#does this warrant a blood warning its only like a little bit

[aquared]

thing i made 2 days ago , theres no context its just a little test

[pandolfo-malatesta]

...“but on his way back to Riverrun he left his tail and went off with a woman.”

Once they’re spotted making for the camp calls ring out to herald their arrival.  “She’s back!  She’s brought him.”  There is no welcome in the calls, no comradely greeting; instead the words lift like snouts scenting blood.  “The lovers!” someone chortles, and he is upon a plodding horse again, pressed against her, can smell the ghost of his rotting hand.  “The Kingslayer and his whore!”  Upon hearing that she makes a choked noise.

He bristles, though not at the epithet so often flung against him.  Why would they call her, so obviously a chaste and honest maid, such a thing?—other than to mock her, to wound her, to humiliate her.  Her shoulders have crept high, her elbows drawn in; she is trying to make herself small enough to overlook.  His pulse quickens as he tries to make a fist of the hand he does not have.  Even if the golden hand cannot hold a sword, it can dispense retribution of its own.  Ronnet Connington has learned as much; if Jaime has the chance, these men will, too.

Anger at hearing her insulted because of him is expected.  Less so is the lightning bolt of desire, quick and pure and devastating, that the words send through him.  He shivers at it, even as shame fills him.

Wisdom would let the slander stand unanswered.  “My lady’s name is Brienne,” he warns, relieved that his voice is steady, if a bit loud in his own ears.  “And if ever I’d had her, I would remember it.”  He doesn’t need to glance over to know that her flush has deepened, darkened.

As they rein in their horses, men swarm them.  Rough hands drag them from their saddles; they jerk his arms back and wind a rope around his elbows, rip his sword belt free.  He notices that they leave Brienne’s hands loose.  Ice spikes through his veins as he realizes that they aren’t afraid of what she may do to them.  If they aren’t afraid of her, injured though she is, they can’t be afraid of him, and his bonds are meant to show him his place here.

His heart sinks as their captors herd them toward a hole in the rock.  They duck into a cavern, dotted here and there with fires that cast weird shadows onto the walls.  Men mill about the place, all of them with metal glinting somewhere about them: a long knife in a belt, an axe within arm’s reach.  Their attention is fixed on the new arrivals.  Whatever brought Brienne and him here, they have little hope of an easy exit from this place.

There is a gurgling, rattling noise, the like of which he’s never heard and that can only bode ill.  Then, as if translating that hideous rasp, a northern voice calls, “Get him on his knees!”

As they force him to the ground Brienne struggles against the hands restraining her, though without much conviction.  “I would see them first,” she demands, sounding not as firm as she would probably like.  He follows her gaze to see that she is addressing a ghoul in grey.  The figure is strangely familiar: something in its erect bearing, in the matted auburn hair.  

Yet more captives shuffle out—neither of them a highborn lady of three-and-ten; just a boy and a hedge knight, both of them bruised and unremarkable in every way, though the latter eyes him with unconcealed disgust and the former looks fit to cry at the sight of her—and Jaime reckons he knows why he’s here.  Even so, he huffs out a laugh.  She glances sharply at him.  “I’m only worth two lives to you?” he murmurs lightly.  “You wound me, wench.”

“Jaime,” she keens, just at the edge of his hearing, and his slight smile disappears.  He must spare her from this.

He surveys the motley assemblage, ending with the ghoul.  “Who commands this?” he asks in the voice of the lord commander.  “At whose order am I to die?”

The redheaded ghoul hacks and sputters and the northman says, “Your own hand signed your death warrant.”  Jaime raises an eyebrow—would raise his golden hand, no longer good for signing anything, if he could.  “You have broken faith with my lady.”

He shrugs.  “More fool her, to be surprised by it.”

Brienne tries to stride forward.  “Let him live, please, my lady.  We are sworn to find your daughter, and we will, together.”  He will remember the warble of her “please” for the rest of his life, be it five minutes longer or five decades.  To have such a one as Brienne of Tarth—protector of innocents, loyalty made flesh, the finest knight in Westeros but for the chance of her birth—plead for his life humbles him.

The northern youth shakes his head.  “Lady Stoneheart spared your life, and theirs.”  He gestures to the captives.  “The Kingslayer must die.  Keep your word and prove yourself true.”

Jaime nearly laughs at that, his eyes narrowing.  Brienne has proven herself true time and again, across miles and months, through blood shed and sheer stubbornness.  What she has never been is a skilled liar, so that something is amiss has been obvious from the moment she returned to him.  Her eyes have been turned from him, never meeting his gaze; her speech has been unusually shy.  He’d expected perhaps to have to fight for Sansa Stark, side by side with Brienne.  He’s known for ages that he might die with her, though not like this.  The men holding her let go, none too gently; one shoves a sword into her hands, and for a moment she looks down at it as if she’s never held a weapon before.  Then she pulls Oathkeeper from its scabbard and pivots to face him.

Jaime Lannister’s lot in life, it seems, is to kneel before one woman or another.  First Cersei, then Catelyn Stark, who has become an eldritch creature who wants him dead; and now it will end with him on his knees before Brienne, the Maid of Tarth.  For so long he’s thought that he would die in battle, on his feet or astride a horse with a sword in his hand; he finds he doesn’t mind being at Brienne’s feet.  He only hopes she won’t blame herself too much, afterward.

He looks up at her and smiles.  It’s not the expression he’d like to wear, an insouciant smirk in the face of the Stranger; it’s softer, fitting for the woman who has planed away his carefully constructed self-conceit.

“Go away inside,” she whispers; he isn’t sure if it’s to herself or him that she speaks.  He won’t do it, not this time, not in their last moments together.

He’s never been afraid of death, but with the hour at hand he finds himself reluctant.  “Brienne,” he says. The glistening of her eyes is more precious than any gemstone.  Would that he had knelt before her in peaceful times.  “I trust you.”  With his life, and now with his death.  It will be quick—she will make sure of it.  Her sword is sharp, her arm strong.  He, at least, will not suffer.

Though her expression does not lighten she straightens, drawing her shoulders back and her head high.  In her eyes he sees rekindled that defiant spark, and bites back a grin.  Her fingers tighten around Oathkeeper’s hilt.  “Jaime,” she says, “you—”

As if possessed, the hedge knight bursts from where he’s been standing and barrels toward the undead Catelyn Stark.  All eyes turn to him, including Brienne’s; surely Jaime isn’t the only one to see the northman pull his dagger and aim it at the knight’s gut.  The knight himself sees and dives forward, under the dagger and at the northman’s knees.  The two tumble down and Catelyn—Lady Stoneheart—stumbles back, hissing.  While Jaime considers staggering to his feet Brienne whirls away from him, crossing to where the two men grapple in the dirt and, in one stroke, separating Lady Stoneheart’s head from her body.

As the blow is struck all sound is sucked out of the cavern, and the fires extinguish.  With ears ringing and eyes wide, he wonders if he’s died, if someone has finished the job for Brienne.  Then, dead or alive, he hauls himself to his feet.

Across the cavern—or maybe nearer than he can tell—there is a faint glow, a pale wriggle of movement in the air.  With his luck it will be some creature that thrives in darkness come to feast on human flesh; or maybe it is merely madness taking hold, his mind so starved for light, even after just these few moments, that it has imagined itself a source.  The sweep of it to and fro through the black is entrancing; streams of light linger in the air, making it hard to discern the thing’s shape.  But now he can see that its light is blue, and that it seems to be searching for something.  Strange though it is, the light does not alarm him as it approaches—except when it now and then disappears.  Its blue is kindly, comforting, and he stands straight and still, ready to welcome it.

When the light reaches him it is enough to illuminate its immediate surroundings.  A band around his chest loosens with the darkness pushed back.  Now he can see that the glow comes from a sword, and can’t imagine why he didn’t recognize it earlier.  He’s been here before: in a dream with Brienne lighting his darkness.

A hand he knows extends toward him.  The fingers run from the crown of his head to the nape of his neck, then across his throat, pausing at his pulse point to feel the thrum of blood there.  Her hand splays against his chest, drags down toward his stomach; his breath catches at the warm press of it as she ensures that he is uninjured.  I am well, he wants to tell her, and wants to ask if she is, but doesn’t know if his voice will work or if the sorcery surrounding them will leave him mute.

And then she touches his face: the faintest brush of fingertips against his cheek.  For neither the first time nor the last Jaime is helpless before her, helpless without her.  He closes his eyes, none the blinder for it, until she takes her hand away.

Then she is cutting through his bonds, propping the half-dead hedge knight halfway onto Jaime’s shoulder, and leading them and the boy out of the cavern.  They emerge, squinting, into daylight.  In the light the sword is as ordinary as it’s ever been; in the light so is she.  He takes her hand in his, and takes up his place beside her.

[mxmorbidmidnight]

Exert from my novel (trigger warning, gore, vampirism)

The extraction of human blood is a delicate process. So much muscle, bone and vein to consider. One aims to consume the most, with as little effort as possible (as it is rather unpleasant to be fondling a random creature’s neck with one’s mouth for an extended period of time). It is of the wide assumption the ordeal would leave two delicate puncture wounds. It is rather the opposite you shall find. First and foremost, it takes a few tries to get it quite right and achieve a steady stream, by the time the ordeal is done, the victim’s neck is typically left covered in multiple gashes and punctures, as well as heavily bruised and unfortunately slobbered on. But why the neck? Rather cliché and rather uncomfortable for all parties (not to mention unnecessarily erotic). It does not necessarily need to be the neck, really anywhere major blood vessels near the skin. Victormira personally opted for the neck, finding it quick and convenient. Really, such habits are based on individual preference.

Victormira had known many with all sorts of feeding habits, some preferred to artificially extract the blood, finding the sweat and strange substances over the human creature’s skin to be rather off putting. Others you might find are rather infatuated with the process of it, artfully seducing the human creature, gaining its trust then draining it dry. Victormira personally could imagine very little worse than spending an extended period of time around a human creature, nor did she particularly care to make the “exchange” personal. 

Victormira, unlike many of her kind, did not bite to kill. Though she didn’t particularly care for the individual lives of her suppliers, these days the killing of a human creature is such a nasty affair. Back in the good old days human creatures dropped dead all the time on the streets and nobody particularly called all that much (alas! in the modern era a dead human creature warrants an entire parade and marching band, with each parade having its own marching band and each marching band having its own parade). 

Obviously, she was more than capable of the carrying out of murder, however she did not care for the effort. The strategic hiding of a body begins to lose its thrill after many a century of doing.

Consequently, as Victormira laid the unconscious human creature across her lap, she carefully considered exactly where to bite. She traced an imaginary cross with her finger along the side of the neck, well familiar with the mechanics of the process by now. She was careful as she bit down, if biting to kill one needs only to prioritize the accessing of blood, but Victormira must be wary.

Human creatures are awfully reliant on blood (she thought that as if vampires were not in a similar predicament). The average full grown human creature has around 4-6 liters of blood within their sad little bodies. The individual blood content of your human creature must be considered, with male human creatures typically having greater blood content. This one that she had acquired was rather tall, likely meaning there was quite a lot to take before it would be in much risk.

Now her fangs were embedded firmly within the skin, she moved her head slightly, enlarging the gash feeling blood spill onto her tongue. It wasn't the taste that made her own “blood” thrum and rush, nor the thrill of the chase, or the feeling of having another creature submitting to her entirely. It was the feeling of life. Almost as if she could feel warmth on her skin and a pulse where there was none. It took considerable effort to not chase it, that feeling of life, fortunately Victormira was quite well practiced. 

She believed the supplier would likely survive. But of course, accidents happen. They happen all the time.

[genshin-impact-fics]

Finding out You're in the Fatui

Characters: Jean, Childe, Keqing, Albedo, Diluc, Xiao

Diluc:

Whatever way he finds out he’s very upset; he trusted you, he fell in love with you yet now he finds out you’re with the enemy? He’s fearing that everything that’s happened between the two of you was a lie, that you just used him until you got what you needed. His brain is just in a storm of thoughts

He wants to believe that you’re good at heart, that all of this was because you didn’t have much of a choice. He’s going to ask questions, but more importantly he will offer you a way out: abandon the Fatui and just live with him he will vow to protect you and even find a safe area to work if employment was a concern of yours

If you accept his offer he’s glad that he didn’t have to lose you, he loves you too much and it’d be just too sad for him to have to cut ties with you especially since you’re the first one he’s felt such strong feelings for

But if you refused and you made it clear that you willingly joined the Fatui, he’s absolutely heartbroken. He’d probably start crying out of how painful the reality of the situation was and try to beg you to leave and stay with him. He does not have the heart to even consider having to fight you, he didn’t want to harm you yet here you were showing a completely different side to you that not even he caught onto

Xiao:

He is enraged at the new information when he finds out. He curses himself for being so blind and having trusted you as much as he did. How could he be calm about this; you played a hand in the fall of the archon he served under, the archon that saved him from his horrible past and gave him a new purpose in life. How could he ever forgive you for such a betrayal

Though he refuses to bloody his hands with those of mortal blood, he will lash out and attack you. His heart hurts as how could he let this happen, he loved you yet was this the world’s way of punishing him for his past he could only wonder

If you plea to him to listen to your explanation he’s conflicted; you were either telling the truth or you were lying to just buy yourself some time… But he stopped and kept a safe distance from you as though you hurt his trust in his heart he still very much loves you so if there was a glimmer of hope that you can be saved he would be willing to listen to judge for himself. His expression softens when learning that you essentially got forced and trapped into working in the Fatui and at that point he is willing to keep you with him which mainly consisted of you living at the Wangshu Inn with him

However if you confirm that you’re in the Fatui of your own choosing he’s hurt, but he’s already withdrawing his own emotions so it didn’t get in the way of his duties. You’re no longer the mortal he fell in love with, you were just another mortal trying to use him for your personal gain. He’ll warn you to never to return and that you are no longer permitted to call out his name because from that moment on you were enemies

Albedo:

Deep down he didn’t want to accept the possible fact you were potentially bad. There were small things you did or said that made him slightly skeptical of you yet he overlooked them because he was in love with you, there was something that always made him so curious and so fascinated with you. You never judged him, you were patient with him, as you even put yourself at risk with plenty of his experiments

Of course this conversation was in the privacy of his lab in Dragonspine, surely there was no need to have a big scene be made especially when he wanted to simply hear what you had to say for yourself. He’s very composed and calm for someone who’s feeling this pain in his chest at the fact that you’ve kept this from him for so long

If you were truly innocent it saddens him to hear how you were stuck paying off a debt that wasn’t even your own and that was the only reason why you were stuck in the predicament that you’re in. Surely there had to be some way to hide you from the Fatui right? Maybe not up there in Dragonspine since there were already so many of the agents scouting the mountains, but maybe he could ask Jean if you could stay with him; however, that then led to another possible problem. If he tried to explain the details the fact that you were associated with the Fatui, Jean might just want to arrest you for interrogation which he might have to simply keep that knowledge to himself for the sake of your safety

But at any time you're telling your story he will call you out on something if he feels you weren’t being truthful. Hearing that you were a third generation agent he came to understand that it was initially a family legacy to uphold; rather unfortunate but oddly enough he still didn’t look down on you for that. Of course he’s unsure of what to do as things are surely to be complicated now, but how could he come to really see you as the enemy when he loves you

Regardless of the case, he will continue to stay with you; however, he’ll take a few precautions to insure his own safety. He won’t be sharing details of things he’s working on, no more asking to help with experiments (unless they’re just something mundane and nothing too serious), but other than that he just can only hope that you will continue to be truthful from there forth

Childe:

You are his favorite and it’s very obvious to everyone in the Fatui. You are just about the only exception out of all the agents that he will go a little bit easy on when it comes to missions not going accordingly. He love you to bits and surely made sure that you knew he was serious about your twos relationship

You are not allowed to go on missions with the other Harbingers, Childe is very keen on having you accompany him and only him on missions. He also personally sees to your training because he sees the potential in you and it just seemed like the other agents who are in charge of training don’t seem to up to the level that best benefited you

You get spoiled a lot, he also makes sure to always praise you after any mission or task you do: you had a minor task to go collect a debt? Childe will tell you a job beautifully done. You were away on a big mission that had to do with looking for evidence of the whereabouts of another archon? He’ll tell you how proud he is and how much he loves you. He will make a request the Tsaritsa to bestow a delusion onto you; cuz surely if one of her Harbingers is speaking so highly of someone truly they are worthy of her gift

There was already so much to love about you already but ever since he found out how good you were with his siblings he knew that you were the one for him. He can trust you to look after his siblings to keep them safe since they already know that you are his significant other (but of course have no clue either of you work in the fatui). You two are in Liyue and Teucer suddenly appears out of nowhere: you’re already prepared to take care of and look after the younger brother. Childe just loves how good you are with him and it shows how much Teucer likes you too. Childe only wish that he could marry you the next day (something he says often to you)

Jean:

Needless to say she was distraught when she stumbled upon you speaking in a hushed tone with La Signora in the dead of night in an alleyway during her patrol. She didn’t know what to think but of course she wanted to confront you yet she’d stay hidden and wait till you were alone which didn’t help her spiraling thoughts wondering if you had been with the enemy this whole time and what the two of you had was just pretend to you

The moment the coast is clear Jean will come out of hiding and stand tall with her arms over her chest though the expression on her face does not match the rest of her body language. She knows she should keep this professional without getting her emotions involved, but how could she not when it was you; you were her lover so naturally she can’t help it

You knew you were in trouble as you could have hightailed it the other way, but you knew it would only make matters worse though also even if you had run now you’d have to face her eventually so what was the point. You answered whatever question she asked you; Though Jean did have a slightly difficult time being able to tell when certain replies you gave were possibly a lie. It pains her to have to consider breaking up because she did love you yet how could she love someone that could pose a great threat to her home that she’s sworn to protect; would probably have you put into custody for a while just to fully ensure that you weren’t just a spy or scheming behind the knights of favonius’ back

You of all people did Jean not expect to have such a high standing in the Fatui; you weren’t just some agent to be stationed there, you were a younger sibling of one of the harbingers overseeing everything the agents did. It made everything all the more painful for Jean as she thought she finally found someone who understood her and loved her despite her business along with her flaws, but she started to doubt your relationship. She’d have to take you in for further questioning to see what information you’ve leaked out, but when you made a run for it Jean knew she should chase after you yet… She let you escape, she didn’t want you getting hurt as for this one time will she let you do so; however, if you two crossed paths again unfortunately you’d give her no other choice but to warrant your arrest

Keqing:

She’s surprised at the fact that you’re associated with the Fatui, but of course she’s going to act as if it doesn’t bother her or hurt her in the slightest (though we all know just how badly she’s hurting on the inside). She knew it was too good to be true that you so happened to share the same ideologies and that you got along so beautifully.

She has put so much trust in you that she’s brought you up to the Jade Chamber with her to have peaceful tea time dates a couple of times before its destruction. Yet you made her look like a fool, as even if you never intended to hurt her or betray her, Keqing takes it very personally even if her love for you runs deep

Regardless whether or not you were good of heart that was trapped serving the Fatui or truly was lying about everything and using her that whole time she will coldly cut you off. She’s putting on her tough act saying how she simply cannot love a traitor that has put liyue in harm's way

It’s not until she’s alone or possibly just with Ganyu that Keqing breaks down into tears sobbing over her heartbreak. Nothing hurt more than letting you go, how she wanted to give you that second chance, but she couldn’t let love cloud her judgement, as maybe one day in the future you two could be together, but for now she’d need time to heal though she probably never really gets over you

[lubdubsworld]

Change of Heart ( Taehyungx OC)

Pairing : Taehyung x OC Werewolf AU!!

Genre : Romance, Explicit Content.

Warnings : None. ( Some mild violence but mostly off screen ) werewolf sex, ruts, knotting etc

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3/ Chapter 4

[ Summary :

Times are changing.

After years of being oppressed, werewolves are taking a stand against humans , demanding equal rights and fair treatment. Heading the movement is Kim Taehyung, the breathtaking heir to the Kim fortune and one of the few remaining Alpha werewolves in the country. His disdain for the human race is well known and well warranted. They killed his family after all…..

He wants to change the world , to put humans in their place but when his five year old daughter takes a shine to their very human neighbor , maybe he has to start with a change of heart , first.  ]

Chapter 5

I found myself breathing through my nose, woozy and incoherent as the doctor fussed over me. 

“This is looking pretty damn bad, Dr. Jeon...” He was muttering while Jungkook sat next to me gripping my hands. My throat went dry at the words, fear making my heart jackrabbit against my ribs. 

“The bullet’s hit pretty close to artery near the clavicle, she’s lost a whole lot of blood. “

“Seo Joon’s going to prison for this... “ Jungkook swore, stroking my palm as I tried to stay conscious. 

“Tell me I don’t have to stay in the hospital for a long time...” I begged, desperate. 

Jungkook rolled his eyes. 

“You got shot... It’s not a playground scrape, Mirae....” Jungkook sounded exhausted. 

I nodded.

“ Whats going on with my father? Seo Joon was pissed off about something with my father....” I said, remembering the reason the wolf had been so pissed in the first place. 

“We’ll talk about this later- You need to rest and-”

“Just tell me damn it!!” 

Jungkook sighed.

“Your father got called out for trying to sabotage the vaccine drive going on on the island and he played the whole, ‘ why would I sabotage something my daughter helped make...’ card on TV. It’s had an effect....” 

I swallowed.

“What do you mean by effect?”

Jungkook looked a little angry now. 

“Can’t we talk about this tomorrow...you��re bleeding and hurt ...you need to fucking rest...”

“What’s going on...?” I demanded. 

“The weres don’t want the vaccine anymore. They think...well they think you may have tampered with it....” He looked uncomfortable and I couldn’t comprehend what I’d just heard. 

I stared at him, my jaw going slack in shock. 

“I’m not.... I have nothing to do with the vaccine...that is so far above my paygrade..I’m a lab tech..... what even-” I was too outraged to even think clearly. 

“People don’t know that, Rae. All they know is that they have always associated your father with bringing harm to the were community and somehow his daughter is here working on something that has the potential to both hurt and heal.....”

I bit my lips.

“He’s not even my real father.” I choked out. 

Jungkook looked surprised at that. 

“What?”

“It’s true. He adopted me because he raped my mom and she fucking killed herself over it. I was eight years old at the time and the bastard did not want any loose ends...” The words came out , bitter and edged with anger but it was an old hurt. An old rage that had long faded into a blunt sort of ache. I had been so young. Too young to fully comprehend 

Jungkook looked completely stunned.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry....”

“He wanted me to marry one of his anti-were associates . That's literally all he raised me for. When I refused , he cut me off completely. I’ve literally been on my own for years now and my job is the only thing keeping me from dying on the  streets....”

I hissed when the nurse touched my shoulder , the physical agony of my shoulder somehow intensifying as the nurse moved to finish dressing the wound. I would have to wear a sling next but I couldn’t even fathom moving,   let alone sitting up for that ordeal. 

The nurse gave me a slight smile.

“Your ribs are bruised again , this time its going to take longer to heal because one of them actually has a hair line fracture.” 

Great. That explained the woozy breathlessness. 

“It doesn’t hurt much...” I said confused.

“That’s because you’re on enough drugs to fell a horse...I’m actually surprised you’re still conscious.” Jungkook shook his head. 

“It’s just the adrenaline...that and the fear of being fired.” I muttered. 

Jungkook laughed a little at that.

“Don’t worry about anything. Just rest for a while and we’ll talk tomorrow , yeah?”

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

I woke up to fingers in my hair, soft and gentle. 

My eyes fluttered open and I felt my breath catch when I saw who it was.

“Yuggie ??” I croaked out, my brother’s face coming into focus as I blinked back exhaustion.

“Welcome to the land of the living...” He said softly, keeping his fingers on my hair, stroking the strands back gently.

“What..... how did you get here so soon?” I whispered.

“You’ve been out for forty hours, baby....” He laughed a little and I blinked, 

“I....I got hurt.” I whispered bleakly. My shoulder was still throbbing and the pain in my rib was now a bit more prominent. I took a deep shuddering breath. 

“I’m glad you’re here.... “ I whispered, lifting shaky hands to hold his face. 

“Dad called me. He wants you to come back home.” 

I felt my entire body going cold, hands going clammy at once. 

“That’s not going to happen.” I said sharply and Yugyeom looked worried.

“He’s really upset , Rae. Kim Taehyung winning the election was not a part of his plan and he’s desperate to try and cover his ass before he gets carted off to prison.” 

I blinked at that.

“what do you mean by prison?” 

“We can’t talk about this here. He’s not allowed on the island. None of his cohorts are. So he’s been trying to get you transferred to a hospital in Seoul. Jeongguk was the one who called me. They’re holding off on the transfer but ....you know how dad gets.” 

I felt my head pound . 

“What does he want me for?” I whispered in disbelief. 

“I’m not sure. But I think you should at least go see him and find out what it is that he wants.”

I shook my head .

“I’m not going anywhere near him, I’m-”

The door swung open and I found myself jerking in surprise, the movement jostling my ribs and making me wince. I felt my eyes widen when I saw who it was, fingers scrambling to grab Yugyeom . 

“Dad...” He whispered, sounding terrified and I felt that familiar jolt of sickening fear . 

“There she is.... my precious little one.” My father’s eyes held no emotion as he stared at me, lips curled in a perfect smile. He looked so much like a good guy that it was nauseating. 

I took a deep shuddering breath. 

“the management here is terrible. I had to petition the fucking courts to get a permit to visit my own daughter.” He shook his head as he made his way over and I lurched away instinctively. 

“I’m taking you home now. Bout time you came back to me.” He smiled, chillingly and I shook my head. 

“No...thats not going to happen. I’m an adult, you cannot force me to...” 

