#elegantly cuts down the enemy

[lixenn]

Kurumi express delivery service! 3/10 package will arrive on time but it's condition is questionable at best and totally ruined at worst.

rest in pieces yui 💀👍✨

[shiroxichigo]

Ichigo gets a lot of shit (typically from outside of the Bleach fandom) for being a character whose wants/goals never change from beginning to end of his series. He always wants to protect people (and even though I could argue that he went from only wanting to protect those close to him to wanting to protect everyone he can, that's not the point I'm making with this post).

I think a lot of people who only give Bleach a passing glance fail to see Ichigo's true character growth. It's not about what his goals are or who he's trying to protect, but rather, it's about how he achieves it.

Ichigo is very self-sacrificing in the first third of Bleach. He believes that if the mission is successful, then it doesn't matter how broken or close to death he gets. The mission, saving Rukia (and hurting/killing as few people in the process), is all that matters.

Then, when a part of himself (his inner hollow) emerges, and says "hey yeah no, I'm not letting you get yourself killed and I'm also not letting you hold back against your enemy", Ichigo immediately rejects it.

It's not until he defeats his inner Hollow that we see Ichigo really dive into a fight with the intent to kill. The problem is, once his Hollow is defeated, he thinks that's it. He's freed himself of that part of him and he can go back to being self-sacrificing.

We see this throughout the Hueco Mundo arc. It's why saving Orihime parallels saving Rukia. Ichigo naively thinks he can suppress a part of himself. He bottles it up until it explodes, coming back to haunt him in his fight with Ulquiorra, etc. He learns that side of himself isn't so easily tucked away, and if he recklessly endangers himself, he could end up endangering his friends too. At his own hand, no less.

Then Ichigo discovers he can commit the ultimate sacrifice. Final Getsuga Tenshou. He can throw away these powers and the parts of himself that he doesn't like, and he can get rid of Aizen all in one go. He's lucky that it worked, but only because Kisuke was there.

Then, once Ichigo is powerless, he learns that's not what he really wants. Life doesn't "go back to normal". The can is open, and there's danger out there beyond just Aizen. And Ichigo can't do anything to stop it unless he gets his powers back.

So he does. Then he cuts down the threat to his friends and family. And he doesn't hesitate this time. Yes, he still has compassion for his enemies (he even goes to the Soul Society to ask for Ginjo's body so he can give him a proper burial), but he's learned not to hold back and he's learned that new threats will appear and he'd rather have the power to face them head on.

So then comes TYBW, and Ichigo is facing battles head-on without hesitation. He goes straight to the "bad guys" with the intention of cutting them down. He learns the truth about who his Inner Hollow is, and he accepts it. He's even willing to accept whatever consequences may come from training in the Royal Palace and becoming stronger. He accepts his power and potential fully, and learns that he has what it takes to protect his loved ones with his strength, and not with a sacrifice.

Ultimately, he heals the part of himself that thinks his life is worth less than other people's. He heals the part of himself that blames himself for not protecting his mother (when he was 9!! Like come on Isshin, put the kid in therapy!! Anyway...) He grows into someone who knows his self worth. And I think, for me at least, that makes him one of my favourite protagonists of all time. Because can't most of us relate to feeling worthless at times? And don't we also wanna overcome that?

Thanks for reading my ramble lmao, I'm sure this could have been more elegantly written but I'm very sleepy and just wanted to get my thoughts out there.

[abigailmoment]

It wasn't just bad luck that Staeve was targeted. It was a calculated attack. Halsin knew well enough how a caster could examine their enemies for tells. Halsin did it himself. Considered an opponent's tactics, and guessed at the places their mind would be most vulnerable.

You didn't have to be a gifted empath to watch how Staeve hurled himself into the thick of combat, right at the biggest bandit wielding the two-handed great sword, and think that the man might be vulnerable to a spell that exploited wisdom.

The fact that it took down Astarion too, well, perhaps that one was just bad luck.

It happened like this:

-

This is written about @velnna's Tav, Staeve. I was delighted to discover that they don't mind fan fiction being written about him.

I'm always cautious about writing for other people's OCs--getting voices right is so important to me. I have elegantly avoided that issue here.

-

Full text below.

Full Text On AO3

-

The fight was an incidental bit of banditry. Dangerous banditry, certainly. Bandits with  great swords, supported by wizards. Halsin hung back with Gale while the two rogues dashed forward to give truth to the old adage that the best defense was killing the other fellow extremely quickly. 

