#but yes semicircle eyes...

[pinky-lemon]

the best kind of eye-shape duo

(original prompt(?) by crying_anabell on twitter!)

[basketonthedoorstepofthefbi]

"dance recital" - hotch x mom!reader!

your family attends your daughter's dance recital

1480 words, domestic family fluff

cw: none? unless u hate kids then don't read this xD

a/n: i am looking at requests and actually have a couple of them started! inspiration just struck and i needed dance dad hotch xD plz keep sending requests i love getting them

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

Lizzy had been practicing for weeks, at home, in the car on the way to school, even in the waiting room at the dentist’s office. If there was a free moment, she was up on her toes, practicing her dance routine.

When she turned four, she was so excited to sign up for dance class, and now her very first recital is later today. She takes it very seriously, and you attribute that entirely to her hardworking father. 

You’re standing in the kitchen, packing the picnic lunch you’ll be sharing as a family after her recital in the park. PB&J, no crusts, for Jack. Even though he’s nearly ten and he should be eating his crusts, you can’t help but to baby him a little. He’s been such a good big brother to Lizzy. You were anxious about that when you were pregnant with her, since Jack was so used to being the only kid. And there would always be the looming presence of Haley and the family he was a part of before you came along.

But Lizzy became the center of Jack’s world when she was born. He’s so doting and always playing with her, from when she was an infant to now. 

Nutella and peanut butter sandwich for Lizzy, because she has a sweet tooth just like her mother. Turkey and cheese for you and Aaron. “D’you want mayo, honey?” You call out to wherever Aaron is in the house. He was in the living room just a few minutes ago, but with your two crazy kiddos, he could have ended up anywhere. 

“Just the mayo, no honey,” Aaron jokes and nearly makes you jump as he enters the kitchen, padding silently behind you despite being the largest person in the house. Must be that fancy tactical FBI stealth training. 

He stops at the counter, leaning against it and facing you. Your eyes meet his and his voice is low when he speaks to you. “You need to make a big deal out of this,” he prefaces, nodding to the doorway. You don’t fully know what he’s talking about, but you understand enough, so you set your butter knife down and turn around to face the doorway. Aaron makes a drumroll on his thigh. “Come on in, kids!” 

Jack enters first, in a bright orange t-shirt that is definitely a size too big. Written in blue, puffy fabric paint, no doubt by Jack himself, are the words PROUD BIG BRO. Jack’s also holding Lizzy’s hand, escorting her into the kitchen. She’s in her violet tutu and has her hair up in two haphazardly pulled-back pigtails that could only be described as the work of her father. She’s walking on her tiptoes, with her free hand arched up in a semicircle shape, mimicking all the ballerinas in her books. 

You’re beaming, and take the sight in silently for a moment before bursting into uproarious (for one woman) applause. “You guys look so great!” You exclaim, grinning at the kids, and then back at your husband. He’s got this sly look on his face and you want to smooch it off. “When did you make this shirt?” You ask Jack, stepping forward and grabbing his face with both of your hands. You kiss his forehead and ruffle his hair.

“Dad and I did it while you were at the store last night,” Jack explains. 

“I love it, baby,” you tell Jack, and he beams. You stroke the apples of his cheeks with your thumbs before releasing him. 

Lizzy lets go of her brother’s hand and leaps for you. “My big girl is all dolled up for her first recital,” You lift her up, hugging her close. “Did Daddy do your hair for you?” you ask.

“Yes! He sang our song and I didn’t cry!” she says. You always sing Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star to Lizzy while you brush her hair because she’s very tender-headed. It makes your heart soar to learn that Aaron did it, too. 

“I’m so proud of you!” You kiss Lizzy’s face all over until she squeals and wriggles to get away. “Why don’t you guys go play in the living room for a little bit, and we’ll get going soon,” you suggest. Jack races Lizzy into the living room, leaving you and Aaron in the kitchen alone. 

“You did her hair,” you say as you smirk up at Aaron. 

“Yeah, I know. It's not as good as when you do it,” he settles back against the counter and you roll your eyes. He’s holding his palms out, wiggling his digits. “I’ve got sausage fingers, and she cries if you pull the twist-tie too hard. It’s heartbreaking.” 

“And you made a shirt with Jack,” you say, ignoring his self-deprecation. Your smirk has turned into a full-force, Category Five Grin. 

Aaron realizes what you’re doing as you inch a little closer. He takes your wrist delicately, tugging you toward him, and you kiss his lips three times in succession, each a quick thank-you for all he’s done. “You’re the one driving her to classes twice a week,” Aaron deflects. “And Jack to school, and to soccer practice, and doing all the shopping and-“

“Aaron,” you roll your eyes in warning. You hate when he butters you up like this. You’re just doing your job, just like he is when he’s away on cases. 

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop,” he holds his hands up in defense, and you snatch them like they’re precious jewels. You kiss him again, this one longer and lingering. 

You finish packing your family’s lunch into the cooler. Lizzy’s recital is at a small amphitheater in the park, and after you drop her off with her teacher backstage, you and your boys find a good spot on the green to set up your picnic blanket. 

Aaron makes this small grunt when he squats to sit down on the ground and you hold back a snicker. Jack does not read the room and calls him an old man. 

You’re giggling as you sit down, Aaron tugging you to sit between his legs. You affectionately run your hand through Jack’s hair a few times before the first class comes up onto the stage. 

You watch the first class, and the second, clapping politely. Then, the four-and-five-year-olds are announced, and you are on your feet immediately. You hear a bit of rustling and Jack and Aaron are standing up, too. You grin when you see Lizzy with the other little kids, holding the hands of the boy in front of her and the girl behind her as they all walk in a line. 

Their dance is simplistic and whimsical and joyful, set to a light, poppy tune that makes you think of spring. You’re grinning and watching Lizzy float across the stage. She’s not the most graceful, but she hits every move at the right time.

You hear rustling behind you and turn over your shoulder to see Aaron and Jack subtly performing the dance with the class. They’re not moving nearly as dedicatedly as the group on stage, but they’re helping Lizzy from the audience. It’s so sweet you want to cry. 

When Lizzy’s group is finished, the three of you on the lawn explode in applause. Aaron wolf-whistles behind you and Jack is cheering, “that’s my sister!” 

After the other classes go, you’re allowed to head back and pick up Lizzy. She’s giggling with the other kids in her class, but she freezes and grins like it’s Christmas morning when she sees you. 

“Mommy!” she squeals, and runs to you. You lift her up off the ground in a hug and spin her around, before passing her off to Aaron. He does the same thing. “Dizzy! Dizzy!” She’s squealing, and Aaron finally sets her down. 

“Dizzy Lizzy, huh?” Aaron teases, running his thumb and his forefinger down one of her pigtails. “You did so good, sweet girl!” He was never the best at baby-talking to Lizzy, but now that she’s a little girl, he speaks to her so excitedly and she always beams when she learns her father is proud of her. 

“You got the leap at the right part!” Jack exclaims proudly, and you watch as Lizzy hugs her big brother. 

You point out the picnic blanket with the cooler and tell Jack to take Lizzy ahead to it. Jack loves being responsible, so he takes Lizzy by the hand and leads her towards your family’s setup. 

Hanging back with Aaron, you look up at him and brush his dark hair off his forehead. “You learned her dance?” you ask with a small smirk on your face. 

Aaron’s dark eyes gaze into yours and he wraps an arm around your shoulders, tugging you close to him. “She was doing it every chance she got,” he shrugs, like it’s totally no big deal. “You’re telling me you don’t have it memorized?”  

[dollwrites]

2-Hellsing Alucard or

7-Luke Valentine

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut ( minors dni ), fem!human!reader, exhibitionism mention, technically sex worker!reader, fingering, all characters featured are aged 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading < 3

𝘄𝗲𝗹𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝗯𝗮𝗰𝗸 𝗯𝗹𝘂𝗿𝗯𝘀 ∣ prompt # two // sex in front of a big window where anyone could glance up and see them

“Humans truly are fickle, aren’t they?” a wicked, bubbling chuckle rises from the depths of Alucard’s throat, and you can feel his fangs against the shell of your ear. you had to wonder if he was working hard to resist the temptation of biting you, or perhaps it was a simple act of self restraint, as one might if their belly is full from dinner but a big slice of chocolate cake is placed in front of them— after all, ghoulifying his favorite, little plaything wasn’t ideal. long, slender digits comb through your damp tendrils, razor nails nipping at your scalp. “Usually so eager for me, and yet right now I can feel a fiery blush on your skin.”

you were so warm; a wet, little heater pressed between his icy bare flesh and the cool glass of the window that stood taller than you. the moon was out, unencumbered by a cloudy night, and poured silvery glows over the way your breasts smashed against the glass.

“Someone will see…” you whisper— and your breath fogs the window in a small semicircle around where your cheek and lips are kissing it. “Someone will see me—“

“And?” Alucard laughs again, amused by your sudden shyness. the curve of his devilish grin smears along the side of your jaw, careening over your neck and leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. “Someone might look up and see this, yes. In fact, I’m almost certain they will. And they will see you, writhing and pinned, with my fingers toying your pretty, human cunt.” it’s a hiss of promise, and his other hand slips around your waist and over your belly, straight to your core. your legs spread wider, even as you balance on your tip-toes, allowing him access to your sex. the pads of his fore and ring finger plant themselves against your folds to spread them, exposing your throbbing bud for his middle finger to flick slowly at, relishing in the way you jerk and jump with each pass of pressure. “No one here will be surprised to find us like this, my dear. After all, were you not appointed to this very position by the Organization itself?”

“Well, yes, but—“

“‘But…’” he repeats the word with a taunting lilt. he purses his lips, kissing your neck with startling gentleness. “You’re a modest, little thing, and you don’t want your peers to look down on you, right?” sheepishly, you tilt your head and allow him better access, subtly nodding in response to his question as you do so. “Is a soldier looked down upon for killing?” he poses the question, his middle finger pressing against your clit like a pulsing button, and you let out a soft gasp.

“N—no—“

“A painter, for painting?”

“Nuh uh…” it was getting difficult to answer him, the pressure hard as he rubs the bundle, and his long, sharp nails pet and scrape at your slick, threatening to slice your skin. they don’t, as they’re attached to svelte fingers, but the thought still sends a shiver creeping up your spine.

“Of course not,” Alucard murmurs, his mouth gliding its way back up your neck and across your cheek. at this moment, he uses the grip on your hair to encourage your head with a nudge to turn so that he may stare directly into your eyes with his own crimson ones, burning with passion. his lips tease as they hover inches from yours— and your breath lands upon them only to ricochet back into your face. locked in a passionate stare with a devil such as Alucard was a death wish for anyone else, but you were different. “Just as a toy isn’t looked down upon for being played with.” his grin curls up, revealing more of his jagged fangs, making your heart beat faster, and he presses his mouth against yours in a devouring kiss, but one that is much too brief for your liking. you’d so much rather be smothered to your end by his lips and tongue. when he pulls away, just enough to allow you to breathe, the digit rubbing your clit inches down, prodding at your clenching hole. you were already prepared for him, and all it took was a little heavy petting and some nasty words. “Besides,” his voice is a mocking, yet affectionate baritone, “what with all the screaming, the begging, the crying out my name in what could only be pleasure, do you really think anyone in this building is oblivious to how thoroughly I use you?”

[itstimetojellyfish]

Hello! I hope your day is going well! Could I request a angst/comfort Jiyan x reader, where Jiyan has been away on the battlefield for months. The reader is feeling extremely lonely, and when Jiyan surprises the reader with his return, he's very gentle and wholesome with them. Thank you very much! I hope this wasn't too vague.

LETS GOOOOO!!!!! Now imma go suffer and try find a picture that actually fits . Thanks !

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Missing you.( Im back) Jiyan x reader

It’s been so long since you’ve last seen your lover’s face .

The mission was only supposed to be a week , but now it’s been months .

You really miss your overworked lover… as exhausted as he can be , you vowed you would take care of him anyways .

( You forgot to protect and nurture your own heart as well)

Now you’re on the bed , just praying to see a glimpse of teal to just give you a bit of hope that your lover’s coming back from the battlefield . Then you can take care of his weary bones and make sure he feels loved.

You stare at the ceiling , trying to recall what Jiyan looks like….

Sharp features…

Amber eyes…

Teal hair….

You forgot the rest………..

YOU FORGOT THE REST.

How could you?! That was utterly ridiculous! To forget what your lover looks like?!

But unfortunately, it was true , it’s been so long …. That you can’t even remember what he looks like , only colors , you couldn’t even describe his outfit.

As you realize how useless you are you start to hiccup and cry because you didn’t think you’d be so incompetent to the point where you forgot your lover…

Before your thoughts can spiral any further down the hole of despair, something moved around , you were pretty sure no one was supposed to be up at like , 1:47 am ….

You take a robe from the closet and put it on before opening the window and peeking outside , you couldn’t see anything , the usual , grass , trees, and the midnight general , and the city-

THE MIDNIGHT GENERAL?!

You whip your head to the side to make sure you weren’t hallucinating, only to find out you probably were since he wasn’t there…

You turn around to get back in bed but to your surprise , before you can even twist your upper torso to the side , long , warm arms wrap around your waist and coddle you gently .

You manage to turn around and come face to face with your lover .

He ‘s back

Sharp eyes , the color of molten lava , look at your figure slowly , his eyes trailing up and down as he makes sure you haven’t malnourished yourself in the months that he was gone.

You stare at him dumbfounded as you realize he’s actually back and not some stupid hallucination you have .

As he looks over you , he sees the dark , semicircles punched underneath your eyes. He rubs a thumb over them before saying .

“ You didn’t sleep , did you? Were you worrying about me?” He kisses your forehead before lifting you in a bridal carry and placing you in bed

You respond in a meek tone ,” Yes… I was worried okay?! You told me it was only supposed to be 2 weeks! It’s been 5 months.”

He stares at you as tears well up in your eyes , and then gently kisses them away , hugging your smaller frame as he replies with “ I’m sorry .. the Tacet Discord waves were getting bigger and bigger..”

He looks at you for a moment , then asks you ,” How about I run us both a bath , you let me take care of you as a reward for waiting for me , and I’ll sleep with you as my reward , alright?”

You stare at him and bite your lip for a few seconds before nodding and looking up at him , eyes softening.

He gives you a sweet smile before going to the bathroom and starts to run the bath , you could hear the water gently splashing on top of itself.

He then goes to the closet and pulls out soft , silk robes for you two to wear after the bath is done .

When the bath is filled with warm water, he gently picks you up and puts you in the bath , the water overlapping .

After the bath is done and both of you are throughly satisfied, he lays you on the bed and sits on the edge .

You cling onto him before letting go and patting your side , silently asking him to get in bed with you so you both can sleep.

He slips into bed with you and gently plays with your hair as one arm wraps around you and holds you flush to his chest , reassuring you that he’s here and breathing in one piece .

Soon your eyes begin to close , but before they do you say ,” Love you ,Jiyan..”

You were too drowsy to hear the response from him , but you knew that he loved you anyways no matter what and would return to you .

He smiles when he hears what you say , and then kisses your forehead, replying with .

“ I love you too,goodnight,my dear moon.”

[saiintvalentiine]

Summary: Parrot and Wifies have a talk some time after the fallout of Parrot finding out Wifies is a clone. A follow up to Ken's POV in Part 1.

notes: this is once again not edited, this was the result of some quick writing last night and a wrap up today. it's more like practice for Parrot's voice which i think i did a shit job at but it's here and u can now judge me urself. enjoy. or dont idk. divider from here

word count: 2568. just slightly less than the previous installment.

11:49

Parrot has picked through his feathers so many times he thinks he’s developing a bald spot in his left wing. He's usually better at waiting, has patience for his plans to go through, but today there is no plan, just waiting. He stares at his comm, open in his hand as he rereads the chat over and over again.

[Wifies]: Would you be open to talking with me today?

[Parrotx2]: yes

[Parrotx2]: of course

[Parrotx2]: what’s up

[Wifies]: I was actually wondering if we could meet up.

[Parrotx2]: yeah wherever you want

[Wifies]: I’ll open up my world.

[Wifies]: How does noon sound?

[Parrotx2]: perfect

[Wifies]: I’ll send you the IP then.

[Parrotx2]: great!

Great! He sounds like a loser.

So Parrot is waiting for the clock to strike noon on his comm to go. Part of him wonders if he's going to spawn into a pit, or straight into lava, or in an escape room, something that would make Wifies feel better to watch him go through after the hell Parrot raised. Parrot would be fine with that. Honestly, he hopes Wifies is mad. He's only going to feel worse if he's met with Wifies’s carefully thought out words and blunt kindness.

11:54

He stops touching his wings. He's been trying to organize his thoughts so he doesn't say something incredibly stupid to Wifies again. There’s a script now.

I’m sorry for reacting so harshly, I was shocked and didn’t know how to process what I was hearing. I felt hurt because I thought you didn’t trust me with the truth, but now I see why you wanted to keep it to yourself. I should have never acted that way. You’re so important to me, and I should have thought about all the trust between us. I always trust you.

11:55

It’s simple, but it’s straightforward, and he wants to be as clear as possible. He also wants to be sincere, but sincerity is scary. His sincerity is blue, bruised, gushes forward like an open wound and stains the world in his blood.

11:56

But he can do sincerity. He can do it for Wifies. He could probably do a lot for Wifies, but Wifies never asks for anything. He didn’t even ask to be freed from the chunkban. He just waited. Trusted Parrot, and waited for Parrot, and was happy to see Parrot after everything. Wifies is always trusting and waiting and happy.

11:57

And Parrot ruined it for what? Catharsis for his fears? A moment to let that horrible feeling of being second, third, fourth in someone's life tear through everything he’s done? Is that even the reason why?

11:58

God. When Wifies starts asking questions, Parrot is going to crumble like a house of cards. It'll be Parrot's unjust luck to be forgiven.

[Wifies]: IP XXXXXXXXXX

Parrot jolts and almost drops his comm. He scrambles to copy the IP down and flick through his comm settings. He pastes it into the server IP box and hovers over the connect button.

12:00

He clicks connect.

Landing softly onto a carpet of podzol in a chilly spruce forest, Parrot lets out a plume of ashen breath. There are a few cabins in a semicircle in front of him, warm light spilling out of each window and from the branches of the towering spruce trees. The afternoon sun barely breaches the canopy, but it speckles the ground just enough to give the world a surreal atmosphere.

There's a campfire pit to one side surrounded by log benches, and there sits Wifies. He looks brilliant in the firelight, dark hair loose without his headband and violet eyes muted.

“Parrot,” Wifies calls out as he stands up. “Hey.”

“Hi,” Parrot says lamely, hesitating for a moment before making his way over to Wifies. The campfire warms him up, but the chill doesn't go away. “How are you?”

“It’s going to rain soon, so I’m feeling it in my joints,” Wifies says, lighthearted as he rubs one of his shoulders. “Sit with me.”

So Parrot does. He’s not in the business of denying Wifies much of anything. He sits on one end of the log bench, and Wifies sits two feet away, turned towards Parrot, and Parrot looks at him, and his mind just— it blanks. His script dissolves like salt in the sea.

“I wanted to start with saying that I am a clone of the original Wifies,” Wifies says, giving Parrot space to try and reboot his brain. “He was. . . making clones for the sake of content, and I was the most successful one. I never knew. And one day, Ken showed up to what I thought was my single player world, and. . . it’s a very long story, but he got me out of there and we, um, we killed the original. He. . . wasn’t going to let me just leave. And those are the main points of my story. I just wanted you to know the important bits before we talk further.”

“Clones for content,” Parrot echoes, eyebrows scrunching up. “Clones for content? He was— what?”

“Making clones to put them into escape rooms for quick video production.”

“The— what the fuck?”

Wifies smiles awkwardly, but doesn’t speak again. He keeps rubbing his shoulder over and over, self soothing maybe, or maybe it’s just that painful from the onset of the rain.

“I'm sorry for how I acted. I don’t care that you’re a clone,” Parrot says, flinching at his own sharpness. He looks away and into the crackling fire. “I care about you. The clone stuff is— is whatever. Or not whatever, I’ll care about it as much as you want me to care about it.”

“Parrot, don’t make me promises you know you can’t keep.”

Wifies’s voice is gentle. It is so, so gentle, with no hint of disappointment or scolding. Parrot’s stomach churns. He wishes again for Wifies’s anger, pointed and cold, instead of this. Anger is easy. This stings like salt in a wound.

“Why do you think I can’t keep to that?”

“Not knowing drives you crazy.”

“You not being there has driven me more crazy.”

“Until you forget, and it starts bothering you again.”

Parrot deserves it, but his heart is heavy and he feels like he’s been shot right through it. Wifies isn’t even being cruel, just honest; he’s right, eventually it will drive Parrot crazy to not be able to talk about the whole situation, to understand Wifies better by prying into his life.

“I don’t like talking about it. It was a bad time for me. I also don’t know everything about. . . myself. About what you’ll eventually ask.”

Parrot has to physically bite his tongue. Wifies doesn't know everything. What if he gets sick? Or badly hurt? What if he starts feeling like something is wrong, and there's nothing to be done for it, because nobody knows? What if—

“This is why I never want to tell anyone,” Wifies sighs out, curling in on himself in the corner of Parrot’s eyes. “If nothing else, just promise me you won't tell anyone?”

“Never,” Parrot says firmly. That's a promise he can keep. “I would never.”

“Thank you, Parrot.”

Their conversation tapers off. The sunlight is disappearing little by little, the promised rain clouds rolling in from far away, far above. Parrot’s feathers puff up a bit at a slight, churning breeze that cuts through the forest.

“I'm sorry, for what it's worth. For lying this whole time.”

“I see why you did. I just ended up proving why lying was the right choice. Nothing to be sorry about.”

“It's funny,” Wifies says in a voice that promises to be anything but funny. “When I'm scared, everything hurts again. I can never remember how they got here, but all the little pains come back again, like the reminder of fear should pull a memory or two up. But there's nothing. I don't remember how I hurt my shoulder this badly. I don't remember how it got fixed. All I remember is that it’s hurt forever. I don't remember a life without pain, and when this all came to light, my reality went from a life where pain existed to a life that was lived with pain.”

Rain begins to dribble through the leaves around them. The campfire hisses and sparks but doesn't extinguish, too large and hot to be daunted by such a pathetic display. The canopy is too dense for the rain to punch through in earnest.

“What are you scared of?” Parrot forces himself to ask. Please don't be afraid of me.

“Losing another part of my life to this. I can never seem to escape the factory. What a lousy escapist I've become, huh?”

Wifies pulls his feet up into the log, resting his chin on his knee and watching the fire. Parrot doesn't remember turning towards him, but he inches closer. The space between them is too large. His hand is too far from Wifies’s own.

“You don't have to lose anything,” Parrot says. “There's nothing to be lost. You can always come back to the server. Nobody there will ever know except for Ken.”

“No matter how this plays out, I lose you.”

“I'm right here. I'm right next to you, right now, what do you mean?”

Parrot feels pathetic, but he doesn't care. Wifies won't look at him, is talking about losing him like Parrot isn't about to crawl out of his skin just so Wifies won't leave him again. The rain thickens the air around them with the promise of more force, and Parrot stretches a wing over Wifies’s head without a single thought.

“You'll always think about the fact I'm a clone. I lost my status of human. I lost our relationship. It took so long for me to feel normal, and now it's all gone.”

“Wifies, look at me please.”

Wifies does. He does, because he still cares, and Parrot is going to be sick at the resigned look in Wifies’s eyes. Parrot is close enough now, so he reaches out and holds Wifies’s face in both hands. He can feel the way Wifies’s jaw works, the thrum of his slow heartbeat in his throat, the way his breathing is shallow and quick. His eyes are a little glassy, a little red, and Parrot adds another wretched tally to the list of times he's made Wifies cry.

“No matter what, you are human, okay? To me, and to Ken, and I'm sure to whoever you were talking to that day as well. Don't ever doubt that.”

Wifies’s expression softens and he just barely nods, which is a small relief for Parrot.

“All I ever think about when you're gone is when you're coming back,” Parrot says. His sincerity bleeds, red and blue smudged across each word. He’ll bleed for them, every drop if that’s what it takes. “And all I've been thinking about this whole time is how I'm going to make it up to you. How I really, really want to do whatever it takes for you to stay. I want you to stay. And not a single one of those thoughts had anything to do with whether you're a clone or not.”

Wifies breathes in. It shakes something horrible. Parrot will crawl his way back into being trusted until he has no more body to move with.

“All of those thoughts had to do with how you've always been with me. Funny, kind, snarky, quick, the only person in this world I've ever been able to close my eyes next to knowing that I've got everything I need right there. That the only way I'll ever be apart from you is by being torn. And none of that, none of it, has changed. I still think all that about you. All that's been added is that I'm an asshole who definitely doesn't deserve your loyalty, but I'm too greedy to let it go so easily.”

That makes Wifies giggle, the sound wet and cracking. Parrot presses the pads of his thumbs under Wifies's eyes. If he's going to make Wifies cry, the least he can do is clean it up too.

“The only thing I ever need you to do is believe in me,” Parrot says, pressing his lips to Wifies’s forehead. It's easier somehow to speak like this, wetness pooling against Parrot’s fingers. “Believe that I love you so much. Believe that I'm going to make this right between us. Believe that learning this has done nothing to change how I feel about you. And if you can't, please believe in me anyway.”

“Of course I believe in you Parrot,” Wifies murmurs, voice crackling. “Why else would I follow you everywhere?”

“I'm that persuasive?”

“Hardly.”

“Hey, not even a little?”