“You are my daughter. And you will be my daughter till you live. Cha Eun woo is still single. He’s looking for a wife and you were promised to him a long, long time ago. “ 

“Dad.... she’s fucking hurt...she got shot like three days ago can you not do this right now...” Yugyeon had stood up, reaching out to actually shove my father away and he looked surprised for a second. 

He gave Yugyeom a glare but my brother didn’t back down, towering over my father easily. 

“Forgive me. I didn’t mean to sound insensitive but it just worries me that my only daughter is choosing to stay in an island full of beasts and getting mauled quite often . Isn’t this the second time you got attacked in that same cabin, by wolves?” 

“that doesn’t mean you can just offer me as a gift to one of your buddies.” I hissed. 

“He’s one of the richest men in Seoul....you should be on your knees thanking me for letting you so much as breathe near him.”

“Isn’t he a werewolf?” Yugyeom frowned in confusion. 

My father shrugged.

“I’ve since learned that your sister has a preference for them. Well if she’s going to spread her legs for an animal, better an animal I happen to hold the leash to....” He stared down at me with calculated cruelty. 

The crude words made nausea rise up in my throat and I almost dry heaved. 

“You’re not pimping me out to serve your own selfish purposes.” I shook my head. 

“He’s here. Outside. He’s going to stay here and he’s going to bring you back to his apartment in Seoul and you’re going to stay there with him. End of discussion. Yeom, I want you to come back to Seoul with me now. “

Yugyeom looked torn as he stared at me and I bit my lips. Yugyeom was still a kid, still in college. He couldn’t afford to antagonize my father.

“I’ll be fine. Go ahead.” I smiled. 

“I’ll send Eun Woo in.... “ My father nodded at me and then sighed. “ contrary to what you think, I don’t want you to hurt. I’m offering you a good life. Marry the fellow and spend your days lounging around in luxury. Thats hardly a punishment now, is it?” 

I turned my head away in disgust. 

Less than two minutes after he left, I felt a hand on my arm and I jolted.

“Mi Rae ssi.... I’m Eun Woo.” 

I glared at the man in front of me, barely looking at him. 

“I have no interest in being your wife.”

He looked bored at my outburst.

“I have no interest in indulging your  interests.  Your father is paying me handsomely to take you off his hands and that's all I’m doing. If you happen to be good at taking my knot, that's just gonna be a pleasurable bonus?” He pressed a thumb to my lips, stroking the skin in an almost gentle caress.  . 

A knock on the door made him pull away and I glanced up, relief flooding me when I saw it was Jungkook. 

“She’s going to have to rest now, Mr. Cha. Her father told me that he’s arranging her transfer to Seoul but that's going to have to wait for tomorrow at least. “ He was staring at the beta with narrowed eyes and Eun Woo bowed lightly. 

He shot me one leering glance before walking out casually.

“So...fiancee huh? You’ve been holding out on me...” Jungkook whispered thoughtfully and I flinched.

“Didn’t know he existed till five minutes ago..” I muttered. 

“Are you in trouble, Rae?” Jungkook looked worried and I hesitated, before shaking my head. 

“I’ll be fine. I can handle him. I just hate the thought of having to leave the preserve... even if its temporary. But I don’t want to annoy my dad right now... He’s... He can be irrational and i don’t want him to take it out on the Preserve and do something harmful to the research program itself , just to be petty.”

It was exactly the kind of thing he would do, too. My shoulder still had a lot of healing to do and it was unlikely that Cha Eun Woo would actually hurt me , at least till i got better. My dad, for all his anger was still rabidly protective of what he considered his. And i was definitely high on that list. 

“So you’re going then?” 

I caught the hint of disappointment in Jungkook’s tone.

“Aww....is my poor Jungkookie gonna miss me? If I weren’t sporting a broken rib and a messed up shoulder, I’d definitely, at least give you a handjob…” I waggled my eyebrows. 

Predictably, his eyes went wide , lips tinged fire engine red in a second. 

“Wha- Shut the fuck up, noona” He whined and I laughed. 

And then I sobered up when he sat next to me, linking his fingers with mine .

“I’m serious, Jungkook. I’m gonna be just fine. My dad’s upto something. If I stick close, I can at least figure out what he’s planning. I don’t want him to hurt you guys.” 

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

“Right little firecracker his daughter is. So fucking pretty and man, those lips. I’d like to take a drink from that....” Cha Eun Woo gripped the shot glass hard, throwing back the whiskey with practiced ease. 

Taehyung struggled to keep his features neutral. 

“ Yoon Jae hyun’s daughter? From the preserve?” He had meant to sound casual but he sounded like he was being strangled. 

Eun Woo hummed.

“ Yeah....Her name is... Mirin....no wait ? Lirae? Mirae? ….. whatever. Poor thing. Apparently she has a tendency to get mauled by wolves too often. She was in bad shape when i saw her. “ 

Taehyung felt his heart lurch at that. He had wanted nothing more than to sink his jaws into Seo Joon’s throat, when he’d heard what had happened. If it weren’t for his abysmally packed schedule he would have rushed there as soon as he could. 

 As it was he had talked to a few of his acquaintances who were in prison. Seo Joon was going to go to prison and he wasn’t going to be coming out alive. 

“So, she just.,...agreed to marry you then?” 

“Not like she had a choice. The old man is going senile. Dude really thinks he stands a chance with his whole Reform Camps proposition. Wants to put weres in concentration camps.... What the fuck, are we in the middle ages..? He also thinks that betas are naturally resentful of Alphas or some shit. Kept feeding me crap about how you alphas want to subjugate the rest of us. Of course the fucker’s feeding into my Hotels and resorts so i just nodded along and agreed to his shit. Next thing I know he’s offering me his daughter in return to me being an ally in his campaign.. Figured I’d agree. See if i could get some inside dirt on him. I know you’ve been trying to bring him down for years, Tae...” Eun Woo gave him a reassuring smile. 

Taehyung felt a jolt of pride for the beta. Cha Eun woo had been a close friend of his from childhood and he knew he would never betray their kind. He had worked hard to earn his position as one of the biggest tech moguls in the country and he stayed true to his roots. Taehyung liked Eun Woo.

Admired him even....

But the idea of him touching Mirae.....

His claws nearly popped out at the mere thought of it. 

“And well if I get to fuck a nice little human bitch in the process, so be it right Taeh- Fuck!! “ Eun Woo jumped when Taehyung’s claw popped right out, shattering the beer mug in his hand and spraying both of them with the frothy liquid.

“Fuck...” Taehyung groaned and to his utter horror his fangs had dropped as well, his words slurring around the lengthened canines and he felt embarrassment flood his face. . When was the last time he’d popped a fanger in the middle of a fucking conversation....not since he’d been through puberty.

“Uh...you okay, pal?” Eun Woo looked worried now, beta eyes flashing green as he stared at him and Taehyung waved him off. 

“Be uh... Be careful with the daughter.” He muttered , trying to sound nonchalant. 

Eun Woo just waved him off. 

“Whatever , I know the type Tae. Likes a good, feral fuck from a wolf that knows how to give it to her good, you know?. Could smell her all over the alpha doctor who works there... Jungkook was it? Yeah... Girl gets around a lot, i could tell. And you can just tell that she’s going to be so fucking tight when you knot her you know, i mean human bitches always are but those hips just look like they-” Eun Woo stopped, stunned when Taehyung suddenly shoved the table away from him, hard. The older gripped the table and stood up on shaky limbs. 

“ I need to get going...” Taehyung fought the urge to shift, his wolf warring inside him, snarling at him to shift and leap across the table and devour the man across from them. To lock his fangs on the beta’s throat and rip his jugular out. 

 He’s threatening our mate...... He’s talking about what is ours....

The voice in his head was so clear and concise that he nearly blacked out at the very force of it. 

Eun Woo was saying something behind him but Taehyung was moving swiftly , stumbling to the bar where Jimin was taking one of the shifts.

“I need to go home...” Taehyung choked out. “ Call....fuck... Call my chauffeur.” 

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

“Pre rut symptoms....are you fucking serious...?” Taehyung growled at the doctor taking his vitals. the man, long used to Taehyung’s intimidatingly deep voice, merely hummed. The man had been one of his father’s dearest friends. And one of Taehyung’s most trusted confidantes. 

“You’re body believes you mate is around. A mate you haven’t yet claimed. It’s reacting to it.” 

Next to him Ji hyun was looking disturbingly excited.

“It’s not you.” Taehyung snapped at the tall woman who recoiled in shock. Taehyung felt momentarily bad but the truth was he had been trying to break up with Ji hyun for a month now. The model was just so shamelessly clingy it was getting to him. and he most certainly did not want her around if he was going into rut. 

What he wanted was a luscious, chestnut-haired human with ebony eyes and a scent like heaven. 

Fuck... he was burning up and his skin felt like it was stretched thin. 

“You need to leave Ji hyun. I want to talk to the doctor alone.” He demanded and the were bowed, moving out of the room quickly. Taehyung turned back to the doctor. 

“So what do I do?” He demanded. “ I don’t.... my mate died two years ago. “

The doctor sighed.

“She was not your mate. I told you that already. She tricked you. She was wearing your mate’s scent but it wasn’t hers...” The doctor shook his head. 

Taehyung growled. 

“I fucking know that..... And I’m gonna fucking bury Yoon Jae hyun into the ground for what he did to me..... But I need to have my senses about me if I want to do that...Him and his entire drug cartel is coming down.....But. That's not gonna happen if i go into fucking rut  now.. so close to me taking over office. So tell me how to fix this. “ 

“Who is the girl?” The doctor said casually. 

“What?”

“the girl who smells like your wife. Like your mate. Who is she?”

Taehyung sighed. 

“Its Yoon Jae hyun’s daughter.” He muttered. 

Dr. Lee’s eyebrows shot straight up to his hairline. 

“Oh no... do you think he .... again?” 

Taehyung shook his head. He had distanced himself entirely from Mirae just to make sure he wasn’t being pulled into another fucking trap. But so far , from what he learned, the drug did not work on humans. There was no way a human’s scent could be manipulated to fool his wolf.

And that meant that it wasn’t a trap at all. 

His wolf really did find a mate in a fucking human of all things. 

God, he couldn’t believe the sheer irony of this. 

“it doesn’t work on humans. It is her scent. She’s... She’s the one I want.... “ He groaned. 

The doctor chuckled.

“ You mean, she’s the one your wolf wants?” 

Taehyung frowned.

“Isn’t that what i said?” 

“No, you said she’s the one you want and it makes me wonder.....do you perhaps....care for the girl?” 

Taehyung shook his head swiftly.

“I barely know her...she...she used to look after Luna. “ He finished. 

“Luna...? Interesting. “ The man’s words carried a hint of amusement and Taehyung felt his hackles rise. 

“ What does that tone mean?” 

“I’m just saying.... You don’t let people watch Luna that easily. You’re fiercely protective of your daughter. If you let this girl watch her, you must trust her at least.” 

Taehyung sighed. 

“I.. of course i trust her …. she’s a good girl.  A good....person...” 

“ I would suggest spending your rut with her. Claiming her if she’s interested. With you being you, I doubt she’s going to refuse.” The older man’s eyes fairly twinkled, 

“I’m not knotting her when I’m on my fucking rut …” He snapped. “ I’ll likely break her in two. “ 

The doctor chuckled. 

“It wouldn’t be a very pleasant experience for her, yes. But ….there's no reason why you can’t make it enjoyable for her. “ His tone turned gentle and more serious. “ Listen to me Taehyung-ah...… There is a reason wolves mate for life. We are not meant to be alone. If your wolf has found a mate, he’s not going to let you function till you claim her. That's just the way our body’s are built. You need to talk to her. Make some sort of arrangement. You have three weeks at the most before your rut hits and trust me you don’t want to be alone when that happens. “ 

Taehyung felt his insides churn at the prospect. 

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

“No fucking shit.... You couldn’t have just told me that instead of letting me mouth off about her like that ? “ Eun Woo groaned , watching Taehyung with guilty eyes. 

Taehyung brushed him off. 

“It’s fine. I just.... can you just...keep her at your place till she gets better. I’m ...not in a good headspace right now and i don’t want to hurt her. she needs to recover.”

Eun Woo nodded.

“The doctor says three weeks and she’ll be fine. I’m a bit busy myself so I’ll just arrange for her brother to pick her up. Her dad’s busy meeting some suppliers. I sent the details to your men.... Did they get it?” 

Taehyung nodded. 

“The guy’s a bigger idiot than i thought. He’s actually met a few of these dealers himself. We just need one of them to ID him and he’s going to get locked up for life.” 

Eun Woo nodded.

“Everything by the book, Tae. We stick to the laws....no  bloodshed without cause and no one gets hurt. He likes to hide behind the fucking law when he’s trying to destroy our entire species , we’re gonna use that same ;law to rail him to the ground .” 

Taehyung grinned. 

“ Not just on the ground, Eun Woo. I’m gonna be putting him six feet under.” 

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

The recovery from my shoulder was surprisingly easy compared to the bruise on my ribs. Movement was difficult and it definitely hurt but my pain threshold had definitely gone up. It helped that Cha Eun Woo had stayed away from me and Yugyeom was on a three week break . We crashed out at his apartment and It was like being a kid again. 

We spent the days lounging by the indoor pool or playing video games. Yugyeom was a great cook and he liked cooking. 

Two and a half weeks after I had moved in, I was finally out of the sling. The physiotherapist visited me at the apartment and after making me move my hands well, she gave the go ahead to start my normal routine ahead. 

“I still want you to take it easy. Your ribs are healed and so is your shoulder but no roughhousing.... I’m only saying that because i know how it is i when siblings live together.” She smiled and I laughed, nodding. 

“I’ll make sure she’s resting well, noona.” Yugyeom said seriously. 

I closed the door as the doctor left, smiling as I watched Yugyeom trip over my sling on the couch, when the doorbell rang again.

Surprised , I turned back tot he door.

“ Did you forget something, Unnie-?” I froze in shock. 

Kim Taehyung stood leaning against the wall, looking like he had run all the way from his home across the city. 

“Taehyung-ssi?” I stammered out, taking in the untucked shirt, sweat drenched hair and flashing red eyes .

“I’m.... I fucked up.” He whispered, eyes fluttering shut. It took me a second to realize that he was falling and instinct made throw myself under him, holding my hands out to catch him. 

Pain shot straight up my shoulder as it took the entire brunt of his weight. The pain only lasted a second though, because Yugyeom was shoving me out of the way and grabbing the taller alpha by the waist.

“Holy shit....is this Kim Taehyung?” He looked awestruck as he stared at him and I felt my heart race. Taehyung seemed conscious but his breathing was raspy. 

I pressed my palm against his cheek and his eyes fluttered open .

“I’m... I need you.” Taehyung growled right at me. 

Yugyeom froze next to me and I felt my throat go dry. 

“I... sorry?” I squeaked out. 

“You...need you....under me... fuck...” 

“What the fuck, Rae?” Yugyeom hissed , face turning red as he tried to maneuver the alpha werewolf to the couch . 

I stayed frozen, having no idea what the fuck was going on.

Taehyung scrambled to a sitting position on the couch, gripping the cusions and he was paniting, his eyes wild as he stared right at me. 

“Mine.” His voice was ten times deeper than usual, fairly vibrating with power and Yugyeom went completely still. He was shaking as he reached for me, the terror evident in his face. 

“Oh, shit... Rae...is he....? Fuck , is he -” My little brother sounded terrified and I pulled him behind me. 

Taehyung’s eyes flashed red again and then they shifted to my brother. His gaze narrowed and his mouth opened. 

There was a split second when I knew exactly what was going to happen and I whirled around , grabbing Yugyeom and shoving him straight into the hallway leading to the front door.

“ YUGGIE, RUN!!!”  I screamed with all my might, and behind me Taehyung let out a vicious growl, pouncing across the room at my brother. Yugyeom managed to avoid him by a hairsbreadth and instinct made him move faster to the door but he stopped near the door looking terrified but torn. 

“ Rae...come with me,...come...” 

I stared at the alpha on the floor, my heart racing. 

Taehyung was clearly fighting against the wolf in him, trying to stay down, on his knees, fingers gripping the carpet to ground himself but the little growls that he let out told me that it was a fight he wasn’t winning. He looked up at me and there was so much pain and contrition in his gaze that I felt my heart break. 

“I’m...sorry...” Taehyung gasped out eyes fluttering shut. He was panting harder now, fingers clenched into fists around the carpet and voice ragged. i looked up at my baby brother and he looked so young and scared that I couldn’t stand it. 

“Its okay.... just go... I’ll be fine...he won’t hurt me... Just go...” I whispered desperately and Yugyeom shook his head.

“No... No... you’ve got to come with me... Rae...Noona....”

He never called me noona. I realized just how scared he was and tried to comfort him, but wary of going near him, lest Taehyung attack him again. 

“Yugyeom listen to me carefully. He’s on his rut. He’s not gonna hurt me, he just thinks I’m his mate. If you stay here he’s going to see you as a threat, so you need to leave..If I come with you he will hunt us down....I’ll be fine. I can take care of myself. You just need to go.” 

Yugyeom nodded, moving to the door and I turned back, feeling my stomach clench when Taehyung’s claws came out, tearing through our rug with ease. 

I heard the door shut behind me and I stayed perfectly still. 

Taehyung was still trembling and he finally looked up at me. Now that we were alone he was distinctly calmer. 

“I shouldn’t have come here.” He rasped out. 

I nodded. 

“So why did you?” I asked, staring at him as he stumbled to his feet. 

“You smell ....fuck you just smell like. ....like...”

“Like your wife, yes.” I muttered . “ So you want me to be stand in for your wife tonight?” 

Taehyung’s eyes shot up to stare at me. 

“My wife .... she worked for your father.” He choked out.

I straed at him, the blood running cold in my veins. 

“What?”

“Your father hired her.... to get rid of me. She... used a drug . A drug that confuses a wolf’s senses. Makes the wolf think he’s found his mate. Wolves cannot hurt or live without their mates. Its important to us.  She...She got pregnant on the night we mated and by the time I found out she was already carrying Luna and there was nothing I could do....I couldn’t...it wasn’t even a fucking bond.... I couldn’t sense her...couldn’t feel her...couldn’t muster any kind of affection for her but ... but she was carrying my baby and I just couldn’t bring myself to send her away......”

“Taehyung...” I whispered, remembering how Luna had talked about her father not liking her mother. 

“Its not natural for a wolf my age to be without a mate. But ....that scent ....I... I never picked up on it with anyone else till I... “ He sighed. 

“Till you met me.” 

“Till I met you.” 

I stared at the floor. 

“I’m not.... I’m not actually in rut yet. It’s still a day or so away. i didn’t want to come here but.... I’m supposed to be taking over the office in three days. When I do, I can finally use my position to bring your father down. He is using his drug dealers and suppliers to mess with our biology and its ...something sacred to us. Wolves mate for life and to make a wolf doubt his ability to choose his mate is the worst kind of sacrilege.....”

“What do you want me to do?”

He stared at me....

“If I go into rut and I don’t have.... my mate ...it’s going to fuck me up. I don’t wanna go into the gory details but I most certainly will not be able to take over the office. ” He laughed without mirth. 

There was nothing else to be said , was there?

“You have no right..... asking me to do this.....” I whispered , angry . 

“I know.... I know and if you say no, I will walk out this door and you will never see me again.” 

I laughed. 

“I think you came here because you knew. “

He didn’t respond.

“You fucking knew I wouldn’t be able to say no to you. “ 

His gaze was steady as he stared at me.

“I’ll take care of you.... I won’t...this isn’t a one night stand or a no strings attached thing, Rae..... You will be mine. I’ll be yours. “ 

“And yet, your eyes tell me that there is nothing you hate more, than standing here asking me to be your mate......” I said bitterly.

He didn’t deny it. 

“Will you come with me , then?”

I stared at his handsome face , the surreal beauty of it. And I thought of my father and how he wanted only to destroy anything that he didn’t understand. If Taehyung was going to bring my father down , I wasn’t going to be the thing that stopped him from doing it. 

“Let me get my clothes.” 

AUTHOR’S NOTE : IT WAS EASIER GIVING BIRTH THAN WRITING THIS FIC 

just kidding i love werewolf tae. Please let me know what you thought uwu

[hollowedwing]

Isekai-ed into Hawk's Life

Hawks x gn!winged!Reader

Warnings: ⚠️ Death!(at very beginning, it is an isekai), mentions of death throughout, some angst(??maybe not yet??), slight cursing

THIS WILL NOT FOLLOW A SPECIFIC TIMELINE IN THE MANGA

(so sorry i just, love, love, the idea of having wings)

(this is all my art, it is on IG, im just too embarrassed for people who know me irl to potentially find this xD Even though none of them have tumblr 👀 if you somehow recognize it...props to you?)

_________________________________

tbh, I can’t decide if I want this to have more than 1 part. 

Word count: ~1,800

_________________________________

You were on your way home from a long evening at your part time job. Before that you had already taken 2 finals that morning too.

You dragged your feet, exhausted, as you headed towards the crosswalk. Stopping at the edge as the traffic light turned green, you decided to pull out your phone and decided to watch a speed paint from your favorite artist who recently released a new video.

It just so happened it was a Hawks speed paint 👀

The light turned red and you slipped your phone into your pocket as your started to make your way across the street

little did you know this would be the last time you'd cross the street

A wild driver came barreling down the road, no regards for civilians or traffic lights, probably drunk or high or just someone out for blood.

You stood there like a deer caught in headlights as your life flashes before your eyes

You can barely comprehend what's happening as you felt pain engulf your body and suddenly you were unconscious

________________________________________

Keigo tiredly stumbled into his large apartment, kicking off his shoes and shrugging his jacket off by the door

He wants nothing more than to just flop down and pass out. The HPSC has been giving him hell lately about god knows what.

He let out a long sigh and headed towards the bathroom to do his nightly routine

As he finishes up, he drags his feet towards his bed and flops down face first into the comfort of his pillow and sheets

Keigo falls asleep almost instantly after getting into a comfortable position, worn out from a long day of work

What he wasn't expecting was a loud "thud!" coming from the main room. He jolts up from his bed, feathers ready to attack.

*******

Reader's pov(?)

*******

You groaned as you hit the floor. Your head was spinning and it feels like a truck just hit you

oh wait...

You suddenly became more alert, looking around in a panic, expecting to either be on the road and injured or in a hospital of sorts. What you didn't expect was a wooden floor inside of a random apartment.

You felt around your body for any signs of injury, but all you found were a set of wings on your back- wings?? Hold up. Why did you feel wings what kind of sick joke was this?

Your thoughts were racing as your breathing picked up. What was happening? Didn't you just get hit by a vehicle? Why are there wings in your back? Where are you even?

Feeling around in your pockets, you found your phone and whipped it out, trying for anything. You turned it on, the harsh light of it illuminating your face, you tried to send a text to your best friend, but alas, it wouldn't go through. Actually nothing on your phone seemed to work. You checked your location settings, for some reason it said Musutafu, Japan.

Wasn't....Wasn't that the location that most of Boku no Hero Academia took place?? This can't be right, this has to be a dream right? There's no way that you could have actually ended up here unless...

Then it hit you.

You read your fair share of isekai series back when you were alive in your realm. Mostly manhwas of characters getting reborn into another person's body, but, never actually reincarnating as yourself into another world.

That was the only thing you could think of. You must have been reincarnated into the Boku no Hero Academia world. Except as yourself.

In all honesty, this is not how you thought you'd go out. You didn't know what to expect after death, but this definitely wasn't it. After all, this was a fictional setting, wasn't it?

Well, not anymore because now you're living in it! Smh.

That would also probably explain the wings on your back. This was you now. You have a bird quirk.

Now, all you have to do, is figure out where the heck you are.

Just as you are about to stand up, feathers zip towards you, pinning you to the ground

You hear footsteps begin to come towards you. You don't know if you should be scared for your life considering you've already died once or ecstatic because, you knew for a fact, this could be none other than Hawks' apartment.

The winged hero finally emerges and stares down at you, crossing his arms over his chest.

He says in a low, gravely voice from sleep, "Who are you, and how did you get into my home?" You stare back up at him and nervously chuckle.

"I'm not sure you'd believe me if I told you." You nervously sigh out.

"Try me." He demands, sounding a little more irritated now. You sigh in defeat and start to explain your situation.

"Do...do you know what an isekai is?" You said sheepishly while turning your gaze away from his. He kind of gave you a confused head tilt and just a vibe that said “No”. You sigh again and explain it to the best of your ability. Hawks becomes more and more interested and confused as you talk, but nods a long slowly. 

“So...you were reborn here, but as yourself? Wait- does that mean you died before!?” He asked, disbelief and fear ran through his eyes. You looked at him in bitter amusement.

“Apparently I did. The last thing I remember of my world was getting hit by some truck or car. The dude clearly did not know how to drive. I had the right of way I was pretty sure at least. I mean, the light was red, usually that means pedestrians can cross the street? And plus he was going wayyy over the speed limit,” you begin to ramble on, the reality of actually dying setting into you. Hawks noticed the panic beginning to set into you and released you from his feathers. He crouched down next to you and grabbed your shoulders gently.

"Hey, hey, hey, look at me, you're ok now, right? You're here, and not dying in the middle of the street still. You're here. In Musutafu," he said trying to calm you back to reality. Well, what was your new reality. Your mind was racing. Trying to put together a coherent thought. 

You look up to him, with a panicked look still in your eyes, thoughts started to come out of your mouth as your brain was trying to catch up with the situation. "I'm... I'm in Boku no Hero Academia and, and you’re Keigo... standing... right in front of me..I have wings. I have wings? Jeezus I have fucking wings. And I’m dead in my own world. I don’t know anyone, well, wait, technically, I do know people, just-Oh gods! I’m so sorry, that name slipped out! I- I, I’m really sorry Hawks." Even in your wild state, you noticed Hawks tense up at the sound of being called Keigo by a total stranger, and were able to get out an apology. That was progress? You were slowly coming back to reality.

