyfriend. You were utterly alone.

So, in a moment of desperation you fled down that familiar path through the woods, collapsing in front of the tombstone without a name that had been your refuge for the past months.

You were angry for letting it go this far. When your mother died it had flipped your whole world upside down. Any hopes you'd had of being an ordinary, stable, emotionally well girl, were dashed. It had taken years to build your semi-acceptable image and now it was shattered. And now you were talking to inanimate objects.

Truthfully, you couldn't help it. Nobody paid attention to you, but here you were listened to. For the rest of the world, you hardly said a word, but here you poured your soul out. It was stupid, but sometimes you imagined there was someone there, the spirit of whoever's grave you sat atop maybe.

But now you were more upset than you'd ever been and cursing yourself for being too strange to make nice with actual people. Before it hadn't seemed a big deal, but here in your time of need, you were alone.

Opening your eyes, you surveyed the sight of the cemetery in the morning. It was just as peaceful as always; a hidden treasure in the forest. You hadn't been able to resist upon finding it. It was like the space had been saved for you, relatively untouched by common man.

Sitting up, you stretched and rubbed your eyes, cringing when some of your mascara came off. Oh well, it wasn't like you hadn't already cried most of it off anyways.

Turning to look at the tombstone, you got the shock of your life when you saw someone sitting beside it. A man, pale as snow, wearing a hat and clothes that looked like they were from another time. Gasping, you leaned back slightly, eyes wide as the moon. But as you studied him, you felt a familiar feeling creep into your being. It was so peculiar, but you felt like you knew him.

He said nothing, just watched you watch him. Your panic settled as the sun reflected off him. The man's body was almost clear, and you could see straight through him the blurry outline of what he was sitting in front of like a mirror of water.

Sure you were still asleep and dreaming, you whispered, "Who are you?"

The man shifted, lifting the brim of his hat. You could see his face more clearly now. His hair curled at the ends and there was a slight whisper of stubble on his jaw. Though it seemed impossible, you found him irresistibly handsome. "My name's Billy."

Billy. You repeated it once, softly. Looking from him to the headstone, you asked, "Are you...alive?"

He shook his head once. "No."

A ghost. That explained his appearance. Of course, you believed in them. But you'd never had a prayer of seeing one, talking to one. You straightened your posture, sitting on your knees. "Is this your...?" Gesturing to the gravestone, you looked up at him.

"Mhm," he nodded, resting an elbow on his bent knee. "'s unmarked, but this is where they put my body."

You felt a thousand questions come over you. The events of last night were promptly forgotten as this new discovery consumed you. But one stood out the most. "Billy," you started, and he nodded, eyes right on you. He looked so interested in what you had to say- you'd never been paid attention to like this before. "Have you been here all this time? With me?"

A crooked half-smile lifted the corners of his lips. "Yeah, sweetheart. I have."

Cheeks going rosy, you hid your face in your hands. "Oh! I'd have never said so much if I knew someone was really listening."

"Hey-" You felt something pleasantly cool on your arm and lifted your head to see Billy kneeling before you, his ghostly hand covering your skin. "What's wrong. Wasn't no bother. I enjoyed it."

"I was just letting out everything in my head with no thought to if anyone could hear," you said, mortified, not able to bring yourself to look at him. "I shouldn't have."

"Oh, sweetheart," he grasped your wrists in his cold hands, bringing them down from your face. When you finally looked up at him, his eyes were soft, expression tender. "I ain't had anybody talk to me in more 'n a century. It's been lonely here, and none 'f the visitors were half as pretty as you." He smiled when you blushed even more, moving to cup your cheeks in both palms. "You're the best company I've had in ages."

Billy's kind words warmed your heart, and you looked up at him, lips parting slightly. Yes, he was a ghost, but he was also a man. He had liked your chattering, your musing, your presence. Nobody since your mother had.

Smiling slightly, you murmured, "Did you like the music I played?"

His lips drew back to reveal his clear teeth. "I loved the music."

A smile nearly split your face in half, and you leaned into his touch. "I never had anybody to share my music with before."

Billy's thumb stroked your cheek. "I wanna hear all your music, sweetheart." The sincerity in his words melted you like chocolate in the sun. And you could feel your heart beating two times the amount it usually did, as if making up for the absence of the pulse from man in front of you.

The next hour found you lying side by side with Billy, tracing a hand over his ghostly form. Eyes following your fingers, you said, "I thought ghosts weren't solid."

"They're not," he muttered, his regard not leaving your face. "I couldn't touch ya at all before today. 'n you couldn't see me either."

"What changed?" you asked, blinking up at him.

"Dunno." Billy folded his elbow and rested his head on it, still letting you touch him. You nearly clocked stars in his eyes. "But 'm glad somethin' did."

"Me too," you breathed, resting your hand between the two of you.

Watching his outline reflect the sunlight, you felt something in you ignite. It was a conflagration of a something you'd never felt before, but that didn't make it any less real.

And looking at Billy, you could tell he felt it too.

[kyber-crystal]

scarlet ibis (songbird) || anakin skywalker

summary: they say the purest love takes the longest time, and your story is nothing short of that. there’s fragility within beauty and to him, you’re a mosaic of stained glass (alt title: 5 times you call anakin skywalker by his last name, and 1 time you finally call him by his first.)

words: ~3.2k

warnings: angst, mild violence, mentions of blood + death (but no major character death dw), two oblivious idiots in love

a/n: 2nd place fic from my mini poll! not my best work LOL, but i think this is one of my favorite fics i've written (so far). i've had this in drafts for about a year or so as well...

one

It was safe to say that even a nanosecond of interacting with Anakin Skywalker made your blood boil. 

He knew just how to push all your buttons and you hated it. How could one person exist for seemingly one purpose only—to piss you off—you didn’t understand it and weren’t sure if you ever would. “Loyal Jedi” my ass. 

If you were the first person to speak up during meetings, he was also the first to counter your points and shoot you down. If you were late to meals in the mess hall, he took the last roll of bread, so you’d have to wait an extra half hour for more to come out. If you were dueling together, he would always point out every microscopic flaw in your technique. You were sure that your head would explode at any moment by his existence alone.

This is so ridiculous—you’re ridiculous.