Wifies laughs. It’s a sweet sound. When Parrot pulls back to look, Wifies has his eyes closed, and he’s not quite smiling, but he’s not frowning either, which is a win. 

“You’re determined and direct,” Wifies says, letting the full weight of his head loll into Parrot’s hands. Parrot raises his other wing so they're encompassed by green and red and blue. “Which is what made me agree to help you at first. But then. . . I don’t know. You can be charming when you want to be. Not often, but on occasion.”

Parrot squawks indignantly just to hear Wifies laugh again. Wifies blinks his eyes open, and Parrot wipes away a stray tear.

“Do you know how touchy you are?” Wifies asks suddenly.

“Should I let go?”

“No, I just wonder if you know that. When you were upset, you made a real effort to not reach out. That’s how I knew it was serious.”

“Well, now you know it’s not serious.”

“Mm, this is serious too in its own way. You’re serious that you want me to stay.”

Parrot lifts Wifies’s head so that they’re eye to eye, bloodshot violet to his own green-blue blur, and says, “Deadly serious. I don’t want to be separated like this again. Knowing I had hurt you and couldn’t make it better? The absolute worst time of my life, I think.”

“It sucked,” Wifies agrees, finally cracking a smile. “It’s over now though. I think.”

“Of course it's over now, you're never allowed to leave me like that again,” Parrot scolds him entirely lighthearted and Wifies snorts.

“Don't yell at me again and I won't.”

“I won't, I'm sorry for yelling.”

Wifies laughs again, and despite the fact he's clearly reveling in having Parrot wrapped around his finger like this, Parrot can't even pretend to be annoyed. Wifies won't leave him again. It's all that matters right now. Any question or doubt dies a quiet death when Wifies reaches up to hold both of Parrot’s wrists in a loose grip.

“This is weirdly nice,” Wifies says, closing his eyes again. “I don't think anyone's ever touched my face so gently. I can't remember the feeling.”

“You just say when,” Parrot replies.

He's not being entirely selfless here— there's something soothing about running the pads of his thumbs over Wifies’s skin, like a promise that this moment is as real as when he left. Wifies can't leave him when they're like this, tangled up under Parrot’s wings under the rain.

“Then for just a bit longer,” Wifies says, and Parrot agrees. Just a bit longer.

[cultistic-ann-aka-sannaliel]

Hello, saw your post on sheeps and was wondering a few things. Do you do commissions? Do you have any huge tips or anything for drawing sheep? I've been trying to do it but can never get it right. I saw you were taking requests for Cotl characters but one of my friends has a sheep oc that isn't cotl and i was wondering if you'd do that or just cotl.

well hello!

sorry for the late reply and get ready, there will be a lot of chatter here… REALLY A LOT

1) Not yet, I don't have an adequate price list for this

2) Okay, here's what I learned: sheep always have horns that curl behind their ears (the exception is "Jacob sheep," which have four horns, one that curls behind their ears and one that goes up);

sheep have a noticeably divided upper lip, and long, drooping tails;

Sheep come in a variety of colors, depending on their breed. The most prominent colors I've seen are black, white, and several shades of brown. Their eyes are usually amber or brown (dark brown eyes can be mistaken for black), but they can sometimes be gray-green or gray-blue.

I draw the legs for the sheep in two ways, but both are made up of 4 separate parts

in the first the fourth part is the hoof; the first three parts are evenly divided in half for convenience:

I use this method to draw more stylized (or cartoonish) characters that are more removed from reality in terms of anatomy and are builded on the author's style.

For example, here is a quick sketch with a stylized lamb design that relies on the author's style and convenience. Anthea belongs to @the-artist-grimm (Sorry for the ping, it is important for me to indicate the author)

the second type is more anatomical in relation to reality, but still relies on human anatomy and style:

Each part is a kind of hinge and is responsible for movement. The previous one has one too, but since the second one looks a bit more complicated, I'll try to explain it

this sketch I have marked with circles the places that are responsible for movement

here it's more clear, to be honest it's like an app with a mannequin, where you can make virtual pose (although I haven't done that for a long time)

I mainly use human anatomy with a bit of sheep anatomy because I don't feel comfortable with completely animal anatomy (in percentage terms, human are 60%, animal are 40%. This doesn't only apply to sheep, I've extended this to several other four-legged animals)

I'm still figuring out about the sheep's muzzle myself. I mostly use a circle or rectangle to represent the head. For more cartoonish or feminine characters, a circle is perfect, and if the opposite is true, a rectangle

but again, it depends on comfort and style

for the nose bridge I use a diamond shape, its adds some debt

My style of drawing sheep wool is "airy", you could say I draw in semicircles. I also sometimes add some curls lines to give it more effect

That's all for now, since the question didn't specify what kind of difficulties you're having in drawing sheep, I told you a little bit of everything! well almost..

if you still don't understand something, you can contact me, just please tell me what exactly the difficulty is and I will tell you in more detail about it and how you could deal with it

You can write to the mailbox or to me personally

3) well… yes I can, but in this case it's better to send this request to my other blog: @sannaliel

Thank you for your question, I really hope I could help you!

[haveyoureadthisfanfic]

Summary: It’s a tradition the three of them hold. Whenever one of them finds a book of the right kind, he brings it back to Kaer Morhen to share with the others. They keep the books on a shelf in the library that they inexpertly installed themselves. Eskel drags a chair up to form their little semicircle in front of the library fire. Lambert opens the first bottle of krupnikas. ‘Well?’ Lambert says. ‘Either of you find a good one this year?’ ‘Feast your eyes, lads,’ says Eskel with relish, ‘on this.’ He waves an octavo at them. ‘Picked it up in Redania,’ he says. ‘Meant to be very spicy.’ He waggles his eyebrows, and Geralt grins. Jaskier is a romance novelist, and Geralt finds out.

Author: @jackironsidesfic

[spaceorphan18]

X-Men Fic (Rogue/Gambit) : Toys

A/N: Yes, this was inspired by that clip that's been going around of Gambit's VA for XM97 playing with action figures. I cannot believe this is what I'm writing for my first real fic for this fandom. Dear lord, forgive me for the shenanigans... also, unbeta'd. I just wanted to get it out into the world and be done with it.

I'll post this tomorrow on Ao3

Rated: T for suggestiveness

Summary: Rogue catches Remy playing with toy action figures of the X-Men. Shenanigans. Set in the 616 comic verse, but some fun meta-y references to XM97

****

Toys

Upon arriving home, Rogue comes in through the open kitchen window because why bother with stairs when you can fly? It’s been a long day, a long week, a long life… All she wants to do is curl up on the couch with the cats and a trashy book and hopefully Remy’s home so she can get a back massage.  Hell, forget the book, she’ll gamble for the massage first.  Save the trashy for later.  

She grins, thinking about her husband’s warm hands on her skin.  

Remy is, indeed, home; standing at the kitchen island, his back turned towards the window, so engrossed in what he’s doing that he doesn’t hear her come in.  And what he’s doing takes her by surprise.  

The kitchen counter is covered in half open boxes, plastic containers, cardboard, and little zip ties.  There are a good, half-dozen or so action figures all lined up in a semicircle; each one of them a well detailed, classically designed replica of, well… the X-Men.  Oh, dear god, what did she walk into? 

“I’ll take ya down in one slice, bub,” Remy says, holding the Wolverine figurine in one hand, his voice low as he attempts Logan’s gruff voice.  Remy LeBeau is good at a lot of things, Rogue would be first to give you a list, but doing impressions is not one of them.  She bites her lip, fascinated to see how this plays out.  Remy grabs the Magento figurine as his voice shifts to imitate Erik.  “You incels!” Remy screams; loud, exaggerated, and carefully enunciated.  “How dare you try to take down me; the questionably dressed, ego too big for my helmet, Master of Magnetism?” 

Rogue puts a hand up to her lips, holding back an amused snort.  Oh, Remy… 

Remy loses the impression as he lunges the Wolverine figurine at the Magneto one.  The Magneto one floats away.  “You fools! Don’ you remember I control the metal?”  Shaking the Wolverine figurine violently, Remy lets out a feral scream and the figure is flung to the side, landing with a clatter in the sink.  

Magneto is discarded for a moment as Remy picks up the Scott and Jean figurines.  Scott has his hand to his visor while Jean has both her hands on the sides of her head.  “Jean! I seem to have made a tactical error,” Remy cries in Scott’s no-nonsense voice.  His voice then slides higher as he mimics Jean.  “Scott, my telepathy.  It out o’ whack!  Oh, Scott!... Jean!… SCOTT!.... JEAN!!”

Rogue is dying inside.  She holds herself tightly, trying as hard as she can not to burst out laughing.  

Scott and Jean are shuffled into one hand as Remy picks up the Magneto figurine again.  “Enough of this!” Remy says, back in the Magneto voice.  He then lets out another dramatic scream as he tosses the Scott and Jean figurines onto the pile of boxes, scaring Oliver, who had been inspecting one of the twist ties.  

He picks up the Storm figurine next, raising her arms to the ceiling.  “An’ now you deal with Stormy, who will smite you with her lightning blasts.” He jolts the Storm hands into Magneto, making little sound effect lightning blasts as he does so.  “Fool, I am impervious to lightning…  How dat possible? Lightning an’ magnetism are not the same thing!... I can control static electricity!... Dat…still don’ make any sense!... Begone, weather witch!”  

Rogue has tears in her eyes. She’s biting her lip so hard, it’s beginning to hurt.  Thankfully, Remy is so lost in his make believe world that he can’t hear her snickering.  

The Storm figurine is placed gently face down on the counter as Remy picks up the Gambit figurine.  Rogue’s eyes grow wide, intensely waiting to see how this will play out… 

“Ohh, you goin’ down now, mon ami,” Remy’s voice grows low and serious.  He starts making explosion sound effects, as if the Gambit figurine is throwing little playing cards at the Magneto one.  Remy then throws his head back in a villainous laugh as he goes back to the Magneto voice.  “You seriously think a few mild explosions could ever touch me?”  

Remy stops, and grins that cocky, beautiful grin of his.  “Non, but it enough to keep you distracted.”  He starts turning the Magneto figurine around, as if it’s confused.  “See, I always gotta ace up my sleeve.”  

In a quick second, he drops the Gambit figurine, and grabs the Rogue one.  Her arm is out, one leg up, poised to fly.  Remy slams the fist of the Rogue figurine into the Magneto one’s head.  “Howdy, sugah.” 

Rogue tilts her head, amused.  Remy’s imitation of her own voice is so comically off, and yet incredibly endearing.  

“How ‘bout you leave my family alone!” The Rogue figurine crashes into the Magneto one again.  This time, Remy charges the Magneto figurine, causing it to glow purple.  He tosses the charged Magneto figurine up, letting it explode in mid-air with a bang.  The charred remains drop to the counter with a clang before it bounces into the trash next to the counter.  

Remy then picks up the Gambit figurine and brings it in close to the Rogue one.  “Anyone ever tell you how beautiful you are when you’re punching people, chere?...Why don’t you shut up and kiss me, Remy…” Remy starts clicking the faces of the two figurines together, making little kiss-y noises and ‘mwa’ sounds as the action figures ‘make out’.  

Rogue grins wildly, expecting nothing less.  She crosses her arms across her chest, casually walking forward to let her presence be known. “Whatcha doing, sugah?” 

Remy gives a startled jump, the figurines dropping out of his hand with a clatter.  He’s not the least bit sorry he’s been caught, however, a devilish grin quickly sliding onto his lips.  “Jus’ havin’ a bit of fun testing some of these toys that show sent us.”  Rogue picks the destroyed Magneto figurine out of the trash.  “Some of dem defective,” he says slyly. 

“Defective huh?” She drops the figurine unceremoniously back into the trash and comes in close, wrapping her arms around his neck.  She knows the show is a sore spot, no matter how much free merch they’ve gotten from it lately.   “You still salty about all that?”

He lets out a grumble, but still wraps himself around her, just the way she likes.  “Don’ act like you wouldn’t be, too, if they killed you off like dat.   Middle of the first season, too.  What’d I do to deserve dat?” 

“They just knew you were the best one.” She runs her fingers through his hair.  “Who else gonna go out in a fiery blaze of heroism like that?” 

He smirks, though she can still see a hint of sadness in his eyes.  “It was pretty epic, non?” 

“The best…”  She draws him in for a kiss, sweet and gentle and comforting.  “Forget that show, Remy.  That ain’t our life.  This is.” She kisses him again, a little bit harder, grounding herself in his embrace.  He had tortured himself wanting to keep watching that show, but she couldn’t.  She wouldn’t.  She didn’t want to imagine herself going down a path she would never recover from.  “Besides…” she says, trying to keep it light.  “I’m sure season two will have me pulling your pretty ass back from the dead one way or the other.  And if it doesn’t, you best bet I’ll get those writers fired and write it myself.”  

“I ever tell you how sexy you are when pulling me back from the dead?” 

“Shut up and kiss me, Remy.”  He does and they do.  Forget the massage tonight, they’re going straight to the trashy.  She’s hungry to feel him everywhere tonight.  

They break apart once again, breathing heavily as Rogue leans her forehead against his.  “Hey, Remy?” 

“Oui?” 

“Why don’t we leave this mess for later and go play with some of the toys we’ve already got.”

He laughs into another kiss.  “You always have de best ideas, chere…” 

****

Later… 

In the stillness of the night, long after Remy’s fallen asleep, Rogue gets up for a glass of water.  

The kitchen is how they left it hours ago, a mess of trash and action figures scattered around the room.  The cats had gotten into some of it.  Poor Scott had fallen to the ground.  She picks him up, placing him next to Jean, giving him a little pat as she does so.  

She wants to ignore the others.  Wants to ignore the strange sensation it is to have your likeness in toy form.  Still, she’s drawn to the little action figure her. She picks it up, inspecting it.  It’s her old green and yellow uniform, one she hasn’t worn in years. She doesn’t even know where it is, probably having been trashed in some long ago fight.  Unsurprisingly, the boobs are a little too big, the waist a little too small, and the hair a bit ridiculous.  But it’s oddly still her.  A little version her.  

She looks down to the Gambit figurine and smiles.  The trench coat, the staff, the ridiculously abbed pink breast plate.  The cocky little grin.  They got his likeness perfectly.  And yet it doesn’t even hold a candle to the real thing.  

“Love ya, Remy,” she says softly, as she takes the Rogue figurine and gives the Gambit figurine a kiss with it.  She laughs at her own silliness, but still takes a moment to place the figurines together, resting against each other, as they should be.  

She grabs her water and turns off the light and heads back to the bedroom, where she’ll soon curl up against her husband and fall asleep.  

[just-a-casual-newtasaur]

And then the world exploded

And then the world exploded (Newt x gn!reader)

Words: 5.4k

Warnings: injury, infection, explosions, mentions of death, blood, violence, mentions of violence, kissing

Summary: Minho has been taken by WICKED and the gladers are trying to rescue him

(50 follower special, whoop whoop 🎉, I luv you all tyy for being here and have an amazing week)

You POV

you follow the boys as they run along a road, looking around nervously. if they were seen by WICKED wouldn’t hesitate to blow them all sky high. you raise your head along the crowd and see Newt herding boy after boy under a moss covered overhang.

when you reach him he says in a worried voice, “is that everyone”

“yes, I’m the last one”

he nods and follows you after the others. the youngest of the boys are being comforted by the others while some had spilt into small groups to talk.

you walk with Newt, peering out around the rock you were hiding behind. you see Newts eyes scanning the area and the sky around it, muttering, “he should be here”

you put a hand on his shoulder and he holds onto your wrist, still scanning.

Thomas joins his friend at his shoulder and starts surveying the barren land between the distance WICKED building and their rocky overhang.

Newt stares, absently kicking the sand with the toe of his boot as he keeps looking into the distance.

you look at Thomas and he looks at you. he is biting his tongue and looking anxious for his friend. he had known Minho for maybe more than two years, and you have no idea what he’d do if his friend didn’t make it back to them.

“There!” Newt’s cry makes you, Thomas and others look up. you see from the distance a figure walking towards them from a distance. even from far away, it is almost certainly Minho. Newt rushes forward only stopped from running right to Minho by Thomas’ arm and quiet words.

the gladers crowd in a semicircle, bunched together watching as Minho stumbles towards them, Newt and Thomas’s faces are filled with glee and you can tell Newt is barley stopping himself from running towards his friend.

everyone keeps looking left and right, he was doing alright so far, it looked like WICKED hadn’t noticed him yet. hadn’t noticed that one of their prisoners had just escaped. the last thing you see is Minho’s face split into a giant grin. and then the world exploded.

you fall to your knees, ears ringing as bombs fall from the sky. smokes snakes around you making you cough and fire rains from above.

you bend your head, covering it with your hands and coughing violently. and then everything was still. a dull ringing fills your head and people are standing up all around you.

you find you’re sighing in relief despite yourself, as you see Newt and Thomas are already on their feet, looking around to where Minho had been a few moments ago.

“Over there.” Thomas points towards a hunched figure, no doubt Minho, shaking with coughs. three shadowy figures holding long sticks with electricity fizzing from the end, approach him from behind.

you don’t think. you weren’t thinking. all you know is that you’re running. running towards the crouched boy.

“No! Y/n!” you glance behind you to see Newt fighting off Thomas who had his arms gripped around his waist, restraining him. “No!”

you turn away from him, Newt’s screams still ringing after you. you race towards Minho and the figures, slamming into one of them and making his teammates turn and raise their weapons.

there is a fizz of electricity and you feel your limbs jerk from under you. a strangled scream escapes your mouth as you fall to the ground.

hands carry you away, another flash of electricity and shout of pain tells you Minho is being carried after you. pain ripples through your body. and then you pass out.

Newt POV

I struggle against Tommy’s grip, fighting as hard as I can to run after them. “No! Y/n!” Thomas grunts with the effort of restraining me and Frypan moves to help, grabbing my arms and pinning them down by my sides.

I see them slam into one of the figures and a flash of light as the others shoot their weapons. a strangled cry, somewhere between a scream and a sob, escapes my mouth and I double my efforts in fighting to free myself.

“Newt stop it”

I ignore him.

“Newt, if you get caught now, we won’t be able to help them”

I stop struggling and Tommy uses the opportunity to drag me away after the other gladers who had taken cover behind the large overhang.

You POV

you blink open your eyes and see Minho leaning on one of the walls of the blinding white room you’re in. “you’re finally awake.” sitting up, you rub your head.

“That was a really stupid thing to do.”

you scoff, “yeah, you’re welcome” he smiles grimly at you.

“When Newt gets his hands on us, he’ll kill both of us.” at the thought of Newt your stomach flips and you fight the urge to be sick. you didnt know whether they were safe or not, if any of them weren’t.

the last time you remember seeing him was him screaming at you to not go while being held back by Thomas.

you spin around and start hitting one of the walls with your fist, hoping you were somewhere near the door that was pretty much invisible. or non existent. but you push that thought away.

Minho is watching you, a tiny smile on his face, “it’s no use, you don’t think I’ve already tried that?”

you press your back against the wall and slide down it. Minho sits beside you, “Listen y/n, I’m grateful for what you did, I really am, but you didn’t have too”

you look at him sadly, “I did though, I couldn’t leave a friend.”

Minho sighs, “this is why Newt gets so worried about you.” you rest your head on your knees, and Minho pats you on the arm.

“I’m sorry y/n.”

“No, it’s alright, it’s true”

“but I’m still sorry”

“it’s not that. I just feel bad that I left him. that I left all of them.”

“you got me though. that was pretty brave of you, even if it was stupid. I’m glad I’m not on my own”

you look sideways at him and smile a little. he smiles back and tucks his knees up to his chin.

Newt POV

I bounce on the balls of my feet, “we need to go get them, we need to go get them”

Tommy puts a hand on my arm, “calm down, it’s alright.”

I push him away, “it’s not bloody alright, what if they’re hurt, what if they hurt them, what if they-”

I cannot finish that sentence but Tommy’s eyes show understanding. “they’re tough, y/n, they can take care of themself.”

I sighs, “I know it’s just” I bite my lip, worry creasing lines into my face.

Thomas pulls me around to face him and hugs me tightly. I find myself hugging back, resting my face on his shoulder.

“y/n’s fine, they’re both fine, they’re troopers, they’ve been through worse.”

You POV

the click of the little hatch on the door makes you jump to your feet. “about time.” Minho scoops up the food and hands you half of it, digging into his own.

you sit cross legged on the floor, silently eating with Minho. “you know you have no manners.”

Minho grins at you through a mouthful of potato and starts stuffing his face so much he looks like a hamster.

you laugh quietly.

“I’m glad I’m not alone in this place. It’d be pretty miserable.”

“Don’t worry, we won’t be alone for long. they’ll get us out”

you scoff.

“Seriously, I wouldn’t be surprised if Newt isn’t pulling out bits of his hair right now. he worries about you, you know”

you put your chin on your knees, not very hungry anymore. you did not want to think about Newt right now, let alone think about the worry you knew he must be experiencing.

Minho puts down his food, “I’m sorry y/n, I’m just trying to keep you from losing hope”

you nod at him, “how did you escape before.”

he grins to himself, pointing to a piece of plaster scraped hastily over a patch of ceiling.

“See that up there, these shanks don’t think we can get up there but I wasn’t keeper of the runners for no reason”

he gets to his feet, walks up to the back wall, takes a breath and sprints as fast as he can at the opposite wall, he jumps on a small foothold you see Minho must have made himself, and pushes off it touching the uneven ceiling with the palm of his hand.

he lands on his feet, and sits back down next to you. “it was probably because I need some fresh air but now they’ve just covered it up and are probably using some kind of fancy technology to blast air in here.”

you sigh, “how on earth are we getting out of this place”

“You’ll see” Minho smiles at you, “the others will be here, they’ll help us”

Newt POV

I feel my leg shaking, having to stop myself biting my nails for the fourth time. Tommy paces behind me, talking with Frypan and a few other gladers.

they are talking about how best to get Minho and y/n out of their prison. Brenda has a vague idea of where they are, but the rest of us are stumped, we just know that they’re in that building.

I get to my feet and walk over to the group. “Have you decided what to do for Minho and y/n yet?”

“Newt,” Tommy starts patiently, “it’s only been five minutes since you last asked that, and we haven’t got much further in figuring out how to get them out”

“Let’s just burst in there”

“Newt they’ll shoot you down within seconds”

I feel my blood boiling with hatred for WICKED, “I’d like to see them try, I’ll snap their necks in half for what they’ve done to all of us”

Tommy puts a hand on my shoulder, “If we start hurting them what do you think they’ll do to y/n and Minho. they have them trapped. won’t be too hard to put a bullet through their brains if we do anything wrong”

I press my mouth into a thin line and take a deep breath, closing my eyes tight before nodding and sitting back down some ways away, watching the WICKED building and imagining many things, most involving piles of Cranks and giant rocks of fire, destroying the whole place.

*

I feel my hopes lift as Thomas beckons all the gladers to gather around him. “I think we have come up with an idea to get Minho and y/n back from WICKED.”

I listen carefully as Thomas explains the plan, “but before we do this, I need to tell you, if anyone breaks from their post,” he fixes me with a serious stare, “this whole thing might not work.”

I raise my head indignantly, “I won’t break from my post, so long as I’m helping actually rescue them.”

Thomas looks at me and I glare back at him. then he sighs and I know he’s given in. “Fine, you can help, but don’t go running off, or attack anyone from WICKED just because they’re passing”

“Alright, alright, I’ll behave myself”

“Good,” Thomas turns to assign posts to the others, as they gather around him.

You POV

you sit in the middle of the room, your back pressed against Minho’s. “So, how long do you think it’ll be before the others get in here.”

“At least we’ll hopefully know if they tried,” you look at him in confusion, “well they’ll be thrown in here, won’t they?”

“Doesn’t seem like WICKED will let us all share a cell.”

Minho doesn’t answer, just kicks one of his legs over the other. “When do you think they’ll bring dinner.”

you laugh, “I thought we were talking about the others rescuing us.”

he shrugs, “I’m hungry.”

you laugh and he laughs too. that’s when the door clicks. both of you scramble to your feet, expecting to see the faces of their friends.

as the rat man steps through, your face falls. “What do you want.” Minho’s voice is harsh and he folds his arms across his chest.

“I’m here to take y/n”

“Mhm, let me think about that, no”

“It’s not your choice, I’ve been sent to take them”

“And why is that?”

“That, is not your concern”

Minho opens his mouth again, but you pat him on the shoulder and step towards the rat man.

he nods at you and gestures for you to step out of the door. you see Minho’s confused and a little anxious face as the door slides close behind you.

two guards flank you and the rat man as you walk down a long hallway. you look around, thinking of the possibility of escape. a guard prods you in the back with his launcher, “don’t even think about it.”

you reach a door and the rat man opens it with the guards shoving you inside. “Make yourself at home, you’ll be here for a while.” the rat man smiles cruelly as he shuts the door on you, leaving you in another, slightly smaller, white room.

Newt POV

I crouch next to Tommy, keeping my eyes on the building. two people sprint towards it, using the overhanging rocks to shield themselves from the view of the cameras that are propped all around the walls of the building.

they run until they are about one hundred meters away from it, and then they raise a hand above their head.

Thomas nods at me, and we and three others run towards them. Funny really, WICKED had so much security, yet they fail to put any cameras under these rocks. or maybe they did and were just toying with us. that was one of the reasons that only me and Tommy were going in.

we run, doubled over to avoid hitting our heads on the rough rocky roof.