Hawks froze up a bit at the sound of hearing his real name mentioned. At first he wasn't sure if he believed your tale of the isekai situation, but after this he might have to reconsider it. He opted to shake off that weird feeling for now and focus on different matters. 

" I-I don't know what I'm supposed to do now? I have nowhere to go or to stay. I'm in a whole different freaking universe! My phone doesn't even hardly work here. And I have a pair of wings on my back!" You puffed them out angrily. Hawks glanced behind you and his eyes widened a little. You in fact, did have a set of bird wings. Kind of owl like wings. Not near as big as Hawks', but definitely big enough to fly you around.

Before Hawks could process the words coming out of his mouth, he was already asking you, "Would you maybe like to stay with me? I can help with your quirk too." He glanced away awkwardly. You looked towards him in disbelief.

"Dude, are you sure? We literally just met like 10 minutes ago? I mean, I'm all for it, I have nowhere else to turn to, but if you really really don't want me here, I will politely step out of your life." You so badly wanted to accept his offer on the spot, but being the considerate, mostly sensible human you were, you gave him the option to back out. Hawks shook his head.

"No, no, it's alright. You can crash here. Uh- I mean- stay here! Sorry!" You giggled at his comment.

"Well thank you very much!"

"It's all good. I have a spare bedroom you can occupy for the time being. I'll give you some clothes to sleep in that'll hopefully fit. Accidentally bought a couple things in the wrong size without looking. " (a/n: just...just assume its your size, or oversized, whatever's comfy idk) He jumped up and headed towards his room to grab you the clothes. You still sat on the floor. Still amazed at everything that was occurring.

Hawks walked back into the room and tossed you the clothes. "Hey uh, you know, you can get up now, sorry for holding you down earlier.."

You blushed and scrambled to stand up, "Oh no! It's ok! I understand. This would definitely warrant that kind of action. Some random stranger crashes into your apartment at like 1am. I completely understand. Honest."

He let out a small laugh and wearily brushed his fingers through his hair. The adrenaline of everything finally wearing off. He could feel the tiredness setting into his aching muscles again. “Ah, well, I’m going to head to bed now. The room is down the hall at the very end that you can stay in. I’ll take you out training tomorrow evening if that’s alright?”

You gave a nod of understanding and followed him down the hallway. “Goodnight Hawks,” you sang as he walked into his bedroom. He gave a hum of acknowledgment and closed his door. 

Making it into what was now your room, you changed out of your clothes so fast, eager to rid yourself of the past hours events. 

Not gonna lie, you could not figure out how to properly get your new wings into the shirt, even with the holes and snaps in the back. Your mind was too exhausted to even process this new skill. So you ended up going to bed without the shirt on and just settled for putting the sweatpants on. 

You figured it’d be good to just pass out asap. You were sure if you tried to recount the recent events, you’d spiral into a panicked mess. 

You shut your eyes tightly, willing yourself to sleep, trying to only think of positive outcomes for the future. But to be honest, you didn’t know enough about anything in this realm to think rationally about anything good. 

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I prooobably didn’t proofread this as much as I should have

[glitxhwayventeen]

Lonely Together

Jihoon: Chapter 1 (Perfect)

Characters: Jihoon x female reader

Genre/Warnings: multi-member au (different scenarios), werewolf au, fantasy, smut, angst, fluff, potential blood mentions, genocide, runaways, domestic violence, child abuse, abandonment, homelessness, hunger, violence. Any others will be put as warnings when future chapters are thought up/written.

Author’s Note: I recommend listening to Perfect by Ed Sheeran before reading this. That’s the song I thought of while writing this because it makes me feel some type of way you know?

Please remember that all of these chapters and the content within them are a work of fiction! They’re just for fun/entertainment!

Bold= Dialogue Italics= Thoughts

🥀 & ☁️

Lonely Together Master List

Chapter 1: Perfect

It had been so long since you’d been around so many people. It made you antsy. You didn’t understand a lot of what was going on in the house. The constant noise scared you. It had you on such an edge that you nearly screamed everytime one of them coughed.

To be fair, before you had met them, you’d honestly jump at footsteps. Because footsteps meant humans, and humans meant danger. Not to mention that you were still not used to being in your human form. You preferred to stay a wolf, you were stronger when you walked on all four legs, and you weren’t as noticeable.

Your human appearance was… striking to most people to say the least. Your bright eyes and darker skin with salt and pepper curly hair made everyone around you always stare at you. You understood it somewhat, you didn’t match everyone else’s looks in Korea. But that didn’t mean you liked people watching you all the time, you hated being the center of attention. So to say you were still adjusting to being around people after having lived alone for centuries was a bit of an understatement. It was all so new to you. You had a new feeling now too. You just weren’t sure what it was…

At first, you thought maybe it was hope. You hadn’t hoped in such a long time, it would bring tears to even the most hardened criminal’s eyes. But you weren’t that good at trusting that human part of you. So you decided to go off of what you knew. And, even though you hadn’t been there long, two weeks at the most you thought, you learned a lot of things about them. You knew all but one of the wolves had a mate. You knew that two of the alphas butted heads on how to lead the pack a lot and that one just watched from the side and did everything behind the scenes without causing too much distress to the others. You knew they all loved each other, no matter what they said or how much they fought. You also knew that, being around them made you feel more alone than you’ve felt in decades.

When you were younger, you didn’t mind being alone. It meant that you didn’t have to rely on anyone, it meant you only had to look out for yourself. And as you got older, it just felt… right. But being around this house full to the brim with people, you started to realize just how much you missed being part of a big family. They treated you like you were one of them. Which was weird to you… because they didn’t really know you. I mean sure they saved you from imminent death, but they didn’t know you from Adam.

The more you thought about your current situation, the weirder the feeling got. The closer you got to each one of them, the stronger the feeling got. And when you got close to one of the quiet ones in particular, you swore it felt like your heart was singing to you. It was something you weren’t sure you’d ever get used to, but it wasn’t something you necessarily hated either. Whatever the feeling was, you’d figure it out eventually or it would go away on its own… right?

Still, You got to eat first with the other mates, well the mates minus Soonyoung. He may have been Seungcheol’s mate but 1.) he was a wolf unlike the other mates and 2.) he was a male wolf so he ate just as much as the other boys did. So they didn’t think it fair that he get to eat with all of you. Or them…. Or-whatever. You didn’t know, you just knew they offered you and the other girls food first and, considering you used to have to hunt for your food or you didn’t get to eat, you were definitely NOT complaining. Soonyoung though, you learned, had a tendency to whine about any and everything that he didn’t like.

“Aww come on again! No fair! (Y/N)’s just as much of a wolf as I am! Why does SHE get to eat first when I don’t??” Soonyoung decided to voice aloud, grabbing his plate with both hands and semi-patiently waiting for his turn to grab food.

You didn’t mind of course. You did think he had a point. It didn’t seem fair to him. Either he should be eating with the other mates, or you should be eating with the other wolves. So you agreed.

“He’s got a point. I should be eating with the other wolves. I eat more than the other girls after all” you shrugged matter of factly to the lead alpha, who was also his mate, who was hunched over the stove making said breakfast.

The thing is, Seungcheol did understand the argument. And he personally saw merit to the concerns, whether it was because it was a genuine point or whether it was just from months of his mate complaining about it, he didn’t know. Still, he saw it’s reasonings and thought they could be sound.

BUUUT, he also knew that SOMEBODY would definitely NOT be happy if you had to wait and fight the boys for food. It seemed everyone, wolves and mates alike, but you understood that Jihoon had imprinted on you already. Maybe you just didn’t know much about it, or maybe you knew and just decided you didn’t want to know, either way, it wasn’t for him to decide or judge.

So, as he looked over to the table of boys who were ACTUALLY patiently waiting their turn to dig in, his eyes landed on Jihoon, who shook his head and narrowed his eyes at the older wolf in return. Of course you didn’t notice this action, you were always more in your own head than you were in conversations.

“Sucks to suck kids. I make the rules and I say you eat with the mates. End of story. Sorry love!” he declared, once again moving his eyes ever so slightly to Jihoon, who nodded his head slightly as he smiled triumphantly.

He was NOT about to let his newfound mate eat the other mates leftovers with the other wolves. No. That was absolutely NOT happening. He may not have “officially” expressed that you were his mate, but he’d be damned if he wasn’t gonna do everything in his power to make sure you were happy, healthy, and well fed.

“But-” you argued, trying to bring your point’s validity up to him again.

“But nothing (Y/N). Sure you eat more than the other girls. But you DEFINITELY don’t eat as much as the boys do. Even if you are a wolf. Besides you’re one of-” he trailed off just as someone around the room hit the table slightly and coughed. Everyone but you realized where he was going with that sentence, and Jihoon wasn’t ready to face that just yet.

“-One of our guests.” Seungcheol thought after a moment, clearly lying his ass off but hoping he did a good enough job that you didn’t notice. Luckily for him, you weren’t all that great at social cues. “Therefore you shall not be eating whatever’s left, you’ll get first dibs with the other girls.” He said as he sat one of the plates of remaining food left from what the mates couldn’t eat down on the table, kissing his pouting mates forehead in the process.

“Don’t worry about Soonyoung. He’s just a baby. He’ll get over it. You deserve to be eating with the mates.” Spoke the smallest boy of the pack with a smile that seemed to light up as bright as a bonfire whenever you looked him in the eyes. He was the one that had your heart singing whenever you were in the same room. His little declaration made your cheeks heat up.

“O-Okay, I guess. I still don’t think I’ve done anything to deserve the special treatment… but thank you” you resolved with a polite smile back, doing your best to hide the pink covering your face. His heart rate sped up to jackrabbit speed as his inner wolf seemed to beamed at your answer.

“No (Y/N). Thank YOU.” Hansol retorted with a shit eating grin on his face. What he wanted to say was “thanks for helping one of the assholes in the group become juuuuust a little less of an asshole by being his mate,” but obviously he couldn’t do that without getting his ass beat.

“Thank me? Thank me for what?” You questioned, genuinely curious as to what he was thanking you for. You hadn’t done anything to warrant a thank you… had you?

“Oh nothing. Don’t worry about it. You’ll find out… eventually” He let out, looking at Jihoon, earning a smack from the older wolf and a small growl. Though he whined for a second, Hansol still began to laugh at his actions.

“…Okaaaay…” you said, trying your best to forget the conversation as a whole so you could eat the remains of your pancakes. Man these guys are weird.

-

Jihoon wasn’t sure exactly what he should do. He knew he couldn’t deny his instincts forever. But he wasn’t so sure about this whole “mate” thing. I mean, who was he kidding, he got along better on his own. He survived on his own for his entire life, at the orphanage, at school, even in his pack. For the most part, he kept to himself. He was SEVERELY independent, and he liked it that way. People just always managed to bring attachments and strings. Even still, He couldn’t cut off his pack. I mean don’t get him wrong, he loved those idiots and would do anything for them, but fuck, if they didn’t have the dumbest ideas and get themselves into the stupidest shit sometimes.

He knew his survival instinct told him to just ignore the feelings he had for you and act like nothing happened to protect himself. It’s not like you had noticed anyways. But the wolf part of him loved the idea of having a mate. For the longest time, he had to sit around and watch his brothers find their mates and fall in deep love. He watched Seungcheol find Soonyoung first a few months after he had met him. Then Joshua found his mate, Mina, after a few weeks of knowing him. Even little Channie imprinted on his mate, Somi, after just two days of Jihoon being acquainted with him.

Before he knew it, it was just him left without one. They always seemed so… happy and he just… wasn’t. He didn’t mind of course. He was glad his brothers found happiness. But he soon came to realize how lonely being alone truly was. He’d see his pack and their mates do cute things and, his heart was struck with a dull pain that never seemed to lessen, and at the time he didn’t understand why that was. But when he saw you, he knew the whole time he was yearning for you. When he saw you, for once he didn’t completely loathe the idea of taking care of or protecting another person. Even if it meant becoming one of the “lovey people.” He saw you and, one bat of your beautiful eyelashes and he knew, he would gladly lay his life down for you. How could he not?

You were caring and kind, even if you didn’t like to show it. You held yourself high, even if you were small. You were little, but you were mighty. You were smart, yet funny. You hardly spoke, but when you did, it was always something memorable. You never seemed to hold your true self back. He already knew that you were Perfect for him, even if he’d hardly spoken to you. He just couldn’t help the sane part of him that was very weary of the whole situation.

As Jihoon debated his true feelings for you over his breakfast, the other wolves went and conversed with each other. They tried to speak to you too, but you never really had a lot to say. You preferred to listen, which they weren’t all that surprised at. Jihoon was the quiet, calm, smart wolf, so it’s no surprise that his mate was the same way. You’d both always seem to get lost in thought almost simultaneously. You’d both come back to Earth at the same time too, always with very similar excuses.

Though everytime your eyes met, you’d both look away, trying your best to hide the blushes that spread across both your cheeks. It was kind of cute and the pack loved that their brother wouldn’t have to be all alone any longer. He’d no longer have to just sit on the side lines while they all had the time of their lives. He now had you, even if you didn’t realize it yet. You could both be Lonely Together.

Another Author’s Note: I know this chapter is relatively short compared to the others I’ve written so far, but honestly, your girls tired as fuck. I work a full time job, go to school full time, and take care of a lot of my family’s household. Let’s just be lucky I can write at all. Plus, I wrote Wonwoo’s story earlier today too. So let’s just call it a success and I’ll write a better chapter for him next time!

(Updated 9/6)

[wolf-and-bard]

Resigned To Fate

Prompt: Memory Alteration / Gaslighting

Relationships: Guxart/Vesemir (from one of the witcher-centric cards), Lambert/Aiden (background)

Rating: M

Content Warnings: heavy angst, suicidal tendencies, grief, mild gore, self-harm allusions

Summary: In the aftermath of the betrayal of the Cat school, Vesemir has not only his own school to hold together, but also a traumatised lover to care for. In which: Vesemir is strong and Guxart is weak and they find it hard to meet in the middle.

Word Count: ~2k

@witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo​

I.

Witchers survive.

Witchers endure.

Witchers outlast.

No matter the tragedy that befalls them or how difficult the contract. When they're being persecuted and beaten, starved and denied basic human decency. There's always a way forward.

Survive. Endure. Outlast.

Those are the thoughts Vesemir clings to, each sentiment falling as a whisper from his cracked and splintered lips to puddle at his blood- and gut-soaked feet, each word accompanied by the low wheeze of his shovel penetrating dry earth.

He couldn't fight for them, has to bury them. All of them.

He doesn't cry like the pups do, they haven't yet understood.

This is no genocide. This is merely a manifestation of what has been a long time coming, a natural course of history.

Vesemir cradles that truth tight to his chest. He survives, endures, outlasts. It's his birthright, duty, privilege, honour, burden, curse, cure, calling, punishment. It's a law of nature, the first one the new recruits learn when coming to the keep.

Nothing breaks Vesemir.

II.

When the wolves all sleep, the living in bed rolls pushed together in the great hall, the dead in their forever resting places of hard-packed dirt, the new day is already sloshing over the horizon in waves of muted scarlet. Vesemir finds no beauty in that, he doesn't think he will find any beauty in and around Kaer Morhen ever again. All that was tranquil about this place has been soaked in blood and so, it seems, has the sky. He fills a pack with their sorry dinner's leftovers - stale bread, hard cheese, dried berries - foregoes the soup and the spirits. Two deerskins of water and a faded quilt blanket. It smells like cinnamon and honey, like comfort he hopes. It's not cold enough to warrant any kind of coat yet, but halfway across the courtyard, Vesemir finds himself shivering. He unpacks the blanket and wraps it around his own shoulders, then briskly walks out of the keep's enclosures, the sun a cool caress on his stained cheeks. He's never hated her more than in that moment.

III.

She follows him even into the dingy half-dark of the outpost's only bedroom. The curtains are drawn, the room lit by a single artificial torch, but Vesemir finds another echo of the red horizon in Guxart's eyes as they meet his across the few paces that separate them. Seeing him is somehow still a bit of a surprise.

Guxart doesn't look haggard and wrung-out the way Vesemir knows he himself does. In the wake of their shared misery - the imprisonment, the wait, the release to find their schools in ruin and their charges mostly dead or mutilated - Vesemir aged a century while Guxart is frozen in time, barely more than a shell of the witcher Vesemir begrudgingly fell in love with.

His salt-and-pepper hair falls in curls just below his ears and his greyed beard looks freshly groomed, obscuring the permanent tremble of his lips, pressed together to contain the creature of mourning that grows in his chest. His slitted pupils are constantly thin so that they nearly drown in the red hue of his irises. There are but two things about Guxart that have changed in their trudge through agony - in physicality that is. He is pale now - almost as pale as Vesemir, who always used to look like a wraith next to Guxart's light-brown skin - and his voice has lost all its natural thunder. A husk, yes. But not irrevocably so.

Guxart may be broken, but Vesemir is barely more than cracked and he can hold it together for the two of them.

"Ves," Guxart croaks from his perch on the bed and Vesemir doesn't pretend like this is a happy meeting. He draws the door shut behind himself and opens the curtains with a precise blast of Aard. The light that filters in is grimy still and Guxart turns his back on it. It's the only thing he can do. In an act of protection, born from love, Vesemir had to shackle Guxart's wrists and ankles, just so the other witcher wouldn't hurt himself. Last time, Vesemir was nearly too late and that is not something he will stand to experience again. It's a precarious arrangement, temporary, but Vesemir didn't know how else to help either Guxart of himself. Bringing him to the keep would have been certain death for them both.

"I brought food."

"I'm not hungry."

Vesemir puts the pack down by the window and slips out of his boots, then crawls up on the bed and drapes the quilt over both their legs. The sight of it puts his gut in a twist.

This is where he used to let go. Relax his shoulders and drop the teacher, the torturer. Just be. Guxart gave that to him and he to Guxart. Had he any imagination, he would let his head fall to the brick behind himself and close his eyes, imagine it's just another morning after a night spent tangled up in each other, relishing dawn's kiss and each other's presence.

Vesemir is exceptionally bad at self-delusion.

"Will you have water?" he asks. Guxart shakes his head, remaining in his strained position, even when Vesemir jerks his chin to the side in an invitation to sidle up to him.

Guxart, for his part, is exceptionally bad at accepting love and pain at the same time.

"I'm not thirsty."

"Fine," Vesemir replies and they look at each other. It's not a staring contest like they sometimes held across the training fields when their students were locked in combat. It's searching for some remnant of joy and coming up short.

"There's dirt under your nails," Guxart murmurs without breaking the eye contact. "You buried them."

"I did."

"Mine also?"

"They took them back to the Camp."

Vesemir can still hear the hisses of cats, wolves, and swords alike as the witchers collected the bodies of their fallen comrades to separate and honour them. Vesemir suspects that what he feels for Guxart will be the last love ever lost between the two schools.

"It's all my fault."

"Come here," Vesemir says, keeping his tone levelled, understanding. He opens his arms a fraction, a more blatant invitation.

Finally, Guxart slumps against Vesemir, a heaving dead weight. Vesemir brings his arms around Guxart and presses his face into his curls. He finds little comfort there and lots of reminders to all that he lost at the hands of Treyse and Radowit's damned mage. Guxart presses into Vesemir with all the strength his restrained body can muster. They don't fit together quite so well anymore.

"They gave me a choice," Guxart says. "They gave me a choice."

"What choice?" Vesemir asks, mouth dry. He blinks rapidly as he rubs soothing circles over Guxart's sharp shoulder blades. In a moment here, he will have to think about how to feed the other witcher against his will, a painstaking process. Why keep at it?

Because he has to.

Nothing breaks Vesemir.

"They took me away one night," Guxart continues. "When you were asleep. They took me away and told me how I was to arrange it. Their death sentence. And they gave me a choice."

"What. Choice."

"They said they would spare them. All of them, all of our beautiful pups and kittens. They said if I throttled you, they wouldn't make me act out the treaty. It's why we were put in the same cell after that first week."

No such thing happened.

Vesemir knows.

He feared for their schools during their time in Radowit's dungeons, but his mind was sharp always, awake and waiting. Even then, he knew of Guxart's tendencies to slip from reality into madness fashioned by others. A consequence of the meddled-with cat mutagens perhaps, or a personal disposition. Doesn't matter. What does is that Vesemir was awake in the cell opposite - never sharing, never touching - watching his lover pass from one fever dream into the next as they kept him drugged, whispering to him, sentiments Vesemir himself managed to deflect when the guards - or his own mind - threw them at him.

This is your fault.

You brought this upon them, mutant scum.

They will die for your sins.

Nothing. Breaks. Vesemir.

"A lie," Vesemir sighs and presses his lips to Guxart's scalp. The other witcher shudders and the worst part about this is that he knows they will have this conversation again. And again. And each time, Guxart will believe a little less.

"They were our children, Ves. They were our children and I betrayed them. Traded their life for yours. If you had been given the same choice, would you have been strong enough?"

They both know the answer to that. If it had been between Guxart and his wolves, Vesemir wouldn't have hesitated to kill his lover. But that is entirely beside the point.

"There was never such a choice and what happened is not your fault."

"But it is. My fault. I spared you. And then I went on to kill them all. Treyse, he tried to stop me once we got out, but I gave the command anyway. We could have stood together, could have flattened all Kaedwen to dust, but I was greedy. I wanted you and the reward. I wanted... I wanted..."

Nothing ever. Breaks...

"You're talking nonsense. We were only released after the massacre took place, remember? Treyse was the one to commit treason, he gave that command."

"I have to die," Guxart says numbly. He doesn't listen now and his bound hands paw at Vesemir's thighs. "I have to die. You have to kill me."

"No."

"Please, I cannot live with this pain. Knowing it was all my fault, I cannot... how can you?"

Vesemir closes his eyes. Nothing. Nothing has yet broken him.

IV.

There is no containing Guxart forever. Vesemir knows this, Guxart knows this.

He waits, tends to his lover until such a time that he feels he's coaxed Guxart away from the brink of self-destruction at least. At the end, most of what hangs between them is fatigue and resentment, indistinguishable from the scraps of nostalgic affection they yet harbour. Vesemir does not remember what it felt like to love without care. He has to let go.

"I'm sorry, Ves," Guxart says when it's time to part, a whisper over Vesemir's lips in what will likely be their last ever kiss. "I know you mean well, but I cannot believe you. I have to repent."

There is no penance for a crime uncommitted. The only forgiveness you should want for is mine once you leave me here to grief on my own. You will wander and you will weaken and you will wither. Nothing will break me like you will, the moment you fade from sight.

Vesemir bites down on these thoughts. They're silly, selfish, and he is neither.

"Take care of yourself."

Guxart nods and turns and walks away.

And Vesemir doesn't break.

V.

Decades pass.

Vesemir fixes up whatever fissures did sneak up on him, he remains whole, he moves on.

Guxart may be out there, he may not. Vesemir will never know what fate Guxart has resigned himself to and that is acceptable.

It is acceptable.

Until the day Lambert comes home, announcing that he has given and lost his heart to a young cat by name of Aiden. He howls through the night and Vesemir holds him, the way he himself needed to be held back then perhaps, and he understands that all the glue he has been applying to his own heart was a sorry fake.

Vesemir has been broken for a long, long time.

And once he accepts that, he feels the years fall off his shoulders like leaves from an old tree, preparing for another winter. Possibly its last.

[rosyfingereddawnn]

heart of gold (chapter three)

pairing: robert plant x florence bennett (oc)

warnings: domestic abuse (god sorry), jimmy bein’ a simp :)

words: 3.4k

summary: trapped in a loveless marriage to a powerful man, florence bennett lives every day in despair. after a chance encounter with a golden-haired actor, florence finds that her life will never be the same again.

author’s note: new oc alert!! this character was based off a little friend of mine... who’s helped me like. immensely. babe ily. also god this one hurt to write i'm sorry guys. hope you enjoy :)

chapters: 1 | 2

masterlist

playlist

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The waning light of the late afternoon sun filters in through the grand windows, stained glass painting the room a myriad of colours. Polished maple shelves line the walls, packed to the brim with dusty tomes. Comfortable armchairs sit around a side table, the gilded siding gleaming. On its surface sits a dainty teacup, still steaming.

Florence strides through the aisles of the library, trailing a finger along the worn spines. The lady of the house divides her time most often between the beautiful music room and the library, as Allen leaves her to her devices, most of the day. Running a city, he always says, takes a lot of work, dear. She’s not complaining at all, if it puts her at a difference from the barbarian she is lucky enough to call a husband.

Stopping, finally, she pulls a book from the shelf, running her fingers across the letters decorating the cover, fingers catching lightly on the grooves. ‘Wuthering Heights’, the cover reads, and Florence nods, content with her choice. Drifting across the room, she settles comfortably into the plush chairs, reaching a hand out to grasp the handle of the teacup beside her. Soft spice settles over her tongue, and her chest fills with warmth, the steaming beverage warding away the slight chill in the room. Cracking open the cover, her eyes drift over the slightly yellowed pages of the novel.

“I have just returned from a visit to my landlord—the solitary neighbour that I shall be troubled with. This is certainly a beautiful country! In all England, I do not believe that I could have fixed on a situation so completely removed from the stir of society…”

The woman recites the words on the page, voice drifting high into the rafters as it flutters past her lips. Florence has always enjoyed reading aloud, as it made her feel as though she was not alone. That someone hears her, and cares to listen to the words that flow from her mouth. Allen hated it, in the beginning. When he had given her the time of day, and cared for her. Promises of forever tumbled from his lips then, instead of the insults and hurt that dripped, like a slow poison, from them now.