“You know I can hear you, right?” Anakin glanced at you in his peripheral vision. “Don’t be mad because my plan worked, and yours didn’t. There’s this thing called accepting defeat.”

“Just because I don’t do things the way you do doesn’t mean they’re wrong.”

“They’re not wrong, but they’re not safe. You can’t declare safety compromisation a success. There’s a clear difference between the two.”

You scoffed. “Since when did you, out of all people, account for safety?”

“I should be asking you the same thing.”

“You’re not answering my question.”

“And you’re not answering mine, either.” He reaches behind his ear and turns his comms on. “Now are we going to head home or what?” 

“Aye aye, General,” you responded sarcastically, rolling your eyes. “Let’s embark on the journey of a lifetime.” 

Awkward silence pierces the air like a dozen tiny needles, but you’ll take it over arguing with a wall any day. You knew what you were fighting for and why. You were confident in your actions and believed you always stood on the right side. 

Except, he didn’t. 

It was a quick two day recon and you got the job done in half the allotted time. In and out faster than you could blink. Of course, Anakin would find fault in that one way or another…and he did. You got caught as you were escaping…dragging the mission duration out by an extra day.

Granted, you were only delayed by a few hours, but it was enough to upset him. You couldn’t even feel the ropes digging into your wrists after hour two, anyway. But from the moment he broke in and saw the first speck of blood on you, a look of fury flashed across his eyes. I’d be surprised if he had even half a heart under all that thick skin, you grumbled to yourself. He’ll slice at anything that moves. 

“You know—” Anakin’s voice breaks through the tension-filled air. He wants to say something else, but the words get stuck in the back of his throat and his tongue goes numb.

“I don’t care.” You pick at your scabbing wounds, not caring that they’re starting to sting and peel all over again. Before he can catch you doing so, you tug your sleeves over them and grit your teeth. “We got the job done, Skywalker, that’s all that matters.”

two

Maybe it was time to stop trying to commit mass murder on the punching bags. They weren’t going to do anything except break after two minutes of merciless attacks. 

Hopefully…you wouldn’t get in trouble for the glass vase that happened to get in your path. Nobody ever bothered to wander to the west wing of the Temple often enough to notice, anyway.

As you clenched and unclenched your fists, the cracks in your knuckles slowly started to stretch out like thin, red spiderwebs. The dots of brilliant ruby seemed to glitter among the pristine flooring—almost like they were meant to be there from the start. 

With every shard you threw away, the cracks and fury dug themselves further into your skin, threatening to explode.

You didn’t even need to look up afterward to know his scalding gaze was on you again.  

“Are you trying to get an infection?”

“Fuck off.”

He ignored your biting reply and kneeled down to clean up the mess. Once he was done, he stood back up and grabbed you by the wrist, leading you down the hall to his quarters.

As soon as he sat you down at the edge of his bed, you shot him a death glare. “What in Force’s name is your problem?”

“My problem,” Anakin replied, “is that you’re about to bleed all over the place. Let me help.”

“I don’t need fixing, Skywalker,” you snapped. “It’s just a cut.”

Anakin raised a brow at you, then looked down at your hands. “Too bad, I think you do. Broken glass will buryinto places you don’t expect.”

“Then you’re severely underestimating what I’m capable of. So let me go,” you snapped, jerking your wrist out of his grip. You unfortunately did this too fast, and hissed in pain as a result. “I’m fine.”

Sighing, the young Jedi reaches for the bacta pads next to him and works carefully to patch you up. He pretends not to notice the tears welling up in the corners of your eyes. Or the way you pick at the skin by your thumb, or the way your left foot taps the floor in a nervous rhythm. He pretends not to notice everything you do, but you’re everywhere. It frustrates him because he can’t escape. 

“Why do I have a feeling that exterminating the centuries-old vase of magic and splendor wasn’t in your original plan?”

“I was,” your voice wavers, fingers twitching. He notices this, too. “Leave me be.”

Shadows of the late afternoon light dance across the bridge of your nose, and he lets himself stare for a bit longer than normal. And…being who you two are, neither of you realize the fact.  

“You can go now, if you want,” he finally says after the sun begins descending into the horizon. “But make sure not to overexert yourself again.”

You don’t move. You stay there; quietly sitting in the middle of his room with glistening cheeks. Anakin doesn’t bother asking you to leave a second time. 

A fallen angel trapped in an endless prison; a halo and fractured wings that rendered her unable to fly. And yet, amidst all that death and despair, nothing could mar her beauty.

He feels those same little spiderwebs running through his palms, and he feels them shorten. Just a little bit.

three

The halls of the Temple were eerily quiet early in the morning. You would expect more Jedi to be up before the sun rose, but today, all activity had seemed to stop. Gathering the ends of your cloak into your arms, you made a careful climb up onto the rooftops to watch the sunrise. 

It seemed like you weren’t the only one who had this in mind, though.

“The hell are you doing at this hour?” 

“I could ask you the same exact thing,” Anakin replied as he stood up and turned around to face you. “You’re going to fall.” 

“I’m fine, don’t—” You let out a small squeak as you lose your footing and slip. Luckily, though, he catches you in time by wrapping an arm around your waist and holding on tight. Fire shoots through your veins at the feeling of him pressed up against you. “Let go of me, Skywalker!”

Once he leads you to where you can get more stable footing, he lets you go. But even then, there’s a hand that hovers over the small of your back. 

Brilliant bursts of sunlight stream over the horizon and wash over the world in pale red and pink. It stops you from saying something snarky to Anakin because you’re speechless at the breathtaking sight above. 

“I have…something for you,” he clears his throat. “—And don’t hit me. I’m not trying to poison you.” 

“Okay…?”

He reaches into his cloak pocket and pulls out what appears to be jewelry of some kind. 

“How many innocent beings did you kill to get this? Please don’t tell me it was smuggled. Or that you robbed someone for it. I can’t keep something like that.” 

“Y/N.” 

“What?”

“Do you…like it?”

You paused and took one good look at the necklace in his hand. It had to be the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen in all twenty years of living, and even that was an understatement. A teardrop-shaped, deep vermillion stone encased by tiny, glittering jewels—it was as if he had captured the stormclouds himself. It was perfect—too perfect, almost. 

Your voice came out in a whisper. “It’s so pretty.”

He takes a careful step to stand behind you in response. His fingers brush against your neck as he puts the necklace on, and fireworks explode behind your eyes.