They cut down the man with the great sword and the woman with the mace and shield. Reinforcements were coming from around a rocky overhang. Halsin coaxed the earth to throw up entangling vines to slow them down. Gale drenched them with glimmering light that illuminated all their vulnerable points for Astarion and Staeve to shoot at.

Only the half-orc made it through the vines and the light. He was bloodied and wrathful. He was huge, but it was two against one, and the two were flanking with each other. It would have been an easy end to the combat, except that apparently there was a bandit wizard hidden somewhere in the trees who chose this moment to cast a spell. 

One second Staeve was a blood spattered half-drow sprinting full-tilt, sword out, towards a fighter twice his size. And then he was gone.

Some sort of teleportation? Banishment? Gale was saying something about trajectory and scanning the treeline. Halsin was yelling, he wasn't sure what, the concern was more important than the words. He started running forward. Because two rogues against a barbarian was fine, but one rogue against a barbarian was an extremely fast way for that rogue to die.

And Astarion knew that so he should be running away. But he wasn't running away. He was darting forward and ducking low and almost getting hit by a greataxe as he snatched something off of the ground. 

Then he was running, thank the Gods. There was something cradled in his arms, which meant he didn't have his rapier out as he scrambled back.

It was a cat. Halsin saw. They were ten feet away from each other when Halsin realized that Astarion was carrying a large, extremely upset tabby cat with grey-green fur.

That was when Astarion vanished. No. Not vanished. As the tabby tumbled to the ground, something small and white was already there, darting for cover. 

Then the half-orc arrived. Bellowing and huge, at least when compared to cats. Not quite as huge when compared to Halsin. 

Halsin decided to turn into a bear. It was amazing how many problems you could solve by turning into a bear. 

-

"I am feeling my oversight in not preparing dispel magic today," said Gale. "Or counterspell."

"This is not a situation we could have anticipated," Halsin said.

Staeve contributed to the conversation, but because of present circumstances, it came out as a meow.

He was large for a cat. His fur was pale brown, tabby-striped with green. His stripes crisscrossed in a way that reminded Halsin of his tattoos. His scar was a fur-less groove in his face. He had the same pale green eyes as always. That color was quite appropriate in a cat.

He meowed again, more insistently this time.

"We will," Halsin assured him. 

"You're speaking with him?" Gale asked. 

"Not magically," Halsin said. It had been a long day and he had barely anything left to cast with. "But I think I understand him."

"Do you?"

"Think a moment and I am confident that you too will guess what he wants from us."

It did only take a moment. Gale was an intelligent man, when prompted. And they'd all seen the small white cat vanish into the woods during the bear-orc fight.

"Ah. Of course." Gale addressed the cat, voice reassuring. "Astarion should be relatively safe though. Polymorph is temporary and even if something did happen to him in the interim, he would just revert to his natural form."

Staeve's whiskers went back and his ears went flat in a thoroughly unimpressed way. 

"I think it would be best to find him and make sure nothing happens," Halsin said with mellow diplomacy. 

"Of course." Gale paused, then said delicately: "Given my skill in woodland matters, or lack thereof, I may best serve this cause by getting out of the way."

Halsin smiled. "It is a wise man who knows his limitations."

"I'll meet you all back at camp then?" said Gale.

"Take a potion of invisibility for the trip," Halsin suggested. "There might still be bandits about."

Staeve had gotten impatient with them, and was padding off into the forest. Halsin handed Gale the potion and hastened to follow.

-

Staeve scampered about the forest like he was looting the place. No hole, hollow log, wasp nest, or brown recluse spider-web was left uninvestigated. The loss of seventy five percent of his gray matter had done the man's already flagging survival instincts no favors. Halsin spent half of his attention looking for signs of a small white cat, and half of his time making sure Staeve's efforts at tracking didn't get him killed.

After being only a hairsbreadth quick enough to pull Staeve away from the entrance to a dire-badger-burrow Halsin decided that his partner was now going to be carried. Staeve made a meowling, writhing objection. He was terribly invested in the search. A compromise was reached when he was offered a perch high on Halsin's broad shoulders. Staeve proceeded to clamber from shoulder to shoulder as Halsin walked, ears always forward and alert, eyes bright, head turning this way and that as he scanned the woods.

Small cats with stealth training were not easy things to track through dense forest. Halsin did end up using his last spell slot to cast speak with animals. The local mice and voles always noticed when predators passed, even small ones. Halsin spoke to them while keeping one hand on Staeve, who watched the tiny creatures with bright, newly interested eyes.