Shaking her head clear of those thoughts, she continues. An hour passes, then another, and Florence loses herself in the narrative. These characters, brutal and flawed, intrigued her. They enchanted her, and she was unable to put it down.

Until a set of heavy footsteps, thunderous against the polished floors, near the door to the library. She knows exactly who it is, spending as much time as she had training herself to recognize his gait. Shutting her novel with a loud snap, she looks around the room. Everything is in its place; the room is pristine, as always. Smoothing down her dress, a bright yellow with lace at the hem, she waits for the inevitable. The click of the door opening rings through the suffocating silence of the room, and Allen strolls in, perfect image maintained by his coiffed hair and expensive pinstripe suit.

“Florence, my dear. I knew I might find you here.”

“Allen, is there something wrong?” Florence replies, the hands that rest on her lap subtly trembling as she gazes at her husband. He seems to be in a good mood today. Florence only hopes it can stay that way.

“We will be putting on a ball in the coming weeks, to celebrate my proficiency as mayor. Now,” Allen slips closer to his wife, and brings a hand to her chin. Holding her in place, he presses closer, looking directly into her hazel eyes. “I hope I won’t need to reiterate this. Please do try and behave.”

“O-of course, Allen, I will—”

“We wouldn’t want a repeat performance of recent festivities, would we?”

His words make Florence’s blood boil. She sees the world in shades of angry red, and clenches her fists as tight as she can, hiding them from Allen’s view. Her knuckles are painted white with the strain of keeping her composure. A few weeks have passed since Allen rained pain and devastation upon his household, but the wounds both mental and physical are not so easily hidden, swept aside.

Pasting on an agreeable smile, cheeks straining with the effort, she nods her head. Florence knows that if she plays by his rules, she’ll remain unharmed. He’ll finally leave her alone.

“I will be on my best behaviour. Please, do not worry, dear.”

Allen tilts her head up further, to stare right into her eyes. Florence would love nothing more than to deal him the pain that he had dealt to her. To John, and to James. Instead, she raises her hand, laying it across Allen’s, as she gazes earnestly back. Touching him feels horrifyingly wrong, and it's as though fire laps at her palm.

“You will need a gown, no doubt.”

“I was planning to go into town with Ms. Weston. You remember, she—”

“I do not care who accompanies you. I care, darling, that you do not embarrass me,”  The man smiles at her, sharp canines glinting dangerously in the fading sunlight, and he presses his lips to her cheek. His scent, sharp and cloying, nauseates her. Allen stands up to his full height, which, admittedly, was not much, and moves for the door. Turning back to look at her once more, he takes her in almost hungrily. “I wonder, Florence, if you still look as lovely unclothed as you do in this dress. Perhaps tonight, we may find out?”

With a sneer and a chuckle, he walks out the door, closing it behind him.

Florence’s hands unclench, finally, as subtle pain rips through her palms. Gazing down at the skin of her hand, she sees deep pink crescents. One of them is streaked lightly with blood. She had broken the skin, it seems.

Trembling hands retrieve the book from the table it had been left on, and Florence opens the cover once more. Eyes drifting down to read, she can’t seem to make sense of the words, anymore. Florence is shaken, and she knows that it is precisely what Allen wants.

It is but a game for him; a battle of control. He’s winning.

---------

“You mean to tell me that he… Oh, Florence…”

The chime of nails against delicate china rings through the luxuriously decorated sitting room, as Florence passes a teacup, the steam wafting from the top following the scent of rich spices, to the woman sitting on the plush divan. Her dress, a pastel lavender, meets the floor in a stream of tulle. Dark tresses, pulled back in a small, loose braid, curl as they fall across her shoulders.

“Emma, I have no idea what to do.”

Emma Weston had known Florence longer than she could remember. They had met when they were young, and since then, they’ve been almost inseparable. That is, until Allen came along. Slowly, almost inch by inch, he had pushed Emma out of the picture, further isolating his wife. The women seemed to meet less and less over the years, now coming together a few times a month. Emma was unmarried, and rather educated, which almost seemed to scare the man. A favourite quote of his pops into Florence’s head, then: “Educated women, well, they’ll bring the downfall of humanity.” To the women, of course, it served as a nice bit of comedy.

“My dear friend, I… Is there anything I can do?” Emma lays a hand on Florence’s shoulder, earnest eyes locked on those of her friend. Florence meets her gaze then, and the glassy hazel eyes unnerve the woman. They look defeated. “Florence, we will fix this, somehow.”

“If that is possible…”

Emma shakes her head, eyes blazing with a incendiary anger she must keep hidden from the woman sitting next to her. Florence, naive as she might have been upon entering the relationship, has done nothing to warrant this treatment, this violence. Every mention of the horrors; the atrocities, that have been committed in this house makes the woman’s blood burn in her veins. Emma settles her hand over Florence’s, rubbing calming circles into it. She knows how the other woman ticks, after the years they’ve spent together, and she can see the slight tremors that pass through her. She’s scared. Why wouldn't she be, with a husband like that, Emma thinks.

“Florence,” The sentence almost tumbles out, but she catches herself. Florence has always disliked pity, felt that it was counterproductive and useless. It does nothing to help the situation, so there is no need for it. Emma changes the subject swiftly, a bright smile tilting up the corner of her painted lips. “What else have I missed? Surely you’ve gotten up to much, with your lovely husband gone so often.”

A moment of unusual silence passes, as a blush darkens Florence’s cheeks, pink shades dancing with the freckles that linger on her skin. “Well,” Florence starts, hands fidgeting in her lap as she looks anywhere but at her friend. With a fortifying sigh, she releases the words trapped in her throat. “I’ve… I’ve been writing to a man. An actor, from the theatre we frequent.”

“Oh? How long have the two of you been corresponding? Do tell me more!”

“A month, as of next weekend—”

“A month? Florence, it’s been a whole month, and you didn’t think it right to tell me? I thought we were friends… ”

“Emma,” Florence starts, scrambling to reassure her friend, until she glimpses the smirk that dangles from her lips. A relieved sigh fills the silence that had fallen over the two, and Emma’s giggle lights up the room. “You were joking…”

“Of course I was! Now, tell me more about this mysterious actor. What do you know of him?”

“Well, I do not know his name, unfortunately. This… this is my fault. If he knew who I was; if he knew Allen, he would never give me the time of day. Emma, he is beautiful, of mind, body, and soul.”

“How do you mean?”

“It was his appearance, initially, that attracted me. He was simply irresistible,” Florence’s cheeks flush deep scarlet, as an unconscious smile blossoms across her cheeks. Her hands slash through the air as she recounts her first sighting of the elusive actor. “…James and John, thankfully, had the mind to encourage me to contact him. Emma, he is poetic and charming, yet he isn't haughty in the slightest, like some who share these traits. He’s always been perfectly kind, and charisma drips from every pore. Every letter I receive from him… Goodness, Emma, it has the same effect on me that his performance had.”

“Perhaps you should invite him to the ball.”

It was a simple statement, yet those 8 words ring like sirens in Florence’s head. Her blush deepens, and she stammers out a response, nervous hands smoothing down nonexistent wrinkles on her gown. With a deep breath, she recovers, and locks eyes with Emma, who hides a smile behind a dainty hand.

“Have you gone completely mad?”

“Think about it,” Emma starts, revealing the amused smile that she had tried to hide. Taking in the way Florence’s mouth hangs open in shock, her eyes wider than saucers, Emma continues, a giggle fluttering in the air of the expensive room. “You could slip away from the other patrons, somewhere Allen would never find you, and meet the man that stole your heart.”

Florence remains frozen, as though she were a component of a still-life painting. Her blush-pink lips form an O, and her eyebrows creep close to her hairline. Her hands, the only thing in motion, are a flurry of movement as she fidgets under Emma’s watchful gaze.

“Florence, honestly, is it truly that preposterous of an idea?”

“O-of course it is! Emma,” The woman of the house shakes her head emphatically, mind racing to come up with the perfect excuse as to why this idea, although tempting, was utterly absurd. “Look, if Allen ever… I could never subject this… this angel to that.”

“If you think it’s best not to, then I will stand with you. This is, of course, common knowledge. What I will never do, however, is sit idly by and watch you throw away your happiness, again.”

Silence sits heavy over the two women, the only sound being the light slurping of tea gone cold. Emma, chancing a glance over at her long-time friend, takes in the quiver and shake of her hand. Florence sets the fragile china cup, painted a pale sky blue, on the wooden surface of the table that rests in front of them, and relaxes back into the comfortable settee.

“Is… Is James able to attend? The ball, I mean.” The relative quiet is broken by Emma, voice faltering as she curls into herself. For as long as Florence could remember, Emma has only had eyes for James. Whenever she came to the manor, her eyes would roam the chiseled marble hallways for even a short glimpse of him, and a deep blush seemed to dust her cheeks whenever he was in the room.

“I believe he and John are working that particular night, although… perhaps you could steal him away for some time alone?”

“Florence!”

The peals of laughter that fill the room muffle the hurried footsteps fast approaching, a choked gasp and the sound of falling papers finally making the two women look up. James stands by the door, shoulders hunched as he locks eyes with Emma across the room. A collection of envelopes litter the floor, and James, scrambling to his knees with a squeak, rushes to retrieve them.

A wordless glance passes between the two friends, and Florence nods, a subtle smile lighting up her face. Emma stands, flattening down her dress with clammy hands, walks up to the man, and he looks up at her under his eyelashes, hands stilled by her appearance.

“E-Emma! H-hello, I…”

“James, your face… are you alright?”

The man nods emphatically, almost thrumming with nerves as he replies, “it was nothing, Emma. You need not worry for me.”

Her hand, palm up, rests upon his cheek as she takes in the bruising, subtle now after the days that have passed, that mottles his pale skin. Florence can almost hear the rapid beating of his heart as he gazes up at her from his position on the floor.

“I can't help my worry for you, James,” Clearing her throat awkwardly, Emma shifts her gaze to the tiled floor, her eyes widening when she glances at the stationary strewn across the ground.“May I… or rather… Do you need help?”

The servant gulps audibly, and nods, cheeks an angry scarlet to compliment the fading tones of purple. The woman kneels next to him, and retrieves the fallen letters. Glancing at it briefly, her eyes light up excitedly, as she gazes at James.

“Are these invitations for the ball?”

“They are. I was to go around the town handing them out, just now.”

Two hands brush as they reach for the last envelope, and pull back, as if electricity had struck them upon contact. Florence hides a beaming smile beneath her hand as she watches her friends. They simply cannot look away from each other. James coughs, breaking the tension that had settled over the two, and they scramble back, each holding a portion of the letters. Two piles become one, and Emma steps back, the hand rubbing at her arm betraying the picture of calm she was trying to emulate.

“M-Miss Weston, always a pleasure. How are you?”

“I-I am well, James. And you?”

“Very well. May I say, you look… lovely.” The conversation peters out as their gazes flit to the ground, and Florence, from her perch behind them, can’t help but giggle. The sound propels the servant into action, and he thrusts an envelope into Emma’s hand, backing away as if he was burned by the feel of her hand on his.

“I was supposed to stop at your residence, but since you are already here…”

With that, he turns tail and rushes out of the room, leaving Emma standing, slack-jawed. Slowly, she turns around to meet Florence’s eyes, and the disbelief present on her face is almost comical.

“Perhaps you will be the one to slip away for a moonlit dance in the end, Emma.”

With well wishes, and an earnest promise to find dresses for the ball, Emma departs, stepping into her own carriage. The flush on her cheeks was still visible.

---------

“Of all the times to run out… Just my luck.”

Soft footsteps spatter like rain across the staircase, as Florence mutters to herself. Dashing into her bedroom, she searches every nook and cranny, pulling back with a grunt dripping with frustration. The supply that had sat on the desk against the wall was usurped, and there were no traces of any sheets in the rest of the mansion’s many rooms. Except for one.

Rushing across the hall, Florence stops in front of a pinewood door, intricately carved as most things within the manor happen to be.

Allen’s study, as she’s been told time and time again, was never to be entered, by anyone except the man himself. It’s rarely ever locked, though his intimidation serves as enough of a barrier from entering, until today.

All she needs is paper, after all. About to pen yet another letter to her nameless angel, she lacked the most important element: the paper itself. Where better to find a much-needed slip, than in a study, Florence thinks as she turns the gold-gilded knob. She opens the door only to be greeted with beautiful, wide windows of stained glass, which turn the sunlight into vibrant shades of red and green. Against the wall, a bookshelf stands tall, books of every genre imaginable lining it. Against the far wall, a well-polished mahogany desk, complete with winding embellishments around the edge, sits before an elegant leather armchair.

No paper in sight, of course.

A sigh reverberates off of the maroon walls, as Florence pulls open a drawer, careful to leave things as proper as possible so as to not alert Allen. Shuffling through the first, she finds a variety of legal forms and journals, and her frustration simmers inside of her. Moving on to the second drawer, she tugs on the wood-furnished handle, and her heart shatters.

Sitting prim and proper, face up in the drawer, was a letter addressed to Allen. In a curling script that, distinctly, was not hers, reads: “To my beloved, Allen.” This one note, this blasted letter, lays on a bed of dozens of others, all addressed in the same way, in the same sprawling hand. Florence can feel streams of crystalline tears trickle down the flaming apple of her cheeks, and a violent scream catches in her throat. Her insides burn in rage, in fury, in betrayal, and if not for her grip on the desk, she would have crumpled to the floor. There were no dates printed upon the envelopes, though, judging by the sheer amount, it is safe to say that this had been going on for quite a while. Long before she had laid eyes upon her actor.

Under the pile of deceitful notes, almost mocking her, sat the coveted paper. Ripping it out of the drawer, Florence turns, eyes sweeping the room for anything out of the ordinary. Seeing perfection, she tears out of the room, crossing the hall into her chambers. She sits herself down, defeated, on the chair adjacent to the small desk. Her head falls forward into her palms, resting there until, suddenly, she slams a hand down onto the lacquered tabletop.

Allen Bennett has stolen her livelihood. He has stolen her happiness; stolen everything that he saw worth taking. Greed seeps from every pore, and there are no consequences. Allen Bennett is a foul, demonic man, and Florence must play the role of the angel. The perfect wife. She must act as Allen’s toy, only of use to him when he needs a night of pleasure.

Curling her hands into rigid fists, the woman nods resolutely, and lunges across the desk. Trusty fountain pen in a clenched hand, Florence seizes the newfound sheets, and soon enough, a river of ink flows across the page. Teardrops that trickle down the slope of her nose serve as the signature.

------

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[songsformonkeys]

Bullet wounds & Bandages (dave york x reader)

Pairing: Dave York x reader

Summary: Dave shows up outside your door one evening, hurt and bleeding. You help patch him up.

Rating: Pretty safe. Some mentions of injuries but nothing worse.

Warnings: None

Notes: Written for @yespolkadotkitty​ who made the request below. She offered to beta too but it seems I have zero patience tonight so I’m posting anyway (sorry, bby, I love you <3). So the inevitable mistakes are all my own. You have been warned.

Bullet wounds and Bandages

It's just after eleven on a Sunday night when there's a knock on your door. You're already in your pajamas, curled up in front of the TV with a mug of tea and you eye the door suspiciously, wondering who would be coming for a visit at this hour.

Setting the mug down on the coffee table, you pad over to the door on bare feet. The floor feels cold in comparison to where they had just been wrapped up in a soft blanket.

When you look through the peep-hole in the door, your first instinct is to scream. Outside of your door, in the half-dark of the corridor, stands a man whose face is mostly covered in blood. Your heart feels like it's stopped mid-beat and your mind flashes back to The Shining, that you had stupidly watched on TV last night. Was this man gonna break in? And where was your phone?!

You're pulled from your thoughts when the man outside speaks. He says your name, closely followed by ”Please” and you know that voice. He shifts and as the light from the overhead lightbulb hits his face in a different way, you recognize his face too. It's Molly's dad. You've been Molly's tutor for little over a year now and while you've talked to her dad quite a lot and have even been asked to stay for dinner a few times, there's nothing in your relationship that warrants showing up at the others doorstep, looking like you'd been run over by a car. Yet here he is.

It takes you a moment to get your body working to pull the door open.

”Mr. York!” you exclaim as he almost topples over the threshold. You catch him and as your hand lands on his upper arm, it's wet with something warm and sticky. You don't need to be a genius to figure out what. The coppery smell in the air is strong enough that you can almost taste it.

You kick the door shut and lock it before hurriedly guiding Dave into the kitchen. He drags his feet and looks like he's one nudge away from falling over. You manage to get him seated on one of your kitchen chairs and in the brighter light of your kitchen, you can more clearly assess the damage. Dave has a split eyebrow, which seems to be the cause of the red mask on his face, and blood is dripping down his left arm and onto your floor. His shirt is horizontally split open and there's a long, slightly curved wound across his chest, like a fleshy grin.

”Mr. York, stay here! I'm gonna call an ambulance!” you tell him but before you have a chance to move, his right hand captures yours, pulling your attention back to his face.

”No ambulance,” he croaks and you give him a disbelieving look. Is he currently aware of the horrific picture he's currently making? ”I just need you.”

For the briefest of moments, your body has a wildly inappropriate reaction to those words and something flutters to life low in your gut, but then you have to laugh.

”Dave,” you say, switching to the more informal way of addressing him in hopes of establishing some sort of authority here. ”You're hurt. You need medical attention.”

”And you're a nurse,” Dave reasons.

”I'm a nursing student!” you protest, the pitch of your voice rising just a little.

”You graduate in three months. You'll do fine. Just follow my instructions and I'll tell you what to do. I promise I'm not dying. I just need you to be my hands.”

”I...” You glance back towards the living room, where you're pretty sure your phone is somewhere on the couch. Dave sees you looking.

”No ambulance,” he grounds out and there's a clear tone of annoyance in his voice now. It leaves no room for further argument and there's something about the way he says the words that makes you think he would physically stop you if you attempted to get to the phone now. You sigh and Dave's shoulders relax as he recognizes your defeat.

”I have a medkit in my jacket,” he tells you and jerks his head towards his left side pocket. You fish it out and inspect its contents. It's quite an impressive kit and you wonder what a man like Dave needs a kit like this for? You thought he had an office job - something with the police but an office job nonetheless. Or maybe it was just the tailored suits he always wore that had tricked you.

Dave guides you through what needs to be done. You help him out of his jacket but are forced to cut him out of his t-shirt. It's already torn and he assures you that it's no greater loss. His torso is smeared red with blood and you grab a clean kitchen towel, wetting it under the kitchen tap, before carefully cleaning away the worst of the blood to be able to better assess the damage. The slash across his chest isn't very deep and you think you'll be able to get away with taping it shut. The arm worries you more. There's a small, circular wound that's still bleeding sluggishly. Your eyes widen with realization and you look up at Dave's face.

”You have been shot,” you tell him. It's not a question. Dave nods and places his big hand over yours, where it's resting on his left forearm. It's only then that you realize that your own hand is shaking.

”I have. But don't worry about that now.” Don't worry about that now?! You have half a mind to slap some sense into him with the bloody towel. Gunshots were definitely something to worry about, in your professional opinion.

”What happened?” you can't help but ask, because curiosity gets the better of you and you can't imagine a scenario where Dave York would get shot.

”Work stuff,” he tells you, ”I'm sorry, Sweetheart, but I can't go into more details than that, right now.”

The affectionate nickname is just enough to distract you from further inquiries and Dave takes that opportunity to continue.

”I'm gonna need you to fish the bullet out and sew the wound shut. There's a pair of surgical pliers in the kit as well as needle and thread.” He speaks way more calmly than anyone with a bullet inside them has any right to. Like you're the patient that needs soothing here. It feels a little embarrassing and so you steel yourself and try to distract yourself from the circumstances of this medical exercise and just focus on getting the bullet out. It works.

Dave sits patiently through your ministrations but the strained breathing gives away that he's not as unaffected as he looks. You apologize for the pain, even though it's not your fault. There's nothing you have at home that could lessen it right now. Not unless he drinks himself unconscious and if he did, that might come with additional problematic side effects.

”Are the girls at home?” you ask, trying to distract him, as you sew the bullet wound shut, ”Because if they are, we need to call someone. Even if you don't want anyone else involved, you have to do that. I'll sew you to the chair if I have too! But you can't leave them alone, Dave.”

Dave looks up, something curious in his eyes. Then he shakes his head.

”They're at Carol's place this week.”

”Good.” You place the last stitch on his arm and move to tape the wounds on his chest and eyebrow shut. Dave closes his eyes as you gently wipe a clean corner of the towel over his face, cleaning the blood from the crow's feet around his eyes, the beautiful curve of his nose, his smooth cheek and the corner of his lips. He opens his eyes when your thumb lingers just a little too long on his soft bottom lip – the fabric of the towel, the only thing preventing a kiss. You pull away and turn to rinse the towel off in the sink before he can see more in your gaze than you would like. Have you had a crush on Dave for the better part of the year that you had been working there? Yes, but that is besides the point and more importantly, hardly the reason Dave has come over tonight.

”You can use the bathroom to clean off the rest of the blood, if you like. I'm gonna clean up here.”

You don't turn but you hear Dave get up from the chair with a pained groan before slowly shuffling off towards the bathroom.

You clean up the kitchen and hallway as best you can but the smell of blood still lingers and you know you'll have to go over it again and do it even more properly tomorrow. But right now, you're a little too jittery for mopping the floors.

Looking down, you realize that you've got some of Dave's blood on your pajamas and also that you've stepped in it and are leaving footprints where you walk. You clean off your feet and quickly disappear into your bedroom to change into a clean pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt before Dave is done in the bathroom.

When he emerges from the bathroom, still half-dressed and shirtless but a lot cleaner than before, the two of you stand awkwardly on opposite sides of the living room for a few seconds before Dave breaks the silence.

”Do you think...maybe I could stay for the night?”

”Oh thank heavens! I was worried I was gonna have to argue with you about that too,” you say with a relieved sigh. That makes Dave smile faintly.

”Thank you.”

Dave does argue a bit, however, when you tell him to sleep in the bed while you take the couch. But you make a convincing case explaining to him how the wound on his chest is going to have a much harder time to seal up properly if he sleeps cramped up on the couch, and Dave eventually gives in. He wishes you a good night, casual in a way that you might be with someone you'd just had a drink with, not someone who'd just been inside your arm with pliers, fishing out a bullet. Then he disappears into the bedroom.

You go to your hallway closet to fetch an extra set of bed sheets. You're not sure if Dave minds sleeping in your sheets but you at least want to be a good host and offer an alternative.

When you get back to your bedroom, you hear Dave cursing under his breath and find him struggling to open the buttons of his pants with one hand. The other hand hangs limp and bandaged at his side.

”Oh, you need help?” The words are out before you have fully processed just what it is you're offering and Dave replies before you have time to take the offer back.

”Please,” he says and hangs his head in defeat. Too late to take anything back now.

You set the sheets down on the edge of the bed before walking over to him, feeling your chest restricting your breathing as you get closer.

You stand in front of him and Dave meets your gaze before you look down.

”Buttons,” you say stupidly, ”Trickier.”

Dave huffs out a laugh and you feel the soft gush of air against your face. His breath smells faintly of mint, like he's been chewing gum earlier. Before you can completely chicken out, you reach for the hem of his pants, picking at the fabric to help him unbutton his pants. You go slow, trying to touch as little as possible of him, but the fabric of his jeans is stiff, making it more difficult to get the buttons free. You can see why he couldn't manage on his own. On the second button, your fingers slip and your knuckles accidentally brush over the bulge of Dave's cock. He jumps slightly and his breath stutters. You apologize instinctively, as if you've hurt him. Dave doesn't respond and as you quickly move onto the next button, you no longer feel the huffs of warm air on your face so you're not sure Dave's even breathing anymore.

When the last of the button has been popped free, you take a step back. Dave's working hand twitches as if he's about to reach for you but then stops himself.

”There. You think you can manage the rest on your own?” There's a pleading note to your voice. If Dave asks for any further help undressing, you don't think you'll be able to survive with your dignity intact. Dave hears the plea too and he nods.

”Yes. Thank you. Again.”

You smile and give him an awkward little wave before fleeing out of the bedroom.

As you stretch out on the couch a few minutes later, you try very hard not to think about Dave's reaction to the brush of knuckles and the fact that he's currently almost naked in your bed.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning, you wake up before Dave does. Your couch is comfortable enough but it's not ideal for lie-ins. So you get up and start the coffee-maker. Then you wait for Dave to emerge from the den. But he doesn't.

In his defense, you hadn't told him to set an alarm but, for you, the daylight had also come with the realization that you have a lecture today that you can't miss. A lecture that would start in about an hour. If you wanted to make it on time, you would have to leave soon.

You walk over to the bedroom and knock softly on the doorframe. There's no response and suddenly you worry that Dave might have gotten worse during the night. Maybe there had been an injury that you had missed?

Carefully, you push the door open and look inside. Dave is stretched out on his back on your bed, his injured left arm laying along his side while the right one is resting on the pillow above his head. You follow the line of his right arm, along his bicep and the dark patch of hair in his armpit, down to his chest. Most of it is covered by the sheets and you can only just see the white bandage peeking out. There's a foot sticking out at the bottom of the blankets and you don't know why the sight looks so endearing to you.

Dave looks relaxed but he doesn't stir as you move into the room and you want to make sure he's really okay and that he hasn't bled through his bandages.

The one on his arm looks okay when you lean in to inspect it. The one on his chest, you can't properly see, so you reach out to lift the blanket just a fraction, without disturbing him. However, when you do, Dave's right hand shoots out like a cobra and grips your hand like a vice. It hurts and you gasp out an ”I'm sorry!”

Dave immediately loosens his grip when he realizes it's you, but he doesn't quite let go.