Without another word, you turn towards him and rest your chin on his shoulder. He pulls you closer, and your heart feels a little fuller than before. 

four

The warzone was an ugly place. 

If hell was a real thing, this had to be it. The sky is bleeding red and each burst of lightning splits it further apart, the smell of death swirling around with the debris. Battle droids push forward in a stampede and you try your best to ignore the sickening crunch of bone beneath their metal feet. You squeeze your eyes shut as you tighten your hold around your lightsaber and pray to every god out there in the universe because war was cruel and mean and you just wanted to go home and sleep forever because anything, absolutely anything, was better than the suffering you were having to endure now. 

When the shot originally meant for Anakin hits you in the side, you’re unable to fully comprehend the pain because your brain won’t let you. You force yourself to keep going. Pain was temporary…you’d deal with the aftermath later. You could afford to.

What feels like hours passes by and the gunfire doesn’t stop. The incessant ringing in your ears is something you’ve forced yourself to grow accustomed to. 

“Y/N!” Anakin’s voice manages to cut through the howling winds. “You need to—”

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence before a grenade detonates near you and throws you against the walls. A searing pain shoots through your body at the impact and the world tilts on its axis. Scarlet seeps into your tear-stained vision and suddenly, the whole world is drenched in blood.

This was it…

If you were going to die now, it would be as far from pretty as you could possibly get. 

It’s another slow few minutes before he finally finds you slumped against the stone. Somehow, you manage to shoot him a small smile before wincing. “Took you long enough to get here.” 

“You…”

“Oh, wow, I’ve been shot,” you let out a dry laugh, pressing a hand over your wound. The color immediately drained from his face as he saw blood seeping through your fingers. “That’s a whole lot of red.”

He crouches down next to you to assess your state, pressing the commlink in his ear as he does so. “Why is it that you’re always getting hurt?” 

“My middle name is Trouble, that’s why.” You cough, and more red drips down your lips. “Trouble follows me around wherever I go.”

“It’s not fair,” Anakin mumbled under his breath, applying pressure to your torso as you wince again. “I’m supposed to be jumping in front of bullets for you and getting close to being blown up, not the other way around.” 

“I decided that your massive ego needed a little break so I took the workload for you,” you snarked. “Happy now, Skywalker?”

For the first time ever, he doesn’t bite back with an equally sarcastic response. You don’t question it. “No. I’m not.”

The returning journey's dead silent, save for your labored breathing due to your cracked ribs. You try to sit up, but he places a firm hand on your shoulder to keep you from moving. 

“I told you I’m fine—”

“You need to rest,” he exhales, the distress and tiredness evident in his eyes. “Please.”

“Okay…”

Wordlessly, Anakin reaches over to cup his hands over yours and and brings them to his lips. A pleasant sense of warmth overtakes you and you can almost pretend like the ship’s heater isn't broken and you’re melting, little by little. And if you look closer, you can see clusters of galaxies and shooting stars behind his steel blue eyes. The thought alone comforts you and starts to lull you to sleep. 

His eyes shift to the necklace; the gemstone sits still against your sternum as your chest rises and falls. Beauty among chaos. He wonders every day how such stark differences can coexist in a peaceful manner. 

“For what it’s worth,” he murmurs long after you’ve drifted off, “I never really hated you.”

five

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

You placed your hands on your hips as you observed the pitiful scene before you. The Jedi Order could host extravagant events and use expensive artillery and clones, but wouldn’t account for comfortable sleeping accommodations. Making a mental note to politely complain to Master Windu, you let out a long sigh. 

“If I stretch out, I’ll fall off,” Anakin pointed out as he too stared at the small queen bed (you were sure it was a twin, though). 

“I’d fall off, too.”

“You know what…I’ll take the floor. I don’t want to hear you complaining about back pain in the morning.” 

He was about to take his pillow and toss it to the floor before you grabbed his wrist. “Are you nuts? I can’t let you do that.”

“Then what do you want me to do?” 

You rolled your eyes. “I don’t know, share the bed without kicking me in the middle of the night?”

Both of you stopped and stared at each other at this. 

“The audacity you have to say that when you’re the kicker…” Anakin began. 

“I’m using the bathroom first.” You pushed past him to go wash up. “Don’t be a bed hog, Skywalker.”

Minutes later, you’re both settled in under the covers and have fallen into a comfortable silence. The only things you can hear are the crickets chirping outside and Anakin’s steady breathing. If you ignored the fact that you were on a mission and crammed into an incredibly tiny motel room, you could imagine that this was a peaceful weekend getaway to some tropical planet. 

You’re the first one to break the silence and speak up. “Do you wonder when the war will end? Or if it’ll end at all?”

“All the time.” He rolls over on his side to face you. “And what I’d do afterwards.”

“Where would you go?”

Anakin hums for a moment before responding. “I don’t know. You?”

“I’d go back to Naboo. To the lakes, where the water is so clear you can see your future, and the roses are redder than your face under the summer sun. Padme would take me there all the time when we were younger.” 

“I think I’d follow you, then.”

“But there’s sand, and lots of it,” you laughed. “Are you sure?”

“I’d be willing to bear its coarse, rough, and irritating qualities for you. Only once, though. I have my limits.”

Your heart warms at the mini confession. “I wish we could just end everything now. Call off the troops, sign a few treaties or something…end the war. I’m tired of the violence and bloodshed. I know everyone else is too.”

“I know.”

Anakin’s hand finds its way into yours, and the tension in your shoulders slowly unravels as your fingers lace with his. 

And all the cracked and bleeding crevices on your skin start healing the longer you lean into his touch. It’s like he has a needle and spool of thread in hand, and he’s slowly but surely stitching you back together. 

plus one

The giant metropolis of Coruscant had gone quiet under blankets of snow—it was a sight unlike any other. You hadn’t seen a speck of snow hit since you stepped foot onto the Jedi Temple as a child. 

You stood alone in the hangar bay with bated breath and reddened, frostbitten fingers. Like you’d dipped them in blood before letting them dry for a bit.. He had to be here any minute now; you didn’t want him to return and not have anyone to welcome him back. So despite the subzero temperatures and barely-healing knuckles, you remained in place. 