Halsin of course spoke with Staeve as well, but it wasn't quite the same. Talking to a person who had been transformed into an animal was not the same as talking to that person. Shape changed you. How you saw things. How you thought. The mind of a cat was a fraction of the size of that of an elf or half-elf. Thinking with it was different. The change was easiest for druids. It was hardest for the cursed, who did not choose the new shape. Who were surprised by it.

He spoke to Staeve and learned things he had already known from observation. He reassured Staeve that the mice had given useful guidance.

That guidance led them north, then west, and then to a long hollow log, moss covered and broken in two places. A good hiding spot, and the sort of shelter that had a lot of escape routes. Staeve jumped off of Halsin's shoulder as the druid knelt down and they both peered inside.

In the darkness, Halsin could just make out a pair of ruby-bright eyes staring warily back at him. 

Beside him, Halsin watched Staeve relax for the first time since becoming a cat. He wasn't actually as large as Halsin had first thought--it was just that his hackles had been up and his tail puffed out for the duration of the transformation.

It could be a painful thing indeed, to have one's heart so completely entwined with another's safety. A deeply worthwhile thing, but a painful thing, sometimes. 

Halsin made a deferring motion to Staeve, who nodded in a rather un-catlike like way. Halsin stepped back from the log, moving slowly so as not to startle anything. He shifted a few feet away and sat close enough to watch, but far away enough that his looming size wasn't an ominous thing.

Staeve didn't go inside the hollow log. He sat at the entrance. Lay down at the entrance, body long and casual, head up on the lip of the log so he could keep looking inside. Modeling relaxation.

He started to purr. Halsin could hear him purring even from a few feet away. A loud, constant, soothing rumble. It somehow did not surprise Halsin that Staeve had a loud purr.

And then Staeve waited. Patient as anything. Waiting and watching and purring in a low buzz, as steadily as a beehive.

Halsin could not see inside the log, but he could guess at when Astarion moved because Staeve's ears would flick. Staeve had a fine poker face, but everyone had tells. 

Something happened, or occurred to him, that made Staeve raise his head and sit up slightly from his sprawl on the ground. Then he stood up entirely. He gave Halsin a significant look, and trotted off into the underbrush. 

Conscious that he had just been assigned new responsibility, Halsin shifted so that he had a good view of the log's entrances and everything around it. There wasn't much danger, Halsin’s presence in general kept most predators away from this space. But still.

During his vigil, Halsin saw the glimmer of red cat-eyes once. And only briefly. 

Staeve came back soon. He had a dead vole in his mouth and he looked exceptionally pleased with himself. He dropped the vole at the mouth of the log, took a few pawpads back and watched expectantly.

It took another long minute, but after that minute a small white cat crept out of the darkness.

This should surprise no one, but Astarion was a beautiful cat. Slender and graceful with large eyes. His fur was pure, silvery white and just long enough to curl slightly. He moved with a cautious precision that Halsin recognized as his habit, and that deeply suited his new form. 

He sniffed at the vole. He shot Staeve a judgmental look, because Gods forbid the man accept any kindness without prevaricating about it in some way. He glanced at Halsin. And then he leaned down to slide exceptionally long canines into the corpse's chest.

Staeve flopped down about a foot away and watched him with an expression of pleased devotion that would honestly be a bit more appropriate on a dog.

Astarion ate fastidiously, and without getting even a blot of blood on his snow-white fur. When he finished he licked his teeth.

When Staeve was quite sure Astarion was done eating, he sidled up slantwise, sauntering around the vole corpse as if he just casually happened to be taking a stroll in this part of the forest for no particular reason. He stopped just short of Astarion. His ears were forward. His tail flicked lightly from side to side. 

Astarion regarded him levelly with his 'I know what you're doing and I know you think you're being clever about it but you're not' expression. Then, as if granting a boon, he deigned to rub his forehead gently against the underside of Staeve's chin.

Staeve took this as the invitation that it was and pressed back, much more enthusiastic and honest in his delight at the contact. Which in turn gave Astarion an excuse and space to do what he wanted and enjoy it.

They were always very dear to watch together. Whatever form they took. In about a minute they were curled over each other on the ground and Staeve was industriously grooming Astarion's head.

Halsin let this go on for as long as he could. But the shadows were lengthening, and they were very close to the Shadowlands, and he was out of spell slots, and the rogues were currently housecats.

"It is getting late, dear ones," he said softly. 

Astarion twitched at the interruption, and Staeve licked him three times along the neck and chest in a soothing way. Then they disentangled from each other and padded over to Halsin.