Tommy holds out his hand and we stop abruptly. he turns to the boys behind us, “okay, you three, wait here and make sure nobody notices that anyone is going in or out. use a distraction, cover the cameras, just make sure WICKED isn’t focusing on us or Minho and y/n.”

they nod and Tommy moves forwards with me close behind him. we reach a heavy door, when Tommy spins around to face me. “Listen, I know you want to get them out, and we will, but don’t do anything stupid.”

I look defiant but eventually say, “fine.” he nods and ducks under the garage like door, slipping inside.

a long hallway stretches before us. Tommy leads the way down it, peeking around corners before moving.

I breathe quietly into his ear, “where are they?”

he looks around before answering, “Brenda said it was around here somewhere.”

we slip down the hallway, running around corners before Tommy stops so abruptly I slam into him.

I peer around him and see a door. my heart starts racing, and he shoots me a look that says, ‘remember don’t do anything stupid’.

he walks ahead of you, keeping one of his arms stiff as though he is getting ready to hold me back if he has to.

Thomas flattens his palms and starts patting the door, muttering under his breath. no doubt Brenda had told him how to open these mechanical door.

there is a click and a whir, and the door slides open slowly. I’m surprised that people don’t start running towards us, the sound wasn’t exactly quiet.

Minho’s apprehensive face comes into view but it quickly splits into grin as he sees me and Thomas standing on the other side.

he rushes towards us, “I knew it, I knew you’d come. I kept telling y/n.”

“speaking of which where is y/n,” I survey the room, feeling my face grow pale.

Minho looks at me, “the rat man took her. I don’t know where she is.”

Thomas pats me on the arm, and I take a deep breath, though on the inside, my heart is screaming. “Right, we probably don’t have much time before WICKED find out that you’re out of here, so we’d better find y/n, and get out of here”

at the silence that follows I nod and gesture for either Thomas or Minho to lead the way. they share a look of understanding before Thomas moves in front of me.

I follow behind him, being much less careful to be quiet. it was only a matter of time before WICKED was on us anyways.

You POV

you sit, curled in a corner of the room, bored out of your mind. footsteps run past your door and you jump to your feet, pressing your ear up to the door at the sound of mumbling.

“He’s out somehow, the cell’s empty”

“Sounds like his friends have finally come for him”

“Where is security, they should have been stopped”

“They’re over by Denver, taking care of some Cranks”

“That isn’t our problem”

“Well their paying for it and we all know-“

the last bit of the WICKED employee’s sentence was cut of by a loud crunching, and the sound of flesh against flesh.

their friend shouts in surprise but his is cut short too by a thumping sound. “Newt I told you not to do anything stupid,” Thomas’ annoyed voice echoes from near the unfindable door of your cell, “like that.”

you bang your fists on the door, shouting, “Thomas, Newt!” a shout sounds from nearby, “y/n!”

you hear footsteps run towards your door. “Back up Newt, I’ll open it.” you hear a few clicks and whirs and then a hiss as the door slides open slowly.

“Y/n!” Newt grins widely at you and you sprint towards him, throwing yourself at him, wrapping your legs around his waist. you crash your lips onto his the second you two collide.

he stumbles backwards slightly, but keeps his balance, returning your kiss and hugging you back so tightly, you’re sure neither of you can breathe. You finally break apart as Newt says quietly, “Never do that again, you hear me. Never.”

you don’t answer, you can’t promise that.

you raise your head a little and see Thomas and Minho grinning at each other. unfortunately, the moment doesn’t last. at that very moment, alarms blare and red flashing lights dance before your eyes.

“well that’s our cue, let’s get out of here.”

you intertwine your fingers with his and run after the three, down long, narrow corridors. footsteps and shouts sound from behind you.

you glance over your shoulder and hear a clicking sound. armed WICKED guards race towards the group, aiming guns at you.

the bullet flies through the air and hits you in the leg. you cry and feel it jerk out from underneath you.

Newt turns around and bends down next to you, “no, they’re not taking you again.” he sweeps you, bridal style, into his arms and runs with you.

catching up to the others, you see their eyes widen as they see you, still letting out small cries of pain, in Newt’s arms.

Thomas reaches out an arm to help his friend but he waves him away. “Keep going, I’ll take care of y/n, get the others out of the way, it won’t be long before WICKED sends those bombs again.”

Thomas nods, speeds up to run beside Minho, exchanges a few words with him and they both start sprinting away from the two of you, around a corner and out of sight.

a loud metallic creaking reaches your ears. you hear Newt groan quietly. he speeds up, running, or rather hobbling, down the long hallway.

he races around a corner to find a slowly closing garage like door. picking up the pace, you try to block out the footsteps behind you, growing closer.

Newt leans into you, whispering in your ear, “this is going to hurt, it’ll be over soon.” you nod and he touches your nose with his for a moment, before bending down and sending you rolling underneath the door.

you shout in pain as you tumble on your injured leg. as you roll to a stop, you see Newt slide under the door, just before it closes with a crash.

he kneels next to you, gently prising your bloodstained hands off your leg so he can examine it. you see him bite his lip, anger flashing in his eyes.

putting a hand on his, he smiles at you, warmth once more filling his face. yet at the sound of footsteps, both of your heads jerk upwards towards the sound.

Minho and Thomas stand above the two of you, looking grave. “What is it?”

they look at each other, “follow us.” Newt looks back down at you, “are you okay if we stand?”

you take a breath and nod. he puts one of your arms around his shoulders and, as gently as he can, rises with you.

wincing slightly, you lean on him, keeping weight off your leg. the two of you follow Minho and Thomas in silence.

you duck under rocks, bent double. you finally straighten up, expecting to see the gladers, anyone.

but you’re met with a completely different sight. large smoking craters dot the area. boulders have been destroyed, littering the floor with rocky debris.

Newt POV

“looks like WICKED were more aware of what was going on than we thought.”

“I suppose y/n, and me weren’t doing much for them except to get the rest of you in one place. seems like they attacked the others before we got back.”

“Do you think they’re alright” Thomas bites his lip, looking anxious.

“Well there are no bodies but WICKED could have always cleaned up after themselves.” I twist my hands together, worry and hatred for what WICKED had done fighting for dominance.

“They know what they’re doing.”

“That won’t stop them getting blown up.”

Minho sits down with his back against a rock, “so what’s the plan. we can’t stay here. it’s only a matter of time before WICKED blow us up too.”

“We should get moving.” y/n lowers themself steadily onto a rock, “maybe we’ll be able to catch up to the others, and regroup. and if not, at least we’re putting some distance between us and this wretched place.”

“We need to do something about your leg first. I’d clean it, but there’s nothing, but bloody sand around here”

I bend down, looking closely at the bloody fabric of her trousers. I look around me for some sort of bandage, before eventually ripping off a strip of fabric off my jacket and tying it, gently yet tightly around their leg. a small wince slips from their lips and I immediately look up. they have their eyes squeezed shut and their fists clenched.

You POV

“It’s alright love, I’m done now.”

you prise open your eyes slowly, trying hard not to look at the already bloodstained bandage.

“Are you okay y/n.” Minho is looking at you sympathetically.

“Of course they’re not bloody okay. bloody shuck ran their leg through with a bleeding bullet. and when I get my hands on the idiot that did it, I’ll-“

“you won’t do anything to anyone” you pat him gently on the arm.

“We’ll see”, menace edges his voice but the rage has left his face.

“There isn’t much we can do against them.” Thomas is watching Newt closely, “four unarmed teenagers, one of which is injured, against hoards of armed WICKED workers with bergs and launchers. this isn’t a movie, just ‘cause we’re the good guys doesn’t mean we’ll win.”

you sit in silence for a moment, letting Thomas’ words sink in. the truth was, he was right, they didn’t stand a chance against WICKED. it would be a miracle if all of them made it out of this alive. you had already lost so many.

you look around at the boys. if any of them didn’t make it. no, you shake away that thought, it was too unbearable.

besides it wasn’t true, you would make it out, all of you. you’d just have to keep telling yourself it. then maybe you’d believe it.

Newt POV

we keep walking. walking, walking. not sure to where exactly. well I know where, but I don’t know if ‘where’ is even real.

didn’t seem likely that the people that had just dropped bombs on us, and shot y/n in the leg, would just let us into a ‘safe haven’.

I feel I have good reason to be skeptical but I don’t want to mention it to the others. they’ve already got enough worry to burden their minds.

I find myself glancing over at y/n more and more often. I can tell that they’re struggling, though they don’t say anything. their small gasps every few seconds and ever increasingly obvious limp.

they catch me watching them anxiously and tries to smile but it comes out as more of a pained grimace. I move closer to them and offer them a shoulder.

with a small sigh, they lean gratefully into me. burrowing their head in my neck, their short sharp breaths slow gently.

“we need to keep moving love if you’re ready.” I didn’t want to have to say it but Minho and Thomas were getting further and further away.

they look up into my face for a moment, as though they were trying to remember every detail of it. then they nodded.

I let them wrap an arm around my shoulder as we started walking. both of us limped along after Thomas and Minho who looked like they had stopped to wait for the two of us.

You POV

you reach the boys, and see Minho and Thomas watching you closely. “Do you want me to take her Newt.”

you press closer to the boy beside you, and he looks down at you before answering, “I’m alright Tommy, they’re good with me.”

he nods. Newt looks towards Minho, “are we gonna keep moving or are we stopping here?” he cups his hands over his eyes, looking up towards the sun then back at you.

“we can stop here.”

you sigh in relief and sink onto the sand. the sun has already started setting, splashing orange into the blue sky. Newt sits down next to you and you put your head gently in his lap.

he looks down at you, stroking your hair softly. you hear Thomas and Minho laying down out of your field of vision. you close your eyes and feel sleep tugging at you.

a few weak rays of sunlight peek out from the horizon, creeping through your eyelids.

you raise your head to see Newt. dark circles showing prominently under his eyes. looking like he hadn’t slept in ages, still in the same position he was when you fell asleep.

you prop yourself on an elbow. Newt looks down at you then at the boys. “you should try and get some more sleep darling.”

“you can talk.” you retort quietly, “it looks like you didn’t get a wink of sleep last night.”

he doesn’t answer you, pretending he didn’t hear.

“Newt, you need to sleep”

he shakes his head. “Who’s gonna make sure no one from WICKED comes and takes you again in the night”

you shuffle closer to him, and put a hand on his cheek. “don’t worry about me, you need to sleep” he opens his mouth but you put a finger of his lips and drag him down slowly onto the sand.

he lets out a small sigh and, after a few moments, his breathing becomes steady. you run a hand gently through his hair. and smile at the peaceful look on his sleeping face.

Newt POV

I wake with a start, silently cursing myself for falling asleep. propping myself up on my elbow, I start looking around for y/n. my heart starts to race as I look up and down the endless dunes. spinning around frantically, I spot them and feel my heart slow from its, one hundred beats a second.

they smile, “lose something.”

“Not anymore”

“How did you sleep.” they move towards me.

“‘bout as well as I can in a desert with a fear of me or you guys being blown up by a bunch of mad scientists.”

“So pretty bad then”

I yawn hugely in answer. they look over to Tommy and Minho, who are stirring slightly. “I’d tell you to get back to sleep, but Minho will kill us both if he catches anyone sleeping longer than him. the filthy hypocrite.” they add as an afterthought, but I can tell it was a joke.

“speak of the devil”

I turn to see Minho, with bleary eyed Tommy in tow. “Shall we get moving then.” he doesn’t wait for an answer, but drags Tommy after him.

y/n rolls their eyes at me, but the smile on their face is wiped away almost instantly as they start walking. their leg seems to have gotten worse over night. they are limping worse than ever and every step is met with a grimace or small gasp.

I find myself moving closer to them, stiff, as though being ready to catch them at any moment. they seem to notice because their mouth turns into a brave smile and they say, “after this heat, I’ll never complain about the cold again.”

I have to agree with them there. I’m not sure there is a part of me that hasn’t been burned from the sun. not that I’m a stranger to sunburns.

while being both a runner and a trackhoe, I usually found myself in the sun. but this was a whole different level of torture. at this point, I’ve given up trying to wipe the sweat of my forehead.

though if anyone was struggling, it was y/n. it wasn’t that hard to see they were in pain. with both the sand dunes making walking normally impossible, and their leg that looked to be getting worse by the minute, I half expected them to keel over at any moment.

beads of sweat glisten on their forehead, and though it is hot, I’m not sure it’s from the heat. their breath is becoming rasping. yes, none of us have had enough water for quite some time, but, I can’t help worrying.

it wasn’t just me who was getting nervous. Minho and Tommy glance over their shoulder more and more frequently until they are practically walking with their heads facing backwards.

as soon as the sun starts to sink, Minho tells everyone to get some rest. he and Tommy sit on a large rock, tipping sand out of their boots, and shaking emptying bags of water sadly.

I help y/n over to another rock and after making sure they are alright, gently peeled back the makeshift bandage. the little liquid I have left in my body nearly came back up as I look at a swollen, red streaked wound where the bullet had entered their leg.

clearly an infection had set in, no doubt from the little piece of metal buried deep. there was nothing I could do but try to get as much excess blood off the strip of ripped jacket as I could.

You POV

you lean into the boy beside you and he puts an arms around your shoulders. looking up into his face you see worry there and both of you know there is nothing you can do to stop the infection.

the other boys walk over to you, “how is it looking?” Thomas asks Newt.

he doesn’t look at him, but says quietly, “infection.”

“and-“ Minho starts.

“and it means without fancy medication from WICKED there’s nothing we can do. after what’s just happened I don’t think they’ll be all too happy to help us” anger edges his voice now and his grip around you tightens.

you hold onto his hand and he relaxes a little.

“is there anything we can do, anything at all?” Thomas looks at his friend.

Newt pretends not to hear him, under the pretence of binding your leg back up, not that it would do anything but cover up the vomit inducing sight. his head is low, hidden in the shadow of the setting sun.

“Newt-“

“You just need to go easy on it and I’m sure it’ll be fine.” he pointedly ignores Thomas’ question once again.

Thomas opens his mouth again but Newt cuts over him.

“We need to rest.”

“But-“

“Now Tommy.” Minho gives him a stern look, gesturing to Newt’s blank, numb looking face.

all four of you know. you all know that if you don’t get medication, and soon, you’re not going to make it much further. you all know that you’re never going to get said medication. there wasn’t much hope. there never was much hope. but you have to keep going. for your friends. for the gladers. for Newt…

(Might continue this, if y’all like this one 😊)

[dark-and-kawaii]

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ Council ˖⟡˚౨ৎ⋆

Summary: Zevlor now resides in Thay alongside his Princess, his lover. Yet even in a new city, his tielfing heritage catches up to him…

✧₊⁺ Pairing: Zevlor x F!Tav/Lofn

✧₊⁺ Content: Angst - Zevlor Is Looked At As A Hellspawn - Lofn Doesn’t Stand For It

✧₊⁺ Notes: I wanted to share more about Lofn & Zevlor’s story xoxo I really hope you enjoy xoxo And thank you to my lovely friend @octarinecat for inspiring me to continue these stories!!!

The grand hall of Thay was a place of opulence and power, its towering columns and intricate tapestries a testament to the kingdom's rich history. Yet, on this day, the air was thick with tension, like a storm waiting to break. Lofn stood at the center of this storm, her eyes blazing with power and ruling as she faced the council.

Around her, the council members sat in a semicircle, their expressions a mix of disbelief and disapproval. At the forefront was Korgus, a bald elven man whose sharp features seemed carved from stone, “Princess Lofn, do you understand the gravity of your actions? Bringing a tiefling into the heart of Thay, parading him as your consort- it's-”

“It’s what?” Lofn challenged, her tone icy as her hand tightened around her goblet. She could hear the distant roar of Aetherion, his cries a haunting chorus as he felt her rage. Looking out the stain glass she saw how her other dragon Vrymoth’s wings beat against the sky as they both circled the city- a reminder of the power that Thay commanded.

The council was silent, save for the tapping of Korgus' fingers on the table. Finally, his voice came out, “The people will not accept him, Princess... They will see him as a creature of the Nine Hells, a reminder of our sworn enemies.”

Lofn's heart pounded in her chest, “The Nine Hells are our enemies. But Zevlor is not. He is a man of honor, a man of courage. He has proven his loyalty time and time again. And he will continue to do so, not because he is forced to, but because he chooses to.” she replied, her voice steady despite the tumult within, “He is a good man. A man that has bled for me and has kept me safe since away from Thay!”

With a deep breath, she turned to face the stained glass once more. Vyrmoth was the youngest of the two dragons, his body much smaller than Aetherion... Yet he was fast, fierce and powerful still, he was a symbol of the kingdom's might despite being so young. And yet, he allowed Zevlor to mount his back... Something no ordinary person could do, “Vyrmoth, a symbol of my family's legacy, has recognized Zevlor and has allowed him to fly upon his back. The people will see what I have seen. What I continue to see.”

A murmur rippled through the council, some agreeing while others voiced their disagreement. Korgus opened his mouth, then closed it, his expression contemplative, “It is... Unusual, yes. However,” his face grew grim, his gaze piercing Lofn like a spear, his voice low, his tone firm, “he is no dragonrider, nor has Vrymoth claimed him in such a way! And-“

“We cannot deny him,” one of the council members interrupted, her voice soft, “Zevlor is not our enemy, and you heard it from the Princess's own mouth. He had kept her safe during the war in Baldurs Gate, and if Vyrmoth has accepted him, who are we to challenge this?"

Korgus shook his head, “We are the Royal Council of Thay. Our job is to protect the Kingdom and the royal bloodline. This-“ he gestured at Lofn then to Vyrmoth in the sky, “-Is a risk. The blood of the devils flows through his veins. He is a danger to us all!”

Lofn's brows drew together, her fists clenched, her nails digging into her palms, “Zevlor is more than his blood,” her voice echoed through the grand room, her words laced with a quiet fury that belied the tremor in her hands, “And you dare question my judgment, Korgus? You, who have spent your life cowering behind the castle walls while I have ventured out into the world, facing dangers you could not even imagine?”

Korgus, his bald head gleaming under the harsh light of the chandeliers, held his ground, “My princess,” he began, “I speak only for the good of Thay. The people they whisper-“

“And who are these people, Korgus? Have you bothered to ask them? Or do you simply assume to know their thoughts, their fears?”

Another murmur of agreement, several members nodding their heads in support of their future Queen.

Lofn continued, her voice rising, “They will see Zevlor as a protector of the realm, of the Thayian people. He has fought by my side, risked his life for mine. He is the father of my unborn child, and I will not have his honor questioned.” She paused, her eyes sweeping over the faces of the council members, “And to those who still doubt,” she said, her voice hardening, “let me make one thing perfectly clear. I will not tolerate any disrespect towards Zevlor, or towards the child I carry. Anyone who dares question my judgment or his worth will be made an example of, starting with you.”

Her gaze settled on Korgus, the fire in her eyes burning with a fierceness that rivaled that of a dragon's.

The chamber fell silent. Korgus' face paled, his eyes wide with fear. He knew Lofn was not one to make empty threats. Her mother, Lynnania- Queen Of Thay, had instilled in her a determination, a willingness to fight for what she believed in, no matter the cost.

He quickly regained his composure, “You would threaten a member of your own council? For the sake of a tiefl-“

One council member, a wizened old woman with eyes as sharp as a hawk's, smiled, “A worthy successor to her mother, indeed,” she chuckled, her eyes twinkling, “The council was worried the fire may extinguish once you succeed the throne. I see now there is no need for such worry.”

“I thank you for your words, Hevga.” Lofn's heels echoed against the dark stone floors as she approached Korgus, each step deliberate and unwavering. The sound was a rhythmic declaration of war should he speak freely again, a reminder of the authority she wielded. She stopped just short of where Korgus sat, her gaze fixed firmly upon him.

“Korgus,” her voice was quiet but firm, a note of warning underlying the tone, “You have served my mother and our family with unwavering loyalty. For that, I am grateful. But understand this-“ she paused, the faintest trace of a smile tugging at the corner of her lips, “I am the next heir, the one who will rule this city. My decisions, especially those concerning whom I choose to warm my bed, are not up for debate.”

Her words hung in the air as she leaned slightly forward, her eyes never leaving his, “My mother told me the last man who questioned her- a tall pale elf... Was fed to her black dragon…” she paused, the barest hint of amusement dancing across her lips, “I’m sure the tiefling would take pity on you and spare your life... But, as for Aetherion and I, well- we may not be so generous... Do you understand, Korgus?”

The threat was clear. Korgus swallowed, his head bowed, mumbled an apology, “Yes, my princess,” he replied, his voice shaking, “I-I will not question your judgment again.”

She straightened and turned to address the rest of the council, “Give it time, and you will see. The people will come to follow Zevlor, to seek his guidance and learn from his mastery with the sword. He is a leader in his own right, and he will make a fine addition to this family- a kind one, something this bloodline could benefit from now and then.”

"We should not question our princess," another stated firmly, his gaze steady, "She is our next queen, and she has led us to victory time and again. She has forged alliances where none thought possible. The people will listen to reason, just as we must."

Korgus stared at the floor, his face a mask of shame until he finally raised his head and met Lofn's gaze, "I do apologize, Princess. I will see to it that he is welcomed here."

Lofn nodded curtly, "See that you do. Now, if there are no further objections, I would like to continue with the matters at hand."

As Lofn left the council chamber the marble steps gleamed under the flickering torchlight, casting long shadows that danced along the walls. At the base of the stairs stood Zevlor, his presence ever so comforting. Beside him was Riznof, her mother's trusted guard, a man whose loyalty was as steadfast as the stone beneath their feet.

Riznof's face broke into a warm smile as he caught sight of Lofn, “Ah, our princess returns.” He clapped Zevlor on the shoulder with a jovial strength that spoke of camaraderie despite only knowing him for such a short time, “You've brought back a fine soldier, little jewel. I look forward to seeing him on the training grounds!”

Zevlor inclined his head respectfully, his horns catching the light, “I thank you. Your words are most kind.”

Lofn returned Riznof's smile, her eyes softening as they met Zevlor's, “Yes, he is indeed. We are fortunate he chose to return with me.” Her gaze lingered on Zevlor, her affection for him evident in the tender curve of her lips.

Zevlor's tail swayed with a subtle joy at her praise, his eyes filled with a warmth that mirrored her own, “I am the fortunate one,” he replied, his voice a gentle murmur meant only for her, “To have been asked to join you in Thay is an honor beyond measure.”

Lofn nodded, then turned to Riznof. “Thank you, Riznof. Please, if you don't mind i'd like a moment with Zevlor, alone."

With a respectful nod, Riznof withdrew, leaving the two of them alone.

The tiefling hellrider glanced at her, a hint of curiosity in his eyes. “Do I even want to know what the council wanted?” he asked, his tone light yet edged with concern.

As she sighed, irritation flickered across her features. “One of them, Korgus, who has served my family well, questioned my judgment. He believes it's a poor reflection on me to be seen with you.”

Zevlor halted, and Lofn stopped just a few inches beyond him, turning to face him. He took her hand gently, his touch always so delicate, “I apologize, my dear. I never meant to cast a shadow over your light. You shouldn't have to dim yourself because of me. I had hoped they could overlook the fact that I'm... a bloody hellspawn-"

Before he could continue, Lofn reached up, cupping his face with her hands, her touch reassuring, “Zevlor, stop,” she said softly, “Don't speak like that. You are not a shameful secret, or a blight. You are the man I love, and soon the father of my child. I will not have you hide away in some dark corner, forgotten and alone. They will all seek you, and follow you just as they all do for me.”

Zevlor closed his eyes, leaning into her touch, the tension slowly draining from his body. She always had a way of making him feel safe, of easing the anxiety that threatened to overwhelm him, the constant fear that he didn't belong, “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible, “You have no idea how much that means to me, to be accepted… To be loved, despite my blood. I will not dissapoint you.”

She gave his cheek a soft kiss before pulling away, her gaze tender, “You could never disappoint me, my love… And I will remind you every day, until you no longer doubt yourself.”

[beauty-and-passion]

Do you believe there is any particular reason as to why women in Euclydia are not lines like they are in flatland? Like, Bill's mom is clearly a triangle too. Also why are women lines in flatland anyway what is that supposed to mean

I don't really remember if there was a specific reason why Women in Flatland are Lines - and if someone knows of a specific Victorian reason or a reason Abbott himself mentioned, then feel free to correct me.

Personally, I think Women are Lines because lines, half-lines and segments are all part of the Euclidean geometry. And since Abbott was talking about a 2D geometric society, he wanted to include that part of geometry too.

For the sake of the story itself, Women as Lines is a great choice: A Square, the protagonist of Flatland, spends a lot of time talking about Women and explains how their shape, despite being considered lesser than multilateral shapes like Squares, Pentagon, Polygons or Circles, is way, way more dangerous than theirs.

A Flatland Woman can potentially kill any shape: since their ends are pointy, they are basically invisible to a 2D creature's eye. So, if a Woman stands still, a Shape can potentially bump into her without noticing and, since she's so pointy, she can easily pierce through the shape (especially if it's a multilateral one) and kill it without any problem.

That's why Flatland Women have to constantly waggle their ends and signal their presence through vocalizations called "Peace-cry": because otherwise they would be invisible killers.

Also, they're subjugated to men because... well, of course they're not as mighty and multilateral as the Circles, who are the highest authority in this world. And since this world is based on the number of sides and regularity, Women can never be on the same level as Circles.