When his ship touches down and he hops out with a wide smile, you can feel a giant weight being lifted off your chest. He jogs toward you and brings you in for a crushing embrace, and for once, you finally feel at home. 

“It’s freezing. What are you doing here?” He’s sweating, even though he looks like he should be cold. “You should’ve headed inside.”

“I waited for you, what else would I be doing?”

Anakin grins again and hugs you even tighter. “I missed you. More than anything.” 

Your heart suddenly starts to ache at his admission and that’s when the realization kicks in. “I thought I lost you, Anakin. You could’ve died. I couldn’t sleep for three days after I lost your signal. And yet you’re standing here acting like it’s no big deal because at least you’re alive and in one piece.”

“Y/N…”

A chill runs down your spine and you know in that moment that it has nothing to do with the weather. You knew this wasn’t right; you weren’t supposed to be doing this, but it felt more natural than anything you’d ever done.

That’s when you find an Anakin-shaped shard of glass wedged deep in your heart and you don’t know how it found its way there, but you don’t even bother pulling it out. Glass splinters are supposed to be these jagged, disfigured things, but this one is beautiful and even shines amongst the rubble. It’ll bury its way into places you don’t expect. With the way he fits against your body, you can’t help but feel like he was meant to fill the gaping hole in your heart. So wholly, so perfectly without a single scratch or flaw. 

You look up at him and feel your breath get caught in your throat. Since when did he make you so nervous? 

He’s even closer now and so are you, so you press your mouth to his as if doing so would save you from falling apart. Your brain short-circuits, and as you sink into the sudden burst of warmth you realize you don’t want this to end.

“Took you long enough,” he mumbles against your skin as you pull apart. “I was starting to wonder when…”

“Shut up. Don’t ruin the moment,” you muttered before bringing your hand to his cheek and kissing him a second time. He doesn’t object and tightens his hold around you, and a fire spreads through you from head to toe. 

“I love you,” Anakin says after a while. “Even though you like sand, and I don’t.”

“I knew that already,” you joked with a smile and close your eyes, taking in a deep breath. “You’re not exactly the most subtle person ever.”

“Neither are you,” he chuckles.

“But I love you too.”

tags, including people who may be interested: @arkofblake @dameronology @fl0ating @voguesir @lady-elena-adeline @aliciaasky @katelynnwrites @freeshavocadoooo @buckysbeloved @kelieah @kaleidoscope1967eyes @lam-ila @unstablecaffeinatedmind @elenavampire21 @joyfullyswimmingface

add yourself to the general taglist/top gun specific taglist !

[nervermim]

Okay but thinking about a yandere king that is obsessed with you, his personal knight

Male reader, cheating (the king is married but it's in love with you), yandere behavior and bad English stuff

Okay but can you blame the king? You are the men that the whole kingdom admire, you make girls faint and men become frustrated with a mixture of envy and admiration.

You are loved by children, fathers want their sons to be like you and mothers want their daughter to marry a man good as you. You are the hero of this country and you deservers that.

You started so young in the military, being an orphan you put all your focus on becoming a royal knights, even if you were poor and alone you never gave up.

And you showed the fruits of your labor by fighting in the war and saving the king from a direct attack. And the old man as a reward gave you the highest position anyone could ask for, the personal knight of first son the heir to the throne.

And you still by the side of the prince after this whole time, you were by side when his father died, when he ascended the throne as the new king, when he went to war, when he came back to get married. Every single moment you were by his side as his most loyal servant.

But it went unnoticed by you that the king saw you as much more than a mere servant, a mere knight, or even a childhood friend. You were more. So much more.

You were his everything. All the king could think about was you. The kingdom? His wife? The duty to have an heir? Your people? Nothing of that really matter, if you still by his side he would have all he wanted.

Being a good king was just a part of keeping you by his side, he always knew how much you respect his father for being a good king, so he would become a even greater one, so you like him more than anything else. If he was someone you admire, then you would stay by side forever without him having to do nothing.

And life like that was perfect. Even if he nobles still questioning him why he and the queen still haven't any heir, even if he knows he could never be as your side as your lover, if he just... Just could look at you everyday, at your smile, then nothing else it's important, nothing else is more important than you.

Then you died.

In case your are actually killed. It should be a easy mission, a saint was visiting the kingdom, when was time to her to leave, you should escort her to the next kingdom and get back. You were strong enough to surppas any problem, then what happened?

Why he is receiving an official message saying that in order to protect the saint you ended up being killed? Why? Why you risk your life of some pathetic saint?

You should came back to him. You should continue alive. Alive and by his side. You couldn't die. No. It couldn't be possible. You aren't supposed to die... No... That's...

Nobody has news from the king after that. The queen tried to enter his quarters, she was attacked by the king, screaming and throwing anything he could to her, screaming to her to leave.

He refused to eat. He refused to sleep. To talk. To live.

How can he live without you? How he is even supposed to live knowing he can't even see your face again?!

He is not even capable to go to your funeral, no, you can't be dead, if he never see your body then you never died, right? You can't be really dead... You are going to be back to him... As your always do.

But you don't. Days. Weeks. Months. You are dead. Completely dead and buried six foot under ground.

People cry in the streets with with the mourning of your dead. Soldiers and knights making promises of honoring your legacy, nobles and common people praying to god to your soul have peace, all the country thankful for the hero that save them multiple times and died as a hero.

Why they are accepting your death? They shouldn't accept. They can't just move on. They can't just accept you are not coming back.

Because he is not.

No, he refuse. He start a new mission, bring you back.

All you hear is the fire, you smell the burned ground, the smoke, you open your eyes and the sky is dark, it's raining, almost like the sky is crying for you.

You... You remember being attacked, remember trying to protect the saint and then four assassin's attacked you. Even for a warrior like you their attacks were strong. You remember your mind getting dark, eyes blurry... You remember dying.

Then how you are here?

Your hands look normal, your body look normal, they were able to save you? But there's no medicine that could save you, you are almost ripped in half.

Then you see. It's him. The king and men you swore loyalty. The men you lived by side for so many years that you can't even remember how were living without him.

And he is looking at you. Soaked in blood. And he doesn't look nothing like the king you once smile at.

He looks like a monster.

Because he became one. For you. He sacrificed his whole kingdom, the whole country, just to pay the price for bringing you back. The life's of those people are nothing compared to the opportunity of bringing you back.