Halsin picked up Staeve, but he knelt down and laid his arm on the ground so that Astarion could climb up and find what perch he wanted by himself. They did both end up in his arms. Staeve was tired and quite ready to be carried, and Astarion didn't want to be out of contact with him.

As Halsin walked through the woods with an armfull of cat, Staeve started to purr again. It was really the most marvelous sound. A soothing distillation of satisfaction and care. Almost enough to tempt one away from being a bear.

Astarion did not purr. Some cats didn't. Or purred only very rarely. But Astarion did, at one point, look up at Halsin and blink his bright red eyes very slowly. 

And that was a precious thing.

****

Other stories like this.

****

[queenshelby]

Business As Usual (Part Five)

Pairing: Dark!Thomas Shelby x Wife!Reader

Warning: Arranged Marriage, Angst, Cheating

Words: 1,678

NOTE: THIS IS MUCH DARKER THAN WHAT I USUALLY WRITE. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!

Just as you heard the shots and Tommy walked outside, your heart raced in fear. Your body trembled with anxiety, realizing how dangerous your life had become since marrying into the world of the notorious Peaky Blinders and, even though you grew within the ranks of the Mafia, you had always been sheltered from the dangers of the underworld.

But this did not mean that you could not protect yourself. Your father had taught you how to shoot when you were just a child. Taking one step backward, your hand thus instinctively reached out to grab the gun resting elegantly yet threateningly upon Tommy’s mahogany-finished desk.

Your fingers brushed over the cool metal surface, feeling an almost primal connection to it. The click echoed through the vastness of the room, reminding you of all those years ago – practicing until your aim became perfect, steady. This was what you needed now as there was no way that you would rely on anyone else to protect you and the unborn child you were secretly carrying.

You heard another shot being fired outside before gripping the gun firmly, pushing past the panicked fear swirling inside you.

As you stepped forth onto the porch area where Tommy was standing, he immediately snapped, telling you to go back inside.

"I told you to stay inside!" His voice boomed throughout the night air like thunder, causing birds to scatter and leave their perches just before another shot was fired from somewhere down below - close enough to raise alarm bells in both of your hearts. Fear and adrenalin coursed swiftly through your veins, urging you both to act decisively amidst uncertainty. 

"Who is it?" your voice quivered slightly as the words left your lips, betraying your growing fear.

"Someone whose got out for you and your fucking family. Now go back inside!" Tom's command came sharply, cutting through the oppressive silence that had fallen upon the gardens below. But despite his tone suggesting authority, his face revealed hesitation mixed with anger, making clear that while he knew better than most, leading such a brutal organisation carried its own set of burdens. As his gaze shifted towards the ground, you couldn't help but notice how his usually cold exterior softened, replaced instead by vulnerability which only served to intensify the desire simmering beneath the surface.

With Charlie inside, he knew not to let this stand and, just after you indeed walked back into the foyer of your large residence, your husband ought to investigate the disturbance. 

His presence commanded attention wherever he went. He strode purposefully forward, his powerful legs propelling him quickly along the front yard of Arrow House. 

His mind conjured up images of the enemies he had vanquished and friends made, allies lost...all these memories seemed to whisper in his ear as he approached closer to the place from whence the shots were coming. His chest tightened at the thought of losing more comrades, especially when they faced challenges like this. It was a constant struggle, and although some may deem it glamorous due to popular culture portrayals, Tommy understood well that leadership wasn't easy nor glamorous, requiring endurance, tactical thinking and, above all, sacrifices.

Meanwhile, you walked towards the back of your large house to also investigate where the shots were coming from. Feeling anxious and worried, adrenaline flowed through your veins, leaving your hands clammy and your stomach knotted. 

You knew that someone was in your house, intending harm to either Tommy or yourselves. Slowly, stealthily, you moved further into the hallway of your home, peering around corners and into rooms to ensure nothing escaped your vision. All the while, your ears strained to pick up any sounds indicative of danger nearby.

Suddenly, you caught sight of movement behind the sofa at the far end of the living room, and you instinctively raised your weapon, ready to defend yourself if necessary. Just then, something fell through the air from behind you.

Before you could react, the silhouette of a tall looking man emerged from behind the furniture, lunging toward you with a savage grace. With lightning speed, you raised your arm and pulled the trigger, sending a bullet flying straight towards your target. There was an audible scream followed by a sickening crunch, and then eerie stillness returned once again.

For a moment, you stood motionless, heart pounding wildly in your chest. It took several moments for you to realize what you had done.