”Is everything okay?” he asks, voice a little rough with sleep.

”Yes. I'm sorry. I was just gonna check you hadn't bled through. I didn't want to wake you,” you explain. Dave only nods and pulls the blanket down for you to check.

”Help yourself,” he says with a soft smile and you wonder, is he even hearing himself?!

The wound on the chest seems to be in okay order as well. You tell Dave as much and also inform him about your lecture. You tell him that he can stay until you get back, if he still doesn't want to go to the doctor. Dave accepts the offer of staying and you're part annoyed and part hopeful by that response.

When you move to back away, he captures your hand again, and holds it flat against his diaphragm. You can feel him breathing under your palm and your fingers twitch with the urge to touch more of him.

”Thank you,” he says solemnly, holding your gaze with his.

”You're welcome,” you say, forcing yourself to pull your hand free from his loose hold. ”I'll see you when I get back.”

”I'll be here.” It feels both like a promise and a threat.

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

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[cobradoesmcyt]

Not just a game

@petrichormeraki has brought me angst ideas so I must write.

Quick little summery: It was all just supposed to be a game, and Grian sticks to this belief. At least he does until he can’t avoid the truth anymore

It was all a game. A fun little war, for the lols and the principle they’d all said with a laugh - diamonds being returned in letters and legal permission to further their schemes.

It was not a game. At least, it wasn’t anymore.

Grian had defended H.E.P’s actions as a part of the game, the Resistance had a base and now the H.E.P had one as well, simple. They spread the mycelium and they got rid of it, and placed grass instead. They sent out the sheep, and they countered with wolves. Simple, harmless fun, a turf war with no real meaning other than they just could. But then they infiltrated the new H.E.P build and suddenly the Resistance was starting to wonder how pure the other side's intentions actually were.

I mean who has a potion drugged ravager as their defence? Sure it’s good defense, but it's deadly beyond comprehension - and Tango knows this, yet he goes along with the plan, it's just a fun little game after all. And in the end Grian suffers because of it. Torn, shredded, crushed, bludgeoned, he goes through it all in a cycle, bed keeping him trapped in the death loop. Impulse and Etho desperately try to stop it, already knowing this is not an encounter Grian will get out of like it's nothing. Not only is that bad, but Tango is watching and he’s doing nothing, he watches the death loop and he laughs at Grian’s misfortune. That is the first time Impulse truly asks himself if this is really a game anymore - if anything it just seems like a twisted game of chess where they're allowed to think themselves in the lead, but in actuality H.E.P’s in charge. The dragon hybrid sheds a tear, because he knows he’ll never look at Tango the same anymore, not after he continues his taunts - playful and joking to any onlooker - even as Grian’s loop of pain and death goes on.

This is no longer a fun game between friends, it probably hasn’t been for a long time. And Impulse fears this will change Hermitcraft forever.

Grian suffers horrible damage from the repeated deaths, his spine has been weakened to where even just standing for a tiny bit too long will bring him immense pain, his lungs are horribly damaged after all the times they were pierced. He could no longer fly, grounded by the attack from H.E.P. Yet he says there is no true harm going on, it’s all just for fun!

Impulse doubts him, but there is nothing he can do other than warn his fellow members. H.E.P is out for blood. Grian’s blood. And they were willing to shed it however they deem it necessary.

So they protect him, protect not their leader but a wounded friend, from the enemy. Because that's truly what H.E.P has become, the enemy. And even after all the deaths, all the needless violence from H.E.P, Grian still believes it to be a game.

“They’ve just really gotten into it!” He argued with a cracked laugh, “They wouldn’t actually hurt any of us intentionally, we’re friends after all!”

No one has the heart to tell him he’s wrong, at least not then, to tell him the H.E.P has really gone too far this time. They know he won’t listen to them, too far into his belief that the H.E.P really don’t want to hurt any of them. That it's no longer just a game anymore.

Then Scar and Mumbo came blasting into the Mycelium Resistance base and suddenly the truth could no longer be ignored.

All the other Members managed to get out of the blast radius of the machine, but Grian - weakened from the Ravagers was not so lucky. A collapsing pillar trapped him on the side that H.E.P had breached. His fellow resistance members barraceded off from him.

Grian looked up at where Scar and Mumbo stood, both with gleeful smiles on their faces as they looked around the base, and his blood ran cold. Yet he prayed they were just happy they had found the base, and not at the damage and destruction they’d cused, but as his eyes met Scar’s he knew that was nothing but wistful thinking. Tears pricked in his eyes as he looked at his two closest friends, the two people he could always go to if he ever needed anything, a newfound terror and fear now filling him as he looked up at them.

This was no longer a game, he bitterly thought, it’s a hunt where he was prey.

Using what little strength he still had in him he threw an ender pearl towards the exit, Impulse meeting him there and catching him, and then he was pushed up through the water with the other not leaving his side once. Once in the ocean Impulse swam them both towards shore, Etho coming to help the two when he emerged. After that they all ran away, or rode away in Ren and Grian’s case - since Grian could not fly or much less move.

Grian had said there was a hidden room in Town Hall they could use, but no one in the Resistance wanted to risk being so close to H.E.P. So instead they headed way off, to lands not visited or lived in. None of them were ready to face H.E.P or anyone else right now, not so soon after the attack.

The whole way Grian satt numbly behind Ren and thought, thought about H.E.P and its members. Were they all out for them, like their leader and newest member, or was there some who weren’t? Tango-he was pretty sure Tango was on the same extreme as those two, the warehouse had proven that. Cub and Bdubs too probably, they were the most loyal to Scar after all. And Xisuma too he was so violently against mycelium as well, though he didn’t seem as violent and loyal as the other two. False and Keralis were both mysteries to him, as they both didn’t seem to be as extreme as the rest, but still who could even be trusted to not be against him anymore?

He let out a shaky breath and rested his head against Ren’s back, small tears silently starting to fall from his eyes. Hermitcraft was his safe place, a sanctuary he could heal within. But look at what it had turned into, him running away from his “friends”.

“Ren?” He tentatively called. And after seeing that the wolf was listening to him he continued, “Are-are they still our friends?”

Ren rowed silently, thinking the question over in his head. Finally he sighed. A sad, defeated, sigh of a man who just didn’t know anymore, “I don’t know G-man, I really don’t know.”

Days later H.E.P would come looking for them, curious as to what had become of their competitors. But they would not find them, not now and not ever. Because the Resistance had been found once, and they were not going to make the same mistake twice. Though Impulse did come to the Hermit meeting a few weeks later, much to Tango’s excitement. But the fire elemental stepped back in shock when the taller brunette growled at him, and Zedpah moved to his side in an instant. Though Impulse could care less about them now (no matter how much it hurt him to look at the two, he just couldn’t help but remember the ravager and Tango’s taunts from that day) his attention was fully on Scar.

“This started as a game between friends, something to have fun with and laugh about.” He spoke camly, a deathly calm tinged with ice, golden eyes hard with the same ice, “And you have made it a war between enemies.”

Cries of outrage came at his words, protest from H.E.P and Hermits filling the air.

“It’s not a war!” Bdubs argued, “As you said it’s all just a game.”

“A game does not make someone question if you are still friends or not!” Impulse roared, slamming his hands down on the table, causing totally silence, “It does not permanently scar or hurt anyone! It doesn’t not make someone terrified of you! A game wouldn’t warrant running away and hiding the only option!” Tears now fell down his face, all the emotions he’d kept at bay finally slipping past his defences, “It-it doesn't make Grian’s pain into something funny, his pain and health just something to brush off. He shouldn’t be considering leaving for real!”

Impulse looked from Scar to Xisuma, “Get your acts together, H.E.P, or you might just be a few Hermits sort soon.” And with that he left, not even looking back as Tango desperately pleaded with him to stay, or H.E.P calling out to him for answers.

But he would not budge, would not turn back to look at them. Because he knew if he did he might do more than just scream at them. They all had it coming, of course, but he’s leaving that for Etho to deal with.

Later that night Scar sat in his office thinking over the events of the past few days, “I’m not the bad guy, am I Jellie?” Said cat mewed at him, a paw on his leg as she looked up at him, “Of course I’m not! I mean it’s all a game and I really just couldn’t tell the other side wasn’t having fun anymore. Right? That’s all it is, right?”

Jellie sadly bumped her head against Scars leg, a mournful chirp leaving her. She could smell that something was off about the man, but she couldn’t pinpoint what exactly it was.

Diamond blue eyes looked out at the shopping district, any hints of leaf green in them being overtaken by the blue, “Yeah, I’m not the bad guy.”

[ahgaseda]

phoenix | one

I’ll be the phoenix, leave it to me, we be flying, spread your wings behind your back, they call us phoenix, ride or die, ride or die...

summary : the clock is ticking as you recount your passionate affair with Jackson, the most wanted man in Shanghai, to the people trying desperately to catch him, but no one - including you - knows if he will risk his life to save yours.

warnings : strong profanity, explicit dialogue, mentions of blood and violence, references to drug and alcohol use, graphic sexual content, self-destructive themes, potentially triggering elements involving kidnapping, arson, etc.

miniseries chapters : one / two / three / four / five / six / seven

The chains rattled on the steel table. The cold cuffs wrapped around your wrists were anchored to the surface, looped through a bolt. You weren’t going anywhere anytime soon.

It had been a quiet Thursday night. Nothing out of the ordinary to note. You left your apartment and went out for dinner. The steak was cooked just right. Your company of friends were lighthearted and buzzing from wine, but for once didn’t grill you about your relationship.

On the way home, you were ambushed. You put up a fight, of course, knowing all the while it was futile. The men had descended on you like thieves in the night and none of them were gentle.

Shoved into a chair and fastened to the table, you were read your rights, but by their tones, you had none. Five hours had passed since your less than legal arrest. The clock slipped past midnight a while ago. There was no telling when you would be reported missing, if at all.

Your closest friends knew you vanished from time to time. It was that good for nothing guy you dated, whisking you away to god knows where, they often jeered. Envy was ugly.

He was on your mind. He would notice your absence. Especially the empty space left in his bed.

The detective slapped a file in front of you, but the loud smack that echoed through the room did little to rouse you at this ungodly hour. He was middle-aged and the lines of his face were hard, furrowed. You wondered about the kind of people often in your current position. Gangsters, killers, and the like. You had done nothing to warrant the same treatment.

“Am I being charged with a crime?” you asked, poised and calm as you had been trained. You tossed the idea of trying to speak to them in their native tongue the moment you were booked. Your Mandarin was rudimentary and would likely get you into more trouble. “You have no right to hold me here, chained up like a criminal.”

He shot back, “You are at the center of a government investigation.”

Those words alone should have sent your heart somewhere to the pit of your stomach, but you knew better. All your life, you had been a law abiding citizen. But they treated you like you were wickedness personified.

“I’ve done nothing wrong,” you replied, head held high. You dared not give them an inch. You couldn’t afford it.

He glanced at you over the rim of his glasses, eyes scathing. His reply was bitter, dripping with disdain, “Your lover has done plenty.���

You didn’t argue. It was abundantly clear you had no rights in this damned metal box. Lover; the word lingered in your mind a second or two. Yes, he was your lover. No man had loved you like him and no man ever would again.

Was he in love with you? Not even God knew the answer to that.

The detective finally took the seat across from you, in an attempt of appearing more diplomatic. His shouting and intimidation had gone nowhere.

“Tell me about your relationship with Jackson Wang.”

Your eyes fluttered. Just hearing his name made your heart spin. The boy owned you - mind, body and soul. Lacing your fingers together in front of you, you lied, “I don’t have one.”

The detective snorted. Then, he withdrew a photo from the file and placed it before you.

There you were in black and white, centered in a scope that for all you knew could have belonged to a sniper’s rifle, caught up in Jackson’s arms as he kissed you with abandon. Passion flowed freely from every inch of the photograph. It belonged on display in a gallery for twisted, ill-fated lovers.

You could still remember that day in the picture clearly, how it felt when he pushed you up against the window. The glass was frigid on your back, but did nothing to rival the heat of his body against yours.

Jackson always felt as if he carried the entirety of Hell inside him.

You lifted your gaze from the image at last and murmured, “A moment of weakness… a long time ago.”

The detective didn’t believe you for a second. He rifled through more pages in the file and fanned them out in front of you. “Phone records. Travel logs. Looks like you live in a constant moment of weakness,” he sneered. There was no doubt he resented having to share the same oxygen as you; a woman that willingly slept with the devil himself.

“I do,” you retorted, almost regretting the words when they left your tongue.

The detective raised his voice angrily, “Jackson Wang is singlehandedly running the underworld of Shanghai and is a major player in the open rebellion against the People’s Republic.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. One day you knew you would be confronted with what he was, what he had done. There were nights you lay awake, wondering if you slept in the arms of a murderer.

The detective tapped his finger on the table and the noise brought back your attention. His face was severe, red from stifling his rage. To him, you were a valuable pawn, but a pawn nonetheless. His ass was on the line. Perhaps you were the one and only chance he would get at piercing Jackson’s armor.

“I have no information to give,” you answered quietly. “I know nothing of that. Nothing.”

He had gathered that. From the months they had you under surveillance, you were never seen near any of Jackson’s businesses or his known safe houses. He went to great lengths to keep you at a distance from his work.

“Given the nature of his crimes and how viciously he runs his underlings, what would happen if we were to… leak that you were in here, singing like a canary?”

The first threat of the night. You knew it wouldn’t be the last.

You scoffed. He knows I would never betray him. It didn’t matter what Jackson did, you were loyal. Jackson had the ability to inspire loyalty in those close to him. He tolerated many, many things, but disloyalty was not one of them.

The detective lifted a brow, thinking your silence meant he had found an edge. “Have you seen what he does to his enemies?”

Your expression didn’t change. No, he made sure I never saw.

Jackson was ruthless when he took his pleasure from your body. Even more merciless when he buried his head between your thighs. You could only imagine how intensely he ran his underworld.

“Do you know nothing of what he is?” the detective exclaimed, incredulous.

He never wanted me to know, your thoughts wavered.

The world didn’t exist when you were with Jackson. Together, it was just you and him, and everyone else be damned. Every moment spent with him was a lifetime unto itself.

A spontaneous trip to Maldives. An impromptu midnight ride on his yacht in the harbor of Hong Kong. A weekend in South Korea spent locked away in a riverside cottage with only the birds to witness your sins.

Jackson had money. There was no denying that. But so did you. You had made a fortune in your line of work and from then on, no one could buy your attention or affection. Jackson was different. He didn’t shower you with designer clothes or heavy diamonds. He paid attention. Learned your interests and kept you on your toes. He understood you to be like some beautiful mystery in need of solving.

You bit your lip, tears pricking your eyes. You wanted Jackson, wanted to be safe in his arms, hidden against his chest. You loved him. God, you loved him with every fiber of your being. He had taught you how to live again. He showed you there was still a soul somewhere inside you.

Even if his own had been burned out of him.

Clearing your throat and pushing back your emotions, you asserted, “For your own safety, don’t show me anything and don’t leak that you have me in here against my will.”

The man before you bristled with wrath, jaw clenching. “For my own safety?”

You frowned. It was not your intention to anger him. You just needed to keep buying time.

The detective stood abruptly, knocking over his chair and shouting, “Is Jackson going to come for his whore?”

You winced, more so at the screeching sound of his chair scraping the ground than the unsavory words. You weren’t surprised that was how they saw you.

They had probably sent women to seduce Jackson before. Find a crack in his walls to exploit. They must have waited years for him to finally have someone he could love, someone to ultimately break him.

The detective began circling the room, like a vulture spiraling around its next meal. You weren’t afraid. There were laws in place for situations like these. At least, you hoped they still applied to you.

I have to get out, you thought. You steadied your breathing and remembered what you had been taught.

Being held captive was something you had rehearsed many times. Jackson tried to chase you off once. He didn’t want you to live in a constant state of danger because of what he was. Then, Jackson realized he had been waiting his whole life to find you - the person who completed him. And that’s when he started preparing you.

In fact, rehearsing being in police custody was one of your favorite roleplays.

You remembered being led into a tiny room, no larger than a closet. Bound to the only chair, Jackson had stormed in and treated you like a traitor. But you knew how soft he was for you, and how bad of a liar he was, and had seen through the ruse all too quickly.

Nevertheless, he wanted you to be ready for whatever the dirty cops would throw at you should the day come you were in their clutches.

“Baby, had I known you were going to tie me to a chair, I would have worn something a little more seductive,” you teased, licking your lips.

With your hands overlapped and cuffed behind your back, your shoulders were pressed to the top of the chair rather uncomfortably. Jackson skulked before you, not uttering a word. His face was shadowed, dark and menacing. All it did was turn you on.

With heat in your eyes, rather than look demure or nervous, you spread your legs.

Jackson let his gaze fall to your parted thighs, clad in black pantyhose. He had bought you the red bottom heels you were wearing and fuck, if they didn’t make your legs look longer. Without a word, he bent down before you, taking your ankle in hand and slipping off the shoe.

You watched in surprise as he tossed both shoes to the wall where they clattered loudly. No distractions, you mused, wanting to giggle.

Jackson saw your little smirk and fought a grin. You weren’t fooled by him in the least. He stalked across the room, coming to stand behind you with a hand gliding up your arm.

You shivered when his fingers found your neck.

“We have ways of making you talk, sweetheart,” he whispered darkly.

“Mm,” you hummed, breathing heavier as his hands stroked your jaw and throat. With every pass of the rough strokes of his palms, they moved further south. You sucked in a gulp of air when his fingers grasped the buttons of your blouse.

Glancing down, you watched him unfasten one button. Then another and another.

“What do you want me to say?” you asked softly, pulsing with adrenaline.

Jackson traced the pads of his fingers down the lines of your cleavage, which he already knew quite intimately, and grinned at the sight of your blood red bra. Also a gift he had bought for you. Perhaps you wore the matching panties beneath your skirt.

It went without saying that red was his color.

You shuddered when you felt his breath hot on your neck, lips brushing your ear. Your hair stood on end. Electricity prickled across your skin. His touches on your breasts were maddening, drawing senseless patterns that only served to stir a fire between your legs.

“I want you to say,” he replied venomously in your ear. “That you’re going to give me everything I want.”

You gulped, shifting in the chair. That voice was lethal, drawing you into a heady fog that almost made you forget the purpose of this roleplay in the first place. And his hands cupping your clothed breasts were even worse. Jackson had godlike hands. Long fingers. Bulging veins. Your mouth watered.

“I’m waiting,” he taunted, taking a patch of flesh on your neck between his teeth.

You quickly asked, “What is it that you want?”

Jackson squeezed your mounds, tugging down the cups of your crimson bra to expose your nipples, pinching them between his deft fingers. With how badly you squirmed on top of the chair, it was safe to say his hands alone were doing a number on you.

“Jack…,” you started, about to tap out. You needed him to soothe the ache he had created.

Jackson caressed your nipples with his thumbs, smirking at the way your chest rose and fell for breath. “Where is the money?” he growled, trying to sound vicious.

You shook your head in defiance. “I never cared about the money.”

Jackson flicked his tongue over the blemish he had made on your neck, one of his hands leaving your chest to wrap around your throat. His next question sounded more like an accusation, “Are you saying you don’t trade him your body for money?”

You snickered. “I give him my body because I love what he does with it,” you purred, snapping your jaws as if you were going to bite him in retaliation.

“Good girl,” Jackson said with a chuckle, thoroughly pleased with you.

You smiled victoriously. Whenever he said those two little words, you melted into his hands. The man could play your body like an instrument. He could draw the devil out of you like poison to dance with his own.

Jackson pressed a single chaste kiss to your temple. Then his thumb and forefinger gripped your neck, suddenly pressing to your blood flow. Your vision clouded and thrummed. The room began to fade. When you felt a hand dip between your legs and settle on your clothed sex, you knew you had passed the test and would get your reward.

You found yourself back in the present, crossing your legs beneath the steel table. It did you no good to think of Jackson and the power he had over your body. Always leaving you satisfied, shaking and screaming. He took pride in making a complete and utter mess of you, ruining you for anyone else.

The detective resumed his threats, but his voice faded into static. He offered to toss you in a cell and throw away the key. But in your mind, you were back in Jackson’s bed, naked save for his dress shirt as he told you what to expect.

“They’ll try to scare you into talking,” he said levelly, sporting only a towel around his waist after a hot shower. “If you flinch, they’ll escalate. Find your happy place and don’t give them an inch. Never let them know you’re afraid.”

You nodded, distracted by the fiery tattoo that covered the full expanse of his back. Jackson was a perpetual distraction.

“Then, they’ll switch it up. Offer you a deal. They may give you full immunity if you give me up,” Jackson continued, focusing on your face to see your reaction.

You rose to your knees, shuffling to the edge of the bed and grabbing him by the hips. Pulling him close, you pressed a kiss to his lips and crooned, “Ride or die, babe.”

Jackson rewarded you with another kiss, but pulled back the moment you tried to slip him your tongue. His expression turned grim. “Then, they might turn off the camera. Might start threatening you with pain.”

You shook your head. Being with him made you brave. “I’m not afraid of pain.”

Jackson cupped your cheek, stroking his thumb over your soft skin, and whispered, “I won’t be there to protect you, but I promise on my life… something bad will happen to them when they least expect it.”

“Just get me back to you, back to where I belong,” you told him impatiently, carding your fingers into his damp hair and teasing your tongue over his bottom lip before kissing him again. At the time, you wanted him to hush this line of conversation, wanted him to focus on the precious time spent together.

What you didn’t know was that the noose had been tightening and Jackson was setting things in motion.

For a moment, he indulged you, sucked eagerly at your tongue in his mouth and kneaded your hips in his broad hands.

Finally, he stopped you, cradling your face and staring intently into your eyes. “You need to know this,” he whispered in hushed tones. “The cops are dirty. Corrupt, every last one of them.”

You nodded your understanding and made sure never to forget it.

The door opened and you snapped out of your reverie, the detective joined by another officer that had been one of the men to participate in your violent arrest. He strode in forcefully, a phone you swiftly recognized as your own held in his hand. The device was hooked to a number of wires and receivers.

“Here, talk to your bitch,” he snapped harshly.

The officer grabbed a handful of your hair and shoved the phone to your ear.

You groaned at the stiff tug on your head and answered confusedly, “...Hello?”

“Baby,” was all Jackson said.

“I’m fine,” you spoke like a well-rehearsed robot, looking up to make eye contact with the man holding your hair in his fist. “They are treating me very well.”

The officer shouted loud enough for your lover to hear, “She’s being a very cooperative cunt, Mr. Wang.”

You bristled, practically feeling Jackson’s wrath through the phone.

“Baby girl, rest assured,” he hissed under his breath and you had never heard his voice devolve into such a growl. “They are all dead men.”

You flashed your teeth in a grin at the man gripping you so roughly and sang, “Yes, Daddy.”

The line clicked dead.

“Damn it,” the officer groaned, releasing you none too gently.

The door swung inward again, causing the man beside you to jump. Whoever had just entered was clearly a superior, because the others bowed deeply.

“Out,” said the stranger with little to no patience, dressed in a crisp charcoal suit.

You watched the two shuffle through the door, metaphorical tails tucked between their legs. It was a relief to be free of them. Though you now had a new enemy to confront.

The interrogator spoke your name in greeting, offered a warm and somewhat reassuring smile, and introduced himself, “I’m Park Jinyoung.”

“Korean,” you mulled in surprise. “What are you doing in Shanghai, Mr. Park?”

He looked barely Jackson’s age, but you already respected him more than the others because of his kind manners. He wasn’t here to play any violent games with you.

“I was about to ask you the same question, Mrs. Wang,” he retorted, pointing at the ring on your left hand.

“I’m not his wife,” you were quick to correct, overlapping your hands to hide the piece of jewelry. It was the most precious thing you owned. You sighed in relief when they hadn’t removed it during your arrest process.

Jinyoung approached and withdrew a key from his pocket, unfastening your cuffs. You caught a glimpse of the gun strapped to his hip and decided not to cross him. Once you were free, he sat down comfortably across from you, unfastening the button of his coat.

You murmured a small thank you and studied him carefully. He was a far different entity than the corrupt detectives.

“I apologize for the unsavory care that has been given to you in here,” Jinyoung said, seemingly genuine. “From what I understand, this is hour five for you.”

You nodded. “Spent the first hour being read my rights. The only word out of my mouth was lawyer. Then, no lawyer in sight, hour two they left me in here to sweat,” you told him as you rubbed your aching wrists. “I didn’t sweat.”

Jinyoung bobbed his head as you spoke, as if he was well aware of all that, adding, “And as I saw, he has already been in contact.”

You sighed. “Not long enough to get a trace.”

Given the officer’s reaction when Jackson hung up, you gathered that much.

Jinyoung smiled. He was almost amused. Opening his notebook to a blank page, he tapped his pen and said, “We both know they won’t get anything from you. You’re not going to crack.”

You tilted your head. “Are you interested in finding a way to break me, Mr. Park?”

Jinyoung was a master tactician, highly respected for his intellect. He had been watching from behind the tinted glass. Your behavior with him was a stark contrast than with the detectives. You had been trained. You were more at ease with him. Jinyoung realized he didn’t put any fear in you. And that was an advantage for him.

Jackson’s words echoed in your mind, “If someone comes in from the outside, a different agency or a different country, he or she will be the real deal. They will have been hunting me for a long time and will see you as a key to finally bringing me down.”

Jinyoung’s delayed response cut through your thoughts, “I’m more interested in how someone like you became involved in this. Level with me. How did you meet the one and only Jackson Wang?”

You shrugged. “Why do you care? It won’t help you find him.”

Jinyoung uncapped his pen, ready to write, and pressed, “Some girls are drawn to men like him. Men with violent, dangerous power.”