And now you are here again. Alive.

And he will make sure you will never leave his side again.

[molsno]

I have such complex feelings about danganronpa but the treatment of chihiro fujisaki still remains a major sticking point to me.

I've had several different interpretations of the character over the years as my relationship with my gender has evolved but after all these years I feel like I can finally mourn the way she was treated as a trans girl.

it's just... heinous. kazutaka kodaka is so transmisogynistic in his writing that it's sickening to even think about. how am I supposed to feel about the fact that his work has touched my life in such a major way? I'm still talking about danganronpa over 10 years after I first got into it. but an unskippable, major, and early part of the story of the first game makes it clear how he thinks about people like me.

the text of the game is vile. along with the other students, she's threatened with her deepest secret being revealed if nobody murders one of their classmates. she has to face the fact that she's going to be forcibly outed to her classmates in the worst way possible. after she's killed out of jealousy for her bravery by mondo owada, who at the very least has the decency to move her body from the boys' locker room to the girls' to protect her secret, her body is groped to "confirm" that she's a "boy", she's immediately misgendered by all her classmates, and monokuma tells everyone her backstory in a way that totally disregards her actual feelings.

chihiro is not a boy. she doesn't ever claim to be one, except in school mode, which crucially, is explicitly not canon and wasn't even present in the original release. the only reason why anyone, in-game and in the fandom, believes that she's a boy is because of transmisogyny and because of monokuma's explanation. is he the type of character that you should trust, though? not only is he willing to forcibly out a trans girl, this is a pattern of behavior; the mastermind controlling monokuma later threatens to out juzo sakakura as gay as blackmail in the dr3 anime.

when I view the actions of chihiro fujisaki, I can't see anything but a trans girl. she has a severe inferiority complex, cries easily, lacks confidence in herself, hesitates to spend time with cis girls due to a fear of being ostracized for who she is, and heavily latches onto anyone who treats her respectfully (as seen if you do her free time events). and then she's thrust into a horrible situation where she could be killed at any moment, and then given 24 hours to try and come out on her own terms before monokuma does it for her in a way that explicitly misgenders her. she wants to become someone strong, someone who can stand up for herself and fight back against bullies like monokuma who don't respect her gender, but she doesn't get to do that on her own time. she still tries, though, and for it, she's killed.

it's just... tragic. what else can I say? she's yet another example of transmisogynistic tropes in media, but she feels personal to me in a way that few other such characters do. I've always loved chihiro a lot, even when I was younger and couldn't quite put my finger on why.

I don't think I would terribly mind her death if kodaka was a better writer. if danganronpa actually made use of all of its seemingly largely unintentional anticapitalist potential, if it touched on systemic issues such as transmisogyny with tact and respect (for example, if the other students respected her identity and opposed monokuma for repeatedly misgendering her), her death would still be upsetting, but I could accept that.

she just... deserves so much better.

[throneofsapphics]

playing with pain

Rowan x f!Reader

Summary: Kinktober Day 31, Brat-taming with Rowan. 

Warnings: small hint of blood kink, bondage, brat taming, d/s vibes, pussy slapping, dacryphilia, smut, oral (m!receiving), minors dni!

A/N: only 36 days late! it feels like a hot minute since I wrote any smut

Rowan was tired of your shit. Especially because you were doing it on purpose, and he knew it. But, you couldn’t help winding him up sometimes. It was fun to watch his control slip, to watch the gleam and promise of violence in his eyes. 

Letting your hair flip over one shoulder, you turned your back to him, making your way across the dance floor. A low snarl came from behind you, but you didn’t hear him move. Waiting to see how far you’d go. You picked your victim well, a male who’d been eyeing some females a bit too appreciatively all night. It served two purposes, one - winding Rowan up, the second - having Rowan put the fear of death into him. Enough he probably wouldn’t look at another female for a few months. 

His eyes lit as you smiled at him, and he didn’t hesitate to stride towards you. Adjusting your hair over one shoulder, Rowan’s mark was hidden. Oh, that would infuriate him beyond reason. Maybe you were pushing it a bit too far, but you’d already dug your grave, already set yourself up for hell - but the temptation was always too great. 

As soon as his hands gripped your hips, your arms barely had time to reach up before he was ripped back by his collar. You missed what Rowan whispered in his ear, but he turned deathly pale and near sprinted away. A glare turned on you, and you crossed your arms. 

“I wanted you to scare him,” you murmured, as if it might appease him, loud enough to barely carry over the crowd. 

“I know,” his hands gripped your hips, your breath catching as you hit his body, arm winding around your waist to hold you into place. 

His hand brushed your hair away, raising his brow at you. A shrug, but a small bit of fear began to creep into you. 

“I should fuck you right here.” It’s possible you stopped breathing. “But that means everyone would get to see you, and we can’t have that.” His hand moved, gripping the back of your neck and tilting your head up to meet his eyes. Thumb moving over the side of your neck, he tilted his head at you, “you enjoy pissing me off, don’t you?” 

“Do I?” 

“Rhetorical question,” he snapped, looking around the room. Nobody had noticed the two of you, or they were purposefully avoiding looking at you. Arm still wrapped around your waist, he tugged you to his side, fingers digging in harshly enough to leave small bruises the next day. He didn’t acknowledge anyone as he half-dragged you from the floor. When the night air hit you, he threw you over his shoulder, one arm securing your legs. 

“Rowan,” you snarled, fist hitting his back. A sting. He’d slapped your ass - not bothering to hold back. Definitely bruised, your skin already felt tender. 

“You’ll already be screaming all night,” he hissed. “Don’t. Push. It.” 

You stilled. Maybe it was time to accept your fate. He was silent the rest of the way, probably thinking of the thousand ways he’d make you scream. You couldn’t quite bring yourself to regret it, not yet at least, that time would come. 

-

“My little devil,” he said, dropping you down on the floor, one hand gripping your shoulder to hold you in place. 

Sometimes, your games were amusing, but tonight you’d pushed him. Almost to the limit, but you found an infuriating balance. Touching that male was the last straw, even if he knew why you did it. Still, those pretty eyes looked up at him with a hint of fear. A cruel smile curved his lips, he could put fear into you, and he’d do it gladly tonight. 