Adrenaline surged through your body, and you felt numb. Your arms shook violently as you dropped the gun onto the floor, its sound reverberating across the silent house. You hadn't realized how much your body ached until you finally stopped firing. The pain radiated from your shoulder down your arm and into your wrist as you too must have been shot. 

You covered your arm with your hand, trying to stop the bleeding as you looked downward, seeing the victim laying sprawled lifeless beside you before you heard yet another shot being fired outside, causing you to jump.

The sudden noise broke the spell, bringing back the harsh reality of the situation. Realization struck hard, as your heart hammered fiercely in your chest, your limbs trembling involuntarily. Adrenaline filled your system, causing your pulse to race erratically. Gulping down your terror, you managed to regain control over your shaking knees and picked up the gun you had fired just moments ago.

You raced outside, determined to find the source of the last shot fired. Outside, darkness loomed heavily, providing ample cover for potential attackers. The rain began to fall, creating puddles everywhere as you searched frantically for anything unusual that might indicate the presence of hostile forces. Glancing nervously in every direction, you tried to maintain focus while battling against fatigue and discomfort caused by your injury.

Finally spotting something suspicious near a group of bushes, you slowly edged closer, pointing your gun directly ahead as you steadied your breathing.

This is when you saw her. The woman you hated the most, holding a knife against your husband's throat while Isiah Jesus, another member of the Peaky Blinders, was pointing a gun at her.

Her hazel eyes held a mixture of determination and cruelty, contrasting starkly with Tommy's own intense gaze fixed on hers

Carefully, you approached the group and, in her panicked state, Laura did not notice you until your gun was pointed directly at her head. 

"Drop the fucking knife or I will blow your brains out," you warned her, taking care to remain calm and composed. Your heart pounded in your chest, knowing full well that this situation was beyond treacherous.

Laura, however, remained unfazed, seemingly reveling in the fact that she was putting Tommy and herself in grave danger. Her resolve appeared ironclad, hinting at an underlying reason behind her actions that you didn't understand, but your primary concern at that moment was getting Tommy safely out of the line of fire, simply for Charlie's sake. 

"You should join my side, Y/N. He is using you and so is your family," Laura argued defiantly, clearly wanting to cause havoc.

"Says the woman with no fucking morals whatsoever," you retorted, feeling your blood pressure rise as you struggled to contain your rising temper.

Isiah merely watched with grim detachment, waiting for orders from Tommy and sensing that things were about to get ugly very soon. 

Realizing that arguing wouldn't solve anything, Tom decided to take action. His decision was final, showing the strength of his convictions even during times of crisis.

"Now drop the knife," you demanded again forcefully and, just as you spoke the words, Tommy grabbed her wrist tightly in an effort to push her away. 

Laura, of course, put up a fight and it was this fight which caused you to lower the gun and shoot, aiming directly for her knee cap. The loud crack of the gunshot echoed around the neighborhood, startling nearby animals awake and bringing people to their windows wondering what was happening outside.

She cried out in agony, falling to the ground with a grimace painted across her face. 

"This is for sleeping with my fucking husband," you seethed before uncocking your weapon.

 Turning to Tommy, you asked him one simple question, "Why her? Why would you choose her?" This time, your hurt manifested itself in a palpable way, striking Tommy squarely in the gut as he contemplated your query. 

He sighed wearily, running a hand through his dark hair in a characteristic gesture that belied his turmoil within. "It was business, nothing more," he said weakly, unable to meet your eyes. 

But his eyes told another tale, and you recognized that look of guilt etched across his features.

"She fucking played you," you muttered under your breath, turning away to avoid further confrontation.

As you stepped away, moving past Isiah and heading towards the house, tears welled up in your eyes - the result of the betrayal, fear, and confusion swirling inside you.

"Get her away from my fucking house and put a bullet in her head if you want to, Thomas! I don't ever want to see this woman again. Do you hear me?" you spat after having turned around momentarily. Your heart pounded madly in your chest, threatening to escape from your ribcage altogether.

Pain seared through your injured arm, forcing you to grit your teeth against the waves of agony crashing upon you. Ignoring the debilitating pain, you pushed open the door leading back into the living room. Inside, everything looked as though chaos reigned supreme—the mess of torn papers littering the floor bore testament to the urgency of the encounter that had unfolded earlier. Dread settled in your bones as you trudged through the broken glass and discarded documents, eventually reaching the staircase leading to the second level.

Tears threatened to overflow as you climbed the steps, wincing slightly at the sharp prickle of pain coursing through your wounded arm.