“I never knew about his powers,” you shot back vehemently. Was he implying you were insane for loving someone like Jackson?

“I’ve spent the greater portion of my professional career in a cat and mouse game with him,” Jinyoung confessed, trying to smooth your feathers. “Help me get to know him better.”

“You’re the mouse,” you smarted.

Jinyoung glanced up through hair straying into his eyes. With a smirk, he scribbled something at the top of his blank page and said, “Whenever you’re ready.”

You exhaled loudly.

The last of Jackson’s warnings rang in your ear. “If they’re the real deal, buy time. Get a feel for them. Figure out what it is they’re after and how they want to use you. And then, whatever you do, don’t give it to them.”

Glancing down at your nails, noticing one or two had broken in your scuffle during your shady, back alley arrest, you began, “I met him at some ritzy, overpriced hotel. It had been a shit day. Another board meeting of senior partners where no one gave a damn what I had to say. As long as our stocks came out unscathed, they didn’t care if the rest of the world was about to go to hell…”

You had been sitting at the bar, manicured nails drumming on the black marble. The bartender kept a steady flow of red wine coming your way and you sipped your glass in an attempt to clear your head of all its moral conscience.

It was a wonder you had lasted this long and you pondered how much longer you could keep going. You never imagined selling your soul to a corporation, playing with people’s lives. It had all just been numbers and math, at which you excelled, and then the corruption steadily seeped into you.

“Another crisis, Luke,” you told the bartender.

He tossed a cloth over his shoulder and retorted, “Another Tuesday, madame.”

You chortled and put the glass to your lips. “That’s the truth if I ever heard it,” you mumbled bitterly.

You saw the numbers. Numbers were your expertise. The market would crash. Much, much worse than before. Hard-working people would lose their retirements, their livelihoods. Some would never recover. Meanwhile, you and your bosses would roll in cash and the government would cut the banks a giant check to fix the disaster they had created.

Looking at your hands, you marveled how clean they looked for being so stained and filthy.

Luke glanced at the television overhead, where you had asked him to switch to the financial channel. The bell was chiming. The market had closed, deep in the red. No surprise there.

You glared at the screen. They had no idea what was coming tomorrow morning. People worked hard, but greed worked harder.

Luke turned to you, pointing at the coverage, and inquired curiously, “That kind of crisis?”

You tipped your glass toward him for more wine and nodded. “Now is the time to pull out.”

“My pull out game has never been good,” Luke quipped after topping off your drink.

You nearly spat your wine with laughter and your stomach ached. Fuck’s sake, when was the last time you laughed?

“Dammit, Luke. How am I supposed to cut in now?”

You angled to the man who had been seated a few stools down from you.

Luke held up his hands in defense, smirking with satisfaction.

The first thing you noticed about Jackson Wang was his smile. It was warm, undeniably playful, yet something about it put you at ease. Most men in your field had smiles that warned of danger or bad intentions.

Your eyes met and Jackson could see right off the bat you were unimpressed. It had been a rough day and you were in no mood to flirt. So Jackson decided to finesse, which luckily was his specialty.

Turning back to your wine and tasting it on your tongue, you tried not to steal another glance or two at the handsome man at the bar.

“Should I unload my portfolio?” Jackson asked, wanting your attention.

You looked at him out of the corner of your eye and feigned disinterest, “What’s your pleasure?”

He cocked his head and joked, “I’m surprisingly vanilla.”

You rolled your eyes and deadpanned, “In stocks.”

Jackson recognized that icy tone of a woman who did not have a single fuck to give him and knew he would need to melt you a little. You had caught his eye at the bar, but beautiful women were a commodity in his line of work.

At first he dismissed your glowing skin beneath the bar lights and your big beautiful eyes glistening with unshed tears. You almost hooked him with that tight black dress and the way it hugged your every curve. And your legs, hot damn, keeping his eyes off of those had been even harder.

Then, he heard you speak. You talked with intellect and eloquence, and he was ready to hire you to narrate the rest of his life. He realized you may have some intelligence in that pretty head of yours and that snared his attention.

Because Jackson had learned long ago he was very, very easily bored. And the vapid nonsense that came out of the mouths of the girls he tended to attract with his money just didn’t cut it for him anymore.

The pursuit was on.

“Mostly gold, some silver. A few auto brands,” he replied, attempting to sound humble.

You answered expertly, “Gold and silver will bounce back in the long run. They always do. Some auto manufacturers may not survive, but just the American ones are at risk. And more than likely Uncle Sam will bail them out like last time.”

Jackson winced, but it was for effect. “Bye-bye, Cadillac.”

You chuckled.

Jackson sobered a little, frowning at the television. “Another crash, huh?”

“You didn’t hear it from me,” you whispered under your breath, sipping your wine and knowing every time you opened your mouth, you jeopardized your entire company.

In the morning, when the opening bell rang, your firm would unload all of its dirty, worthless stock to unsuspecting buyers, and the market would collapse like clockwork.

Numbers didn’t lie.

“I trust your expertise,” Jackson flirted, voice like silk.

You gave him a sideways glance, not convinced. More than likely he was just trying to get into your pants. “Most men get turned off when I speak with expertise in my field,” you said, running a hand through your hair.

Jackson shook his head and retorted, “I’m not most men.”

You giggled; how predictable. “That’s what they all say.”

But you knew now that he was right.

As the conversation went on, Jackson moved closer and closer. By the time he sat at your side, his presence was a welcome one. After another glass of wine, you started leaning into him.

You talked about everything. Topics shifted from the market to the weather to international travel and finally to your favorite subject, good food. You were never one for small talk. In fact, you hated it. But Jackson spoke like he could match your rhythm.

He didn’t shy away from more complicated discussions. He didn’t bat an eye when you challenged his opinions. He could keep up with a little verbal sparring and seemed to enjoy it as much as you did. And he never tried to dumb you down like so many men before him.

Finally, after you didn’t back away when he moved dangerously close to you, Jackson cut to the chase and teased, “Don’t act like you’re not feeling me.”

You laughed, but there was no weight behind it.

Jackson shuffled closer and murmured, “I see you.”

You blinked up at him innocently. “What do you see?”

The corner of his mouth lifted. “I can’t explain it, but I could try if you wanted me to.”

It had been a long time since you indulged a man to sweet talk you or romance you or even get you into bed with him. You had given up on the opposite sex not long after you began ascending the ladder at work and learned the vast majority of them were threatened by your success.

Jackson was not the least bit intimidated by you. At this point, he was a goddamn unicorn.

“Explain it to me,” you whispered slyly, realizing his lips were mere inches from yours.

Jackson moved even closer and whispered for your ears only, “You’re gravity. You’re a magnet. I can’t stop getting closer.”

You lowered your head, hiding the heat quickly rising behind your cheeks.

Jackson slipped his fingers beneath your chin and tilted you back up to meet his unwavering eyes.

It was the first time he touched you.

“I want you,” he said, a low rumble of a growl in his throat.

Your eyes flickered, faltering under how intensely he looked at you. You wanted desperately to hide how badly his words and voice affected you, and you sneered, “Does that line work?” You had to keep him on his toes in this little dance. You weren’t ready to surrender yet.

Jackson wasn’t going to let you have the upper hand anymore. He knew you were what he wanted and he was coming in for the kill. “You tell me,” he spoke, more aggressive. “You’re the first woman to hear that from me.”

You pouted when his fingers slipped from your chin, satisfied he had made his point. “You’re smooth,” came your reply, a little hesitant from the tension. “I’ll give you that.”

Jackson slouched comfortably on his bar stool and said, “I’ve flashed the watch, the rings. Most girls get very friendly once they’ve seen sparkly rocks.”

You clicked your tongue and snorted. “If you only knew how much money I make.”

Jackson tried another approach. “So I can’t buy your affections?”

With a shake of your head, you crooned, “Sadly, not for sale.”

“Fine,” Jackson said, noncommittal and rather abrupt.

You panicked. It sounded like he was about to throw in the towel. Your heart began to beat a little faster against your ribs.

Jackson gulped what was left of his drink and set the glass back down loudly on the bar. Adjusting his tie, Jackson rose to his feet and peered down at you, whispering, “Tell me you’re not feeling me and I’ll go. And you’ll never have to see me again.”

That was not a welcome thought.

At your silence, Jackson pulled a wad of cash from his pocket and handed it to Luke. “Mine and the lady’s tabs, pal,” he said, driving the last nail into the coffin.

You reached out and grabbed his sleeve without hesitation, gazing up at him with naive eyes. You had no idea then what you were getting yourself into.

“Don’t…,” you whispered bashfully, cheeks flushing again.

Jackson moved back to your side, a victorious smile on his face.

You saw his grin and chuckled, realizing you’d been beaten in the game.

Jackson cupped your cheek and leaned in with confidence, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

Your lashes fluttered. He smelled good, ridiculously good. You wanted to bury your face in the crook of his neck and breathe him in.

Jackson resisted the urge to slip his hands in your hair and kiss you like he really wanted. Your skin was soft; so soft he wanted to trace his lips over every inch of you and write his name with his tongue across your body.

You managed to hold onto some semblance of self-control throughout the elevator ride. The tension was thick. The air was heavy. No words passed between either of you. And you stood at opposite corners of the elevator.

Jackson led you down the hallway, your hand tucked inside his. The moment he stopped at door 309, the two of you were on each other.

“You’ve got some nerve getting me turned on like this,” you teased, panting softly.

Jackson’s lips were on your neck, his arms around your waist. He crushed you between his body and the wall, and you couldn’t be happier. After that comment, he pulled back to look into your eyes and smirked, nipping at your lips.

You took his face in your hands and smashed your lips on his. It went without saying that you really liked kissing Jackson. It was all you wanted to do for the foreseeable future. He tasted of liquor and really bad choices.

Jackson wedged a knee between your thighs and made room for his hips to fit between. You moaned into his mouth, tempted to lock your ankles behind his back, but rather conflicted about it. Were you going to hook up with him? Your first thought was an emphatic yes.

Your hands roamed over his shoulders and back, feeling taut muscles underneath his expensive suit. He was hard like iron, thick thighs bracing you against the wall. His hands wandered too, exploring your body, finally able to touch those curves.

Despite his hold on you and your tongue down his throat, Jackson managed to pull the keycard from his back pocket and swipe it over the panel. You heard the familiar beep of the hotel door unlocking, followed by Jackson pushing it open.

Mumbling against his mouth, you grabbed his wrist and pulled, blurting, “We can’t.”

“What…,” Jackson exclaimed, his lips red. “Why?”

“Because,” you huffed, letting your head fall back against the wall in defeat. “If I go in there, we’re gonna fuck.”

The words alone made a certain something twitch in his pants. Jackson fought a chuckle and gave you a glance over. You were already disheveled and breathless, and he hadn’t even touched you yet. “Is that so?” he taunted, expression full of boyish energy.

“Yeah,” you exhaled, still at war with yourself. Then, you leaned into his chest and collided your lips back to his.

Jackson smiled against your mouth, tightening his arm around your waist and meeting the rush of your kisses. He took them to mean you changed your mind and swiped the key card again.

Hearing the chime of the door, you grabbed the lapel of his suit with both hands and broke away. “No, we can’t.”

Jackson laughed, amused by you. “Okay. Okay,” he relented.

“Sorry, but…,” you trailed, still trapped in his arms. “I’ve never fucked anyone I just met.”

“Me neither,” he replied softly.

You cocked a brow. No one gave a damn if men had sex with every human that passed their sight. For that reason, you were inclined to believe him.

Jackson pulled the door closed and pressed the sweetest of kisses to your lips. When he stopped, your eyes fluttered open and you peered up at him.

“Gravity,” was all he said, chuckling to himself.

Yeah, you felt it, too.

Running your fingers into his hair and tugging gently, you ordered, “Keep kissing me.”

Jackson didn’t need to be told twice.

The rushed, hurried kisses were over. Now that the two of you weren’t sprinting to the bedroom, you could focus on how your tongues danced in each other’s mouths. Jackson stroked a hand down your thigh and hooked your leg over his hip, needing to be as close as humanly possible to you.

When his lips moved back to your neck, you rolled your eyes and the catch in your breath almost sent him to his knees.

“Can I take you to breakfast in the morning?” he asked between kisses.

“Yes,” you replied, fingers pressed to his shoulders.

Jackson proceeded to suck a mark of possession beneath your ear. “And dinner tomorrow evening?”

You were out of your mind, insane with lust and desire. Sweat was beginning to gather beneath your dress, courtesy of the fire burning inside him. “Absolutely.”

Jackson licked the bruise he was making, tasting your skin. “How about the day after that?”

You groaned in frustration. He was making it fucking impossible. “And the day after that. Just don’t stop kissing me,” you whined, bringing his face back to yours for another kiss.

You blinked your eyes rapidly, dismayed to find you weren’t in Jackson’s arms, but still caged inside the grey room. Grasping the ring on your left hand, you spun it around - a nervous tick, but it was vaguely comforting. The ring had been a gift on your first anniversary. Inscribed along the inside of the band were the words, never stop kissing me.

It was the closest Jackson had ever come to confessing his love for you. Slipping the ring on your finger, the finger generally reserved for wedding vows, Jackson had said, “So every man knows you’re spoken for.”

Jinyoung let his gaze fall from your face to your hands, noting how you turned the gold band around your finger to soothe yourself. It was human nature, to cling to something sentimental when under duress.

You noticed where his eyes had fallen and quickly covered your hand. His expression was one of scrutiny and belied interest, and you deflected, “Alright, I told you how we met. Makeout session included. Tell me what you hope to get from that.”

Jinyoung replied without hesitation, “I want to catch him. I want to put him away forever.”

A bitter taste filled your mouth. “I will never help you do that.”

“You already are.”

You blinked.

Jinyoung leaned back in his chair, at ease when he explained, “I can keep you here indefinitely. We wait for him to crawl out of his hole.”

You shook your head vehemently. “He won’t.”

“He won’t trade his life for yours,” Jinyoung questioned, seemingly shocked.

“He…,” you paused with indecision. “I don’t know.”

The cold, hard truth was, you didn’t. There was a part of Jackson’s life he never shared with you. The life that was centered around his powers.

But you knew Jackson took great pride in what he had built. He came from nothing, was told his whole life he would never amount to anything, and he had destroyed all the odds stacked against him. He not only beat the game, he changed it forever.

“You’re in here, ready to give up everything for him,” Jinyoung’s voice faded into the background.

“Am I?” you questioned, lost in your memories.

The first time Jackson made love to you, he revealed himself to you and said something that was burned into your mind forever. The two of you were naked, exposed and vulnerable to the other. So many little nothings had been spoken while endless promises and vows were written into each other’s skin.

Then, in a moment of stillness, Jackson cradled your face and drowned himself in your eyes. He called your name and you stared up at him, hinged on his every word.

“Do you know what they say,” he breathed, chest heaving. “About playing with fire?”

“Are you going to burn me?” you asked him innocently.

“I burn everything I touch,” Jackson told you, filling with sadness. “And only I survive.”

“I’ll be your Phoenix then,” you whispered, bringing your fingers to rake teasingly down his back over the tattoo of the immortal firebird inked into his skin.

Jackson smiled and shifted on top of you to take you again. “You are the closest I will ever get to heaven…”

And you watched in disbelief as the dark brown of his irises turned to scorching red.

Jinyoung called your name. He knew you were somewhere far away in your head.

You blinked through oncoming tears.

“Do you know what he is? Do you have any idea what he’s done? Do you even know what they call him?”

You heard the rumors and read the headlines, just like everyone else. He wasn’t the only one; these men with strange powers. Some said they were harbingers of the end times.

“The Phoenix,” you interjected.

Jinyoung frowned in contempt.

“Because he burns everything and everyone in his path,” you finally confessed. Whatever gets in his way.

“One day, he’ll raze cities to the ground.” Jinyoung’s tongue was a razor. “Did you think you wouldn’t get burned?”

I asked for it, you admitted to yourself. I fell in love with the villain.

Reaching down to pick up the photo still on the table of you swept up in Jackson’s arms, you sighed in acceptance of fate, “Moth to the flame.”

Somewhere out in the night, as Shanghai finally drifted to sleep, Jackson sat in the backseat of his tinted car, gripping the phone so tight he was sure it would snap at any minute.

There would be hell to pay for those that had taken you. Jackson already identified each of them. But in the meantime, he could only sit and think. Getting revenge was easy. Getting you back was considerably harder.

He had to stay ahead of the game. They took you for a purpose. You wouldn’t roll on him, Jackson was sure of that. You would never give them the satisfaction. But they would try to use you as leverage and Jackson couldn’t risk everything he had built. It would make the entire city fall down on top of him.

If he tried to rescue you, then the whole world would know he had a weakness and you would never be safe again for as long as you lived. If he didn’t, then the corrupt cops could put you in the hands of enemies that were much worse to make a bloody example of you.

Jackson grit his teeth. He knew this day would come, when he would finally have to confront his feelings for you. He swore to never let his heart out of its cage, but it had escaped and fled to the palm of your hand. There was a reason he never told you he loved you.

He couldn’t admit it to himself. Love was meant only for humans.

“What do I fucking do?” he cried out in his mother tongue, wringing his hands before hiding his face behind them. He needed you in his arms, needed to hold you again.

But he would lose everything.

The phone chimed and Jackson opened the text.

Call it off. Or she drowns first.

Jackson shook with rage and opened his hand, irises turning crimson as flames appeared on his palm. Then, he closed his fist, snuffing them out.

next chapter →

Hey there, beautiful! If you enjoyed this, please leave a like or reblog or follow me! Or maybe buy me a coffee so I can keep writing? Or check out my masterlist here for more stories! Thanks for reading :) - Katya

This work is fictional and for entertainment purposes only, but is licensed and protected under a creative commons attribution-noncommercial-noderivatives 4.0 international license. Any instances of plagiarism will be dealt with accordingly. Do not re-post or translate without my permission.

{ copyright 2018-2020 © ahgaseda // all rights reserved }

[ravnicaforgoblins]

Ravnica for Goblins

Laws of the Guildpact

Laws are a big deal in most worlds. On Ravnica, laws are literally the only thing preventing ten massive armies of Sphinx, Angels, Demons, Lich, Elementals, Giants, Wizards, Ghosts, Nightmares, and Kaiju from tearing each other apart in perpetual war. How is this possible? It’s possible because the Guildpact is not just words on flimsy paper. Guildpact Laws are Unbreakable Magical Effects. When all ten Guilds agreed to the Guildpact, they granted it absolute power.

How and why would many of the more evil and chaotic Guilds agree to something like this? Because Ravnica’s Guildpact is designed not only to account for each and every Guild’s lifestyle, but to empower it. There are laws that protect necromancy, laws that protect human experimentation, laws that protect torture, laws that protect murder, and laws that actually protect breaking the law. In addition to laws protecting peaceful citizens and law enforcement officials.

How can any civilization function like this? Balance. You may not be able to arrest a Dimir Agent for stealing, but you can absolutely break their face in. The goal of Ravnica’s laws is to preserve all ways of life for the Guilds, for better & for worse. Within your Guild’s set legal parameters, you are not just free but empowered to carry out that lifestyle. That lifestyle is written into the laws and protected by them. Which is why the single most important law is that you’re not allowed to punish a Guild member for obeying the Guildpact.

This is the most important law, but also the law that ended up destroying the Guildpact. House Dimir’s duty is literally to oppose the Guildpact, so when their Parun decided to kill the Boros Parun in broad daylight and got arrested by a Boros Wojek, the system kinda broke itself. Punishing a Guild for obeying the Guildpact by disobeying the Guildpact, resulting in: Error.4 *does not compute*

Fast-forward to the days of Jace Beleren as the Living Guildpact, and the laws have changed somewhat. The only laws that are still magically binding are the laws Jace verbally confirms. Once he does that, the person he says it to need only speak the law aloud and it’s an instantly unbreakable magical effect.

Now comes the tricky, difficult, infuriating part. For being so vitally important to Ravnican life, we don’t actually know what most, or really almost any, of the laws are. How are players supposed to utilize the effects of written laws if they don’t actually exist? Why didn’t WotC release an official Guildpact? That’s because a document that can actually encompass everything the Guildpact is theoretically supposed to be able to do would be an absolutely massive undertaking for a Card Game Company that doesn’t really need it for their card game, just for those of us playing D&D in their setting. Furthermore, even if they did put in the work, create a document, and release it; the internet (that’s us!) would tear it apart for flaws & loopholes. The internet would give the Orzhov, the Dimir, and the Rakdos a run for their money. Hence WotC doesn’t want to do this because it’s literally just a recipe for self-defeat, migraines, and disaster.

So instead, they give us little bits here & there. Promotional materials, card flavor texts, character stories, etc. Here is pretty much everything I’ve been able to gather that is either an Official Guildpact Law, references Law Magic, sounds close enough to Law Magic, or even just sounds true enough to the spirit of a Guild’s core beliefs to be potentially acceptable for invoking Guildpact Magic:

General Laws

*Petty theft is a violation of personal property with a charge dependent on judicial ruling. (Family Values)

*In consonance with the New Accord of the Guild of Ravnica, you are granted the right of exposure and are obligated by duty to present your evidence of financial corruption to the Living Guildpact. (Family Values)

*The Living Guildpact rules that coffee is an acceptable substitution for rest, as specified in subsection . . . whatever. (Catching Up)

*The magic of the Guildpact gives aegis to the spirits pressed into its service. Upon entering the afterlife, they find new focus and are charged with defending the Guildpact against those who would see it broken. (Guardian of the Guildpact)

Azorius Senate

*You have the right to remain silent. (Azorius Arrester)

*Your potential to commit a crime warrants further investigation. (Azorius Justiciar)

*To prevent action is to prevent transgression. (Inaction Injunction)

*We have confiscated your spells as evidence. Once we conclude our investigation, you may petition to have them returned. (Render Silent)

*Thanks to the magic in his Writ of Passage, alms beasts lumbered aside, anarchs bowed their heads, and even Rakdos acrobats rolled their spikewheels out of his way. (Azorius Knight-Arbiter)

*....A clause that ties the average length of prison sentences to recidivism rates. Theoretically, we could end up having negative-term sentences should the rate fall low enough.... Referenced an ancient Azorius Law, 394-H. (The Ascension of Reza)

*Azorius Law 3455-J: Failure to submit proper identification will result in detention for an indefinite amount of time. (The Ascension of Reza)

*If it happened in the Thinktank, I'm afraid we have no jurisdiction there. (The Ascension of Reza)

*Azorius Law 2795-V, Non-compliance with arresters.... (The Ascension of Reza)

*Azorius Law 3343-J, Traveling in a stolen vehicle.... (The Ascension of Reza)

*By the prerogative writ of emergency, and by a unanimous vote, I hereby declare Hendrik Azmerak Grand Arbiter pro tem of the Thinktank Enclave. As the leader of your people, do I have your permission to put the following law into effect? (The Ascension of Reza)

*To be Azorius is to serve as an exemplary model of moral conduct. (Azorius Guild Kit Instruction)

*Always keep your uniform pressed and your armor polished, in accordance with Regulation 654.2, Part 87, Section 28. (Azorius Guild Kit Instruction)

*Should you witness a criminal act, signal the Sky Hussars immediately and begin documenting the occurrence and details of the crime scene. (Azorius Guild Kit Instruction)

Boros Legion

*Your brother’s crimes are your crimes. You stood by and lent support, so you too must face judgement. (Wojek Embermage)

*It promises protection to those in need and proclaims a warning to any who would threaten Ravnican law. (Boros Guildgate)

*Stand tall. Even your posture should embody justice! (Boros Guild Kit Instruction)

*Act with honor, in all things. (Boros Guild Kit Instruction)

*Protect the innocent, at any cost. (Boros Guild Kit Instruction)

*You are never truly off-duty. Evil never rests! (Boros Guild Kit Instruction)

*Stay in top physical condition. (Boros Guild Kit Instruction)

*If you see evil, crush it. (Boros Guild Kit Instruction)

House Dimir

*All those who trade in questions must answer to the Dimir. (Citywatch Sphinx)

*Welcome to the Dimir Public Offices. Not responsible for death or loss of property. Basement off-limits. (Dinrova Horror)

*Do not disclose your affiliations with REDACTED (Dimir Guild Kit Instruction)

*Extract knowledge whenever possible. (Dimir Guild Kit Instruction)

*No fact is unimportant. (Dimir Guild Kit Instruction)

*Always REDACTED. Never REDACTED. (Dimir Guild Kit Instruction)

*Be invisible, silent, and ethereal. (Dimir Guild Kit Instruction)

*Know every exit from any building. it could save your life. (Dimir Guild Kit Instruction)

Golgari Swarm

*Waste nothing. Seek value in what they discard. (Golgari Guild Kit Instructions)

*Death is no excuse to abandon your responsibilities. (Golgari Guild Kit Instructions)

*Take pride in the decay that fuels our kingdom. (Golgari Guild Kit Instructions)

*Fear neither Death nor Darkness. They can be your greatest allies. (Golgari Guild Kit Instructions)

*You are now a part of the Swarm. Every action you take should serve the interests of the Guild, so that we may all rise together. (Golgari Guild Kit Instructions)

Gruul Clans

*We are the heart of the wild, the fire in its eyes, and the howl in its throat. Come, join the battle to which you were born. (Gruul War Chant)

*Nature is the ultimate mindless destroyer, capable of power and ferocity no army can match, and the Gruul follow its example. (Savage Twister)

*They are the voice of the wild, crying out with nature’s fury and bringing forth its primeval might. (Wild Cantor)

*Enter and leave the shackles of society behind. (Gruul Guildgate)

*Burn. Smash. Fight. Win. (Gruul Guild Kit Instructions)

Izzet League

*The only action worth taking is one with an unknown outcome. (Nivix Guildmage)