“On your knees.” Your arms crossed. He shoved your shoulders down, your knees hitting the floor with a thud, and you studied the carpet in front of you. Gods, you knew he wanted you to look at him. “Your games are over,” one finger pressed under your chin, lifting your head back up. “Understood?” 

A tilt of your head, his hand moving wrapping around your neck with a light squeeze. 

“Fine.” 

“Try again.” Another light squeeze, not quite enough to cut off your air. 

“I understand,” you gritted your teeth. 

“No you don’t.” 

An unapologetic shrug, and threads of ice wound around your wrist, freezing and holding them in place, behind your back, another wrapping around your thighs, keeping you from moving. Easily, at least. He wouldn’t put it past you to try. 

“It’s cold,” you hissed. 

“I don’t care.” You glared, and he tapped your cheek. “Beg, and I’ll consider letting you move.” 

“Please,” he saw just how much the admission cost you. 

“No.” 

Fury, and a hint of betrayal. 

-

The ice burned at your wrists and thighs, digging uncomfortably into your skin, and that’s exactly what he wanted. 

“No”. 

He was an asshole, a bastard, a dickhead, you cursed him a thousand names in your mind as he left. Not leaving the room, only taking a seat on the couch. Picking up a book. 

Giving up, you settled in, trying to find a comfortable position, embarrassing wetness pooling between your thighs. Every inch you shifted, the ice stung in reminder. You regretted wearing a dress with a slit on the side, but at least most of your thighs were covered, even with the cold slowly leaking into your skin. Nothing to protect your wrists.

The ice never melted despite the fire raging in the corner. Did he want an apology? If he did, it would take some more to draw it out of you. The way you were facing, you couldn’t see a clock to tell how much time went by. 

Deep breaths to center yourself, you got as comfortable as you could. Eventually, you sank into the discomfort, just like he wanted. Time and noise faded into the background, every sensation heightening. 

“Good,” you heard Rowan - after gods only know how long. The ice disappeared, drawing a sigh of relief from you. That was short lived, his hand twisted in your hair, yelping as he dragged you to your feet. “Did you really think that was it?” 

A shake of your head, and he dragged you off towards your bedroom, at least his grip slid to your wrist instead. 

Rope bound your hands to the headboard, others weaving around your legs, pinning your them together, tucked up against your chest, forcing your legs open and everything bared to him. He’d ripped your dress off, ignoring your protests. 

Fingers circled your clit, “are you ready to apologize?” 

“I already have,” you whined, feeling that coil build in your stomach, so close, a few more seconds and … Rowan pulled away. 

“I’m waiting for your tears.” 

Desperately, you rocked your body side to side, trying to generate some sort of relief or friction, but nothing. Rowan slapped … gods he’d slapped your cunt, now dragging his hand up your body, leaving a trail of arousal clinging to your skin, invading your senses. 

“Please,” you tried. 

“If I wanted you to beg, I’d tell you.” 

A sob left your throat, the beginnings of tears finally leaving your eyes. His body folded over yours, thumb brushing one of them away, before pressing between your lips. Tongue swirling around, you tasted the salt of your tears, the proof of your submission to him. Not yet. You did something stupid, something you’d regret shortly, but bit down on his thumb all the same. Hissing, his hand clenching painfully around your jaw and you released him. 

A small droplet of blood appeared on his thumb, and you grinned. Keeping a hand on your jaw, he brushed it across your lips, painting them in his blood. Your tongue darted out, cleaning up the taste, copper but undeniably him. Maybe it was sick or depraved, but you loved it. 

A slap, and it took the sting a minute to catch up with you. Jaw dropping, you gaped at him. Fuck that hurt. He did it again, and again. A scream finally left your throat on the tenth, combined with the arousal quickly threatening to come over you. Just from that.

“Do you think you deserve it?” A trick question, and you knew what he was asking. “Coming is a privilege, you’ve lost it.” 

You didn’t bother trying to beg, it wouldn’t do you any good in this situation, especially not as he twisted one of your nipples, adding another edge of pain. Beautiful pain - a combination you craved and loved. Something only he could give you. 

Rowan straddled your chest, thighs bracing your ribs, and undoing the laces on his pants. “Bite and you won’t walk for days,” he warned. 

You nodded your agreement, parting your lips. You wanted him - the taste of him, feel of him, anything he’d give you. With the desperation on your face and the satisfaction in his eyes, you both knew he’d won. For today. 

He hit the back of your throat, you fought the urge to gag, swallowing instead. A groan left him as tears began to fall down your face, gripping your hair tighter, pulling you up as he thrusted. Rowan pulled out, just in time to finish all over your face. You closed your eyes, squeezing tight to keep it from getting in your eyes, and he laughed. 

Seconds later, you felt the ropes around your legs come undone, followed by the ones around your wrists. His hands gently massaged your legs, bending and folding until you got feeling in them, a small bit of his magic healing the light burns left behind. One arm under your legs, the other around your shoulder, he carted you off towards the bathroom, running a bath, not willing to leave you alone for a second. Not when you were this vulnerable, when he’d broken you down like only he could. 

[llamagoddessofficial]

Hi! So, this is a question for the Siren AU. How would the boys react to a siren mc (on the predator spectrum) who already has a baby? Not newborn, but certainly still child age. And with her species of siren, oftentimes the males don't stick around and would part away from the female.

It's always important, anywhere in nature, to be incredibly careful of mothers with babies. A mother defending her child is immensely dangerous, she'll fight to the death without question, and even if she were a prey mermaid they'd avoid getting too close to her baby. All the boys would be very careful to give Mc (and her child) space.

Sans: Despite the dangerous reputation that comes with being an orca, Sans would actually be the one that she'd be quickest to accept. This is one of the few occasions where being an orca is to his advantage socially. Orca sirens live in family units, right? And he's all alone. She immediately knows that's odd. And when he starts following them, defending them, bringing them food... it wouldn't take long for her to realise he's bonded with them and considers them his family. There's no other reason for him to act the way he's acting. Her baby likes his funny whistle-click noises, too.

... Her sympathy for his situation only goes so far, though. He still has to prove himself. And prove himself he does; he rarely leaves their side, assisting in hunting and foraging, delighting in teaching her baby. He can let out a few loud calls, and the area clears of almost every predator, nobody willing to fuck with an orca.

He's dedicated, and built for a family. She likes that.