Speaking of that, I would like to cite this part regarding the Colour Bill, a historical event mentioned in the book: this bill proposed that every shape should be painted of different colors to identify them (and replace therefore the Recognition by Sight). But when talking about Women and Priest (aka Circles), the bill suggested they would be painted the same way:

"When it was objected that Priests and Women had no sides, they retorted that Nature and Expediency concurred in dictating that the front half of every human being (that is to say, the half containing his eye and mouth) should be distinguishable from his hinder half. They therefore brought before a general and extraordinary Assembly of all the States of Flatland a Bill proposing that in every Woman the half containing the eye and mouth should be coloured red, and the other half green. The Priests were to be painted in the same way, red being applied to that semicircle in which the eye and mouth formed the middle point; while the other or hinder semicircle was to be coloured green."

And yes, it's extremely ironic that the female sex, considered so ignorant and inferior compared to the high Priests, was put on their same level - if not above.

Of course this was all a satire that aimed to expose the awful situation of women in Victorian society. And I love how Abbott decided to do it: by implying women are much more powerful than the authoritarian figures - so powerful that if the Colour Bill passed, they would've easily gained status, power and knowledge, three things the authorities are taking away from them:

"At home they (Women) might hear political and ecclesiastical secrets intended not for them but for their husbands and brothers, and might even issue commands in the name of a priestly Circle; out of doors the striking combination of red and green, without addition of any other colours, would be sure to lead the common people into endless mistakes, and the Women would gain whatever the Circles lost, in the deference of the passers by."

Having said that... I really don't know why Euclydia's women are not Lines as well. Maybe it was a way to imply that, since this society is apparently more "evolved" compared to Flatland's, women and men have the same rights and social status. So there's no need to put them into a specific category and make a satire.

Also, this choice emphasizes the playful, "childish" vibe of this world: like a kid can put together two triangles and imagine they are a couple, so Bill's parents are both triangles because they have the same shape. It fits more with what we talked about in the previous ask, about Euclydia's colorful, less serious world/society.

Sure, there may be rules we're not aware of - maybe only Triangles can have Triangles as offspring in Euclydia - but for now, I think that's why women in Euclydia are shapes and not lines:

women and men have the same rights (so no need to build a satire like in Flatland)

the playful nature implied in this world

what Bill said in the AMA years ago, about his dimension having 14 billion genders: with so many genders, enclosing women into a specific shape would've been weird, I suppose

[glorixuspurpose]

The Missing Link

loki x black!daughter!reader

“So…all of you are Lokis? Even that one?” He asks, pointing at the girl, who scowls at him and smacks his hand down. 

“Yes…no…not really. We’re related..sort of, but obviously, I’m not him. He’s my-” She stops herself mid-sentence. “Wait, if you’re not a Loki, then why are you here, let alone with them? What was your nexus eve-”

  “Stop yelling! You’re gonna alert him!” Kid Loki shouts, pointing at the dark cloud in the sky. 

 They continue to walk until they reach a circular door in the floor, presumably a bunker. Classic Loki opens it.

 “Well?” Loki asks, still waiting on the girl’s answer. 

“I killed him.” She finally answers, as she descends into the vault. 

Something in his mind told it that it couldn’t be true. That girl looked familiar, too familiar, and he’s not one to forget faces.

“Wait, that can’t be true..” He mutters.

“Why can’t it be true?” She asks, mimicking his accent, as they all walk down to an area with a semicircle of chairs, with a small pool in the middle, probably for the alligator.

 She was starting to get annoyed. “Why not?”

“Because…er..well, what’s your name?” He asks. 

“Y/N.” She ever so quietly responds. 

“Y/N…”He repeats to himself, as if trying to memorize it. 

 “Then…that can’t be true because..I’m your father.” 

Y/N uncrosses her legs. “Woohoo. You finally figured it out. The last time you saw me was when I was more or less 5 years old, and Thor took you to see me. Honestly he was more of a father than you were, and honestly more than you ever will be.”

   (time skip bc i can barely remember this episode lol)

“Sylvie…and Mobius? You guys came here?” Loki asks. 

“Well some of us, not by choice, but for the most part, yeah.” Sylvie stays silent, then walks off.

 “And who might you be?” Mobius asks Freya, as if she were some random little kid that approached him. “Y/N.” She bluntly responds.

             (another time skip, woohoo!)

A/N: And now for the good part.

 “Why did you tell me that your nexus event was killing me?” Loki asked, as they sat in the grass.

“Quite the questionnaire, aren’t you?” You jokes, subtly breaking her ever so permanent poker face with a slight smirk. 

“You might as well have been dead anyway.” 

Loki frowns. 

“Well? What was it?” 

She fully smirks. “I don’t remember.” 

Loki’s hopeful face returns to a frown, then he creates himself a blanket, wrapped around him.  Y/N chuckles. 

“Of course you would do that.”

 Loki sighs. “Do you really not remember?” 

“I wouldn’t be a descendant of the God of Mischief if I didn’t tell a lie now and then. Of course I remember.” 

A gust of wind blows, and causes Freya to shiver, and her teeth to chatter. 

Loki alters the blanket so it’s wrapped around the both of them. 

 “You didn’t have to do that.” 

“You seemed cold.” 

“Is this some kind of stupid scheme to get me to tell you?”

“What? No!” 

 Y/N tilts her head so it’s leaning on Loki’s shoulder.

“Tell me about my mother.” 

 “Oh…wow. Okay,” Loki says, taken aback by the sudden question. 

“Well, she was a smart, strong, beautiful, and independent woman. She really never needed me. She had powers, just like mine–and yours– but she liked to use these fans with blades on them…and she liked to cut me with them.” That earned a chuckle from Freya.

 “She also loved the color purple. It was her absolute favorite, and she would wear it pretty much everyday. She also adored grilled cheeses ever since we first went to Midgard. She really could’ve had anyone she wanted.  I have idea why she chose me. Considering that, if it weren’t for me, she might have still been alive.”

 Loki subtly wipes his eyes with his shoulder. 

“What do you mean?” She asked.

“I thought I was saving her, but obviously I proved myself otherwise.” 

“Saving her?”

“Well you see, there was…let’s just say, a battle, and..she was hurt. I was out of my mind to think that this would work, but I turned her to stone. I thought that..because I did that, it would heal when I turned her back. I saw it work before..and I knew how to turn her back, but it was too late.”

 “I wish I could have spoken to her…even if it was only for three minutes. I…” She looks behind her. “I think she wants to talk to you.” She tell him, pointing to Sylvie. 

 “I think she can wait.” Y/N creates a watch and checks it. It’s only just going backwards. Really fast. 

“This watch is not useful, but I’m sure she’s been waiting long enough. I’m always gonna be here. There’s no leaving.” 

 Loki stands up, making the blanket disappear. 

“Except you can leave, because you’re coming with us.”

[cherrysoulth]

Pissin' Our Pants Yet?- Chapter 4: New order

💕Pairing: Negan x Female Reader 

✏️Genre/au: Canon, Action, Smut, Sci-fi, The Walking Dead Fic

✏️Rating: PG 18+, explicit

📝Wordcount: 9173

⚠️chapter warnings: Shitloads of cursing, Gore details (zombies), Mentions of cults, mentions of cult practices, dictatorship status

<<< 𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 3 | 𝕸𝖆𝖎𝖓 𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 5 >>>

Hii! Did you stumble across this work? Glad you're here 😊 Please, let me know your thoughts once you are finished. Feedback keeps me motivated to write 😁

Note that English is not my first language, so please if you find grammar mistakes, let me know. :)

My gratitude goes to @alldevilsarehere90 for her hard work on beta reading this huge chapters🧡

"Pissing our pants yet?" says Negan, the wicked big bad wolf on full display, the dance of shadows and lights in the clearing only making him look more imposing. The alpha in him is exuding from every pore through the depths of his hatred. 

'That's how he uses his anger. He channels it to dominance and subjugation,’ you think as you watch Lucile with her dangerous wires resting at his shoulder, his head held high. If you would have met him in this situation instead, you would have felt far more terrified of him than you were back in the mall. His characteristic smile back to his lips as he starts to walk, knowing they are not yet aware of the things Gregory the pencil dick has told Simon about them. "Boy, do I have a feeling we’re getting close.'' He keeps on his advances, calmly, inspecting the prey, checking each one of them in a semicircle. "Yep, it’s gonna be Pee-Pee Pants City here, real soon," his smile doesn't fade an inch at any moment, then casually points at each one of them while asking: "Which one of you pricks is the leader?" 

"It's this one," Simon replies, pointing to a slim man seemingly in his mid-forties, judging by his peppery beard. Looking at Negan as if he isn't surrounded by at least fifty men or as if Negan is as much of a threat as a walker without legs. To a certain point, you can understand his attitude. 'The dude has taken down a bunch of Saviours like they were pigs waiting to be slaughtered, instead of soldiers to a tyrant's regime,' you remind yourself. "It's this guy," adds Simon with his typical second-in-command tone. Negan looks at the guy up and down, first curious, then gets closer, smiling widely. He already knew. 

"Hi, you’re Rick, right?" he licks his molars, knowing he’s about to break some tough questions for these people, surely: the 'What's he going to do to us?' one. But starts talking seriously and the darkness shown in his features just seconds ago, makes its way into his words. Simon, in front of you, seems to be somewhere darker, his body so tense while seeming to be standing casually, you are sure you heard his joints snap. Like a contained animal on a tight leash. "I’m Negan. And I do not appreciate you killing my men. Also, when I sent my people to kill your people for killing my people, you killed more of my people," his eyes strain and his voice grows lower with those words. 

"Not cool. Not fucking cool. You have no idea how not fucking cool that shit is," the guy looks at him and you notice that sparkle in Negans eyes. Something crosses his mind. "But I think you’re gonna be up to speed shortly. Yeah, you are so gonna regret crossing me in a few minutes," that smile slowly comes back to his face, the lights making his pearls stand against the dark expression in the rest of his demeanour. "Yes, you are," his tongue travels to the side of his mouth again and for some sick reason you find that sexy. "You see, Rick, whatever you do, no matter fuckin' what, you don’t mess with the new world order. And the new world order is this, and it’s really very simple, so, even if you’re stupid, which you very well may be, you can understand it." There's a short pause in his speech. "You ready? Here goes, pay attention:" he adds, dropping Lucille from his shoulder to point to the guy who's sweating and shaking like jelly, probably starting to notice there's no way out or trying to figure one out, making him move uncomfortably away from her. 

"Give me your shit, or I will kill you," a confident smile appears on Negan's lips. You are the only lucky bastard at Sanctuary on that matter, there's nothing that Negan can threaten you with besides your own life and you are sure he already knows that wouldn't even be a threat. That is until Daryl has reappeared in your life and something has twisted in your soul. Bringing back the threat of trouble and something old, something you thought you left on the road. "Today was career day." Negan starts to pace in front of them with Lucille at his side, talking louder for everyone to hear. Not that you couldn't in this forest of silence. "We invested a lot so you would know who I am, and what I can do. You work for me now. You have shit, you give it to me," he points to a short-haired woman. "That’s your job. Now, I know that is a mighty big, nasty pill to swallow, but swallow it you most certainly mother-fuckin' will." there's some rage in his voice but he knows tonight the rules will be engraved in every single one of their minds with blood. That smile coming and going in the meantime, makes you hope it's just his way of making people think he doesn't care about hurting people to make them fall in line. "You ruled the roost. You built something. You thought you were safe. I get it. But, the word is out: You are not safe. Not even close." emphasising those last words to make a point. 'We are the only ones safe, the Saviours. Only if we follow his rules.' It makes you shiver. 

"In fact, you are fucked. More fucked if you don’t do what I want. And what I want is half your shit. And if that’s too much, you can make, find, or steal more, and it’ll even out sooner or later. This is your way of life now," he explains, extending his arms referring to the situation they are in. "The more you fight back, the harder it will be. So if someone knocks on your door, " he chuckles, "you let us in. We own that door. You try to stop us, and we will knock it down. Do you understand?'' Then he cups his ear not really expecting a response, as he arches his brows towards Rick. All probably because there's still some glare-fight coming from his little crowd. The courtesy isn't replied. "What, no answer?" He steps back again to direct himself to the kneeling group. 

"You don’t really think that you were gonna get through this without being punished, now, did you?" you look at the group stopping your eyes from staying too much on the one body you know. You knew him but you can't stop the thought: 'Anyone but him, please.'  "I don’t want to kill you, people. Just want to make that clear from the get-go. I want you to work for me. You can’t do that if you’re fuckin' dead, now, can you? I’m not growing a garden.'' Then you notice a change in the air, so thick it could be cut with a knife as if the words before were just a warm-up and he is starting the main event. Starting to get serious. "But you killed my people, a whole damn lot of them, more than I’m comfortable with. And for that, for that, you’re gonna fucking pay. So now, I’m gonna beat the holy hell outta one of you." he makes a slight pause to put his weapon of choice on display. 

"This, this is Lucille, and she is awesome. All this is just so we can pick out which one of you gets the honor.'' He keeps walking and stops in front of a redhead that gives him a 'Let it be me, I'm not scared of you,' kind of look, to which Negan smiles, inhaling sharply while rubbing his beard. "Huh. Ugh, I gotta shave this shit," he mutters to himself, then keeps walking till he sees the young man with the patch on his eye. "You got one of our guns." Negan squats in front of the kid. "Yeah. You got a lot of our guns," his gaze grilling on the kid but the boy keeps eye contact. You shiver, thinking that giving him a stink eye in this situation is probably a dead sentence but the boy is so young, he's probably not yet had the time to make big mistakes to pay for. 

"Shit, kid, lighten up. At least cry a little," Negan tells him with a chuckle before clearing his throat. He moves around still not deciding, just creating tension before choosing who's gonna die tonight. But stops in front of the short-haired woman again, who already looked like she was going to pass out when she was put down from the makeshift bed and she looks even worse now, judging from Negan’s ‘not giving a fuck tone’, says: "Je-sus. You look shitty. I should just put you out of your misery right now-"

"No! No!" shrieks an east asian guy, near to tears as he launches forward towards the woman. You bet, to protect her. 'They are a couple, definitely.' Dwight and another Savior reduce him quite violently, the first one pointing the crossbow to his head while the guy grunts on the ground.

"Nope," Negan, who has been watching the whole thing, starts to move again. "get him back in line," commands before sighing.

"N-noo…" grunts the guy while Dwight drags him to his place again. Then growls and yells with impotence and desperation. 'They don't look like bad people, in fact, they look like pretty normal people you would find at the grounds of Sanctuary. Maybe they just wanted to defend themselves' but it's not your call. "Don't... Don't…" the guy continues to plead, Negan chuckles again but you can't see the fun in all this even if he pointed it out to you.

"Hey, listen. Don't any of you, do that again. I will shut that shit down. No exceptions. First one's free. It's an emotional moment," Negans' smile comes back again, "I get it." He pauses. At this point, it seems obvious how many times he's done this to know how to increase the tension and not let the situation become a bloodbath. You realise that this might, indeed, be a tough choice. He has to choose between them the one that will seal the deal. They all are very close to each other somehow, from what you've heard along the waves, seems like the community is tightly bonded together. "Sucks, doesn’t it? The moment you realize you don’t know shit?" He looks at them and stops his eyes at the kid again, then points him with Lucille and his gaze shifts towards Rick. "This is your kid, right?" he laughs cruelly, sucking in a croaky breath. As if it's been a funny realisation, although you know he already knew somehow before making that comment. "This is definitely your kid!" he adds with a chuckle.

"So stop that!-" growls Rick, finally saying something.

"Hey! Do not make me kill the little future serial killer. Don’t make it easy on me," he suggests, showing off that he already knows who is who and what's been done. "I gotta pick somebody. See, everybody's at the table waiting for me to order." He starts to walk again, with his characteristic whistle, letting the air break through his teeth before saying: "I simply cannot decide..." Then turns, giving them his back, before another dark chuckle escapes, adding to his mystique. Turning, again, to look at them, he adds:  "I got an idea…" wetting his lips, giving it a little thought and his teeth gleaming brightly again. A terrible one, you guess. 

"Eenie. Meenie." he starts, pointing at each one of them, starting at Rick. "Miney. Mo. Catch. The tiger. By. His toe. If. He hollers. Let him go..." he moves to the other end of the lined-up people. "My mother. Told me. To pick. The very. Best. One. And you. Are. It." The time stops for a second, so does your heart in anticipation. Something familiar, yet unknown, stirring up some old emotion close to terror in you. Pure terror. "Anybody moves, anybody says anything, cut the boy’s other eye out and feed it to his father, and then we’ll start. You can breathe, you can blink, you can cry. Hell, you’re all gonna be doing that!" The mighty strength put on Lucille for the first hit affects his last words. Then something stops in you, a numbing sensation, swallowing anything you'd been feeling until this moment. Your blood cold in your veins as you see real blood dripping. Some old memory triggering but it doesn't clarify, it doesn't show in your mind. "Oh! Look at that! Taking it like a champ!"

"Suck. My. Nuts," replies the redhead as the blood starts flowing through his head and drips down. The people who know him cry and grunt in desperation. You can do nothing, you just stand there trying to seem like you are looking, but your mind is not focused on that anymore. 

It is hard to see someone you know, do those kinds of things to someone else but you remind yourself that this is survival to the fittest, you have chosen a side, you don’t know these people. You have to stick to the plan. They killed a bunch of your people. You are not a heartless bitch for this. Just one kill, just one and everything will be over. Your head spins on the times you've killed, it was always personal somehow: someone who was a threat, someone who'd hurt you or your family, someone hurting someone else who couldn't defend themself… What was really that different from this? Nothing. Your hands are dirty too. Who hasn't killed these days?

"Did you hear that?" You focus back to a mass of brain and blood instead of where a head should be, on the floor. Negans' voice is tired from the effort. "He said: Suck my nuts!" He exclaims, before laughing. He continues to smash the mass. This only adds to the distress of the people on their knees. Negan moans by the strength put on his act and you forget for a second the situation you are in. "Look at this!" he swings Lucille, spraying blood everywhere and makes that deep husky laugh, when he’s enjoying something way too much. "You guys, look at my dirty girl!" he continues between tired breaths. "Sweetheart. Lay your eyes on this." He adds, pointing to a woman within the kneeling group and sighs heavily. "Oh, damn. Were you- Were you together?" points out moving Lucile between the corpse and the woman. "That sucks. But if you were, you should know there was a reason for all this. Red- and hell, he was, is, and will ever be red. He just took one or six or seven for the team!" he concludes, with dark humor added to his last line. You can hear all of them breathing shakily, affected by the circumstances and it spins your head, unable to get joy from it. Unable to convince yourself that joking around in a situation like this is acceptable. "So, take a damn look!'' Then,  before you notice that you have been walking at all and even less moved, you are grabbing Daryl who has tried to jump on top of Negan, surely to punch him. You whisper in his ear "Be smart, don't get anyone else killed..." he moves his head to look at you, eyes wide open, then tries to shake off from your grip. 

"Daryl!" shouts Rick.

"No! Oh, no." You see Negan pointing at Rick. After a little silence, he chuckles looking at you. Your mind processes then that he might assume you protected him, which you did too, somehow. But the darkness in his sight gives you the thought he might have caught on to  you and Daryl knowing each other. If that is it, you two are fucked, in one way or another. "Get him on his knees."

You obey and retire back to your place on the right side in the background, you begin shaking worried he might kill Daryl as he warned just minutes before. Simon approaches, "Calm down, sweetheart," he whispers, but you barely notice. The way you shake being the telltale sign of how troubled you are, makes you shoot him a murderous look and even with all his height and strength he backs up, hand leaving your shoulder. A thought occurs to you, that if Negan kills Daryl... 'Why do you still care, you idiot!? He broke up with you ages ago! Literally, ages, what? Ten-eleven-twelve years ago? Shit, who can remember that...? Maybe he is not the person you remember him to be.' You keep strong but know you will hate Negan if he kills him. You would kill him. 

In a normal situation, you would be working in a conversation with Daryl. Settle things for you to move on from the past for good. Not that you would bother with anyone else. After all, you were raised not to take bullshit from anyone. But now, 'Shit... This totally sucks...'. 

Negan looks at you once more but your head is already spinning to the past. 

You tie your middle-length, dyed black hair in a ponytail before you hand him a cup of hot chocolate from the thermos. Then you rest your head on his thighs once again. Staring up at the sky full of bright tiny dots in the darkness whilst you caress the picnic blanket next to his legs with your index, making circles while watching your breaths making foggy clouds in the air.

It was your idea to go see the stars in the middle of November but it's the best time to go stargazing, when there's less heat and humidity haze, not that you couldn't see them in summer but the view was definitely better. 

The road to Brasstown Bald has also been enjoyable by itself. Anything that has to do with going on Daryl's bike is pleasurable to you. Sometimes you wish you could just have your own and at this point, you know Daryl wouldn't be the kind to shame you about it. You can't say the same about your mum, she definitely would oppose the idea. She has had enough of her son being a biker, she doesn't want her daughter to be a biker herself. Little does she know you are actually an ol' lady. Even Merle calls you that.

You pull your furry blanket higher due to the cold and Daryl's gaze drifts towards you. In a quick movement, he places his drink over the grass, peeling off his own blanket and lies down next to you. Then takes the spare blanket and pulls it over the one you already have.

Although your heights are not so different, his much bigger frame makes you feel tiny in his arms as you cuddle, with your head against his chest. His breaths and his heartbeat are like lullabies. The tenderness filling your heart makes you wish moments like this could last forever. 

It's surprising how many things your body can do automatically. You've moved into the background from one edge of the crowd to another, being now on the left. Even with that, you've seen it all, as if you were watching. Even if you've tried to eradicate it.

"Sure. Yeah," Negan keeps his squat in front of Rick. "Give me his axe," ’Jesus. What's he gonna do with it now…?’ you wonder. Simon walks forward from his corner and hands it to Negan, who puts the axe in front of Rick and starts to get into an ironic stare-off, smiling and analyzing the man he has in front of him once again. After seeing there is no back down from Rick, his demeanour turns stern. Standing, he puts the axe in his belt with a deep sigh, then grabs Rick by the collar of his jacket and starts to drag him through to the RV. "I'll be right back. Maybe Rick will be with me. And if not, well, we can just turn these people inside out, won’t we?" He pushes Rick through the open door and adds: "I mean the ones that are left." He points at you and then points to the vehicle in a silent order. You jog following after him, closing the door behind, you can locate the axe pinned on the table before you sit in the copilot. Negan is already in the driving seat. He’s looking  straight ahead with determination. 

"Let's go for a ride." He tries to start the engine with no success. "Wow. What a piece of shit!" Then he sucks in with his tongue between his teeth and adds: "I'm gonna kill you..." with mockery, imitating Ricks' previous statement and chuckling at it. "Are you kidding me? Did you see what just happened? What I just did? You just..." he comments, sighing ironically. "Your best chance, is to stand up, grab that axe, and drive it to the back of my head," he states, without even turning around. You are not sure if it is due to cockiness or because he is sure Rick will not do it but you're still sitting with your legs halfway in Negan's direction in case you have to stand abruptly. "See how you do?" Now you see Negan looking through the rearview mirror. "Keep acting tough. Go ahead. Grab, the damn, axe.'' When Rick does exactly that, Negan stands up at the second, pointing an M4A1 SOPMOD previously left next to the driver seat while you point him with your Magnum Desert Eagle. You have not even bothered to get up and just turned in your seat. Negan makes a denial gesture with his head and chuckles.

"Drop it," He says in a tone that almost mimics the sigh, which causes a shiver of excitement in your body. ‘At what point have you started to like his dominant tone…? Damn girl, you're fucked up.’ Rick obeys,  the clink of the axe on the ground sounds around you. Then Negan uses the base of his weapon to hit Rick's belly, cutting off his breath. Sighing again, he sticks the axe back on the table in such way that it makes Rick reel back, even though you remain impassive. "Do not make me get up again." Concludes Negan dryly. When he turns back, you exchange glances. "Well, look at that. Dawn is breakin'." his eyes meet yours again, with a face you can not decipher, then turns back, his pearly smile doing the honors on his face once again. "It's a brand-new day, Rick," he announces with a chuckle and sits in front of the wheel, ready to go. "I want you to think about what could have happened, think about what happened, and think about what can still happen." Negan sighs as if tired of repeating himself, which is probably not a good thing for the dude on his knees. Then Negan starts the engine and the big machine finally moves. Silence falls upon you all for a few seconds and you take the chance to observe the person who has become Negan’s plaything, only to realise he is lost inside his mind. ‘Good, he's thinking, maybe this will end soon for all of us. This shit is taking too long if he just accepts that he has nothing left and that he lost… I hate this shit I wanna go home.' The day is brightening but the road is covered in a dense fog that won't let you see in an inch of distance without the lights. You hear a walker approaching just before the RV splashes its head in the front window. 

Negan laughs with malice "Oh! Boom!" jokes Negan before he keeps laughing. "That reminds you of anybody you know?" ’Oh boy...’ Another giggle comes along while bashing another walker’s head against the front of the vehicle. "Oh, yeah." The growling continues, you suppose it must be a herd attracted by all the noise that has been going on the past few hours. The brakes squeal and the engine shuts off, then Negan makes the keys jingle in his hand. Grunting, he walks to the back but you just stay and observe. Squatting on Rick’s side, he states: "You are mine. The people back there," Rick does not meet Negans' eyes as he speaks "they are mine. This," He shows Rick the axe "This is mine."