*Erase “impossible” from your vocabulary. (Izzet Guild Kit Instructions)

*Strive to discover something NEW every day! The point of science is not to endlessly confirm what is known- it is to map the barriers of reality to better demolish them. (Izzet Guild Kit Instructions)

Orzhov Syndicate

*Article 12 of the Orzhovniha, a governing person of Orzhov recognition may be granted entrance to the Obzedat's Chamber with proof of identity. (Family Values)

*Entrance is free. Donations are required. (Syndic of Tithes)

*Alms coins are only redeemable at Orzhov businesses. (Alms Beast)

*The fine print of countless contracts has ensured we are never defenseless. (Immortal Servitude)

*The rights of ghosts are strictly protected under Orzhov bylaws, and those who enforce them can count on the ghosts’ assistance. (Imperious Oligarch)

*Pay in gold. Pay in blood. Pay with the servitude of your spirit kin But pay you must. (Pitiless Pontiff)

*We have no need for military might. We wield two of the sharpest swords ever forged: Faith in our left hand, Wealth in our right. (Castigate)

*Remember by whose gift you ascend. (Gift of Orzhova)

Cult of Rakdos

*If the pig’s blood drips on you, you’re next on the chain. (Gore-House Chainwalker)

*Never suffer alone. That’s selfish. Pain is meant to be shared with others! (Rakdos Guild Kit Instructions)

*Revel in your pain, in all pain, for it is freedom! No wound compares to the suffering of a dull, law-abiding life. (Rakdos Guild Kit Instructions)

*Make a grand spectacle of your pain, and play to your audience! If they aren’t screaming, laughing, or both, your performance has failed. (Rakdos Guild Kit Instructions)

*Blood and fire look good on everyone. And make excellent decorations. (Rakdos Guild Kit Instructions)

*Always be creative, especially in your bloodiest ventures. New modes of carnage delight the Lord of Riots, and it is wise to seek his favor. (Rakdos Guild Kit Instructions)

Selesnya Conclave

*So many oppose us, but we are the reed that bends without breaking. (Druid’s Deliverance)

*From the seeds of faith, great forests grow. (Scatter the Seeds)

*Within the song of Mat’Selesnya, one becomes all. (Camaraderie)

*No one in the Conclave acts alone. (Armada Wurm)

*Just as leaves fall and the tree blooms again, one day I will fall and the Conclave will endure. (Conclave Cavalier)

*Whatever hatred destroys, a single act of trust can revive. (Emmara, Soul of the Accord)

*We are the shield that never breaks, the bough that never burns, the song that can never be silenced. (Join Shields)

*When you hold a shield, lend your shield. (Privileged Position)

*There are no soloists in the chorus of Selesnya. (Trostani, Selesnya’s Voice)

*Enter and rejoice! The Conclave stands united, open to one and all. (Selesnya Guildgate)

Simic Combine

*Life has no mistakes, only experiments. (Skitter Eel)

*Within each of us, the potential for great power waits to be unleashed. (Sauroform Hybrid)

*Look beyond, to the vascular awareness that all life is a map to greater knowledge. (Momir Vig, Biomancy, Volume I) (Biomantic Mastery)

*As I contemplate what is, I dive ever deeper into the depths of possibility. Then I set an experiment in motion and watch the truth rise to the surface. (Gyre Engineer)

*Fruits of magic, roots in science. (Vigean Hydropon)

*The unnatural pressures of life in this city are best withstood by lifeforms that adapt with unnatural swiftness. (Novigen, Heart of Progress)

*Mystery is beauty. Within the unknown we plumb revelation. (Simic Guildgate)

*Analyze every living thing you see, from the smallest tadpole to the mightiest dragon. Each one holds unique secrets of life, ready to be unlocked through careful study. (Simic Guild Kit Instructions)

*Modification of another’s body without their express permission will not be tolerated. (Simic Guild Kit Instructions)

*Learn to see the patterns all around you; let them illuminate truths that transcend species. (Simic Guild Kit Instructions)

*When you study a life form, identify its weaknesses, then eliminate them. (Simic Guild Kit Instructions)

[some-kindofgnome]

Kinktober Thirty-One

On Halloween night, at a costume party on the edge of town, you find a Lost Boy to keep you company.

Characters: Mirio Togata x f!Reader

Warnings: smut (18+ please!) aged-up characters, vampire Mirio, drinking, mentions of smoking, blood, vampirism, deception, a little bit of mindfuckery and manipulation.

Notes: This is it, folks! Day thirty-one of Kinktober is here and with it, a very special little Halloween fic. Today’s prompt was “Dressed Up,” which I sort of did but also sorta didn’t.

This one is a little bit longer than my usual Kinktober fare, (~3.4k) but hopefully it’ll be worth the ride. It’s also, in the spirit of Halloween, a little on the darker side, so please do heed the warnings and don’t be afraid to skip this one if spooky stuff isn’t your thing.

This hmmmm didn’t show up in the tags when I posted it this aft (even though I couldn’ve sworn it did :C) soooo reuploading! gotta love tumblr

Kinktober Masterlist

It’s a bright, cold, clear Halloween night, and the parties are in full swing.

You’re at the only decent bar in town. Just like every other joint within a hundred-mile radius, tonight they’re throwing a costume party. Originally, you showed up with a friend, but she’s long gone now- drifted off with some punk sporting a chintzy werewolf costume. Ears covered in plastic fur, limp tail dangling from the back of his coat.

Whatever. At least she managed to find something fun to do.

You’re dressed like an angel, in a delicate white slip with feathered wings spreading from your back. In lieu of a real halo you’re wearing a dainty silver circlet. You’re sipping punch- pumpkin punch, says the chalkboard signs pinned up all over the bar- but to you, it tastes like vodka and orange-dyed sugar.

At least you can confirm it’s alcoholic.

You don’t recognize the song that’s thrumming through the rented, oversized party speakers, but it’s sort of catchy. You’re tapping your foot to the beat- or maybe you’re just jonesing- when there’s a lull in the surge of the crowd and you see him.

He’s a complete stranger to you- a rare commodity, in your isolated little town. He seems to tower above the other patrons, standing a head taller than most of the men on the dance floor. It’s humid and sticky inside the crowded party, but he’s wearing a leather jacket with the collar popped. His hair is a shock of mussed gold, and you almost miss the glint of a dangly earring in his right lobe.

He’s got something red smeared across one corner of his mouth. Fake blood, maybe? You’d like to find out.

His eyes are dark and deep. You know they are, because he’s staring intently at you, right across the party. Like he’s spotted you through the skulls of the crowd that separates you. Your gaze is drawn by his steady eyes. It feels like he’s not even blinking when you share a look.

You glance away. But he’s still looking- you can feel the pull of his gaze like a magnet. You lift your syrupy punch to your lips as you drag your eyes to the opposite side of the room.

No dice. When you look across at him again, he’s still there. Still looking.

The crowd passes between you. And when you find that empty spot on the bar, heavy disappointment settles into your gut. That’s what you get for wanting a little excitement.

“Hey.”

The low, unfamiliar rumble of a voice directly behind you shocks the base of your spine. You whip around with the weight of your wings bobbing against their elastic shoulder straps.

He’s even taller than you realized up close. His eyes still have that dark edge to them, but he’s grinning now. That’s not an expression you might have imagined him capable of, given the solemn way he’d stared across the bar at you.

His teeth are immaculate. He seems entirely flawless. You’re pretty sure you could cut your fingers on the sharp corners of his jaw.

“Vampire,” you quip, homing in on the smudge beneath his lip. “Very original.”

It’s definitely supposed to be fake blood. The leather jacket and dangly earring might not be a dead giveaway to anybody else, but it’s working for you.

He slips one hand into the pocket of his jeans, shooting you a low chuckle and a quiet little smirk. He reaches for you- you flinch, wings giving a telltale twitch as your shoulders bob. He catches the edge of one synthetic feather between his fingers and gives it a little rub.

“Almost as original as you, angel,” he teases. You can’t bring yourself to roll your eyes.

There’s something about him that makes everything feel more sincere than usual. He’s got an easygoing, sunny disposition, but he’s intoxicating to look at. The closer you stand, the headier you feel.

You put your cup down on the bar behind you, having had more than your fair share of vodka-with-orange-Jello-crystals Halloween punch.

“So, angel,” the vampire sighs. Both hands are in his pockets now, forcing you to come to terms with the broadness of his chest. He’s built like a brick wall, but it’s all firm muscle underneath his tight t-shirt.

Your chest goes tight as he digs one palm out of his pocket, extending it to you.

“How ‘bout a dance?”

You can’t turn him down. You can’t say anything, since your voice has died somewhere in the cavity of your chest. All you can do is give a muted little nod and slide your fingers into his.

His palm is devastatingly smooth and brisk to the touch. It’s impossible to picture anything cool at all, stuck under the relentless lights of the bar and crowded among so many sweaty, polyester-clad partygoers.

When he pulls you onto the floor, his body trickles over yours like water.

He holds you so delicately, and yet pulls you so close. Lifts your hands between his palms-massive- and draws you in by the waist.

You’d dare to say he’s graceful, dancing to the uneven beat of The Time Warp and Thriller and a half-dozen other songs that are only catchy through the month of October. His leather jacket is supple and soft beneath your touch, and you’re happy to finger the sleeves, grip the lapels as you sway and swirl.

He doesn’t pull his eyes from you once. Again, you’re overcome by that strange sensation. Like he hasn’t blinked the whole time. You can’t quite bring yourself to be freaked out by it.

“So,” you gasp, breathless and sweating by the time the music dulls enough to warrant conversation. “It’s not every day you meet a guy who can dance like that. You gonna tell me where you picked up your tricks?”

He laughs. It’s a rich, full sound, but musical. Enchanting. You’re spellbound by everything about him.

He seems entirely too good to be true. You’re just waiting to find out how.

“Practice,” he gushes, slipping a hand under your chin. You’re smiling. You’re woozy. He’s drawing you in.

He kisses you, so soft and unassuming you’re surprised he didn’t ask your permission first. His lips are as cool as his hands are, fresh and soft like a smooth mountain lake.

You dive in.

You kiss him back as best you can, twining your arms around his neck and letting him drag you close. The longer he kisses you, the hazier you feel, but there’s a taste of something on his tongue that you can’t quite figure out, and you’re determined to find out what it is.

Your vampire tangles his fingers in your hair and wrenches your mouth to his. He kisses you harder, bruisingly so, sucking and biting at your lower lip and pulling away, garishly wiping the back of his palm across his mouth.

“Come home with me,” he croons. He could have asked anything of you. Your response would have been the same.

You turn a vacant, woozy stare to him with the sound of his voice swimming in your ears. Your eyelashes bat heavily. You smile.

“Okay.”

He takes you to find your jacket, thrown over a stool somewhere. You shrug out of your wings and tuck them tightly against your chest. When you do, he eyes you with a sideways little grin.

“Damn,” he teases. “I thought those were real.”

You duck out of the place with his arm slung around your shoulders like he knows you.

The cold outside does nothing to sober you, but full moon is so bright, the cars in the parking lot cast stark shadows across the gravel. So bright, the light of the stars is drowned by it.

He leads you to a shiny Harley, parked in the last spot next to the grass.

“Whoa.”

Your vampire turns, eyebrow cocked. You realize you said that out loud. You also realize that you’ve never actually been on a motorcycle before.

“That… that’s yours?” You ask dumbly. He smirks, and your stomach goes icy.

“Hop on.”

He produces a glossy black helmet from somewhere along the bike’s gunmetal chassis and passes it to you. You slip it down over your head. The thick padding pushes your circlet painfully against your forehead. You’re sure it won’t be a long ride, though.

He stoops, reaching for your throat. For an instant you flinch, but as his fingertips brush the underside of your chin, you realize what he’s doing. You flush with heat.

He buckles the strap securely beneath your chin, making sure it’s tightened properly. His flaxen lashes give a little flutter as he finds your eyes, and he gives the side of the helmet an affectionate little tap.

You swing one leg over the rear of the bike seat as he climbs on in front of you. The leather presses cold and firm between your bare thighs. You slide a hand self-consciously over your back, making sure your dress gets tucked underneath your pelvis.

All good.

“Hold on tight,” he prompts, kicking the bike off its stand and starting the engine with a noisy rumble. You fall forward against his solid back- stronger than you anticipated- and wrap your arms firmly around his waist.

Your heart beats low and warm against his back, so solid you’re sure he can hear it. He peels out of the parking lot and onto the empty highway, and you close your eyes, warm and dark in the safety of your massive helmet.

There’s something immensely thrilling about the way the wind whips past your legs and through your clothing. It occurs to you just how stupid you are, climbing onto the back of a motorcycle with a man whose name you don’t even know.

Holy shit. You don’t even know his name.

When he pulls into the parking lot of the Day ‘n Night Motel on the edge of the highway, you don’t think to ask.

“This doesn’t look like home,” you brush. You fumble to get the strap of your helmet undone and tug it straight off your head. Your halo comes with it, bouncing across the pavement and rolling to a stop at his feet.

“It’s home for now,” he replies as he stoops. He picks the silver circlet up in both hands and presents it to you like a crown. You take it, self-conscious but not quite unsettled. There’s something about him that doesn’t seem to let you get that far.

He takes you up to the second floor and unlocks a door somewhere along the middle, shouldering it inwards. You feel a strange sort of comfort as you step over the threshold. You glance behind you, like the rest of the world might have been swallowed up as soon as you followed him.

But it’s still there. It even stays when you nudge the door closed behind you.

The curtains are drawn tightly shut, but he leaves you to throw them open now, letting silvery moonlight spill through the dirty glass like mercury.

“Let me have you,” he rasps as he comes back to you. He’s shrugging out of his jacket- his arms are way bigger than you anticipated- and he’s pulling you tightly to him. “Let me have you, let me taste you, let me wreck you, angel.”

“Okay,” you gasp. The only word you seem to manage with him around.

He kisses you just like he did at the bar, tight and urgent and needy and bruising. He walks you toward the bed, laying you down in a stark, gentle contrast to the rough way he’s kissing you.

Your coat’s fallen open and he helps you out of it, letting the fabric spread beneath you like a cloak. He doesn’t waste time at all- kissing his way down the curve of your jaw and pushing his palms under the hem of your dress.

Your skin is chilled from the wind, but it warms quickly beneath his cold fingers. You part your legs and he snags the top of your panties, tugging them harshly down your thighs. He discards them quickly and comes back to you, burying his face into the apex of your thighs.

“Oh!”

His tongue is surprisingly cool as he swipes it along your slit, but he’s gentle and attentive with his mouth, and you tangle your fingers eagerly into his mussed hair. Your pinky brushes over the edge of his pointy little earring as it bobs against his neck, and you let your head fall back against the mattress so you can lose yourself in the pleasure he offers you.

He braces icy palms against your thighs- sending goosebumps racing up your legs- and keeps his head buried beneath your skirt as he eats you out furiously. His tongue swirls coolly around the nub of your clit, then flicks it deftly.

“Stop,” you gasp, toes curling tightly in the blankets. “Please, I-I’ll…” You trail off. You can’t hold out any longer. But he heeds your warning and draws back from your body, licking his lips garishly.

There’s a carnal glint in his navy gaze that sets your nerves alight as he crawls atop your body. At some point, he’s shed his clothes- you didn’t even see him strip- but he’s wearing only a pair of tight black undershorts, and his cock stands prominently against the front of them, hard and heavy across one thigh.

“Angel,” he rasps, bending over your torso. He nuzzles the crook of your neck, nosing at your pulse point as he nibbles your flesh. For the first time he seems to lose himself, blowing a deep huff over your chest and shivering hard as his hips rock forward into yours.

“Let me feel you. Let me fuck you.” He growls. Unbridled and feral.

You tug furiously at the hem of your dress.

“Take it off,” you insist. He wedges his palms beneath the flimsy fabric, tearing a new slit up the side of the skirt in his haste to get it off you. But you’re not paying attention. You’re consumed by him. Drowned by him. In this moment, he is all you’ve ever needed.

He strips out of his shorts and comes back to you bare, palming the base of his thick shaft. He settles between your thighs and draws a thumb up your slit. Your body sings. You gasp.

A dull chill settles over your body as he lines himself up.

He slides home in one easy stroke, composed all over again as you fall to pieces beneath him. As he starts to fuck you- smooth, steady, easy- he gives you nothing more than soft huffs of effort. He’s thick and stretches you well, but his body seems to flow in and out of yours like a river. His touch spreads cool relief through your gut.

“There you go, angel,” he rumbles into your ear. He braces a hand on your belly, rutting into you and letting the gentle slap of your flesh punctuate every thrust.

Beneath him, you’re a mess. The pleasure is more than you’re prepared to handle. With every push of his hips, you feel yourself falling deeper and harder. You don’t even know his name, but with him stroking your side so tenderly, it feels like you could love him.

Somewhere along the way, his rhythm shifts. He becomes wild and brutal and relentless, fucking you deep and hard. You relish in the way the bed creaks beneath you. You cling tightly to him, mewling and howling your overstimulated pleasure into the night. Your nails rake hard over his back as you hit your peak with sobs of tight ecstasy.

Your pussy clamps down hard around his cock and he fucks you through it, pushing you further and further until you come apart, a trembling mess in his arms.

With a feral roar he draws himself back from you suddenly, spilling sticky spurts of cum across your belly and over your chest.

Your eyelashes flutter open. He’s staring down at you, cupping your cheek with that same intense look from the bar. You blink, letting your brain swim back to life.

“Your fangs,” you gasp, noticing the sharp glints as they protrude from the underside of his lip. You chuckle. “You never took them off?”

You reach up, thumbing the edge of his jaw. They align seamlessly with the rest of his teeth. The fact that they didn’t pop out on their own is impressive, if a bit strange.

“They’re good,” you confess. “They look real.”

He purses his lips tightly shut and folds his body over yours. He finds the curve of your jaw and nuzzles it. Finds the bare thrum of your pulse point and tongues it. He grins. You feel the sharp point of them against your skin- strong, surprisingly so.

He snarls.

“They are.”

You’re blinded by pain before another thought can cross you. He sinks his fangs into the flesh of your neck and you scream, clinging and clawing at his back. But he’s strong, inhumanly so, and his grip is iron as he grabs your wrists and pins them over your head. He’s patient, holding you fast.

There’s an ecstatic, heady sort of bliss bleeding about the edges of your suffering. You thrash and struggle, but eventually, you succumb to it. It’s sweet and distant and so, so, serene, and as he pulls his fangs from your neck and licks tenderly at the wound, it lingers.

“That’s it, angel,” he sooths. “That’s it. C’mere.”

He slides a hand under your back and lays you properly against the pillows. He smooths his palm over your forehead, tugging the sheets over your bare body. His face is doubled in your vision, but his lips and chin are stained garishly red. His fangs are even longer than before, but his dark gaze is peaceful.

“Sleep for me, angel,” he croons. He smooths your hair, and you’re too far gone not to listen.

When you come to, the room is empty. There’s a motel-issued glass sitting on the nightstand, filled with a thick liquid like raspberry compote.

It’s still dark out. The pain in your neck and shoulder is immense. You bolt upright, remembering all at once where you are. What you’ve seen.

It can’t have been. Your fingertips scrabble over your neck. The wounds are already starting to scar.

So it was.

You climb cautiously out of bed, grabbing your dress and hugging it tightly to his chest. The bathroom door is open and the lights are out, but you poke your head in anyway. He’s not there.

You tug the dress violently over your head. The fabric is split almost to your hip, but your jacket’ll cover it. With your shoes clutched tightly in your hand, you make for the door while you still can.

The filled glass stares from over your shoulder, halting your hand on the knob. You turn slowly toward it. Your limbs go cold.

You know what it is.

That doesn’t stop you from craving it.

You can smell it from here, sweet, rich, irresistible. You lick your dry lips and press your back hard against the door.

It’s not too late. You can leave. Right now. You can make it home, you can call somebody, you can get out.

You’re not going to.

In two strong steps, you cross the room. You grab the glass so quickly and so firmly that it cracks in your hand, but it does not shatter.

The blood of your vampire is just as sweet as you’d hoped. You take long, desperate gulps, draining the glass in an instant and swiping your palm across your stained mouth.

The door to the room sweeps open behind you. With the empty glass in your hand you whip around to face it, paralyzed and half-caught in desperate bliss.

“Angel,” he purrs. He smooths a hand over his hair and kicks the door shut with a hollow thud. He grins wickedly at you, setting ice and cool, firm desire into the deepest reaches of your heart.

“I’m so glad you decided to join me.”

[tuanhood]

rumor

pairing: kim yugyeom x reader

genre: smut, enemies to lovers au (kind of)

warnings: 18+, public oral sex (female receiving), cursing

word count: 5k+

summary: the bane of your existence, kim yugyeom who has been bothering you consistently for the past 6 months comes to find you in the library, because well... he heard something.

a/n: keeping it going with the smut i GUESS. my russian mother would literally die if she knew i was doing this instead of writing my dissertation. :) this is barely edited but go easy on me OK. 

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Here you were. Another Thursday night in the library, endlessly highlighting the printed-out text in front of you. Your eyes shifted towards the other portion of the table you were sat at. It was filled with papers by students from the course you were TAing for and its placement in front of you was another overwhelming reminder of the work you had to accomplish before the weekend. A thought occurred to you that maybe it was worth it to take a break before you really got into grading, but as you glanced at your phone for the first in what felt like hours, you realized there was no time for a break if you wanted to finish everything on time. 

It wasn’t always like this, you used to have fun, but as time passed and you went on in your collegiate career, there was more time for work and less time for play. You wanted to say a big fuck you to your friend Mark and his “work hard, play hard” motto, because who the hell could do both equally and not ruin their life? 

Just as you were about to text Mark and ask him for 500 words on how his life mantra could be applicable to literally anyone, you heard heavy footsteps coming from somewhere on the floor of the library you occupied and it was almost as if your comfortable atmosphere shifted. As the footsteps grew closer, your body tensed up in preparation for the interruption you felt that you were about to endure. 

“Shove it Yugyeom,” you said without looking up at the tall boy. Kim Yugyeom had bothered you so much in the past 6 months that you practically had a sixth sense for whenever he was within distance. 

“Dude, why are you so mean to me?” 

Sighing, you pinched the bridge of your nose in frustration, “how many times do I have to tell you that just because our moms are friends, doesn’t mean we are.”

He pulled a chair from the table and flipped it with the back facing you, plopping down, his arms folded on the chair’s back. “Okay but the reason I’m here is actually really important.” 

Knowing Yugyeom and judging on his insistent tone, you knew it wasn’t actually going to be important. The two of you had known each other most of your lives because of your respective mother’s being lifelong friends. You had always wondered what it must have been like for them, having such a strong bond of friendship that they would make it a pact to have children at the same time and force them into being friends. Unfortunately for them neither of those things really happened – your mother became pregnant with you and it wasn’t until two years later that Yugyeom’s mother followed. However, despite the small age gap, they still tried to manufacture a friendship between the two of you. By the time you were thirteen, they gave up. 

For months Yugyeom had been finding you on campus and was constantly bothering you with things that he deemed to be paramount, but instead were things such as “what bedding do you think I should get?” or “hey are you going to your mom’s birthday party? Should we carpool?” Obviously, you would be going to your own mother’s party, so why did he have to ask you? All of his questions, comments or concerns, could easily be discussed over text, but for some reason he had to come find you in person. Every. Single. Time. 

At first you blamed it on his age and innocence. He was two years younger than you and his common appearance in your life with things that were “important,” probably had to do with his adjustment to university life. You were the only person he knew, so it was a given that he would come to you with questions or in need of advice. But after 6 months and the large friend group Yugyeom had grown on campus – you knew that had nothing do with it. 

Losing your place in your notes, you groaned and looked up at him, realizing as long as he was in your presence you wouldn’t be able to get any work done, “what is it Yugyeom? What could be so important that you had to come bother me yet again.” 

You noticed Yugyeom cower back a bit at your annoyed tone, clearly striking some kind of nerve within him and it almost made you feel regretful on how you’ve treated him lately. It was certainly much worse than you had been with him in your childhood. 

He clicked his tongue as if signaling that he meant business, “well… I came to ask about a rumor.” 

The order of business that brought Yugyeom into your midst today immediately made you let out a snort from your mouth. He still didn’t understand what “important” meant, even after all this time. You especially didn’t pay any mind to what was or wasn’t going on with Yugyeom’s little friends. Rolling your eyes, you picked up your forgotten highlighter and put it back on the page, you predicted that this visit couldn’t last much longer. “I really don’t care about what’s going on with lower classmen.” 

“It’s not about anyone in my year… It’s about you.” 

You paused, dropping the tool in your hand, once again forgotten, wondering if you had misheard him. Campus was full of hundreds – probably thousands of students more interesting than you. Nothing you’d ever done could be warranted as interesting enough to be circulated throughout campus whether real or not. “Excuse me?” 

“I heard a rumor about you.” And a rumor that was widespread enough that it could somehow make it to Yugyeom? You were certain that he had to be mistaken. 

His eyes looked around the room. You noticed they wandered to the sheets of paper in front of you, your hands and the shelves of books surrounding the table. He licked his lips before speaking to gain confidence before he continued on, “I want to know if it’s true.” 

Usually conversations with Yugyeom contained a lot of back and forth. There was never this much air that left room for thoughtful pauses or awkward silence. It had always been him asking random things or making comments that led to you snapping at him. This time you weren’t really sure what to say. Being so perplexed by the encounter and why he was concerned about a rumor regarding you, left you unsure of how to respond. 

“It’s about you and Park Jinyoung. I want to know if it’s true,” Yugyeom bit his bottom lip so hard, you thought he would draw blood. 