Red: Red's dead charming. He's got that going for him. A handsome, charming shark covered with the marks of his past victories, he screams 'potential mate' and can flirt with her pretty brazenly before her patience at his closeness runs out. His knack for entertaining children also comes in handy... she's much more tolerant with someone that can make her baby giggle like that. That's probably the way he sidles his way into their family unit- making both mother & child laugh while serving as a visual deterrent to any hunters who get the wrong idea. She's naturally cautious about letting a SHARK near her baby considering one bite would be all it took, but he's happy to wait for her to relax.

... He's also very sturdy. Don't forget, he's built for his partner to be an aggressive female shark much larger than him. He can get roughed around by his potential mate (and he'd probably enjoy it) so he's a lot more confident approaching her than the others are. His confidence gives him a casual air that she really likes... it's clear he's not got anything suspicious in mind.

Skull: Unfortunately for our big boy, Skull would have the hardest time convincing Mc that he doesn't want to hurt them. It comes with the territory of being a massive scary deep sea monster. There would be numerous occasions where his attempts to interact with either mother or child would result in Mc charging and attacking him- and though her attempts at causing any damage are totally ineffectual to this giant, it definitely hurts his feelings.

... His one upside... is that he's a ferocious predator. Talk about a provider- he's constantly bringing her and her baby meals, at a rate that almost alarms her. If he thinks Mc isn't eating enough because she's too busy guarding her baby, he brings her meals big enough to sustain her for days. And even if her baby doesn't look hungry he brings meals for them anyway. He's very adept at catching the little prey that her child relies on, his massive dexterous tentacles capable of snatching up anything moving... and though Mc doesn't like him at first, she'll never turn down food.

They'll probably grow close because Mc doesn't let him near her child. He's always bringing food, and she accepts it on her baby's behalf. With the amount of prey he brings them, there's a lot of time for bonding.

[phantom-of-the-501st]

Let's Talk About Tech (Or Not)

Tags for people who I feel like would have some interesting thoughts about this: @eriexplosion @nobody-expects-the-inquisitorius @inkstainedhandswithrings @saturn-sends-hugs @the-bi-space-ace

One of the most frequent comments I see about season 3 so far is the lack of discussion surrounding Tech and what happened, and I want to look at this from two angles: the personal aspect and the context within its position in the show. Because while we're all getting frustrated about it, I think it's something that definitely deserves a closer look.

The Personal Side

One of the biggest questions people have so far is why are the Batch not talking about Tech? Losing a brother is very significant for them and it seems like it would be something that they would talk about more. They discussed the issues they were having following Echo's departure from the group, so why are they not talking about Tech?

I think one of the key things to consider here is time. When we see the Batch talking about Echo, it is only a matter of hours if not days after he went. It would make sense for them to be getting to grips with the situation because they haven't really had time to process it. On the flip side, at the point when we see Wrecker and Hunter, it has been at least 150 rotations from Omega's capture and therefore around 3 months from Tech's fall. A lot of the discussions that they would probably be having about it have likely already happened.

3 months isn't really that long, but in the context of losing someone, and in the context of the lives of these characters specifically, it can be enough time to start moving on. Not to forget it, or to not have it affect them, but to not really discuss it anymore. While I've never lost a sibling, I have lost family members on more than one occasion, and it surprises me how little time it can take for things to go back to "normal". Not to not be thinking about it, or to be 100% okay, but to be able to live life without ever discussing it. This happens particularly when something else significant is going on.

When you have another goal to focus on (in this case, rescuing Omega), you can't always focus on the loss. It sounds stupidly harsh and very much like an arsehole thing to say, but realistically, that is what happens. When you lose someone, you want life to stop, you want everything to pause so that you have time to grieve before you go back to living again. But life doesn't work like that. Things keep moving and sometimes the only thing you can do is focus on the events happening now, not the ones that you have no control over.

I don't think the Batch are ignoring it, or have forgotten about it. I think they've simply started focusing on what they need to be doing: rescuing the people who are still here. They can't get Tech back (as far as they are aware), they can't change anything and so at some point they just have to accept it. They probably did talk about it, did cry about it, but we're 3 months along at this point and they've probably said all they can. And Wrecker and Hunter have only just reunited with Crosshair and Omega. They're not going to instantly jump on that discussion again.

And we don't necessarily need to see the discussions to see how it's affecting them either. Tech's death and Omega's capture have made Hunter more impulsive and reckless. He isn't thinking as clearly as he should and now Wrecker is having to step in as the mediator. Wrecker, who was always the one to jump into a mission and ignore the plan, is having to hold Hunter back from running headfirst into things without thinking. The situation has affected them and is still having lasting effects. Even if they aren't talking about it, it isn't like it's just been totally ignored in the show. Of course we'll have to see if this changes now that most of the Batch are together again, but this is already more than we got with a lot of the other clones (Fives never seeming any different following Echo's "death" for example).

And then there's the matter of Crosshair never questioning why Omega only talks about Wrecker and Hunter. This may be because he already knows about Tech. If Omega has been talking to him on Tantiss, he may already know that his brother is gone. But once again, we are watching the events happening 3 months on at this point. He may have had to compartmentalise that fact the same way that everyone else has. We're saw him and Omega briefly discussing Tech and how he made sure Omega memorised all of the plans. Sure, there was more softness there than sadness, but that's what happens sometimes. Sometimes reminiscing about someone that you lost doesn't make you cry, it makes you smile, because you're remembering the little quirks about them that you love. So no, Omega and Cross haven't been shown talking about Tech's death, but I wouldn't be surprised if he already knows.

In the Context of TV

And now onto the other matter. The fact that all of this is happening as part of a narrative.

I think this is where the lack of conversation about it becomes frustrating: not because it doesn't make sense in the context of the characters themselves, but the fact that we are watching this as part of a show. It doesn't feel right to have something that significant happen only for it to never be mentioned again. We can't really ignore the fact that that happened and move on because while the characters have had time to process things, we haven't seen that. That chunk of the story is missing to us and so it feels unfulfilling to have that turn of events not have enough closure.

Imagine if you lost someone in your life and then you automatically skipped to the point where you were starting to feel somewhat okay again, while removing the entire chunk in the middle where you actually processed things. That is effectively what has happened to us as an audience. Yes, we've had months between seasons, but we have this gap of narrative nothingness between the season 2 finale and the beginning of season 3 where the actual processing would have happened.