All the grunting noises coming from outside indicate a large amount of walkers approaching the RV. Negan stands up and walks to the door opening it and does something you would not expect. After killing one of the undead, looks at Rick whose eyes are on the carpet that covers the floor and with a naughty face, he throws the axe over the roof of the motorhome. "Hey, Rick, go get my axe. Let's be friends." Rick looks at him for a second, pissed off, not wanting to bow his will to Negan’s ways of humiliating people. Another walker tries to get inside, fighting for the taste of flesh. "Oh," Negan says with a chuckle, then bashes its head with Lucille. Negan sighs and angrily approaches Rick, threatening him with Lucille. "Get my axe." Moving away to leave some space for the guy to reach the door, you can see in the obvious expressions of his face that Rick is struggling to give up. But then Negan throws him out of the truck without giving him a thought and closes the door behind. You stay put, staring at Negan who's now looking back at you.

"I can't wait to get home," you whisper, looking away while you stand, more for yourself than anything else.

"Yeah. Well. I have a better idea after what I saw earlier," says Negan with a lusty whisper. You suppose he is referring to the fact that you saved his gorgeous face from a punch.

"You're welcome," you say, looking at him with a mischievous glint in your eye. "It was nothing, really. But I was referring to going to take a nap. I'm so done..." you talk back in a playful tone while closing the distance between you. His features show he's not in the mood for pull-and-push.

"I was expecting to end what we started before. Maybe get that sweet a-" You give him a killshot glare to which he responds with a dark smile from his side.

"Language," you grill.

"Hey, didn’t mean to-" he responds quietly in contrast with his previous attitude but gets interrupted by Rick's footsteps on the roof of the RV. He looks up, forgetting about you and loud enough for Rick to hear, says: "Bet you thought you were all gonna grow old together, sittin' around the table at Sunday dinner and the happily ever after," pausing for dramatic effect. "No. Doesn't work like that, Rick. Not anymore. Think about what happened," then his eyes meet yours. "People died, Rick. It's what happened. Doesn't mean the rest of them have to. Get me my axe." There’s the lesson you mustn’t forget: he doesn’t feel like what he is doing is wrong. "Get me my axe!" repeats looking at the ceiling and then whispers to you: "So, sweetheart you are on my top list now. The way you stopped that guy, your fury..." he gets closer, expecting you to react but instead, you press your hand on his chest. He wastes no time grabbing it and kissing your wrist.

"Let's leave this for the privacy of Sanctuary, shall we?" you whisper in his ear. He puts his hand gently in your throat, catching your jaw and kisses you. You can hear in the background how the amount of walkers around the RV is increasing.

"I thought you were the guy, Rick. Maybe you're not!" speaks Negan but this time doesn't look away, his hand moves to the back of your hip. His voice louder and intense. "We'll give it one more go. Now, I really want you to try this time. Last chance," his face gets darker when he hears no movement from up, his hand leaves your hip to unlock the automatic weapon and his eyes look up before shouting: "Bring me, my axe!" then he moves quickly away from you and starts to fire it towards the ceiling, slightly away from where you could hear Ricks' footsteps. You note the thud of his run and the sound of a chain rattling. The two of you head to the back window to see him hanging, grasping like a koala onto an undead guy hanging off the bridge. Then the walkers start to pull him down by his feet when he slides a little from the moving body. You look at Negan, who only smiles at you. You gesture at him with a: 'Please, do something,' look, his only response is a chuckle and an eye roll as if he thinks you have no sense of humor. When your eyes make their way outside again, you both see how the head of the hanging corpse is separating from the body 'Jesus! That's awful!' you think, totally disgusted. Negan quickly opens the back window and starts to shoot at the walkers surrounding Rick. You move back to your seat, expecting this to be over soon.

"Clock is ticking, Rick!" Says Negan, closing the window with a knock of his hand against it, then adds, "Think about what can still happen!" You can hear Rick outside grunting, assuming he's fighting the walkers. Negan winks at you and you have to hold back the disgust you feel for his enjoyment. Negan presses the horn, to alarm Rick outside, you guess, or maybe the walkers. You can hear Rick bashing walkers on the other side of the door. One splashes against the RV, like a popped water balloon. He tries to enter but the door is locked and you can hear one more crashing against the bodywork. 

Negan calmly opens the door and shoots with his M4 clearing a little area for Rick to enter, then gets out of the way before Rick jumps in closing the door behind him, panting hard. Negan paces in the same spot, while Rick attempts to get the air back into his lungs. When he finally stands, the big boss looks him over, demanding the object with his hand. Rick reluctantly gives it to him with hate in his eyes and sits at the table with his head down. Negans' stare stays on the other man and even with his back to you, you know he is smiling. "Attaboy!" with that he sinks the axe into the table once more and walks to the wheel. You see from the corner of your eye how Rick follows him with his eyes, staring daggers at him. 'Man, you are not understanding shit, are you…?' you think. He is so focused that he seems to have forgotten your presence. Negan starts the engine and drives back to the meeting point.

"We're here, prick," states Negan, standing up and walking over to Rick, who at the same time keeps that killshot glare fixed on him. Negan notices and judging by the way he smiles, you know he's not having any of it. 'This guy has way too much testosterone or he’s just a fucking idiot. Oh lord… Just bow your head and accept you lost'. Negan starts to talk while checking on the cabinets. "This must be hard for you, right? I mean, you have been King Shit for so long. Losin' three of your own like," He snaps his fingers in front of Rick. “And yes, I'm taking the punching hellcat too.”

“Oh. Goody!" he exclaims when he finds a bottle of ethyl alcohol before opening it. Following the motion with a sigh, he leaves the cap on the table and leans on top of Rick before adding. "You were in charge." He unhooks the axe from the table, "Hell," he rubs it against Rick's jacket to remove the traces of clotted blood that cover it, making Rick wince. "you were probably addicted to it. And now," Negan starts throwing the liquid over the metal of the weapon to clean it. "well, clip, clip- that's over. But," he points out, as he takes a seat in front of Rick, "you can still lead a nice, productive life producing for me." Rick's eyes meet Negan's, not submitting and this time he passes Rick the axe by the handle. You can sense his smile again. "I think you're gonna need it. I just got a feelin'," Negan tells him before he sighs. You know that Rick is pushing his patience with the useless resistance he is showing. "So take it," he concludes, demanding. By his tone, you'd say Negan is borderline angry but you can't really tell if it's part of the game or if it's real. 'His mood swings… damn…' He stands and you follow his lead, only to see him throwing Rick out of the RV.

Negan grabs Rick by the nape again, to put him in front of his group as if he was a dog. You follow out of the RV and close the door behind you before reuniting with the rest of the crew.

"Here we are. Let me ask you something, Rick. Do you even know what that little trip was about?" inquires Negan without moving. You can now see the faces of Rick's group in detail and notice, that Daryl now has blood running down his shoulder, which pisses you off, awakening old feelings of protectiveness. "Speak when you're spoken to."

"Okay. Okay," replies Rick breathing heavily.

"That trip was about the way that you looked at me. I wanted to change that. I wanted you to understand..." explains Negan, adding a smile when Rick gives him the look, again. "But you're still looking at me the same damn way. Like I shit in your scrambled eggs, and that's not gonna work! I wanted you to understand. So," then he squats next to the man in question, playing with Lucille in his grip. "Do I give you another chance?"

"Yeah," replies Rick rapidly, still panting. "Yes. Yes."

"Okay." Negan taps on Rick's shoulder before adding: "All right!" standing again and rubbing his nose thoughtfully. "Here it is," bouncing he paces for a moment, "the grand prize game. What you do next will decide whether your crap day becomes everyone's last crap day or just another crap day." He then gestures to the Saviours at the back. "Get some guns to the back of their heads." obedience takes only seconds. "Good. Good. Now level with their noses, so if you have to fire-" gesturing an explosion paired with sound effects in a very graphic way, adds: "it'll be a real mess." then chuckles. "Kid," he says, calling the youngest subjects attention, inviting him with a hooked finger, then pointing to the floor where he wants him to go. "Right here." Disobedient, the boy does not move and stays put looking back at him. "Kid. Now." Finally he moves.

"You a southpaw?" Negan asks him once he is where he ordered.

"Am I a what?" asks the kiddo, giving Negan a strange look.

"You a lefty?" Negan inquires, rephrasing his question as he would to a child.

"No." replies the boy, derogatorily. ‘This kid has a fucking nerve! Like father, like son...’

"Good," adds Negan, while tying his own belt on the left arm of the kid with Lucille held under his own. "That hurt?" he wonders then, with no genuine care in his tone.

"No." 

‘God, Negan will fool himself into thinking this kid would make a good Saviour. His face says it all...’.

"Should. It's supposed to," he replies with his characteristic grin. "All right. Get down on the ground, kid. Next to daddy. Spread them wings!" orders the man, throwing the boy’s hat away at his back. The kid obeys when Negan makes him go down to the floor and gives him a final push to make his belly touch the ground, with a grunt. "Simon, you got a pen?" 

"Yeah," Simon responds, unimpressed.

"Sorry, kid," apologizes the big boss as he takes off the lid from the marker pen, then groans when he squats next to the boy as if his knees hurt after so much bouncing. With the cap held between his teeth, he starts drawing something on the kid's arm and adds: "This is gonna be as cold as a warlock's ballsack, just like he was hanging his ballsack above you and dragging it right across the forearm." then takes the cap from his mouth and returns it to the pen before passing it back to Simon. "There you go. Give you a little average."

"Please don't. Please don't," begs Rick, eyes pleading with Negan.

"Me?" Negan chuckles dismissively. "I ain't doing shit." then stands, with Lucille back in his grip again. "Ahh...Rick, I want you to take your axe and cut your son's left arm off, right on that line."

‘What the fuck…’ 

"Now, I know- I know. You're gonna have to process that for a second. That makes sense. Still though, I'm gonna need you to do it, or all these people are gonna die," Rick begins hyperventilating. "then Carl dies, then the people back home die, and then you, eventually. I'm gonna keep you breathing for a few years, just so you can stew on it."

"You-You don't have to do this. We understand. We understand." pleads a dreadlock-haired woman.

"You understand," emphasizes Negan. "Now. I'm not sure that Rick does," he remarks, before returning his attention to the man in question. "I'm gonna need a clean cut right there on that line. Now, I know this is a screwed-up thing to ask, but it's gonna have to be like a salami slice." 

‘He’s got to be fucking joking… why am I even surprised at this point...’ you think. 

"Nothing messy, clean, 45 degrees- Give us something to fold over. We got a great doctor. The kid'll be fine..." Then fakes to ponder on it for a second. "Probably." Squatting again directly in front of him he continues, "Rick this needs to happen now,  chop-chop, or I will crush the little fella's skull myself." he adds, aiming the baseball bat at the kids' head.

"It can-It can-It can be me. It can be me. W-W-" Rick stutters sniffing, completely discomposed. "Y-You can do it to me. I c-I can go with-with you."

"No. This is the only way..." Negan replies calmly. "Rick, pick up the axe." He orders as he stands again. A short silence is the response. "Not, making a decision, is a biiiig decision." Negan’s tone is starting to rise, meaning his patience is cracking. "You really want to see all these people die? You will. You will see every ugly thing," Rick hyperventilates again. "Oh, my God. Are you gonna make me count? Okay, Rick. You win. I am counting. Three!"

"Please…" Rick starts crying, "Please…" he gasps, "It can be me. Pleeease!" the crying intensifies, desperation evident in his words. "Please don’t…"

"Two!" Shouts Negan without compassion.

"Please, don't do-" "Rick continues pleading while sobbing. 

"This is it," replies Negan, after he squats to grab the crying man's face to make his point clear. "One!"

"Aaah!" Growls Rick desperately.

"Dad just do it." you can hear the kid whisper. “Just do it." 

‘What a pair of balls.’ 

Rick stays there struggling, breathing heavily and you start to think he might pass out. You have seen someone do so before, being under pressure, sometimes the body just collapses but instead, he keeps screaming, grabs the axe and points it to the sky, getting ready to do what he knows will change his kids' life. Negan squats next to Rick again, but his face is an image of winning and pride. Rick looks at him with the most pleading eyes you’ve ever seen. Broken.

"You answer to me. You provide for me." Rick nods obediently. All you can think is, 'This is what Sherry meant when she said he always gets what he wants, no matter what…' "You belong to me. Right?" growls Negan, while the man continues nodding, eagerly trying to get air back into his lungs. "Speak when you're spoken to!" shouts Negan grabbing Rick’s face violently "You answer to me! You provide for me!"

"Provide for you" replies Rick in a broken voice.

"You belong to me, right?!" remarks Negan, still shouting.

"Right," Rick answers.

"Right." Negan wins. ‘Negan always wins.' you think. 

"That. Is the look I wanted to see!" He exclaims, standing again. But things aren't over yet as he grabs the axe. "We did it, all of us, together. Even the dead on the ground. Hell, they get the spirit award, for sure." sighing, he adds: "Today was a productive damn day! Now, I hope, for all your sakes, that you get it now. That you understand how things work. Things have changed. Whatever you had going for you, that," he interrupts himself, chuckling. "is over now. Ah..." he adds before doing something that puts you on high alert, pointing at Daryl with Lucille: "Dwight! Load him up.'' The man in question has to put some effort to pull him back to the back of the van before he points at Daryl with the crossbow. Then you look at Daryl for a last time, his eyes meet yours before they close the doors. 

Negan squats again, next to Rick. "He's got guts- Yeah, he does. Not a little bitch like someone I know," he remarks, mocking Rick. "I like him. He's mine now. But you still want to try something?-Not today, not tomorrow- Not today, not tomorrow-? I will cut pieces off of-" he looks confused for a second and directs his eyes to Simon. "Hell's his name?"

"Daryl," Simon answers solemnly.

"Wow." Negan chuckles. "That actually sounds right!" his eyes dart back to Rick. "I will cut pieces off of Daryl and put them on your doorstep." smiling he decides to rephrase: "Or, better yet, I will bring him to you and have you do it for me." then he chuckles and pats Rick's shoulder before standing up. "Welcome to a brand-new beginning, you sorry shits!" he shouts, theatrically. "I'm gonna leave you a truck. Keep it. Use it to cart all the crap you're gonna find me." Then everybody starts to move, including Negan. You too in his direction. "We'll be back for our first offering in one week. Until then ta-ta!"

With that, he leaves behind his trail of destruction. In this case, it is more psychological than physical. 

You leave along with Negan, right behind him as you both get into the car. There and then the tiredness hits you. ‘Shit, I’m getting too comfortable… I was never this tired when alone.' But you put your seat back and close your eyes in what could be read as a trustful gesture towards Negan. You can feel his glare for a second but you just relaxe and let the darkness consume you. Then you are in a different place. 

It’s a cold night, too cold to be outside but your group has not found a shelter yet. After two days of walking around, trying to find food and medicines for Eric, the member who has been ill for a few days. Without that luck, it’s just getting worse. You have no other option than to light a fire for all of you to warm up. Laura and Alan, the blonde couple will keep the watch during the night so the rest of you can sleep. 

You wake up, startled by a scream, to find Eric has inexplicably become a walker. He had just a bad cold, no bite, no scratch. Now he's attacking your mum, who was sleeping right next to him to offer some aid during the night. 

He is ripping right into her throat by the time you all react to the horrible scene unfolding before you. Your first reaction is to put a bullet through his head. Running towards your mum, you can only watch as she chokes on her own blood. Tears start running down your cheeks and a hard lump forms in your throat, as you contain a scream of pain. Out of love and compassion, you show mercy by shooting her right in the middle of the forehead. 

You stand there, staring at her lifeless body with no light in her eyes, it's as if time has stopped, as if you were frozen, unable to move a muscle. She’s gone. Your mother is dead. 

The warm tears keep falling but you are numb, your thoughts collapsing, until you feel a hand pulling you before snapping back to reality. The screams and the gunshot have attracted more walkers to your camp. Some members of your group are already dead, their bodies scattered around you with chunks of them missing. Finally reacting, you run in the direction you are being pulled in. Your brother has your hand and you are both already breathless in your escape. 

After killing a few walkers on your way, you two get to a tree to rest for a few and that is when you notice it. Your hand is wet with red, blood, your brother's blood. You follow the trail up to his shoulder to see a bite. He is already losing too much blood, it probably nicked an artery. 

"John…" he hushes you. "John." You whisper this time. "You are bleeding..." you say. As if he hasn’t noticed yet, his eyes follow your gaze to his arm, under the light of the moon it seems to illuminate it.

"Shit!" he whispers. "Fuck!" you see a walker go the way you just came from. "You have to shoot me, Allie."

"What!? No!" He hushes you again. "No way…" you insist, adamant.

"I’m going to die, Alice." That shoots you like a bullet through the heart and you start to sob. "I don’t want to become one of those things… and I will only slow you down if we go together, for me to end up like them anyway. I don’t want to put you in danger.'

"Please don’t…" You can't stop crying. You feel weak and lonely all of a sudden. Unable to believe you are going to lose the only people you ever loved in your life on the same night. Your mum and your brother wiped out like dust in the wind. As if they were nothing. "I can’t do this alone… Please…"

"Allie, I love you and I want you to try to live. There has to be somewhere you can live a life, there has to be somewhere. I want you to find it. I want you to fight for it. I want you to live. Promise me you will live." You don’t say anything. "Promise me, Alice."

"I promise." You say and hug him, only to feel the accelerated beating of his heart, working very hard to keep the blood pumping through his body.

"You have to do it now," he mutters. You don’t know how much time has passed but you can see your brother looks paler. He tries to pick up the gun that is still in your hand but you pull your hand away. He looks at you, eyes pleading, but you can’t do it. Something stops you. Something selfish that wants to keep clinging onto your bond.

"I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…" you whisper as you cry. He nods, understanding, and with a movement faster than you expect, he yanks the gun out of your hand and shoots himself in the temple.

You whimper and automatically cling to his body stopping it from falling. You cradle him, burying your head against his chest, letting the knot in your throat break in a pained cry.

You wake up with a whimper as someone's hand moves you. You panic for a second but then notice you're still in Negan's car and he’s been the one to shake you awake.

"Sorry, love. You seem to be going through hell there." You notice the warm sensation of tears falling through your cheeks. "Oh shit…" You rush to swipe at your skin unwilling to show your weakness.

"I’m fine" he looks at you, clearly not believing it but he doesn't press it as he returns his eyes to the road. Noticing you’re shaking, you put your seat straight and rub your hands feeling strangely numb. ‘If the nightmare is back, it has to mean something’. 

You are still restless when you get out of the car. Negan starts ordering you, the Saviours, to occupy your next hours resting since he's satisfied with the job you all did. You see Dwight taking Daryl out of the van, Negan gives him a nod, and then he walks to the door and disappears through it. You feel the urge to go behind them and make sure Daryl is fine but that would be a serious mistake, for the both of you. So masking your nervousness, you lead the way through the corridors. Feeling a big, warm hand take hold of your wrist, takes you by surprise and your first response is to snatch your hand away that is before you realize it’s Negan.

"What’s going on?" He wonders seriously.

"Sorry, I'm just really tired," you reply showing a toothy smile but Negan does not buy it.

"I wouldn’t like to have a misunderstanding here, so, for your own sake, tell me what’s going on." He asks politely, yet there's a threatening undertone to it.

"I just vividly dreamed about how my mum and brother died… I think I’m feeling a little bit out of my body right now. My apologies," you answer, deleting the smile from your face. You can’t believe the fact that Negan gets closer and kisses your forehead.

"Go to sleep, sweetheart. I’ll see you in a few hours," he whispers. You nod appreciating the gesture, and with that you leave, walking slowly through the empty corridors. Once again in your room, you let your body fall on top of the bed and everything becomes pitch dark again. 

You wake up confused and alarmed for a second before realising where you are. It's night time and silence reigns at Sanctuary, as always. That's one good thing that came along with the disease. The silence. 'Some day nature will win it's place back.' you wish.

You get up from the bed thinking it could be a good chance to sneak out and get into the cells and see Daryl again, to know what kind of treatment he has been given. 

'Am I stupid to worry about him?' you wonder.  Looking through the room in the darkness, only the moonlight allows you to find the clothes you were wearing earlier. Still not showered, there is no point in changing the garments. 

Your steps lead you to the cells. The door isn't closed but you take a careful look at what's around you, in case there's someone on watch. There's an annoying song playing on repeat but you don't dare touch the music player. Surprisingly, there is no one looking after the prisoners. Taking the chance to look at which doors are locked before you find out only one of them is. Then you find yourself entering the guardian's room, looking for the set of keys. 

Opening the door you see a plastic plate on the floor with some sort of sandwich and Daryl covering his eyes from the light in the corridor, in one corner of the room. Your eyes fall over his dirty clothes and hair, thinking how the man has definitely seen better days. Then you realise he's looking at you. 

"Are you okay?" you ask, feeling stupid. He's obviously not but it's more like an opener of conversation. You begin to squat in front of him and reach out to touch his shoulder, only for him to avoid it. 

"I mean no harm…"

"Why are you with them?" he inquires, fierce eyes meeting yours.

"Seems things have taken a twist, uh?" you reply bitterly, unable to hold your tongue without that judgement.  "Now I'm the one with the bad guys and you're with the good ones. Who would have said that ten years ago, when your brother screwed everything up and you… still chose him," you grill him sarcastically, he lowers his head just slightly while still analyzing your face. 'Are you sorry or you are still your brother's puppy dog?'

"It was-" he tries to speak but you interrupt him.

"I was alone. I had no option. Also… I thought it could be a better chance of survival," his eyes still hard on you soften a little, just slightly enough for you to notice. "Don't lecture me, from what I've heard you killed dozens of Saviours for no apparent reason…"

"If you think they are good people you're delusional," he comments. You chuckle. It seems that some of Negan’s traits might be running off on you.

"Call me whatever you like Daryl… I've always done right by my conscience, I'm not going against it now." You whisper the last word. "I'll also remind you what I said that day; 'I forgive you'. No matter how bitter I am about it." you whisper that close to his ear, waiting for him to lash out at you but only surprise alters his features. He says nothing. When you move to stand, you find something calling your attention in the corner of your eye. Dwight's shocked look from the other side of the door with a sandwich in his right hand.

You calmly close the door and walk his way handing him the set of keys, with a dangerous smile, warning him to keep it a secret. If he were to drag you down, he would fall too and you both know it. Instead, he just nods and you keep walking while deciding it might be a good idea to have a shower and some food. 

In a hurry, you walk to pick up your stuff and rush to the showers, in case you are needed for anything. Afterwards with your hair still damp you sit on the couch of your room, opening a can of sardines, and cutting some bread to fill your stomach, even though it's still quite nauseous from the previous events. 'He's there, eating shit and I'm here eating like a monarchy these days. If I was lucky I wouldn't even know he's still alive…'

You are almost done when you hear a recognisable knock. 

"Come in," you call.

"Hello, darling," says Negan, swinging the door open slowly and entering with his hand still on it. His eyes meet yours with darkness.

Taglist @stxrg4zer @indigosparkle444 @paintlavillered

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[leviackermanscleaningbuddy]

HIIII could i please have 13, 26, 25 with felix please??? Ty, love you

SKZ PROMPT GAME

Prompts: "If I can get it in pink, I want it in pink."

"Don't treat me like a fool." "Then don't act like one."

"Are you just going to stand there and watch?" "Yes, I think I will, actually."

Member: Lee Felix

Relationship: Girl Next Door!FemReader x Bad Boy!Felix

Genre: Light Angst, Fluff, Light Smut

Warning: Hinted @ Religious Trauma, Also I know the unplanned pregnancy trope isn't everyone's cup of tea, so if it's not yours, go ahead and skip this one. 😘 I just needed y'all to have Felix as Daddy (in more ways than one.)

2 Months

"You don't have to stick around." You blurt out without really meaning to, suddenly feeling more than a little stupid as you stare at the man across from you in a full blown panic. "I just thought you should know."

You watch him stare at the ultrasound in his hands, then look back up to you, then back down to the picture once more.

You feel nausea roiling in your stomach, and you don't know how much of it is nerves and how much of it is newfound morning sickness.

Felix lets out a slow, shuddering breath, his lips parting, still fixated by the picture in his hands, and then he rakes an agitated hand through his dark hair.

"Fuck."

He releases another long, controlled breath, and suddenly stands up, shoving the grainy picture of your newly discovered, bean sized intruder into the inner pocket of his leather jacket as he does so, moving his gaze to yours.

"C'mon." He motions for you to get up, and you do so, grabbing your own jacket and following him to the door.

He forces it open, the little bell tinkling, and moves to his bike, shoving a helmet into your hands without even looking at you as he straddles the motorcycle and revs it to life.

You stare at him, open mouthed and wide eyed.

"I'm not getting on that." You gasp out, utterly horrified and terrified all at once, and take a step back.

A look of impatience comes across Felix's face.

"I'm not gonna hurt you or the-" He stumbles over the word, setting his features a moment later. "-the baby."

You're still staring, frozen in place, and Felix sighs, holding out a hand toward you.

His features soften just a little.

"C'mon. Just trust me. I need to get some fucking air. Please?"

Something changes in his tone when he says the word, and against your will, you feel your heart melting into a puddle at his honesty, the show of emotion, because regardless of how different the two of you might be, in this moment, you're the same.

And you're kinda stuck with each other now, so what the hell?

You take Felix's outstretched hand, and let him pull you onto the bike.

It purrs between your legs like a large jungle cat, and you wrap your arms tightly around Felix's waist, squealing in terror as the bike jumps forward, and Felix accelerates out of the parking lot with a peel of burning rubber.

You bury your face in his back without really thinking as your pace picks up, moving as close to him as is possible, gripping him for dear life, as the wind whips your hair and roars in your ears.

He smells nice-like vanilla and something masculine-and you let yourself rub your nose carefully along the leather of his coat, peeking a glance and seeing forest roar by before you close your eyes once more.