Blankly, you blinked at him, wondering why anyone would be fixated about you and Jinyoung, “first I kind of have to know what the rumor about the two of us is.” 

“Ugh I knew it,” Yugyeom narrowed his eyes at you, and it’s perhaps the first time you’d seen him show any kind of negative emotion. Even after all of your countless ignoring and bitter words towards him in the past, he would always maintain the same bright smile and puppy dog look in his eyes. It was something you actually admired about him. 

“Knew what? I didn’t say anything! I’m asking you what you heard. What the rumor is!” You whisper shouted, in an effort to remind yourself that you were in the library after all. 

“If it wasn’t true you would have just denied it!” Yugyeom insisted. 

Now it was your turn to be angry, through clenched teeth you asked him, “what the fuck is your problem?” 

He stood up briskly and the chair shook from his sudden stance, “you fucking Park Jinyoung, that’s my problem.” You widened your eyes at him, especially since you had hadn’t really ever heard Yugyeom curse, “what?” 

“People are saying you guys slept together.” 

His words caused you to freeze up for a moment, but you felt a need to play it off, to not show your hand. “Yugyeom… Jinyoung and I TA for the same intro Lit class. That’s it. People like to create drama… especially if it’s about their superiors.” The way you defended yourself made the hair on the back of your neck stand up. Ultimately, you had no reason to explain anything to this guy who wasn’t even classified as an acquaintance to you. Kim Yugyeom had no real place in your life. “And why does it matter to you? I can sleep with whoever I want… Not that it’s any of your business or anyone else’s.” 

For some reason you found yourself unable to look up at him. It felt different then the times you simply avoided his gaze as a method of ignoring him in the hopes he would leave. This time you felt just nauseous. First you were being defensive with him and now you felt too nervous to look at him? What was wrong with you? “So, it’s true then, huh?” 

At his words, you sighed, lifting your eyes up slowly to finally look at him again. For a moment, the thought entered your mind to lie and you had to shake the delusion out of your head. Why lie to him? You had nothing to hide, nothing to be ashamed about… and yet why did it cross your mind to be dishonest with Yugyeom, as if to shield him from it? Before you could regretfully change your mind, you responded, “yes, I slept with Jinyoung, but it was literally forever ago. We’re just friends. I don’t understand why it’s even coming up now.” 

It surprised you when you noticed his hands had clenched into fists at his side and you tried to conjure up something in your brain that could explain why he cared about this so much. Your heart pained a little from his aggression and you wondered if you were going to start wondering why you care so much about this. 

“Why do you care?” You asked, rolling your eyes to put on an act of nonchalance. 

“It’s embarrassing!” 

“Why the hell is it embarrassing?” 

His fists finally unclenched and he threw them down in annoyance at your question, as if you were supposed to be able to read his mind. He answered you as if his reasoning was the most obvious thing in the world, “my friends keep teasing me about it!” You couldn’t help but notice the way he whined at the end of his sentence, like a small child being annoyed about finishing their food. 

“Yugyeom… I don’t think I’m following. Why does who I do or don’t sleep with embarrassing for you?” 

“Because…” he took a deep breath in as if contemplating whether he should go on and there was a long pause before he continued, “because it’s embarrassing that this is going around about someone I like.” 

Shock washed over the features on your face. This was it? This was the reason why he had been acting so ridiculous? You certainly weren’t expecting that. “You have feelings for Jinyoung? I-I’m sorry Yugyeom, but I swear it’s in the past… and if it makes you feel any better it wasn’t even that good of-” He cut you off briskly not wanting to hear where you had been going with the thought.

“No, I don’t like Jinyoung.” He rolled his eyes out of frustration at your lack of understanding. 

“Then I don’t know what you’re talk-” this time you cut yourself off when your brain finally caught up to the rest of you. If he didn’t like Jinyoung... that meant he likes the other person in the rumor… and that other person in the rumor was in fact you. Which meant that Yugyeom must like… 

“Me? You like me?” Your voice got higher, a nervous habit that continued to grow whenever you were in a stressful situation. A situation you couldn’t easily see the conclusion of. 

Judging on Yugyeom’s gaze, one could say that the conversation didn’t faze him – that he was confident even, but as you glanced down, you were met with the fidgeting and shuffling of his feet. “Yeah. I do, so what?” 

After all this time and after everything you had said or done to him, he still liked you? 

You looked back up to his face and saw the hard and cold exterior he tried to put up between the two of you. He was attempting to make it seem like he didn’t care. That putting his feelings for you out in the open and holding his heart out in front of you was no big deal. You knew from knowing Yugyeom from all these years that this was no simple feat for him. You knew he was probably shaking inside, nervous and afraid of the rejection that he had expected to come from you. He had put on an act, because he thought that’s what you wanted and because he didn’t want to show you his true feelings when the hurt that he knew was coming finally came. 

You studied his face for a moment, his features and glimpsed into his eyes that you knew would hold how he really felt. 

Yugyeom felt the silence between the two of you get heavier and heavier with every moment that passed. He felt uncomfortable and he just wanted you to tell him what he knew he was probably going to hear from you. “I bet I’m ten times better than Park Jinyoung,” Yugyeom mumbled quietly to himself, clearly not meaning for you to hear it, but hear it you did. 

His words shocked you and you felt a nervous flip in your stomach, but the good kind. For some reason you couldn’t help but think back to Mark’s stupid motto as you looked Yugyeom up and down, checking him out. Before you could process what, you were doing, you began to gather all of your things on the table without a word to Yugyeom. When you were finally done you saw the panic in his face as he wondered if you were just going to leave him without a word. Instead you surprised him, placing your backpack in one hand and you grabbed his hand with the other, “follow me.” 

He didn’t move and you almost fell back against him at his pull, “where are we going?” 

“You’ll see come on,” you rolled your eyes at him and tugged him forward once again towards the stairwell of the library. Both of you climbed the stairs in silence, and you found yourself grateful that he followed you. It was difficult for you to understand what it was about the situation that had you more nervous – that he had come with you or that you were doing this at all. 

When you finally reached the fifth floor you led him through various stacks of books and multiple rows of shelves until you were both in the back corner of the floor. You stopped in between two shelves and he glanced around the books surrounding you, “why are we in medieval literature?” he asked.

“Because no one ever comes up here.” 

He blinked quickly, not understanding your reasoning for bringing him up multiple flights of stairs to be amongst more dusty books. 

“And there are no security cameras up here,” you continued, hoping that something would click for him. If it took him much longer to figure out what you were trying to communicate, you were afraid you might lose your confidence in doing this. You tapped your foot lightly against the ground, “so are you going to show me?” 

“Show you what?” He asked completely oblivious. At this point, he was just grateful that you hadn’t kicked his ass after he had confessed to you. He had to be honest with himself, he hadn’t come to find you expecting to tell you about his feelings for you. He thought they had been clear from the beginning, but after the third or fourth time you had reacted negatively to him appearing in your life during these past 6 months, he figured that you would never see it without him explicitly telling you. And judging on how much you seemed to hate him – he had come to the conclusion that he would never tell you. But after hearing about you and Park Jinyoung from his friend Bambam, he couldn’t stop himself from marching to the one place he knew you would be on Thursday night – the library. 

Yugyeom had always pictured your reaction if he was to tell you about his feelings for you and it always ended with him having a bloody nose, a new bruise or a pain in his foot after you stomped down on it in anger or disgust. The worst part of this situation was that so far you hadn’t done any of these things and for once he didn’t know what to expect when it came to you, somehow that scared him more than being flat out rejected. Wait… maybe you were bringing him up to the isolated section of the library to do your damage and hit him? 

“Jesus fucking Christ Yugyeo-” You cut yourself short when you noticed your hands had involuntarily thrusted towards him, clenching as if you were about to wring his neck and the way your tone shifted to frustration. Exhaling, you relaxed your hands and put them down, rubbing them against your thighs to calm yourself down. You weren’t trying to be your normal self towards Yugyeom, you were trying something… different. Much different. 

It seemed to you that the only way you’d be able to get Yugyeom to well… get it was spelling it out for him. 

“You said you bet you were ten times better than Jinyoung... so show me.”

Nothing leaves Yugyeom’s mouth in response and he stared at you blankly. Had you read this wrong? Were you embarrassing yourself? At his lack of words, you felt your confidence chip away piece by piece and your face grew hot. 

Then everything seemed to fall into place for Yugyeom as his mind begins to compute the words leaving your soft pink lips that he’s wanted to kiss for so long. He noticed the way that your eyes are no longer fixated on him, and instead begin to look over the place nervously, pretending to find the books around the two of you more interesting. 

Due to the lack of response from Yugyeom, you’re surprised when you he takes a step closer towards you and you feel his hot breath near you just as your eyes became glued to a text about women’s literature in the Middle Ages. 

You looked to his brown eyes which stared at you so deeply you felt as though you’re about to suffocate. Although Yugyeom’s always been much taller than you, you’ve always somehow felt bigger than him – older, wiser and more mature. But for the first time ever, under his hypnotic gaze you felt innocent, small and like all you wanted was for him to take care of you. 

As he took another step forward, you took one back until you’re pressed against the bookshelf, unable to take back your decision, but you could feel that deep inside of you that you didn’t want to. Both his hands went to either side above you on the shelf and he looked down at you, a new lustfulness in his eyes that wasn’t there before. “Is this okay?” 

Nodding your head, you bit your lip to stop the smile that dared to spread across your face and Yugyeom caught it immediately. He brought his right hand down to your hair and brushed some of the strands out of your face softly, “you know… you don’t have to pretend to be this cold, mean person all the time… If you want to feel something, you should just… feel it.” At his final words his hand moved to a permanent position on your cheek as he leaned down to connect your lips together. At first you remained frozen, but as his left-hand slides from the bookshelf to land comfortably at your waist as if it was always meant to be there, you melted into the kiss. Your lips parted and his tongue slipped into your waiting mouth softly, without rush or urgency and somehow that gentleness alone made you feel like all that existed was that softness and the mixing of your breaths. 

The slow, sensual pace that you savored soon began to pick up as Yugyeom deepened the kiss, pushing himself closer to you on the shelf. Your hands that had remained mostly stagnant and at your sides soon began to drift up to run through his hair as if they had a mind on their own. When you first heard him let out a small moan from your tugging on his locks, you felt a fire ignite inside of you that told you that you wanted to hear more. With every tug, Yugyeom’s fingers dug into your hips and soon he let out a sigh of content as his hands moved to rest on your ass. Your lips worked seamlessly together as if it was the missing puzzle piece you never knew you needed. 

“Let me show you something else I can do better than Park Jinyoung,” Yugyeom said through a raspy breath, against your lips. His hands squeezed your ass before they moved around to the button on your jeans to undo them. It feels as though he works in slow motion as he pulled down the zipper and moved his hand inside, slipping them over your panties. His lips still on you and his hand in a place where you never thought you would need him; your breath grew heavier and heavier. 

Your knees buckled as Yugyeom’s fingers suddenly brushed your clit through the thin cloth and he grinned into the kiss as he wrapped his arms around your waist to hold you up. You tried to focus on the feeling of Yugyeom’s fingers rubbing your through your underwear, but soon he withdraws them. You whimpered at the loss of his fingers against you and he gave you one last soft peck before he disconnected his mouth from yours as well. You missed the contact, wanting to make your lips even more swollen than they probably already were. 

Yugyeom chuckled at your needy reaction and he caressed your cheek in a reassuring manner, “don’t worry it’ll be worth it.” 

You grew confused, wondering what his next move would be, but as he crouches down onto his knees in front of you, pulling your jeans and underwear down with him it begins to dawn on you. You felt yourself grow more wet at the thought. 

“I need to taste you,” he practically whined, “let me clean up the mess I made between your legs.” If Yugyeom had said anything remotely close to that in the past, you know you would have smacked him across the face, but instead you felt yourself involuntarily moan, turned on by his words. 

Still leant up against the bookshelf, you spread your legs apart, which was proven difficult with the jeans and underwear around your ankles, but Yugyeom grabbed them in an effort to help you. When you were comfortable and well situated, he settled himself between your parted thighs and grew closer. 

First all you felt was his hot breath on your clit and he softly blew to tease you, as if paying you back for all the countless you shrugged him off. When you let out a whimper that sounded a little too desperate, even for your ears, he decided his short-lived teasing was better off short. He took one last look into your eyes before he leaned in without hesitation. His tongue first gave a slow lap as if savoring your taste, and he let out a groan that made you feel more wet than you already were. Soon he began to pick up the pace and he used the way your hips moved against him and the little sighs coming from your mouth to feel what it was that you like and don’t like. When he sealed his mouth around your clit in a soft suck, your hands instinctually went back to his hair to bring him even closer to you. 

“How do you taste so good,” he mumbled mostly to himself, followed by a noisy kiss and delving into you further. 

A sudden and continuous swirl of his tongue against your clit caused you to let out a loud moan that you couldn’t hold back even with all of the strength in your body. With his lips still attached to your clit and continuing his ministrations, he tapped his fingers on your thighs in an effort to remind you to be quiet. You both may have been in a secluded part of the library, but you were still in the library. 

It was when you really looked down at Yugyeom that you felt as though you were going to combust. For some reason to see the younger boy that you had completely written off for most of your life, and especially the last 6 months, with his mouth on your clit with a look of pure satisfaction on his face made you feel closer to your high. 

His sudden harsh sucking as if he was a man eating his last meal, caused you to lift your hips off against the book shelf and into his face further. 

“Yugyeom…” You moaned out with eyes squeezing themselves shut. Hearing his name fall from your lips in bliss – something he had always wanted and dreamed about – edged him to go even harder and faster, wanting nothing more to see you fall apart before him. 

When he slipped two fingers inside of you, pumping them quickly, with his lips still attached to your core, you began to feel dizzy just at the pleasure. He pulled his mouth away for a moment to watch his fingers sink in and out you, pleased to look up and see how overcome you were with the way he was making you feel. You let out another cry when his fingers curled in you, finding your g-spot with ease. When he reattached himself to your clit and his fingers found that spot in you once again, it all became too much and you felt yourself closer to your climax. You tried to push his face away from you, trying to let him know that you were close. 

“Cum on my face. I want it, I want it all,” he said muffled against your core at your effort to move him away from you. 

At his words and the continual, brutal pace of his tongue and fingers, you felt your hips buck into Yugyeom’s face and yourself clench around his fingers, orgasm washing over you hard. You attempted to keep your moans in, but the feeling you get through out your entire body is too much to contain as you let out a load cry from your release. One of your hands left Yugyeom’s hair to aggressively grip the book shelf behind you, causing a book to fall from the shelf and hit part of Yugyeom’s head and his back on the way down. 

“F-Fuck Yugyeom I’m sor-” He shut you up as he continued to lap at your core, letting you ride out your orgasm as if he was in his own world where a book didn’t just fall on him. 

After a few moments in your own blissed out state and deep breaths with your head against the book shelf, you looked to see Yugyeom getting up off of his knees. His mouth and jaw glistened from you and if he minded how wet your release was, he didn’t show any sign of it. On his way up to stand before you, he lifted your underwear and jeans up your legs. 

He smiled smugly, “not bad for a kid, huh?” 

You shyly looked away from him, feeling like the kid. 

“Yeah whatever, Kim Yugyeom,” You said rolling your eyes, and he catches the smile that was written across your face. When your eyes met again, he stared at you so deeply with so much fondness that you felt yourself grow weak for the second time in the last few minutes. 

Bringing your hand up to gently rest on his cheek, you pulled him in for a kiss, wanting to show him the same pleasure he gave you. He let out a loud groan when your hands reached his jeans in an attempt to unbutton them. 

“Um… hello?” 

You both froze at the voice and broke apart to look at each other in panic.

“Shit,” you whispered to him. 

Yugyeom widened his eyes as if asking you what to do, “don’t look at me!” 

“Is uh… someone there? Or… two someones?” The unknown voice called out into the stacks. The sound of the voice made you feel sick. You didn’t know how long they were there or how much they had heard and especially because you were 90% sure you knew the voice. 

When Yugyeom looked at you again with fear in his eyes, you realized the roles had been reversed once again and you were back to being the older, wiser one out of the two of you. This time however, his look to you for guidance didn’t annoy you as it had in the past. Instead, you felt your stomach flip and it go straight to your core. 

Your eyes wandered to the floor, where you see the piece of literature that fell and hit Yugyeom. Reaching down to grab it, you motioned for Yugyeom to crouch down with you, “okay, on the count of three, you’ll grab my backpack and I’m going to throw this the opposite way. They’ll probably hear it and go look where the noise came from. That’s when we’ll run towards the exit.” 

“Why do I have to carry your backpack?” Yugyeom whined. 

Rolling your eyes, you answered him, “because a gentleman always carries a lady’s things.” “You just want to be the one who throws the book.” 

You shrugged, pretending like he didn’t have you figured out already, “now come on,” both standing back up you nodded at him to signal the beginning of your countdown. 

“One…” you whispered, looking back at Yugyeom who licked his lips in anticipation, “two…” 

You paused hearing footsteps, “three!” you scream whispered at him as you threw the book in the opposite direction, in one of the book stacks, praying you don’t get seen. At the end of the countdown, Yugyeom grabbed your backpack and your free hand, both of you running towards the exit. 

You both practically stumbled down the stairs of the library, unable to contain your laughs as soon as you’re free and on the front steps outside. 

When finally caught your breath from the running and laughter, it dawned on you the events that had just taken place and what you actually just did in the library. “Holy shit… I can’t believe we actually did that. That was kinda fucked up wasn’t it? That we did that in there?”

“You said no one goes into the Medieval Lit section!” Yugyeom complained as soon as he’s caught his breath. 

You bit your lip and nervously looked at him, “Well for the most part no one really does! There’s only one person I know of that does…” 

“Who?” 

“Park Jinyoung.” 

He let out a snort, “I can’t believe you.” 

You shoved Yugyeom lightly, “It’s not like I knew he would show up!” At your words he pulled you towards him and close enough until his mouth brushed your ear, “I bet you wanted him to catch us. You dirty girl.” 

With widened eyes and once again turned on by none other than Kim Yugyeom you moved away from him gently and take his hand in yours, “come on.” 

“Where are we going?” He asked for the second time of the night.

“My place. I have something I want to show you,” You answered him, attempting to pull him forward again. “Oh and what’s that?” He had a smug smile on his face, clearly wanting to torture you. 

“Kim Yugyeom, I swear to God,” you wondered if he was really going to do this to you, “you better come with me so we can finish what we started or I’m starting a rumor about you.” 

He pulled your arm until you were back against him, your body flush with his front and you felt his hands go to your ass, “nah I know you wouldn’t do that.”

You pushed your hips against him and he let out a soft groan at the contact against him, his hardness being neglected this entire time, “try me.” 

He smirked at you, “fine… let’s go before I fuck you on the steps of the library. Then there’d be a rumor about both of us.” 

“If that happened that wouldn’t be a rumor. That would just be fact,” you explained to him, grabbing his hand again. 

“So that’s a yes?” 

You rolled your eyes at him and smiled. Kim Yugyeom was doing things to you and making you feel things that you couldn’t deny it any longer, “come on Yugyeom.” 

“Yes ma’am.”

[sepublic]

The Season Finale Promo...!

           New promo! The Season Finale promo, my heart can NOT take this…!

           We get our very traumatic flashback to Eda’s transformation… Then we have a close-up shot of an Emperor’s Guard doing the drums! It’s probably a parade making a big announcement that YO, Eda the Owl Lady, the allegedly most powerful Witch on the Boiling Isles, has fallen to Emperor Belos! That’s right people if you think you had a chance against him before, well- Not anymore! Considering how young his reign is, Belos is 100% taking any chance to solidify and make it look good.

           We see the book from the previous image, and I was right! It’s Belos! We get some little snippets of text, I can catch, “Belos…”, “The Savage Ages”, “from that and his past remains [unknown]”, “Savage Ages caused”, and “many people have proved willing to”… Obviously it’s making a big deal what an allegedly benevolent civilizer he is, how nobody knows where Belos came from (of course), and that if I had to guess, many were willing to fall in line with his Coven System! While I have no doubt that Belos had his fair share of voluntary supporters, I also wonder about, you know… Just how many WEREN’T in line. We also see him surrounded by flame, which further alludes to the fire in his throne room, as well as his implied genocides and executions!

           We have Eda being released from Lilith’s bubble into the throne room of Belos, likely our first scene looking back at her since Agony of a Witch… And then we have King warning Luz against her crusade against Belos! We have a better look at the book cover, it’s called “The unauthorized Boiling Isles history,” yet it has the Emperor’s Coven symbol behind it? Did the EC spread its propaganda as having been the always-hidden truth, or is this someone basically taking the symbol of the EC and slapping a title over that screams, “Yeah these guys are SKETCHY, here’s why!”

           The author’s name has been faded out, which only makes me more curious, but it’s also possible this won’t matter! There are no doubt many of who have defied him in the past and died… Regardless, we also get our code at the bottom of the cover, which- Whoops! It’s Blood, I guessed, you guessed it, we ALL guessed it! It’s Lilith, she’s the betrayal of blood.

           NOW we have a shot of Belos with blue eyes, and I think these are his ‘regular’ eyes, because we can actually see his pupils (instead of them being drowned-out amidst the energy of a palisman’s bile)! His eyes are IDENTICAL to those of an Emperor’s Guard, which really makes me wonder if they’re the same species as him, or homunculu off-shoots made in his image? Regular Boiling Isles residents transformed by Belos’ brand to fit his ideal mold as magic-less enforcers? Or for all we know he stole the eyes of some poor Emperor’s Guard to replace his own… THAT would be a freaky thought, because…

           We see him in what could be another section of his castle (there seems to be some weird, organic thing in the bottom-left corner), manifesting behind Luz initially as some… Mixed-up blob version of himself that properly solidifies into his ACTUAL intended shape! This practically confirms for me that Belos’ body isn’t all that well put-together, but there’s at least some benefit to this perhaps? Mostly it seems to be a hindrance to him. You know, I wonder if there’s some symbolism about a character who forces people to fit into a specific mold, having to do the same literally with his own deteriorating body…

           What’s interesting is that he’s glowing RED when he manifests behind Luz, who KNOWS she’s messed up! Is this his natural spell-color, does this come from the Titan or some other previous victim? Regardless, the way he seems to form from the floor, this makes me wonder if the castle is essentially just another extension of him (as seen with his “I will know” line from earlier), and that because it’s a part of Belos, his body can just… disseminate within the structure and reassemble itself as it pleases!

His VA calls him ‘omnipotent’, I have to wonder if this is the result of his connection to the Titan’s Heart, and possibly the rest of the Boiling Isles; Like he can form ANYWHERE from the earth, which when coupled with my speculation about the growing limbs… It makes me wonder if Belos is basically destroying his body and constantly recreating/growing it from the ground-up to ‘teleport’! Pretty metal…

We have Luz not caring about Belos’ status, and GOOD FOR HER! She’s always had misguided optimism sure, but she’s also been someone who will take on the odds when she KNOWS what she’s doing is right! I love that defiant confidence, that she’ll give people space and room and be kind and gentle, but when it gets down to it she’s tougher than anyone else! You go, girl! I just… WANT her to go apeshit, Luz deserves it just this once, to utterly wreck her enemies!

Then we have Luz hiding as the same dude who reported on the Greater Basilisk attacks is on some orbs, announcing stuff –possibly Eda’s capture, Luz’s arrest warrant, a new big announcement by Belos for the next stage of his plan- and I have to wonder if Luz has a Wanted Poster now as well. Granted, if she did it’s a bit weird that the Emperor’s Coven didn’t bother capturing her back when she was RIGHT there at the end of Agony of a Witch… But at the same time, Luz roaming about might come as an alarm especially if she’s trying to sneak somewhere, so we’ll see.

We see Lilith by herself, holding Eda’s staff without Owlbert... But I think we see Owlbert in her other hand? I guess this confirms she’s okay, but it seems the throne room doors are closing on her, leaving her alone. I have to wonder if Belos is essentially telling her to ‘stay out of this’ while he does his own thing, and perhaps being in the same room with Owlbert is going to make Lilith have an epiphany... I HOPE at least...

We have a shot of Gus and Willow in their casual outfits but with their school cowls draped on, so I presume there’s been a sudden call for a town meeting by the Emperor’s Guard for an announcement! We can see Boscha’s green-haired friend, another Hexside student from the Oracle track (they were BOTH on the field trip to Belos’ castle), and what even appears to be the Lead Demon Hunter! I wonder how the Demon Hunters feel about the Coven System, if they were once Wild Witches and technically were when they debuted, but then they had to be bound to a coven after Willow destroyed their livelihood!

Then we have a tapestry of Belos being torn down, possibly by Eda while she’s messing around in her beast-form! Next is a shot of Eda’s portal to the human world opening up in a dungeon, which could be the conformatorium, but it could also be another section of Belos’ castle… And this WORRIES me, because. What if someone took Eda’s key and is banishing Luz into the human realm, like I feared- And THIS is our season finale cliffhanger!? On the bright side we’ll likely get a quick resolution on the whole Creepy Luz subplot, but…

…Honestly I do NOT want this girl separated from her family again! Even if it’s Eda turning back and thanking Luz for rescuing her, but still having to save her apprentice again as she sends Luz to the human world! Dana PLEASE…!

And then we have Luz and King looking justifiably wrathful as Luz asks someone that is apparently in some crystalline-magic prison, “Where’s Eda?!” And she is PISSED, do NOT mess with this girl, you go for it! Go get ‘em! I have to wonder if she’s defeated Lilith or some random Emperor’s Guard/Witch, maybe even Kikimora or Warden Wrath? We still have two shots of them from the Season 1B trailer that haven’t debuted yet!

…Either way my heart can NOT take this, so bring it OOOONNNN!!!!!