So our frustration is justified. Not because it doesn't make sense narratively, or that it doesn't seem right for the characters to be acting the way they are, but because we haven't been able to process the events in the same way that the characters have. The characters aren't discussing it because they don't necessarily need to at this point in time. But we need them to discuss it because that part is missing for us. We haven't seen that bit so we can't fully compute the events.

Yes, it's annoying. Not because it doesn't make sense in the story, but because it doesn't make sense to us. Because as an audience the context is different to that of the characters within the story we are watching.

[homunculus-argument]

I've learned to be neutral about other people being religious, but my own experience with it was definitely coloured by my issues with my dad. He was a proper Edgelord Atheist, loathing religions as a whole and christianity in particular, never hesitating to remark about how stupid and backwards or primitive it is. My mother didn't care either way, she only talks about god when she talks about gardening. So he was the only one in the house with any strong opinion about it. And yet, me and my sister were babtised, put into a christian daycare for a while and then put into christian religions classes at school.

I always loathed religion classes as a kid and didn't know why, I hated hearing about it and having to put up with it and always felt like the teacher is just insulting us by lying right at our faces, about something that surely nobody actually believes for real. My childhood best friend was put into the non-christian option despite of coming from the same kind of a vaguely culturally christian background as I did, and I envied her intensely for it. I asked repeatedly to get to go to the non-christian classes as well, and was told "no", because my mother didn't think that letting your kids do that was an option even though my friend's parents clearly had already done it.

I had a serious Edgelord Edgy Atheist phase in my teens, and was wrangled into going through confirmation anyway because Everyone Else's Kids Are Doing It Too. The aforementioned friend got to go through a non-religious version of the same thing, which I had not even known was an option, so I didn't think to ask for it. Being wrangled through jesus classes as a 15-year-old bag of spite who was only marginally self-aware enough to avoid physically wearing a fedora, I was not a pleasure to have in class.

My father was physically present in the house until I was 14, until my mother finally accepted that this man's presence might actually cause physical harm - his drunken attempts to cook almost caused a fire, and he drove drunk with me and my sister on board once - and he reluctantly agreed to be removed from the picture. His absence at home made no impact nor difference in our daily life, the man who sleeps in the spare room just wasn't sleeping in the spare room anymore.

We saw him frequently enough after that, he visited us for family events and joined us for outings. At some points I tried to bond with him, over mutual interests and passions, even tried to prompt him to join me on snide remarks about religions that he used to make all the time, but he would not. He refused to bond with his children even over mutually hating the same things. It slowly occurred to me over time that the reason why christianity had played any role in my life was because he had never, at any point at all, moved a finger to stop it. Harmless or not, he had no instinctive desire to move his children away from things he considered bad. He had hated it enough to make it known that he hates it, but genuinely just did not care enough to consider not letting him children grow up in an environment he loathed.

My father died when I was 17, and I never really mourned him - not out of hatred, but because his death had hardly even altered the empty absence that was his presence in my life. I had grown up with religious classes trying to tell me about a loving god, and I had not understood why I had hated it, why I felt betrayed and lied to. My relationship with the christian god I was taught to understand has been exactly the same as my relationship with my father.

Desperately shrieking into a void that is so vast that not even my own echo would answer, and knowing for certain that the dead silence I'm hearing in return is the complete, absolute absence of a loving Father.

[yescallmejosey]

may a clay dagger strike the prince

Clay is molded. It takes the shape of whatever the user wants it to be and it hardens, taking that shape forever. It can be a figurine, carving memories in a child’s life who will always remember it as his favorite toy. It could be a bowl in which a woman cooks her favorite dishes for her husband with love and with the hope of comforting him after a long day of hunting. 

To Ctimene, clay takes the form of all her sorrows and all her pain. She moves her fingers down this new jar, shaping feathers across the handle. Her nails drew the lines, every pulse of her heart making them less steady. Feathers, for Lord Zeus, king of gods. He is greatness incarnated, respected by both gods and mortals. And unlike her, no one dares to question him. 

Time and time again she had prayed to the father of all in hopes that he would take pity on her. Time and time again she has begged for not even greatness, but a place in her family. Ctimene was merely born in it. The princess, yes, but never their princess. 

Anticlea teaches her how to weave, an art that should be simple for the princess. But the queen’s piercing gaze on her back and lack of words of encouragement made the threads tangle around her fingers. They tangled to her arms, to her throat as she struggled to apologize for her mistake. There was an apology for everything. For messing up the weaving every sunset, for turning the conversations at dinner uncomfortable with her direct words, for snapping at her father when he talked about Odysseus’s new achievement. 

There was an apology for being born. Because perhaps if it never happened, perhaps if Anticlea and Laertes did not try to have another hero, they would not have a parasite leaching to their royal wealth. Ctimene was not an embarrassment, because that would mean being someone who makes themselves noticed for a mistake. No, Ctimene was the dark corner that candles never illuminated, the stories lost through years of talking, she was a nobody.

The thoughts swirled through her mind, like sharp rocks tearing a ship at sea, paralyzing her like the eyes of Medusa. Her pulse quickened, the lines became blurry and the feathers became a phantom of what they were supposed to be. 

Her hands curled into fists and she tore her work, standing up and kicking the clay before clutching her hair in frustration. Hot tears rolled down her eyes, tears of jealousy, tears of hot rage. Rage of not being good enough, rage towards her brother. 

She wishes she could simply take the threads of her failed weaving and wrap them around his neck. Perhaps then she would finally stop hearing about his great achievements, about his future golden reign of the island. 

Ctimene’s eyes widened, her hands on her mouth now as if the mere thought of articulating her words would get her in trouble. She could not think like this, she could not-

She could not wish death upon her own blood. 

Oh but she did, and she craved the carnage so badly, more than her bitter heart could accept. And so she sat in a corner, the candles of her room not being bright enough to illuminate it. She wept even after dawn with rosy fingers painted in the sky. She let her dress and cheeks be stained by salty wrath and green envy. 

Clay is molded, it takes the shape of whatever the user wants it to be. And Ctimene’s heart was slowly being molded into a decorated dagger of anguish and desperation, a dagger that was pointed to the chest of her own brother. 

Odysseus.