It's not long before the bike is slowing, and Felix is pulling off of the road, into a little dirt semicircle that you recognize as some sort of view point for tourists.

He kills the motor, and suddenly, the silence is loud in your ears, covering up the ringing from the loud thrum of the bike.

You get off cautiously, releasing your death hold on Felix, and your fingers fumble with the straps of the helmet beneath your chin, clumsy and uncoordinated.

Felix gets off after kick-standing the bike and approaches you, batting your hands away, before he moves to easily undo the clasp from beneath your chin.

You swallow and look away. "Thanks."

He doesn't respond, moving to the edge of the lookout, his hands in his pockets, staring out at the dipping sun.

You're not sure whether he wants your company, so instead, you find a large fallen tree and sit your ass down, scraping the toe of your white sneaker in the dirt idly, drawing nonsense pictures in the silence.

You look up when Felix comes to sit beside you, finding a stick and twirling it idly between his hands, staring off at nothing.

You're grateful he's not looking at you.

You take the moment to admire his side profile from the corner of your eye-tapered, feline-like eyes, high cheekbones, a sharp, delicate nose, tan skin colored in dozens and dozens of varying degrees of darkened freckles-god, you really hope the baby gets his freckles.

Felix flicks his gaze to you, probably feeling your stare on him, and you look away again, clearing your throat, hoping he didn't see your blush.

He holds out the ultrasound picture to you between fingers ringed with black ink, and not for the first time, you wonder what all of his tattoos mean and if you'll ever actually know him well enough for him to tell you.

You meet his gaze, forcing yourself to hold it. "It's okay. You can keep it. If you want. I have another copy."

Felix hesitates, then tucks the picture back into the safety of his motorcycle jacket.

Something inside your heart eases just a bit.

"I meant what I said." You say quietly, glancing down at your feet once more, white sneakers now dirty. "I just wanted you to know. Nothing more."

Felix scrubs at the knuckles on his right hand, rubbing his fingers over some of the tattoos there, seeming to consider everything.

He shakes his head.

"Nah." His features go serious, full lips pulling into a thin line, eyes flashing dark, his words tight and angry. "My old man abandoned me. And I'll be fucked if I ever become anything like him."

You blame the sudden swarm of butterflies in your stomach on the nausea.

Felix sighs, pushing himself up and offering you a hand.

"C'mon. Let's get you home."

********************************************************************************

Two Months Ago

Felix is standing there, beside the kitchen counter laden with red solo cups and empty bottles of alcohol, staring at you with eyes so dark you could drown in them.

You haven't heard a word your friends have said in the last five minutes, and your body is starting to boil alive beneath the heated intensity of his gaze.

You gulp down the last of your cheap tequila, wincing at the burn, and excuse yourself from the group of girls, headed to the restroom, if only to get away, to breathe for a minute.

You know nothing about Lee Felix, other than his bad boy reputation- well, that and the fact that he has fucking gorgeous eyes-but from what you've heard, he's the type that belongs at these kinds of parties.

You, on the other hand, do not.

You curse yourself for being stupid enough to let your friends drag you into this, and round another corner, not daring to barge into any of the closed doors to try to find the bathroom, worried about what you might find on the other side.

And then, you run right smack dab into the bad boy himself.

Lee Felix.

Your fingers grip the front of his leather jacket to stop yourself from tumbling on your ass, and you glance up at him, swallowing hard as you take in his features, unreadable in the dim light of the hallway.

"S-sorry-" You stutter out, releasing the tight grip you have on his jacket as if you've just been burned, taking a tiny step back.

Fuck, he's pretty.

All liquid eyeliner and black clothes and a face that could kill.

Yeah, pretty intimidating.

You take another step back, readying yourself to run back the way you'd came, and then Felix's hand shoots out, small fingers wrapping around your forearm.

You glance down in shock, noting the way the black ink of his tattoos runs over and around his knuckles like liquid smoke.

You brain is screaming at you to run, but everything else in your body is staying put, frozen, as he pulls you back toward him, eyes never leaving your face.

His gaze flicks over you, but nothing is given away in his expression.

And when he speaks, god almighty, the rasp of the deep baritone of his voice almost knocks you off your feet.

Well, that and instantly wets your panties.

"Come with me."

You're either very stupid, or very horny, because despite your brain screaming at you that this is how every murder movie ever starts, you nod weakly, letting Felix pull you back down the hallway and out the front door.

His motorcycle is parked in front of the frat house and you almost laugh, because of course it's black.

He tosses you a helmet, and you hesitate.

"I've-" You bite your bottom lip, suddenly feeling way less sure than before, liquid courage fading a bit. "-never been on one before."

Your mother would have killed you if you had ever gone out with a boy, let alone on the back of a motorcycle.

But you're in college now, and your mother isn't here.

Felix glances at you over his shoulder, already straddling the bike, a brow arched in challenge.

"C'mon, Church Mouse. Live a little."

You take in a deep breath, and shove the helmet over your head, climbing onto the bike behind him.

********************************************************************************

4 Months

"Fuck." You swear beneath your breath, trying to tug the sweater down over your skin, looking at yourself in the mirror with abject hopelessness.

No matter how you pull or tug, you can't get the old shirt to cover the new, tiny swell of your belly.

With a sigh of defeat, you strip again, rummaging through your closet until you find what you're looking for-a long, hideous looking dress-but at least it fits.

There is a knock at the door, and you call out, "Coming!" before swinging your purse over your shoulder and grabbing your phone off the nightstand.

Nervous butterflies erupt in your stomach, and you take a deep breath, swinging the door open to reveal Felix standing on the other side, leaning against the doorframe, tattooed arms over his chest.

He arches a brow at you, looking you over slowly, and you feel your cheeks heat under his gaze.

"What on earth are you wearing?" He asks, eyes dragging back up the length of your body as you scowl at him and slam the door, locking it behind you.

"A dress." You snap back, shoving your keys into your bag and moving past him to the stairs.

Felix follows you.

"That is not a dress, Church Mouse, that's a travesty."

You flip him off, going down another flight of stairs, and he chuckles.

You don't think you've ever heard him do that before now.

It's nice-deep and warm and rumbling-going straight to your bones.

"Ah, so she does have bite." He remarks, holding open the lobby door of your apartment building for you with a little flourish. "After you then, vixen."

You huff, stalking off down the sidewalk, but it doesn't take Felix long with his ridiculously lengthy legs to close the distance between the two of you again, damn him.

"It's all that fits me right now." You finally admit bitterly, not looking at him, as you wait at the crosswalk for the light to turn red.

You feel his gaze on you, but you stare stubbornly ahead, watching the traffic.

You cross the street in silence, and you try not to focus too much on the warm brush of Felix's arm against your own when you turn down the block toward the doctor's office.

It's nothing. Just hormones.

Felix holds the door open for you once again, and you bite out a sour little thank you beneath your breath before you move to check yourself in.

You almost laugh as Felix takes a seat, reaching for a magazine, looking completely out of place with his tattoos and scary biker get up, sitting amongst a dozen or so expecting mothers, who eye him curiously.

You don't wait long, and soon, the nurse is calling you back.

Felix hesitates, seemingly not sure whether to follow, and you glance at him over your shoulder.

"Aren't you coming?"

He shrugs, dark eyes unreadable. "I didn't know if-" He trails off, suddenly looking unsure.

You ignore the impatient stare of the nurse, and turn back around, taking his hand in yours and pulling him up from his seat.

A flash of surprise crosses his eyes briefly, but he doesn't shake off your hand.

"I know this isn't ideal-" You say quietly, not looking at him, instead, staring at where your fingers currently play with the silver ring on his middle finger. "-but you're still the baby's dad. And I want you to be involved." You finally dare a glance up at him, and he's staring at you intently enough to make you blush. "If you want to be."

You stare at each other for another brief moment, and then Felix lets you tug him toward the waiting nurse.

He watches, interest on his pretty features, as the nurse records all your vitals and any changes, and then the doctor has you lay back on the table, turning off the lights as he puts the cool, gelled end of the ultrasound wand to your belly.

A heartbeat fills the room, and you blame it on the hormones, but you almost cry.

"Ah. Here we are." Your doctor moves the wand, and a little, perfectly shaped baby silhouette wiggles into the center of the screen. "There's baby."

You glance at Felix, because the last time either of you saw your kid, it looked more like a formless jelly bean than anything else, and his eyes are wide, bright in the light from the monitor.

"Felix." You whisper, and he tears his eyes away from the screen to meet your gaze.

You feel something inside you melt a little at the absolute affection seeing the baby has brought to his normally unreadable face.

You hold out your hand to him. "C'mere."

He does, moving slowly, coming to stand at your side, as the doctor adjusts the wand, pointing out the baby's tiny fingers and toes, the little heart fluttering like a hummingbird in their chest, the gentle slope of their nose.

You can already tell, the baby's gonna have Felix's nose for sure.

After printing you some pictures, the doctor declares everything looks perfect and exits the room, leaving you to sit up and clean the gel off your lower belly slowly, tugging your dress down before you clear your throat and look at Felix.

He's still staring at the pictures the doctor had given you, held carefully in his hands.

"Are you good?" You ask quietly, hesitantly, and Felix tears his gaze away from the pictures to meet yours, but not before you catch the hint of a smile he quickly tucks away.

"Yeah. I'm good."

********************************************************************************

Four Months Ago

You gasp as Felix crowds you against the wall beside the door, your back hitting with a thud, his hands tangling in to your hair and tipping your head back as his tongue slides inside your mouth.

You get lost in the sensation of him for a moment-the slight taste of alcohol still left on his tongue as it sweeps against your own, his hot breath on your mouth as he devours you like a starving man, the feel of his teeth sinking into your bottom lip, making you gasp-and then, his fingers undo the closure on your jeans, and everything comes to a grinding halt.

"St-stop!" You stutter out the word, yanking back from him, full blown panic taking over and making your heart pound like a caged bird just waiting for slaughter.

Felix stares at you, his face cast in shadow, but you catch the flicker of concern in his dark eyes, and he removes his hands immediately, taking a step back as you gasp for breath.

The blood rushing in your ears is making you light headed and you lean back against the wall for support, your traitorous body already crying out and aching for the feel of Felix back on your own-his tongue in your mouth, his hands on your skin, his-

"Are-" Felix hesitates, and when you look at him, the concern is still there, mixed with a healthy dose of surprised pity.

You hate the way the look on him makes you feel.

He takes in a deep breath and licks his tongue across the piercing that adorns his bottom lip, playing with it in a sort of nervous habit, your eyes drawn unwittingly to the movement, until he finally asks, "Are you a virgin?"

"What? Of course not!" You blurt out, suddenly defensive, though you don't know why it matters so much what he thinks of you, or if losing your virginity to Brian Shue in the girl's bathroom on the night of senior prom just to defy your mother even really, truly counts.

But instead of vocalizing any of that, you swallow hard, and say in a tiny voice, eyes cast to the floor, "I just don't have much experience, that's all."

There is a beat of silence, and you wonder if Felix is reconsidering, if he'll order you out, make you take the bus home, alone and rejected.

But then, his fingers slide beneath your chin, tilting your gaze up to his, and the corner of his lips quirk, not a smile, but something akin to it, and when he speaks, his voice is a low, gravely rumble in his chest that goes right between your legs.

"That's all right, Church Mouse. We all have to start somewhere, and lucky for you-" He arches a brow and slides the pad of his thumb along the full swell of your bottom lip, tonguing at his piercing once more. "-I'm one hell of a pretty good teacher."

********************************************************************************

5 Months

Felix appears at your door with a grocery bag in one hand and takeout in the other.

You step aside to let him in, and he deposits the food on the kitchen table, before turning and dumping the contents of the mystery plastic bag unceremoniously on your couch.

Your stomach grumbles at the prospect of food, but you step forward curiously, picking up one of the t-shirts from the pile on the couch and looking to Felix in confusion.

He arches a brow at you and says nothing.

"Why-" You start to ask, and then you shake your head, glancing back down at the pile of shirts that obviously belong to him. "You better not be asking me to do your laundry."

Felix scoffs, coming around the couch to grab the t-shirt from your hands. He holds it up to you, as if to gauge how it will look, and you swat his hands away, scowling.

"C'mon, Church Mouse." He chuckles and tosses the shirt to you once more. He motions to the outfit you currently wear-the once full length shirt now a crop top-and smirks. "You can't wear that anymore. It doesn't fit."

You stare at him hard for a moment, and then sigh, looking down, tugging at the hem of the overly small shirt.

It doesn't cover your growing belly, that's for sure, but you hate to give him the satisfaction of knowing he's right.

"Fine." You finally huff out, reaching down to grab the hem of the old t-shirt, but stopping under his narrowed gaze. "Well, look away would you?"

He rolls his eyes. "How do you think you got pregnant in the first place, baby girl?"

The nickname is new, but you try not to pay too much attention to it, although your traitorous heart doesn't get the message, instantly pounding against your ribs.

You glare at him, old Van Halen shirt held in your tightening fist. "So, what? Are you just going to stand there and watch?"

Felix smirks, leaning up against the doorframe, his eyes never leaving you. "Yeah, I think I will, actually."

You reach down and throw another shirt at him, and he laughs, catching it easily, but finally turning away to set up the food.

You take the opportunity to hurriedly slip out of your old shirt and into his.

You'd never admit it, but he's right. It's comfortable and soft, and it smells like him, and it has the distinct advantage of covering all of your torso.

You slide into a chair at your table sullenly, and Felix instantly slides one of the takeout containers across to you.

You sniff, picking up your chopsticks and digging into the spicy ramen you had requested.

As you swallow the first bite, something low within your belly jumps, and it takes you a moment, and another little movement, chopsticks raised partially to your mouth for a second bite, to realize what it is.

Your eyes go wide and you immediately drop the ramen to the table.

"Holy fuck." You breathe out, putting a hand beneath the cotton of Felix's borrowed t-shirt, running it along the taught skin there, the small bump, searching for the movement again.

You feel it against your palm, and you nearly jolt out of your seat.

Felix has stopped eating, watching you across the table with a worried expression on his face, his brow furrowed.

"Church Mouse? You good? Is something wrong?"

"No, no, I just-" You reply breathlessly, shaking your head, and when you look up at him, you know he can see the shock on your face. "It's kicking."

Felix's normally narrow, unreadable eyes go wide, and his lips part.

"What?"

"Yeah, I-" You nod, jumping slightly as the baby kicks the pressure of your palm once again, and you shove back from the table, grabbing Felix's hand without a second thought and dragging him behind you to the couch.

You lie down and Felix stands there, staring down at you, a mixture of awe and uncertainty on his pretty features, his hand still clutched in yours.

Slowly, as if you'll scare away the movement and it will stop, you lower his hand, pulling up the hem of the oversized shirt you wear to press his palm directly to the warmth of your skin.

You hope he doesn't notice the slight intake of breath at the contact.

Both of you are frozen, silent, and you're worried it might have stopped before he could feel it, but then-

Felix's eyes go wide and bright. "Fuck, I felt it."

You nod, laughing without really meaning to. "Weird, huh?"

Felix nods too, dropping down on his knees beside the couch and adjusting his palm on the swell of your stomach.

You don't know if the baby knows their dad is near, or if it's just some weird fluke, but they move again directly beneath Felix's hand, stronger this time, taking your breath.

Felix laughs, he really laughs, and then he swallows hard, and when he looks at you, his eyes almost appear shinier than a moment ago, though it could just be the trick of the light.

He swallows once more, and then he says, voice soft and low, "We're really doing this, huh?"

You glance down at his palm splayed on your stomach, his small fingers warm against your skin, the black ink on his knuckles standing out against the tan flesh.

You look back up at him. "Yeah. We are. But only if you want to."

Felix nods, slowly and quietly, and glances back down to the now quiet baby.

"Yeah, I think I do."

********************************************************************************

5 Months Ago

Felix's fingers pause in their upward trace of your thighs, and he stares down at you, something serious coming across his face as he watches you, splayed out on his bed, replacing the confident bravado from moments earlier.

You stare back, licking your lips nervously, the cool brush of the air whispering across your bare skin, and without thinking, you cover your chest, still hidden by you bra, with your hands.

"What?"

His palms go down on the flushed skin of your thighs, your skirt hiked embarrassingly high up around your waist, and the only thing you can think about is how warm his hands are, fingers digging slightly into your legs.

God, if only your mother could see you now.

"We don't have to do anything, you know." Felix remarks in a low, firm voice, his hands never wavering, and you're sure he can feel the way you're trembling slightly, muscles tight and anxious.

"No, I-" You start to protest, but bite back the words, because do you want to keep going?

Staring up at Felix, the way his pert nose ends just above pink full lips, the way his numerous, harsh tattoos contrast completely with the flush of his soft freckles across his cheeks, the dark hoop of his lip ring glinting in the limited light, you think, not for the first time, that Lee Felix is fucking gorgeous.

And maybe a whole lot more considerate than his bad boy persona portrays.

Without thinking, you move a hand to cover his in a show of confidence you don't feel.

"No." You repeat, voice a breathy whisper, as you slowly guide his hand up the inside of your thigh. Everything inside of you freezes, coiling in nervous anticipation. "I want to."

Felix stares at you hard for another moment, expression unreadable, as if he's gauging your truthfulness, and then he lets out a harsh breath, staring to pull his fingers back from under your own.

"You don't have to tell me what you think I want to hear, Church Mouse. Honestly, it's okay if-"

Something brave rears it's head inside of you, and you sit up, tugging him toward you, barely catching the widening of his eyes before you cover his mouth with yours.

Felix tastes like the cheap alcohol from the party mixed with vanilla chapstick, and briefly, you wonder what brand he uses.

You would have taken him for a cinnamon sort of guy, or maybe a peppermint, but vanilla seems to suit him now that you really think about it.

Pulling back, breathing hard, you say softly, before you can lose your nerve, "No. I'm serious. I want to."

You drop his heated gaze, because that's as far as your bravery goes, and let your fingers play with a button on his shirt.

When you speak again, your voice doesn't waver., and you force yourself to meet the darkness of his eyes.

"Show me a good time, Lee Felix."

Something flickers across his expression at your brash words, something that makes you feel slightly off, but you don't have time to dissect it, before his lips are back on yours.

********************************************************************************

6 Months

"Do we want to know baby's sex?"

You stare at your doctor, then to the grainy ultrasound video on the screen, completely caught off guard.

You hadn't really considered it before now.

Glancing to Felix, standing silently beside you at the exam table, you see a flash of affectionate excitment flash across his eyes at the doctor's words, and something inside of you instantly melts, firming in to place as you turn back to your doctor.

"Yes." You reply resolutely, and you feel Felix shift his gaze to you for a moment, expression unreadable.

You try not to read too much into the brush of his fingers against your own as you both wait in anticipatory silence.

The doctor moves the wand around, and then makes a little noise of satisfaction, freezing the picture on the screen.

"Ah. Here we go." He turns to you both with a smile. "Looks like we're having a little girl."

Everything in your brain fizzles out, and Felix goes stiff beside you.

The atmosphere is electric.

After a moment, the doctor prints out the picture and hands it to you, as Felix finally clears his throat.

"A-" He rasps out, clearing his throat once more, before he pushes on, staring down at the picture in your hands. "-girl."

"Congrats." The doctor gives you both a smile and nod, and leaves the room.

You sit up slowly, and your eyes meet Felix's.

He glances back down at the picture with open awe on his pretty features, and you watch him bite back a smile, playing with his lip ring between his teeth, before he says quietly, wondrously, "A little girl."

Your heart feels so full it could burst.

********************************************************************************

"I want you to move in with me."

You almost choke on your mouthful of noodles and stare at Felix like he's just sprouted wings.

His expression doesn't change.

"I'm done with school, I have my own place, and no offense, Church Mouse-" He grins, arching a brow, glancing around at your tiny one room apartment. "-it's a hell of a lot nicer than this."

"But your parents-" You choke out, reaching for a glass of water and gulping it down.

"Won't care." Felix shrugs a shoulder, still watching you carefully. "They're not very involved anyway." He leans over to clear your places, standing up to take them to the sink.

"And besides," He calls over his shoulder over the sound of the sink turning on. "I know you don't want to move back in with your religiously fanatical mother."

He appears, wiping his hands on a dish towel and looking entirely too domestic for the good of your heart.

He arches a brow and leans against the doorframe, and when he speaks, his voice is affectionately teasing, accent pronounced, lilting into a bad impression of your mother's.

"What would the 'good Christian members of her neighborhood think about your condition'? Nah." He shakes his head, hiding a grin, and it makes your heart do a weird flop in his chest. "You're better off with me, Church Mouse."

You can't argue with him there.

********************************************************************************

You stand in the doorway, watching with open amusement as Felix paints another stripe of bright pink down the wall of the tiny spare room.

"Really?" You ask with laughter in your voice, arching a brow at him, as he turns to glance back at you. "More pink?"

He waves the paintbrush at you, mockingly stern, and you watch the way the ink of the tattoos covering his arm ripple with the movement.

You have the sudden, strange urge to know what it would feel like to trace them with your tongue.

You shake your head to rid yourself of the thought and clench your legs together subtly.

Damn pregnancy hormones.

"If I can get it in pink, I want it in pink." He says, and you realize he's been chastising you fondly this whole time while you've been lost in your own horny head.

"Okay." You laugh and hold out your hands as a peace treaty, before you let them rest on the swell of your stomach. "Hear that, baby girl?" You ask teasingly, voice low and soft. "Daddy's not going to ever let you forget that you're his little princess."

"Damn straight." Felix replies, already returned to painting.

The baby kicks against your hand, as if in silent agreement.

********************************************************************************

6 Months Ago

"Felix." You breathe out shakily, fingers tangling into the sweat dampened strands of his hair where his head is dipped between your thighs.

You don't think you've ever felt like this before.

And definitely not when losing your virginity to Brian Shue in the third floor girl's bathroom on the night of Senior Prom.

Felix pulls back, his palms once again coming to rest against the apex of your thighs after he swipes one across the moist sheen of his mouth, and you don't even have the forethought to feel embarrassed about being so wet that you're practically all over Lee Felix's face.

"Say that again." Felix growls, leveraging himself up onto the bed between your legs, and when you feel the hard length of him press against you, you're trembling for an entirely different reason.

"What-" You start to ask hoarsely, but he leans in to you, hands going on either side of your head, lips devouring your own as he sweeps his tongue long and slow into the depths of your mouth.

You moan, tasting yourself on his tongue.

"My name." Felix breathes out against your lips, forehead resting against your own.

You let your fingers trail across his bare sides, up his chest, across the freckles that dot his cheekbones, across his red, bruised lips.

"Felix." You murmur back, fingers tangling once again into his hair. "Felix, Felix, Felix."

He groans, shifting, and you gasp and arch up into him as you come into contact with the hardness between your thighs.

He opens his eyes, and his pupils are so large and dark that you feel like you're sinking, drowning, and you hope you never resurface.

"Relax." He advises softly, and you do your best to follow his advice, breathing out and forcing every muscle in your body to relax, one by one.

"Good girl." Felix says, and the way the words sound in his gravelly grumble, the hidden gentleness behind the praise, has your heart doing a weird little skitter in your chest.

"Now." He murmurs, coming in close again, and something hot flares in his eyes as he holds you captive in his gaze, his voice dropping low. "Say my name again."

He presses into you, gaining entrance, and you gasp sharply, absolutely overcome with pleasure, and in that moment, you couldn't have stopped yourself from saying his name, over and over and over again like a chanted prayer, even if you had wanted to.

"Felix, Felix, Felix."

********************************************************************************

7 Months

"I'm gonna sell my bike."

You glance up sharply at Felix's casual words, dropped on you like a bomb while you're both sitting in his living room.

You stare at him, open mouthed, book on your lap forgotten, and it's not until the baby kicks you sharply, that you wince and seem to putter back into motion.

"But you love your bike." You say helplessly, aghast, as you continue to stare at the man sitting across from you, relaxed as he continues to scroll through his phone.

Imagining Lee Felix without his motorcycle is like trying to imagine a fish living without water. It's unthinkable.

He glances up at you, brow arched.

"Yeah." He replies simply, before he goes back to his phone.

You glance around helplessly, as if there's anyone else in Felix's large apartment that could help you talk reason into him.

Right. No one here but you and your baby daddy and the kid currently sitting on your bladder.

"Felix." You say his name, and he looks back up, expression unreadable. "Why?"

He gives a half shrug. "I love my bike, but it's gonna be kind of hard to fit a car seat on the thing." His lips curve upward into the start of a rueful smile.

You continue to stare.

"We can try and buy a cheap car-" You start to protest, because you know Felix loves that bike more than anything else, and hell, maybe you're even kind of fond of it after everything, though you'll never admit it-

"Church Mouse." Felix sighs, sliding his phone into the pocket of his jeans and letting his arms fall along the back of the couch, staring at you with open amusement now.

You try not to let your gaze slide down the firm, slender lines of his chest, to the thin swath of tan skin the movement has revealed.

God, you need a cold shower.

"Yeah, I love that stupid motorcycle-" Felix acquiesces with a sigh, running a hand through his dark hair, before he shifts his gaze somewhere to your left with a wistful sort of expression. "-but I love her more."

You glance where he's looking, and see the latest ultrasound picture of the baby hanging on the fridge.

His daughter. Your daughter.

His words sink heavily into your skin in the silence, and while one part of your heart absolutely lights up with his admission, another, smaller part, feels like it absolutely withers and shrivels into nothing but ash.

Because while Felix may love her, he'll never love you.