Desperate to distract yourself from the overwhelming mix of emotions raging within you, you attempted to focus on your physical injuries instead. The bullet lodged in your arm had now begun to throb insistently, accompanied by a steady trickle of blood oozing outwards.

You knew that you had to attend to your injuries now but you almost had no strength left within you to do so until, eventually, you heard a familiar voice from behind.

"I will take you to the hospital, Love," Tommy whispered softly, his tone laced with an unfamiliar tenderness. It seemed as though he genuinely wanted to comfort you despite all that had transpired tonight. And suddenly, your anger started to fade somewhat, probably because you were exhausted. 

Inhaling deeply, you shook your head, knowing that there would be questions. 

"No. You can get the bullet out," you replied stubbornly, unwilling to let anyone else help you. As strong as you may appear, you knew deep down that it wasn't really you, but rather pride keeping you standing upright in those shoes. Even as you clenched your jaw, attempting to hide the pain, your legs wobbled beneath you like jelly. 

"I would, if you weren't pregnant," Tommy responded, a hint of regret evident in his tone. 

Hearing these words, shockwaves of emotion coursed through you as you absorbed the truth hidden within those little words: 'pregnant'. 

Your entire world shifted abruptly as gravity lost its meaning and the air became heavier. Reality crashed down on you mercilessly, leaving you stunned. Your child...his child, conceived amidst the chaos and violence that surrounded them daily.

"You know that I am pregnant? How?" you asked, seeing that you never told him. The uncertainty in your voice revealed both your surprise and disbelief. 

Tommy nodded solemnly, acknowledging your astonishment. "Frances became to notice. She told me and I figured that you were going to see someone about it," he explained. 

"I couldn't terminate the pregnancy, no matter how much I wanted to Thomas," you admitted, your voice low and somber. 

There was a pause between you two before Tommy finally broke eye contact, looking downward thoughtfully. "I understand," he said before taking your hand into his, giving it a gentle squeeze, and then leading you to his Bentley. 

Tags:

@sunbeamseas @saint-ackerman @oatmealisweird @naxxsstuff @amanda08319 @r-m-cidnah @elysiannook @cillshot @infireddabdab @tastycakee @harrysbestiee @lilybabe22 @adalynlowell @henrywintersdearestgirl @ietss @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @ryiamarie @axionn

@heidimoreton @nela-cutie @futurecorps3 @delishen @nosebleeds-247 @thirteenis-myluckynumber @gills-lounge @hjmalmed @lost-fantasy @tiredkitten @sidechrisporn @smallsoulunknown @charqing-qing @hopefulinlove @aporiasposts @shycrybaby @me-and-your-husband @hjmalmed @lacontroller1991 @galxydefender @aporiasposts

@galxydefender @hunnibearrr @saint-ackerman @lunyyx @gentlemonsterjennie1 @ihavealotoffandomssorry @nadloves @lost-fantasy @nolucesn@mcavoy-girl @hjmalmed @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @blushykiss @tatumrileyslover @teawithsatanx @orijanko @rhaenyra4ever @xcinnamonmalfoyx @budugu @nadloves @kmc1989 @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @forgottenpeakywriter

[perkypeony]

𝕎𝕀ℕℕ𝕀ℕ𝔾 𝕐𝕆𝕌 𝕆𝕍𝔼ℝ

Umemiya Hajime x girlfriend reader (this is the story of how they fall for each other)

"Morning, sweetie. How are you today?" A blonde boy called out teasingly as he walked past Y/N. His friend, dressed in a black hoodie and a blue cap, gave her a wink. She rolled her eyes and kept walking, but a hand landed on her shoulder, stopping her in her tracks.

"No need to rush. We just want to get to know you," the blonde said.

"Leave me the hell alone," Y/N snapped, yanking his hand off her shoulder.

"Tsk, such a naughty mouth for someone so cute and innocent."

She scoffed, her patience wearing thin. It was only 8 a.m., far too early to be throwing punches, no matter how tempting it was.

"I don’t have time for your crap," she muttered, trying to push past them.

"Aww, is someone mad?"

Before she could respond, a stern voice cut through the air from behind her.

"Leave her alone."

The two boys turned around, one of them snickering. "Well, well, who do we have here? Is she your girlfriend?"

"No," the voice replied coolly. "But we always protect Furin girls."

Y/N turned and found herself face-to-face with Umemiya Hajime. His striking blue eyes and white hair made him easily recognizable. As a second-year at Furin High, he had a reputation that was hard to ignore. Friendly and laid-back around his friends, but fierce and unrelenting when it came to his enemies. He was also a strong candidate for Furin’s next leader.