Not like that.

This is a relationship of conveinece, of coparenting, nothing more.

You knew that. You had always known that.

So why in the hell, somewhere along the way, had you allowed yourself to fall in love with him?

********************************************************************************

7 Months Ago

You're cleaning yourself up in the bathroom when Felix steps in, pulling back on his jacket, running a hand through his rustled hair.

"So?"

You glance at him in slight confusion, and you're glad you're sitting on the toilet, because while your legs still feel like jelly, you definitely would've collapsed seeing Lee Felix in all his post sex glory standing in the full light of the bathroom.

Fuck, he's gorgeous.

He leans against the door frame. "Did I?"

Your hand stops, and you stare at him openly now, trying to focus on what he's saying and not the way his lips still look swollen and shiny, even though you're more than certain he'd wiped them off by now.

"Did you what?"

He arches a brow at you. "Show you a good time."

Your brazen words from earlier come back to you, seeming to fill the bathroom with a stifling sort of embarrassment, and you glance away from him, refocusing your cleaning efforts, as a blush blooms across your cheeks.

"Yes." You manage to whisper out, still not looking at him, and you hear the leather of his jacket shift as he straightens from the doorway.

"Cool." Felix replies simply, and your breath catches, as he steps into your space, fingers finding your chin and lifting your gaze to his. There's something strange in his expression that you can't quite place when he says, "Because that's what you wanted, right? A good time? Little way to blow off steam? Fuck around and find out, stick it to mommy now that you're a big girl at college?"

Your words stick in your throat and your mouth feels like it's full of glue, tongue thick, as you stare up at him.

Something hardens in Felix's gaze at your lack of response, and his fingers fall from your chin, your skin going instantly cold at the lack of touch.

"Well." He stands, stuffing his hands into his pockets, and his tongue darts out to mess with his lip ring for a moment while he regards you. His face is once again back to that cool, casual composed mask from before. "Glad I could be of assistance, Church Mouse. Always happy to help corrupt the innocent."

He takes a step back, and reaches in, turning on the water in the shower, inclining his head toward you as he backtracks toward the door.

"Feel free to clean up. Lock the door when you leave."

He moves to leave the bathroom, and your voice is still stuck in your throat, wanting to call him back.

The words from earlier now feel coarse, harsh, terrible, like a rope slowly wrapping around your neck.

"Oh, and Church Mouse-" Felix pauses, calling over his shoulder without looking back, but you see the way his knuckles whiten on the doorknob from where you sit. "-this won't happen again. After all, little mice don't belong in the world of big cats."

And then he's gone.

********************************************************************************

8 Months

You don't know why you're crying in the shower. Honestly.

Maybe it's the stupid hormones, or the fact that your entire body feels like an overfilled balloon, stretched beyond capacity, making the most trivial tasks absolutely impossible.

Maybe it's because you haven't had good sex since, well, since the incident, and you woke up this morning hot and achy and wet between your sheets, thighs rubbing together over the lingering images of a dream that definitely didn't involve Felix and certain less than savory activities.

Maybe it's just simply the fact that you're frustrated that your favorite café didn't have the pastry you were craving after your appointment, or maybe it's because today is the day Felix is selling his stupid motorcycle, but whatever it is, you really wish it would stop.

Immediately.

You sniff and wipe the back of your hand across your nose, before you rest your forehead against the cool shower wall, closing your watery eyes for a moment.

The baby jumps and shuffles around, kicking your ribs, at the feel of the hot water, and you run a hand over your belly, taking in a deep, shuddering breath.

Pull it together, (Y/N).

Or maybe, it's because you've realized you're hopelessly, utterly in love with someone who will never see you the same way, a voice whispers in your brain, and you instantly shake your head hard to clear the thought.

Cat. Mouse.

You shove the thoughts from your head and reach for your shampoo, focusing on the way the suds foam between your fingers before you scrub it into your hair a little bit harder than necessary.

The sound of the door opening can barely be heard over the sound of the water, but then Felix's deep, smooth voice breaks the humid silence of the bathroom.

"Church Mouse? You okay in here?"

The baby in your belly jumps excitedly at the sound of his voice, as does your heart, and you try hard as hell not to let your fingers tremble as you rinse the shampoo from your hair.

"Yeah, fine. Why?" You ask, forcing a cheeriness into your voice that you don't feel, hoping against hope he doesn't see through it.

Through the frosted glass of the shower, you see him slide onto the counter, crossing his arms over his chest.

God, why doesn't he just leave?

"You've been in there for a long ass time."

"Yeah, and?" You quip back, sharper than you intended, as you finish rinsing and reach to turn the water off. "I'm as big as a whale and your baby is making me all sorts of uncomfortable. This is the only place I get some relief."

The ensuing silence that falls over the bathroom has you instantly wanting to hide behind the sound of the water again.

You stick a hand out through a crack in the shower door.

"Towel please."

Felix doesn't move, and after a moment, you wiggle your fingers and repeat louder, "Towel, Felix."

He sighs, and you hear the thud of his feet on the floor as he hops down from his place on the counter, and a moment later, your hand comes into contact with fluffy, warm fabric.

You pull the towel back into the safety of the shower, and wrap it around your body.

It barely covers your chest and the area between your thighs because the swell of your belly takes up so much of the fabric, but it'll have to do until you get back to your room.

No way in hell you're walking past Lee Felix naked.

Something traitorous comes to life between your thighs at the thought, and you curse yourself for being so weak.

Stepping out of the shower, Felix is once again leaning against the counter, arms crossed over his chest, expression unreadable as he stares you down.

"I need to get to my brush-" You start to say, motioning for him to move, but he stays stalwart, blocking your way, tattoos and intimidating features on full display.

You can see why everyone talks about him in hushed tones. Lee Felix is hella intimidating when he wants to be.

But you know better.

"Felix-" You start to say on a sigh, too tired and cried out to have much fight left.

"Why were you crying?"

You glance up at him in open surprise. "What?"

He holds your gaze, not letting you move an inch. "In the shower. You were crying. Why?"

You scoff, looking away, because the tears are once again dangerously close to the surface, damn him.

"Isn't anything private around here?"

"No." Felix says firmly, taking a step toward you now, and you flinch slightly as his fingers grasp your chin, forcing you to look up at him. "Not when it comes to you." He motions with a tilt of his chin down to the swell of your belly pressed between you. "Either of you."

You swallow, your throat feels raw from crying, and a knot is forming once more, the tears clogging upward again.

"Maybe I was just-" You heave a shuddered breath, forcing the words out past the clog in your throat. "-crying because of nothing? Did you think of that? Hormones are real, you know-"

"I know about hormones." Felix snaps out, and it shuts you up, because it's true, he's done more research in the time since you got pregnant than even you have, and that's saying something.

His expression and tone softens just a bit, but the fire in his eyes doesn't disappear.

"(Y/N)." He tries, voice lower now, and you start at the sound of your name on his lips. He sighs. "Tell me. Please?"

The soft waver of his words has you melting, all your resistance and defiance and anger puddling into a useless, soggy mess at your feet.

"I-" You start, lip quivering, and when you look up at him, the earnest openness radiating from his eyes, you lose it.

The tears start again, and you heave a breath before you leave it all out in the open between the two of you, in the middle of Felix's ridiculously nice bathroom.

"I'm really, really grateful, for everything, and I'm glad you want to be part of the baby's life, and I would never keep you from her, but I don't think I can-"

Your words stutter to a halt, and Felix looks at you sharply.

"Can't what?" He asks, voice low and dangerous, and you feel yourself shrinking beneath the seriousness of his dark gaze.

When your voice comes out, it's small and scared and raw, wounded and aching.

It tears apart every shred of avoidance you've been desperately clinging to, hiding behind, leaving you bare, as if you're standing before him, laid naked, and the towel has been stripped away, your raw and pulsing heart on display for him and only him.

"I can't live here. I can't keep being around you, day after day, watching you dote on our daughter and be the perfect example of everything I wish I could ever have, but never can, knowing that you don't-"

Like a coward, you come to a halt again, and something dark comes over Felix's face.

His fingers tighten on your chin and you wince.

"Don't what?"

"Don't-" You start again, then stop, and the pressure his fingers has you taking in a heaving breath, your chest collapsing inward in one fell swoop, your heart shattering into a million pieces at your feet.

Felix's gaze never wavers.

You drag in another ragged breath, and it all comes out, like a wave forcing its way violently through a dam.

"-don't feel the same way."

He's staring at you, nothing readable on his face, and suddenly, you're panicking, your heart pounding and jumping into your throat, your breath coming hard, and you're backtracking, trying to salvage the mess of a situation you know can never be taken back.

"Which is totally okay, I understand, and like I said, I knew that from the beginning, and I'd never keep your daughter from you, but I think I just need time and space to sort out my feelings and realize I'm being stupid and it's just the close proximity-"

You're sweating, and god, had the bathroom gotten hotter?

Felix still isn't saying anything, and the panic in your stomach is slowly bubbling into anger the longer he stays silent.

The baby must feel your distress, because she kicks your ribs hard a few times, just for good measure.

"Aren't you going to say anything?" You snap out, pulling from Felix's grasp now and backing away, tugging the towel more firmly up around your chest.

"What do you want me to say?" Felix replies, his voice calm and level and collected, the opposite entirely of what you're feeling.

You throw your arms out in exasperation. "Anything!"

You're breathing hard, and you feel kind of light headed, the steamy, close air of the bathroom thick in your lungs.

"'I fucked up.' Is that what you want to hear?" Felix asks sharply, eyes suddenly flashing, and he braces a hand on the bathroom counter, veins stretched like ropes beneath his skin, knuckles white. "'I should have never put you on the back of my bike, never should have taken you home that night?'"

Your lips gap and you stare at him, everything draining from your body until all you feel is exhaustion.

Is that how he really feels? Of course it is, he'd never given you any other reason to believe otherwise, told you from the first night it was nothing and wouldn't happen again.

You'd been the idiot that had let yourself ignore his warnings and fall head first into something that could never be.

Felix takes a step toward you, menacing, and you back up till your bare back hits the cool, frosted glass of the shower door.

His hands are clenched into fists at his sides, and the dark ink scrolled across the back of them contract brightly against the tan of his skin.

"'Innocent little mouse, tricked into the cunning cat's snare, looking for a good time and a way to fuck over mommy.'" Felix hisses out, taking another step, and your hands clutch at the towel over your chest. "You and I both knew that's what it was. You knew, and you still got on that bike willingly. Did you think it would end like this? Ruined, shackled, stuck?"

He reaches out to twirl a lock of hair between his fingers, and you can't seem to catch your breath.

His words are like a dagger to your heart, wounding you over and over again until the hurt is too much to bear.

"Don't treat me like a fool." You manage to whisper out, tone anguished and broken, though you gather up a wisp of defiance.

"Then don't act like one." Felix snaps back, and you stare at him, both of you breathing hard in the space between you.

"I have never once-" He starts again, taking in a long, controlled breath, closing his eyes for a brief moment, and when he opens them again, his eyes are a startling contrast of dark and light, pupils blown. "-thought of you like that."

You go still, and his hand, resting against the shower above your head, curls into a fist.

There is open pain on his face, his expression regretful, and you heart starts to beat harder in your chest.

"You know what they said, right?" He huffs a humorless chuckle, lips curving into the start of a sardonic smile. "'Bad boy Lee Felix wants to be the one to corrupt the sheltered little Christian girl.'"

You hadn't known they'd said that, but you could imagine.

"But I-" Felix takes in a deep breath, shuddering past his lips, and you feel like you can't breathe. His serious gaze flicks to your lips and back up again and his voice cracks slightly. "-never once thought of you like that."

You part your lips, and he takes in another breath, and it's like you can feel the electricity tingling around you.

"But you said-" You start to say, and Felix looks away, his features contorting with shame.

"I know what I said. It was just a way to protect myself. You said you wanted a good time, and I've been there before, I knew what was expected of me." He looks up at you, a hint of a sad smile on his lips. "It's always the same. A good time consists of you getting fucked by the mysterious bad boy in his luxury apartment and then never crossing paths again."

"That's not what I wanted." You whisper, voice hushed, fingers reaching up to cup his cheek, and suddenly, you realize what a complete fool you've been.

Felix leans into your touch, holding your gaze, his eyes softening slightly. "I know. And it was my fault, for placing my expectations on you."

He lets his hand trail down the glass of the shower and down your cheekbone, across the line of your neck and the curve of your shoulder.

You shiver under his touch, and he lets out another long breath.

"It was always you." He says suddenly, seriously, and you meet his gaze in surprise, his fingers stopping, resting on the divots of your collarbone. He gives you a half smile and another sardonic chuckle. "It's always been you. The moment I saw you at that party, fuck, I-"

He gives a shuddering breath, raking a hand through his hair, playing with his lip ring.

"When I ran into you?" You question with slight amusement, reaching up to free his lip from his bottom teeth, and he gives you the hint of a smile.

"Yeah. The moment you apologized, I knew I was a goner."

You laugh, the sound slightly watery, because the tears are creeping in again, and Felix reaches up to carefully wipe one away from your cheek with his thumb.

"I have never not loved you, Church Mouse." He admits in a low voice, and you feel the way the words settle over your body like a second skin, like you've never lived without them. Felix thumbs your chin, tracing the line of your lips with the soft tip of his finger and a soft smile. "And fuck it all, if I don't intend to never stop doing so."

********************************************************************************

8 Months Ago

Fuck. Shit. Fuck.

You stare down at the two solid pink lines on the pregnancy test, and feel nausea start to roil in the pit of your stomach.

A bang on the stall door has you jumping, shoving the test into the recesses of your bag, as someone calls from outside, "C'mon in there! We're pissing ourselves out here!"

You sling your bag over your shoulder and exit the stall, muttering a hasty apology to the line of glaring girls waiting outside, and leave the bathroom, the test in your bag heavier than a block of bricks.

You feel numb, stumbling down the steps and out of the lecture hall.

Third floor bathrooms are definitely cursed for you now. They've managed to change your life in six seconds two times now, and definitely not for the better. You'll never step foot in one again.

********************************************************************************

9 Months

"Okay, a couple more pushes and we should be done."

"Felix, Felix." You gasp out, your fingers digging into the backs of his hands so hard you see red crescent moons start to appear among the tan skin and black ink. "I can't do it."

"Yeah, you can. C'mon, Church Mouse." Felix leans down close to your ear, voice low and firm, his fingers clenching around yours in support as he squeezes your hand in his own. "Squeeze my hand, and do it."

His resolve, his confidence in you, has you nodding shakily, even though you're dripping sweat and your insides feel like they're currently being shredded by a lawn mower.

The doctor looks up from between your legs and gives you a nod, and you feel it, the start of another contraction, the pain cresting over your body, tightening around your belly, agonizing and hot and terrible.

"Alright. Time to push."

Your fingers clench into Felix's arm until they ache, but to his credit he doesn't flinch or make a sound, leaning down into your space once more, his forehead resting against your own.

"Deep breath, Church Mouse." He says quietly, and you mimic his movements, taking in one, shuddering deep breath as the contraction crescendos, squeezing you like a vice. "Good girl."

You cry out, you're burning up from the inside out, everything is ripping and tearing and burning and you think you might die, leaning forward with your chin on your chest, trying to focus on the coaching from the doctor and Felix's murmured words of encouragement as you push with everything you have.

You're about to give up, your body is going to collapse, you're definitely going to die and then-

A cry splits the air, and the pain is instantly gone.

You collapse back against the bed, entirely and utterly spent, body weak and limp, but despite all of that, your focus is entirely on the screaming, pink newborn being lifted from between your legs and rested on your chest.

"Oh my god." You stutter out, still in shock, as the doctor clips the cord and the nurse rubs a warm, fuzzy towel over the still screaming, bloody baby curled against your skin. "Oh my god."

Felix lets out a little laugh, relieved and full of so many feelings at once that it makes your head spin, and leans over to rub a gentle finger carefully across the baby's fuzzy, dark downy hair.

"You did it." He whispers against your ear, breath warm against your cooling skin, and you feel him press a lingering kiss to the crown of your head. "You fucking did it, Church Mouse."

You let out a shocked, relieved laugh of your own, as the baby-your daughter-quiets finally, rooting against your breast as if searching for food, her little lips pursed, making tiny adorable sucking sounds, her tiny fingers curled into fists against your bare skin.

You slide a finger wondrously into her fist, and she grips your finger like a lifeline, grip surprisingly strong for only being minutes old.

"No." You shake your head, pulling your gaze away from the baby to look at Felix, who is crouched down beside the bed, eyes shiny, staring at your daughter in open awe. "We did it."

He glances to you, and it's a look you want to remember forever-full of so much love and adoration and warmth that it makes every bit of the past tumultuous nine months worth it in a second.

He slides a finger into your daughter's other perfect fist, and when he speaks, his voice is little more than an emotional murmur as he leans forward to kiss you.

"We did it, Church Mouse. We did it."

[damadisangue]

Maybe he should have asked him; if he had had the patience it would have been a good question to ask. Did you know?, he would have started, squeezing that old and sick heart to force it to beat. Did you know, or did Erkenbert screw you over in this too, father?, he would have greeted him, pulling that grayish mass of veins and arteries - reveling in the resistance they would have put up before coming out of him chest in a gush of blood and bones. "He didn't know." Alex answers for him, a profile that the night of Sushetovanie makes beautiful, ethereal. "Erkenbert kept it from him." she adds, describing a semicircle around his navel. "But I knew." she murmurs, stopping her silent exploration. Wesker is silent, turning his head on the pillow and staring at her - capturing in her a fragile, delicate uncertainty. "I knew it from the beginning." she whispers, and it's a moment: an instant in which she lowers her face before raising it and looking straight into his eyes - a transparent blue, made even colder by the shine of the snow. There is pride in Alex's proxemics: a dignity that not even the disease had been able to erase - her body now thinner, white skin and bloodless lips. Wesker raises himself on his elbows, sitting up and leaning towards her - a massive and imposing shadow that towers over her, swallowing her whole. Alex looks up at him, lifting her chin, and when he kisses her she sighs, releasing a sound halfway between relief and excitement.

"I'm your brother." "Yes."

He lifts her by the hips, bringing her to his lap and tearing a half smile from her when she gets tangled in the crumpled sheet - he tears it, breaking down the last barrier between him and her naked body.

"It all makes sense now."

There's method in his movements; there's impatience and desire, a combination that only showed when he was with her, putting aside the impassive and calculating god-man.

"What? You think we were programmed to be this way? You think it's written in our genetics - in our blood?"

He places a hand between her breasts, parting his fingers and then moving them down - brushing her soft cunt and smoothing her clit with his thumb.

"No." "Then what, Albert? What makes sense?"

Alex moans into his mouth, arching against his chest and showing him the naked fold of her neck - her hips swinging on his fingers in a languid, uninhibited rhythm.

"This." he had replied, clawing at the left side of his shirt as if his chest hurt.

He buries his face in her hair, breathing, and her scent tears something in him - fragments and sensations that have finally found their place.

"This, sister."

If he still had a heart he knows it would beat only for her.

Another masterpiece from the lovely @madbedlam

[eleni-cherie]

a thief's end ✨ || bts • myg - chapter 1.8

"so eager to be in a headlock again?" "only if it's by you."

he thought he was done with the criminal life and ready for some peace and quiet. but his plans collapsed in the form of a strange girl who was in trouble. © 2023 | eleni_cherie

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masterlist: here

— genre: thief au, gangster comedy, adventure, romcom, humour, angst, fluff, sexual tensiON, slowburn, mutual pining, strangers to lovers s2l

ALTERNATIVE UNIVERSE. CHARACTERS NOT NECESSARILY LIKE THE REAL PERSONS. ALSO VERY UNREALISTIC PLOT LOL - JUST PRETEND READING A MANGA/COMIC OR WATCHING A FILM, REALLY.

SUGGESTIVE THEMES. MENTIONS OF VIOLENCE & BLOOD (BUT NOTHING TOO GRAPHIC, IT'S STILL A COMEDY!)

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a/n: SORRY FOR TAKING SO LONG! But it's 6.6k words so I hope it'll make up for it :')

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Seoul, South Korea

"Oh, I also got ice cream! You want ice cream?" Soyeon snickered, giving in at her grandmother's constant asking of whether she wanted to eat something. It made the old woman happy whenever she accepted her offerings and besides, she wouldn't say no to ice cream. "Sure, why not." Her eyes wandered around then, remembering the main reason she had decided to pay her a visit after only a few days again. "This photo there, where was it taken?" She pointed at a frame hanging next to the tv where a muted news resport was playing.

Her grandmother followed her finger, squinting at it while trying recalling its origin. "Not sure, your grandfather sent it from one of his trips," she recalled then. "Perhaps its written behind the photo." The younger woman stood up and walked to the frame, carefully taking it from the wall. The reason this photo had caught Soyeon's attention was because of her grandfather posing in front of a big and impressive looking gate she didn't recognise with another man. A friend, she assumed as they were both looking happy.

With a hum she returned to her seat and turned the frame to open it. Only for a piece of paper to fall onto her lap. Her heart beginning racing as she picked it up with curious eyes. Only for her expression to turn puzzled, recognising a row of weird symbols on it.

An arrow with a W. A square. A rectangle with a semicircle on top. A triangle. An umbrella. A star. A keywhole with the word 'oro' written beside it.

Her eyes widened. She didn't know what 'oro' meant, but that keyhole-symbol reminded her of the golden key she'd found behind another photo the previous time. It had been a photo of her grandfather at a temple or palace she didn't recognise either. Just like with this photo now. Placing the piece of paper aside, she took a better look on the photo. Seeing something being written behind it. The letters had almost faded, but she could still recognise her grandfather's words on it.

'Me and M. at Little South Gate.'

"Grandma? Can I borrow this photo?" "Hm?" Her grandmother looked up from the bowl she was preparing. "Oh, yes sure, my child. Keep it, if you want." "No, it's okay. I'll return it soon," she smiled and watched her grandmother going back to the ice cream. Taking her phone out then, she decided to look up what 'oro' meant and also where this Little South Gate was.

And her breath hitched, almost gasping at the translation her phone gave her.

No. Could it be?

Quickly shaking her head, she placed the device down. Even if it was a lead, she couldn't follow it up. She had promised Yoongi not to go look for it alone and she didn't want to ignore his request again considering what had happened the last time. Her eyes fell at the thought of him. She was worried, wondering if he was doing alright.

How was his weather?

With a wisp of melancholy, she removed her phone case, revealing the polaroid photo inside it. The candid photo of Yoongi taken what felt like an eternity ago. And suddenly, a queasy feeling overcame her. A premonition, a gut feeling. Telling her something bad was about to happen.

And she knew she couldn't just sit there idle anymore.

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3km outside of Kyoto, Japan

"Alright, I see three guards at the gate." "Another two on the east side." "And west side." "At the back?" "There as well. They wander around every ten minutes, to the point." "How many inside?" "Probably another handful." "If not more."

Yoongi lowered the binoculars from the brightly lit mansion in the distance, a thoughtful expression set on his usually soft features. "You said two on the east side, Jimin?" The younger man nodded, lowering his own binoculars when Taehyung next to him shifted. Turning around and sliding down to prop his back against the abrasive rock. "And two west," he repeated with an exhausted sigh, "And two on the back." "Fck," Yoongi muttered under his breath. Zooming in and following the gravel path from the entrance, around the koi pond in the japanese garden until reaching the entrance of the traditional Sukiya-zukuri building that was facing the pond. "And only one way in and out." "Technically yes, but we could always climb over those walls." Jimin's gestured with his chin to the tall stone fence surrounding the whole property. A mischievious grin spreading on his lips. "Or you could just cut a hole in it with your sword." The older guy huffed a laugh. "Always the easiest escape, isn't it?"

It was around midnight when the three finally left the hill and made their way through the covert. It was half a kilometre away from their actual object of interest, but it was the highest set place close by. And besides, a bigger distance meant they most likely stayed out of unwanted attention.

"So.." Taehyung said when sliding into the passenger's seat. The other two soon sitting inside as well and Jimin started the engine. He rubbed his hands briefly as the cool night breeze of the city's outskirts had frozen his them. "..the plan is set then?" Yoongi hummed, taking out the blueprint again from his pocket and shining the flashlight on it. "Guess so, unless something changes."

The plan so far was easy. Taehyung and Jimin, as the official guests, would enter through the main entrance. Getting past the cameras and the guards behind the gate. Obviously with no weapons on them as the guards were checking everyone who entered. Meanwhile, Yoongi had to climb in from the tree next to the wall on the back side without triggering any sensors or getting caught by the two other guards there. Sneaking into the building then from a guest room, finding them and secretly handing them their weapons.  So whatever the hosts were planning, they'd be armed at least.

Easy.

Maybe too easy.

»»»

Friday evening arrived sooner than expected. The two thieves finding themselves passing through the golden painted gates of Morita's property. "Getting in now," Taehyung whispered, "You ready?" "In position," Yoongi's voice responded through the in-ear-transmitter.

The gate had opened fully now, revealing three man in black suits behind it. Staring them down with stern faces. Stepping out of the car in their suits, they adjusted the ties around their neck. Already seeing the guards approaching them.

Taehyung and Jimin exchanged quick glances before walking up to them. Jimin pulling out their invitation from the inside of his blazer. Handing it to the closest standing guard with an innocent grin who rather harshly snatched it from his grip. Examining it with a scrunched nose before eventually snorting and nodding, indicating they were allowed to proceed further inside. The other two guards stepped close then, beginning with the frisking of their bodies to check for weapons.

After deaming them as clean, they wordlessly stepped backwards. And the two took the hint and continued walking up the path to the house's entrance. Their eyes scanning the environment for any differences between their observations and now. Everything looking normal, no suspicious last-minute changes as far as they could tell.

Entering the two-story mansion, they arrived in the large central area. The ground being replaced by a glass square in the middle with a zen guarden in karesansui-style underneath it. Walls covered in arrases. And at the far end, a staircase that led to a balcony on the top floor. The door behind them abruptly closed then but they didn't even flinch. Too distracted by the two older men appearing on the balcony, overseeing the lower area.

They immediately recognised one of them from the photos of Arabella's background check and the party back then. Emilio Rossi was dressed in an elegant beige suit. His large grey moustache wiggling as he wrinkled his nose at their sight. The second one, dressed in a traditional black kimono, was their other host, Morita. Behind them, the private rooms according to the blueprints.

"Welcome, gentlemen. Glad to see you were able accepting our humble invitation." Jimin's lips curled into a smirk at Morita's words. "See, we always accept invites containing an ultimatum." Emilio huffed at his sarcasm, seemingly unamused, contrary to his co-host who let out a short loud laugh. "I admit, I wouldn't have accepted your declining. That is true. Nonetheless, I'm very pleased to see you could make it after all." Morita's hands went up before coming back together in one single clap. "And now, let's enjoy this night. Shall we?"

»»»

While Jimin and Taehyung got to know their hosts better, Yoongi was following his part of the plan. With his katana slung around his back, he ruffled his hair before pulling over the black beanie that matched his black outfit, keeping him almost invisible in the pitch-dark night. He threw a hook with a rope to the protruding branch of the tree standing in the mansion's guarden. Tucking at it to ensure the hook was firmly clamped around the wood, he pulled himself up and climbed onto it. Carefully making his way over the stone wall, surpassing any sensors on it.

He did so fairly soundless, so the guard partolling at the back didn't notice him. And when he stood right under the branch, Yoongi was able to easily jump down onto him and knock him out with one precise hit. After dragging his body to the bushes and hiding it there, he peeked out of them. Spotting the second guard further down. And so he snuck up behind him, laying him out as well. He glanced at his watch then before his gaze wandered around.

If they had timed it correctly, the next guard would come in around eight minutes due to the largeness of the property. Leading him to have to move fast. However, as he had almost reached the sliding door to the back area where the lavatory and kitchen were located, a faint crackling echoed through the silence, causing him to stop in his tracks. Was there another guard? Had they mistimed the guard switch? Slowly turning around, he spotted a young woman standing there in a snow-white kimono. And a katana in her left hand.

Well, either he managed to somehow proceed with plan a despite this encounter now or.. plan b had to be used.

He decided to try proceeding with plan a first.

"Uhm, hello!" he faked a cheery and trustable sounding tone. "And who are you?" The woman, however, didn't seem to buy his harmless demeanor. Cocking a brow at him. "I'm Morita Kimiko and you're an unwanted guest." In a slow, dramatic gesture, she held her katana in front of her face and slid it out of its sheath. Pointing the blade at him while her other hand remained wrapped around the shealth. And Yoongi dragged a sigh, his arm reaching over his shoulder to grab his own sword from behind. Letting it slowly slide behind his neck, between his thumb and index finger. Deciding to give her an equally dramatic scene.

Looked like plan b it was then.

Breathing in the fresh night air, he held his katana up. Its sharp blade flashing under the moon's light. And they locked gazes, waiting for any small movement to initiate the fight which was soon given, when a breeze rustled the leaves around them. And he instantly ran towards her, his blade meeting hers as she dodged his move.

Their piercing noises cut through the air as they fought. Launching their swords towards each other only to keep meeting. After minutes, both paused at opposite ends to take a breath. Pointing their blades into the space between them. Kimiko let him near her slowly, until the swords rested against each other. Eyes never leaving the opponent. And just in a blink, the fight continued. Swords hitting each other over and over again. It seemed as if he had found an almost equal opponent in her. Although he managed to surprise her and cut the shealth in her hand in two, Kimiko firstly seemed to overpower him in combat. Taking him off-guard for a moment and sending him backwards to the grass covered ground. A smug smirk appearing on her lips.

"Silly boy likes to play with samurai swords.." She heaved her katana, the tip pointing right at his torso. "Perhaps you can at least die like one." His jaw clenched for a second before the corners of his lips tucked into a wide grin. And without saying a word, he got back to his feet. Taking a deep breath and holding his sword up in front of his hardened face. His eyes gleaming under his furrowed brows as he blowed away a strand of wavy hair that had fallen in front them. "Attack me," he commanded then. Voice low and steady. "Attack me with everything you have." And Kimino's smirk widened, seemingly thrilled. Accepting.

However, this time it only needed a few moves by Yoongi to abate her pride. Swiping across ther kneecap over the long fabric, sending blood onto the white silk and down her socking. Shocked, she limbed a few steps back. Both breathing heavily as they stared at each other. "For ridiculing you earlier.. I apologise," Kimiko breathed into the warm air. "Accepted," he responded. An anew silence building between them before Yoongi spoke up again. "Ready?" "Come on."

They engaged once again. The injured woman quickly noticing her weakened state as his blade kept pushing hers back. And in a desperate attempt to buy her some time, she ran behind a picket fence that was decorating a part of the garden. Yoongi quickly following along from the other side until she reached its end and emerged from behind. Trying one final attack, only for her blade to be cut in half. Leaving her completely unarmed.

The young woman slowly sunk to her knees, forcing a smile of sorrow. "Guess now I  will die like a sumurai." Yoongi could only roll his eyes at her dramatic acting though, as she even closed her eyes. Taking advantage of her not seeing it coming, he hit her with a trained blow of his sword's shaft at her temple. Leaving her unconscious. "Silly girl, assuming I'd be a killer like her." And just like the guards, he also dragged her body to the bushes.

His glance falling to his watch then. One minute until the next guard would show up there. He needed to be quick.

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"So," Jimin began then with a bored expression as he looked around, "What exactly is this whole party about?" Back inside no one had noticed the sword fight that had taken place outside between Yoongi and Morita's daughter. "Oh, you know," Morita said with a sly smile, "Since you seem to like parties - or so I've heard-" His glance briefly wandered to Emilio. "- I thought of throwing one especially for you. See it as a farewell party, before you hand yourself in." Taehyung frowned, faking confusion as he played dumb to play for time. "Okay.. and why?" "Isn't it obvious?" This was the first time this evening that Emilio spoke up. An equally annoyed and contemptuous glare in his eyes. "Admittedly, we unintentionally wrecked your family's gala, got your son intentionally arrested and ruined your family's reputation, indifferently," Taehyung listed on his fingers before pointing one at Emilio with raised brows, "So we get why you would wanna see us behind bars. I just don't get how we pissed off you." His finger glided to Morita.

Both older men exchanged a look, holding a gleam of amusement, before glancing back down at them. "You don't know who I am?" "Oh, please," Jimin intervened with clear offence in his voice. Arms crossing in front of his puffed out chest, "Of course we know. We aren't some noobs, we obviously did our preparations. We just don't get why you, a high-ranking member of one of the biggest and busiest crime organisations would bother so much for one of his - I don't know - fifty associates. Pretty sure he isn't the first one getting arrested." Morita laughed under his breath. "Indeed, from the outside it must seem confusing.. However, Felipe Rossi isn't just one of my best business partners when it comes to run art objects and antiques from east asia to europe and facilitate deals and buyers. He's also a close friend. And very loyal, which he proofed by not betraying me or giving me away. Despite interpol having suggested him a very lucrative deal for mitigation. So naturally, when I heard of what happened, I reached out to Emilio here. And besides.." He paused his explanation, eyes darkening when remembering something. He seemed lost in thoughts for a moment before quickly snapping out of it and redirecting his focus to his two guests in the lower area again. "Call it gratitude for coincidentally also taking revenge on an old friend for me." Jimin and Taehyung locked gazes, silently wondering what Morita meant.

"Anyway," Emilio took the lead then. Touching his moustache out of habit, "Since you accepted our invitation, I must assume you either are smart enough to agree turning yourself in or you're foolish enough for believing negotiating would work." "Hm, and what if neither one is the right answer?" "Then you're incredibly naive either way." Morita held his hand out, stopping his co-host as curiosity sparked in his eyes. "And why did you accept then if you aren't here to allow us bringing you to authorities? You must know the consequences of that, don't you? I believe Emilio is quite generous by wanting to leave you alive and only turn in to interpol. My preferred solution would be quite the.. opposite." He smirked cockily. "You know, torture of you and everyone you love.. this kind of consequences." Jimin shrugged, not letting his words get to him and affect his mind. "Oh, you see. We could always just try and fight." "Is that so?" The older man suddenly revealed a dagger from one of his kimono's broad sleeves. Holding it up in the air, as if he was showing it off, only to ram its tip into the wooden railing. And the sound of hurrying vehicles echoed from outside.

Taehyung sighed. "Is that what I think it is?" Morita smirked. "You two didn't think it'd be that easy, did you?" "You know, for a second.. yeah, we kinda did." "Silly thieves."

Fast steps were heard from a side corridor, a man with a wooden stick appearing only for more men in black suits to suddenly jump out from behind him. All slide-doors around them were pushed aside, even more men in suits holding all kinds of weapons, mainly katanas, appearing. Pouring out from all openings.

The two friends shortly being circled by around fourty members of Morita's organisation, pressing their backs against each other. Jimin's hand slowly going up to his in-ear. "Yoongi? I fear we must proceed with plan b."

"Figured already."

Some men in the back began to yell out in pain all of a sudden, one by one falling and even the ones in the centre seemed alarmed, wondering what was going on. Jimin and Taehyung immediately taking advantage of their short distraction, jumping onto the ones in front of them and knocking them senseless. "Took you long enough, man!" "Sorry, got hindered." Yoongi quickly passed them their weapons before swinging his sword over his head and piercing an attacker behind him. As he sliced and swirled across the floor to clear the space, Taehyung spotted the large lamps hanging from the ceilings, and with a precise shot, let them crash down on several opponents. Jimin paused to glance at the balcony then. Only catching a glimpse of their hosts before they disappeared behind a sliding door. He snorted, going straight to punching a guy, who was about to attack him, in the face.

The three managed making their way to the staircase, running upstairs while fighting off the rest of the men who followed behind, being close on their heels. Even sending one rolling down the stairs with a kick. With slow steps the gang members climbed the stairs, angry expressions on their twisted faces. Eyes fixated on the three who were also slowly stepping backwards with their weapons in front of them. Not noticing entering a wide area, the members entering as well while some even cut through the paper-walls to get inside as there wasn't enough space.

For an unknown reason, the lights went out. Solely the light from outside illuminating their silhuettes and  weapons. And after seconds of silence, the fight went to its second round. It was easier now as only around ten men had remained, so while Jimin and Taehyung dealt blows and gunshot wounds, Yoongi was skillfully slicing and punching. After eliminating all but one shaky soldier, the lights were turned back on, and they saw the last man standing was nothing more than a zealous teenager. Yoongi huffed, cutting off the boy's blade in one blow. The boy remained staring at him with big frightened eyes when he lunged out and cut another piece and another, until only the shaft was left in his shaky hands. "Get out," he banished him out with a harsh tone. And the three went to the other rooms, finding them empty.

"Where the fck did they disappear to?" Jimin's question was quickly answered when they heard the sound of an engine starting. They immediately rushed back downstairs and out of the mansion. Seeing a black limousine heading towards the opening gate only to abrubtly stop right after passing it. And they were about to run after it when they heard the reason the car didn't escape. "Morita Hideo, this is interpol! You're surrounded! Stop the engine and leave the vehicle with hands raised!" "That's our cue," Yoongi whispered, about to return to the backyard and follow Jimin's suggestion of a quick escape, when steps echoed behind them. Causing them to instantly freeze. "I know you bunch.. So we meet each other again."

The voice sounded familiar. Slowly, they turned around seeing agent Kim Namjoon grinning widely at them as he folded his broad arms. Standing firm and tall in front of his men. "Oh, you again!" Jimin laughed out, not the hint of nervousness in his face. More the opposite, he was relieved he didn't have to deal with some random, unknown agent but at least one he knew. Made it easier to work his charms. "How comes we meet each other here?" "Me and agent Jung are after this guy, Morita, for quite some time, you know. Finally gathered enough evidence against him." His chin motioned to the direction of the entrance gate and their eyes followed. Indeed observing agent Jung Hoseok putting handcuffs onto Morita and Emilio, escorting them away from their car. "And why did he invite you guys over?" Taehyung arched a brow. "How do you know we were invited?" Namjoon only laughed. "We obviously had Morita under constant observation. We knew he was planning something. We were only surprised to see that Rossi guy here. But when we also saw you arriving - and you sneaking in -" he peeked at Yoongi, "- we began to understand."

He stepped forward then, pulling out his handcuffs from the back of his belt. Two other agents following his move. "Don't worry, Seokjin will have the honour of returning you to Seoul. I'll just keep an eye on you till he arrives." "Ugh, don't tell me you snitched on us to pops," Jimin whined dramatically, only earning a dumbfounded look from the older agent. "'Pops'?" he repeated amused, musing for a moment when eventually chuckling. Deep dimples appearing on his cheeks, giving him a childlike appearance for a moment that contrasted his sturdy physique. "That's new, but kinda suits him. But no, we didn't 'snitch on you', he was already on his way when we contacted him." The three shared confused glances as they got handcuffed. Had they been careless and got seen somewhere? Or had their interpol agents suddenly become even better in locating them than usual? 

They were led to the waiting interpol vehicles outside then. Seeing agent Jung approaching them with a wide grin on his heart-shaped lips when spotting their bonus captives. "We deserve a pay rise for helping the robbery department once again, don't you think, Joon?"

As they climbed into the transporter, another car arrived at the scene. Three familiar faces stepping out of it, just as forwarned. "Well, well, well, look who we have here!" Seokjin was grinning from ear to ear when seeing them sitting nice and well inside the van. Only earning a cocky smirk from Jimin. "Always a pleasure to see you, pops. And Kook and Sky, too, of course." "It's still agent Jeon and Blake for you," Jungkook mumbled annoyed under his breath. Giving him a serious glance. However, Seokjin only laughed dryly, choosing to ignore the evident sarcasm in his opponent's words when a yawn crept past his lips. The late hour and unscheduled flight having taken a toll on his sleep. "Can't say the same," he said then, before facing his younger colleagues behind him. Gesturing for them to help the other agents and Jungkook and Skylar instantly nodded and walked away. He turned back to his favourite criminals then, his grin having returned. "Be nice criminals and wait here, okay? We'll be right back." And with that he shut the doors with a loud thud and locked them.

"So, you know what exactly the three were doing here?" Hoseok asked when seeing Seokjin approaching him. Namjoon joining them shortly while their agents were taking care of all the arrestees. However, all they got was a shrug from Seokjin as he ran his fingers through his hair. "Only what that girl told us, that they got an invitation from Rossi and this guy you were after, what was his name again?" "Morita," Namjoon quickly added. The older agent nodding. "Right, Morita. That's pretty much all the info she had - or at least wanted to share." The agents of the organised crime and special victims department only nodded with musing expressions. "I think it's save to say.. " Hoseok began then with a lower tone, as if he didn't want anyone to eavesdrop, ".. that Morita was helping Rossi taking revenge for his son." "Think so, too," Namjoon agreed, his glance falling to the transporter with the two elder men. "They set a mob of his men on them. If that doesn't scream revenge.." Seokjin was pensive, eventually nodding. "Sounds logical. I guess we'll see after the interrogation."

Jimin took his benefit of the agents' short discussion to let his fingers reveal a thin wire that was always hidden inside his sleeve for cases like this, which neither Namjoon nor Hoseok knew. And since Seokjin had assumed they had been checked by them for potential means, it had passed through. Much to Jimin's delight who was cracking open his handcuffs with a scoff. "As if I'd just wait." He went on to uncuff the other two as well. Yoongi immediately rubbing his freed wrists. "Do we know where our weapons are?" "Caught a glimpse of Jungkook receiving them from an agent and stuffing them into the trunk of their car." "Great." "Well," Jimin said, cracking open the van's door with the wire, "We got no choice but to look for them. I ain't going nowhere without my walter." Taehyung squinted his eyes at him annoyed. "Did I say not to get them? You know damn well I'm not leaving without my baby either." "Neither do I," Yoongi huffed. And Jimin only rolled his eyes before cautiously peeking out the ajar door. Locating any agents close by. He knew no one believed they'd make a run for it while so many agents were around and that's why they were left - even if only shortly - without supervision in there with only one guarding the van outside. It was always a big advatage getting underestimated.

"I see their car, it's around five metres to the right. There's currently only one guy standing in front of the door. Another one close by, six metres to the left. One of us could sneak to it and get the weapons." "I'll do it," Yoongi immediately shrugged. And indeed, he soundlessly stunned the agent guarding the vehicle, leaving him somewhere unseen at the side and in no time he had returned with their beloved weapons. Nobody having taken notice of him. Especially since everyone was preoccupied with the more than fourty other criminals who had to be taken into custody.

After hiding their weapons underneath their clothes, they put the cracked-open handcuffs back on, pretending they'd never been taken down and took their previous seats. Waiting and acting innocent. Moments later the doors opened again and in came the two younger agents along with an unknown one. "Oh, no, where's pops?" Taehyung faked disappointment. "Thought he'd have the honour of taking us back." Skylar arched an unimpressed brow at him as she sat on the opposite seat. "Don't worry, you'll meet him again at the station. He'll be driving our car back."

The vehicles soon began moving, heading south to the highway to Osaka, where the interpol branch office was located at. Yoongi's eyed Taehyung and Jimin, then the agents who didn't seem to have noticed anything. His eyes going back to his friends then, giving them an acute glance. And Jimin gave him a knowing look before using a bucking of the van to unnoticably shove one hand into his jacket. Pulling a tiny ball out he had originally intented for Morita, he gave the other two sitting opposite of him an almost non-perceivable nod. And the three held their breath as he clicked on a small button, smoke filling the narrow space and clouding the vision into a mist of white, causing the agents to instantly jump up in panic. "What the - No one move!" "Dammit, tell the d- tell the driv-er t-" However, before Skylar could even finish her sentence, she'd already sunken to the ground. "Sky? S-ky.." Another thud followed. And another. All agents laying unconscious on the ground, just like intended.

Yoongi quickly open the car door enough for the smoke to dissolve into the night air. The three finally respiring, taking deep breaths and getting rid of the handcuffs for good. "They never learn," Yoongi tutted, shaking his head, "Thought they'd have learned their lesson after Morocco." Taehyung lightly nudged his arm then. "Don't jinx it," he chuckled and they closed the door to not catch any attention of the other cars on the highway, although there hadn't been too many around. Jimin clearing his throat and picked up Jungkook's radio then. And with a perfect imitation of his voice, impersonating the young agent, he asked the unaware agents in the front to stop the vehicle at the side of the road and join them for a small emergency.

And just like planned, the vehicle indeed came to an halt. Soon another two agents opening the door to check what was going on, only to join the others on the ground. And Yoongi, Jimin and Taehyung quickly climbed acting normal. Even if someone saw them, they'd most likely assume they had a flat tire and that's it. Now all that was left was to hijack a random car passing by and - "Hey, get in!"

They instantly turned around at the unexpected voice, seeing a young woman bending out the window and waving at them frantically. Even with the wig and tinted glasses they could tell who it was. "Soyeon?" "What are you waiting for? Hurry up!" she yelled and got back inside. Watching them look at each other startled before running up to her and getting inside the car. And she quickly drove off, merging back into the sporadic traffic.

"Soyeon, what the fck are you doing here?" Yoongi's scowl from the passenger seat made her shift shyly. "I thought I was clear last time! I told you not to do irrational actions li-" She straightened herself though, intentionally cutting off his lecture as she didn't feel like hearing it again. "Be thankful I saved your ass again," she grinned at him, ignoring his angry stare. Yoongi only scoffed at this, sitting back in his seat. "We'd have found a different car." "Ohh," she pouted with innocence then, "But then I wouldn't be your getaway driver this time!"

Jimin and Taehyung stifled a laugh in the backseat. Jimin leaning in between the seats then, giving her one of his naturally charmy smiles. "Forgive his grumpiness," he waved off his friend whose aggravation only grew, crossing his arms in front of his chest, "That's just how he shows his concern for people he cares about." Soyeon's lips folded. Already knowing that, hence why she hadn't taken it with offence. Jimin continued then. "But I'm curious, how did you end up here? Don't tell me it was a coincidence. I don't believe in those, at least not when you wear a wig and those fancy glasses." "She obviously did something very dumb again," Yoongi muttered annoyed while staring out of the window. Trying his best to keep his calm at her getting herself in danger once again, for him, and failing. "For your information, it wasn't dumb. I think it was brilliant, maybe risky, but not dumb," she defended herself as she changed lanes to overtake a truck as she pushed near the speed limit. Fear of hearing sirens nearing any minute in the back of her mind. However, as she realised what she was about to confess, her cheeks blushed with embarrassment. "I.. actually, guys, I think I need to apologise to you first."

The three frowned, looking at her confused. "If it's because you feel guilty for 'dragging' us into this again.." Yoongi paused when seeing her shaking her head. "No, no.. I mean, yes, for that, too. But I didn't mean that." Inhaling deeply, she took an exit and left the highway. "I told agent Kim about the invitation. I knew, even if coming here I wouldn't be able to find you by myself. And I had this bad feeling, you know? That something terrible would happen. So I told them what I knew. They'd eventually find you with their methods after all. So all I had to do was letting them lead me to you." A small grin plastered on her face, as she couldn't pretent not being a little bit proud of herself. "And I knew you guys would sooner or later try to escape and indeed, you did just that."

Everyone stared at her with jaws ajar, being quite astonished by her plan. Taehyung being the first one to speak up then. A lopsided smirk tucking on his lips. "Damn, you've got it." Neither him nor Jimin showed any sign of resentment towards her for informing interpol. Much the opposite, they laughed. And she sighed in relief when seeing their reaction. It only lasted for a bit though, only until her glance fell to Yoongi who remained quiet while looking out at the buildings they passed by. "Uhm," she said then, averting her eyes from him with an uneasy feeling, "Where should I drive you guys to?" "Well," Jimin said then, glancing at his watch, "Considering pops will soon find out we escaped, I'd say we shouldn't waste any time. So get us to the airport, please." She nodded, following the signs with the airplane symbol.

With Taehyung giving her directions, the car eventually came to an halt at a secluded area next to the fence seperating the runway from the street. Far away from the actual airport for anyone seeing them. The hangers with private jets only a couple hundred meters away, where they'd simply 'borrow' one. "Thanks for the drive!" "We'll see you around." The two younger guys gave her a wink before getting out. Much to her surprise, Yoongi didn't follow. The two remaining in silence until he decided to speak up.

"Soyeon -" "Save your breath, I don't wanna hear about how much of an idiot I am or how dangerous and irrational this was." Shaking her head, she took off the glasses and the fake-blond hair. Her grip on the wig tightened. "You must believe me when I tell you I had a presentiment, okay? I didn't know what else to do, I knew you'd ignore my calls and texts, but I couldn't just ignore this awful feeling. Despise me, hate me, think of me of a fool if you want. But I don't regret it." Her jaw trembled by now as her built-up emotions flowed out of her lips. And Yoongi observed her quietly, before eventually reaching out to her hand. It loosened its grip on the wig, allowing him to hold it in his. "I could never hate you for saving me, angel. I'd be the biggest fool of them all if I did."

He was still mad. Incredibly mad actually. However, he was also in awe with her grit and persistent nature. And at the end of the day, she'd only done it because for some inexplicable reason she felt and cared enough for him to do crazy, irrational things like this. He drew closer, his other hand wrapping around the back of her neck. And as she turned her head to finally look him in the eyes, he pressed his lips on hers. Taking her aback. "Just what do I have to do to keep you from pulling a stunt?" His warm breath brushed over her skin as he rested his forehead against hers with a small grin. Streaks of hair lightly touching her lashes. Soyeon's eyes fluttered open then and she smiled at him. Her arms finding its way around his torso. "How about you don't give me any reasons to anymore?"

A knock on the car's window made them jump in their seats and they let go of each other in an instant. Seeing Taehyung's apologetic grin. "Guys, don't wanna interrupt the cute moment, but time presses." Soyeon coughed, swallowing the embarrassement. "You should probably go." "Yeah, right," he sighed and opened the car door, ready to leave before pausing. Smiling at her. "See you soon." And her face lit up at his words, eyes beaming. He didn't push her away this time, knowing very well how pointless it'd be. She was so damn stubborn. But also breathtaking. And he loved her for that. "So you won't tell me to stay away anymore?" "I promised I'll come back, didn't I?" He winked. "Just be careful and get back to Seoul as fast as possible, okay?" She nodded vigorously. Watching the man she loved leaving the car and cut a hole into the fence. Disappearing behind it with his friends and into the night.

Truth was, Soyeon knew whenever meeting Yoongi an adventure was about to happen. She could simply never tell what kind it'd be. And she didn't mind that. After all, she was both: someone who wanted to live a simple life as an introvert, getting lost in her songwriting while following a routine, but also someone who wanted to have all the joy and adventure that life coule give. Both these women living in the same body, but somehow never clashing with each other. The introverted one always prevailing.

Only with her choosing to let him into her weird little world, that had changed. And at the end, she was thankful for her grandfather leaving her that emerald necklace. 

Without it they might've never found each other in this universe after all.

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next chapter: epilogue here

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