But for Umemiya, the moment their eyes met, everything changed. His usual confidence faltered as his heart skipped a beat, captivated by her presence. He’d seen her around before, but standing this close, he couldn’t shake the sudden pull he felt toward her. There was something about Y/N that made the world slow down, something he couldn’t quite explain but couldn’t deny.

The boys clearly had no idea who they were dealing with. In an instant, both were sprawled on the ground, groaning in pain and regretting their decision to mess with her.

Umemiya barely glanced at them. His focus was entirely on Y/N.

"Hey, are you okay?" he asked, his voice softer than it had been a moment ago, a stark contrast to the cold look he'd given the troublemakers.

"I’m fine," Y/N replied, though a small part of her was annoyed she hadn’t gotten to punch them herself. "Next time, you don’t have to step in. I can handle them."

"I know," he said, offering her a charming, easy smile, though his heart was still racing from the sight of her. "But it’s not exactly gentlemanly to let a girl get into a fight, right? Oh, and you’re Y/N, aren’t you?"

"Yup, that’s me."

Hearing her confirm her name felt like a victory, his pulse quickening again. He’d never been one to lose his cool, but something about her had him off balance.

"Mind if I walk you to school?" he asked, trying to sound casual, though the hope in his voice was undeniable.

"Sure," Y/N agreed. Being around people she wasn’t close to usually made her anxious, but for some reason, being next to Umemiya made her feel... calm.

Their walk to school was quiet, but Umemiya’s mind raced the entire time. He stole glances at her, soaking in every detail—the way she walks confidently yet elegantly, the way her features caught the sunlight. This wasn’t just an ordinary attraction. It felt like something deeper, something he hadn’t experienced before.

When they reached the school gates, Umemiya broke the silence. "Let me escort you to your class."

"You don’t have to. And do you even know which class I’m in?"

"I recognized most of the first-years by now," he said confidently, though in truth, he'd made it a point to remember every detail about her since the moment their paths had crossed.

"Alright... Thanks, Umemiya." She gave him a small smile—one that was enough to make his heart race all over again. He’d never thought something so simple could have such an effect on him.

"You’re welcome. If you ever need help again, just let me know. Oh, and… can I have your phone number?" he asked, almost shyly.

Y/N’s cheeks heated up slightly. "F-for what?"

"I don’t know," he said, trying to sound casual but failing to hide his nervousness. "Maybe we could hang out sometime."

Hang out? With a senior? Y/N wasn’t sure how to respond but eventually handed him her number.

As she walked away, Umemiya watched her go, still reeling from their encounter. His heart thudded in his chest, and for the first time in a long time, he found himself grinning like an idiot. He didn’t know how or why, but he was determined—he was going to win her over.

Later that day, Umemiya watched as Y/N left Pothos Café. He smiled awkwardly before turning to Kotoha, who was wiping down a table.

"Kotoha! I’ve got a lot to ask you!" Umemiya exclaimed in his usual, excitable tone.

"Stop shouting! What is it this time?" she replied, rolling her eyes at his antics.

"What do you know about Y/N?"

“Well, she's a sweet person, comes here at least once a week, and lives with her aunt and uncle,” Kotoha explained.

“What else? I mean... Do you know what her hobbies are, what she likes to eat,” Umemiya lowered his voice slightly, “and if she's single?”

“Ohhh, I see. You’ve got a crush on her, don’t you?” Kotoha teased, a playful smirk appearing on her face.

“Fine, I like her. Like, so much. This morning, I saw her standing up to two boys who were harassing her, and my feelings for her only intensified. She’s so brave, and she’s gorgeous too.” Umemiya’s eyes became dreamy as he went on, clearly unable to get Y/N out of his mind. He started to wonder if this was what love at first sight felt like.

Kotoha chuckled. “She seems single to me. But if you wanna be sure, you should man up and ask her directly.”

Umemiya sighed dramatically. “But I’m worried I’ll get nervous and stumble over my words, and then she’ll think I’m a weird, creepy dude!”

“You’re overthinking this too much,” Kotoha said, palming her face. “You’ll never know until you try.”

“Maybe you’re right. Thanks, Kotoha.” Umemiya smiled gratefully. “Actually, I came here for your delicious omurice. Could you make one for me?”

“Of course.” Kotoha paused for a moment before adding, “By the way, if you’re curious about her favourite food, I always see her buying teriyaki chicken onigiri at the convenience store. And whenever she comes here, she always orders hot milk tea.”

The next day, luck was on his side as he spotted Y/N at the convenience store counter, paying for an ice cream mochi.

"Hey, Y/N. Nice to see you here," he greeted, doing his best to hide the shakiness in his voice. His heart raced just being near her.

"Oh, hey, Umemiya. What are you doing here?"

"Uh… just getting a drink." He cursed himself internally for not being smoother.

"Alright, see you around then." Y/N smiled briefly before leaving the store.

As she walked away, Umemiya realized he’d frozen up. This was supposed to be the moment he confessed! He dashed out after her. "Y/N!"

She turned, surprised. "Yeah?"

Before he could stop himself, the words tumbled out. "I like you."

Y/N blinked, momentarily taken aback. "Okay… you seem like a nice guy. So, make me fall for you then." She didn’t know where the sudden confidence had come from, but her face turned red as soon as she said it. Without waiting for a reply, she hurried off, leaving Umemiya grinning triumphantly.

From that day forward, Umemiya was determined. He left cute notes under her desk, gave her flowers, and walked her home when he could. He learned more about her—how she had a sweet tooth, loved to cook, and had a bit of a shy, awkward side when it came to love, likely because her aunt and uncle never showed her much affection.

One day, Y/N even mentioned wanting to cook with the vegetables Umemiya grew on the rooftop. It made his heart soar.

Two weeks after his confession, Umemiya decided it was time. He led Y/N to the school rooftop under the pretence of showing her his chilli plants. The morning breeze was cool, and the sky was clear as Y/N admired the healthy plants.

When she turned to him, she noticed he was fidgeting nervously. Before she could ask what was wrong, Umemiya knelt down, catching her completely off guard.

"Y/N, would you be my girlfriend?"

Y/N burst into laughter, surprising him. "Of course I will. You’ve proven that you’d be an amazing boyfriend."

A sigh of relief escaped him, and for the first time, Umemiya felt truly at peace. This was the best day of his life.

A/N: atp, i wrote a lot of umemiya x girlfriend reader that it kinda becomes a series😅 i'm gonna make a separate masterlist later. btw i have two more ideas but i'm not sure if i have the time to write them since the mid sem break is almost over🥲 anyway, thanks to those who are supporting me❤

[vhoorlpool]

ughhh… Σ(￣。￣ﾉ)ﾉ sorry for being inactive. work has been kicking my ass as of late!!!! but I’ve been daydreaming about knights recently…. and undead ones at that!!

nsfw under the cut, as always!! reader is GN :] MDNI please!!

where there is complacence, lies ambition and longing under fifty-five pounds of old, rusted steel and smelted iron plates, forever stuck to his decaying body like heavy shackles on a prisoner of war.

your beloved knight is the fallen angel whose wings are forever tainted, molted and slough, scarred and reeking of battles past. the swiftly given silence of a valorously wielded blade across warm flesh of an enemy’s bared throat, as sharp and conniving as a thief’s tongue. the hands that cradled your face and tilted it up, up, up, plated thumb brushing oh so tenderly over your lips; daydreaming how it would feel to finally kiss them.

it’s a shame, truly, he thinks. under his helm lies a face full of rotting teeth and decaying flesh yearning for the warmth of your touch— the softness of your skin. would you be disgusted? cast him aside as if you had discarded a wilted flower? or would you admire him? quench his thirst for your affections like dry earth begging for the slightest drop of rain?

though… he suspects such frivolous thoughts don’t matter. he’d love you either way.

he is something incomprehensible. someone who should’ve died the moment his body hit the ground as the world was pulled out from under his very feet. and yet, you’re the guiding hand that kept him going. the breath of fresh air in his lungs, the voice in his head that tells him to get up. they’re waiting for you.

the will of that which makes him, nothing, become something. and oh, how lovely it is to be something that belongs to someone like you.

unearthly, his voice sounds coarse; low and thick like dead grass in a bog. sweetly spoken praises and the echo of heavy panting inside his helmet is just as noticeable as the seeping, warm slick that squelches each time he thrusts two plated fingers into your drippy hole. he’s drunk on you, really, and the way those crystalline tears seem to fall ever so elegantly from your glassy, beautiful eyes sparkling like a swan’s pond under the sun. the gods can berate him for his lovesickness, and yet the feeling of losing himself in your gaze rivals that of seeing the full moon on a warm night.

nothing will compare to you. not ever.

he gently rests his head against your chest as he focuses on your racing heartbeat and the way you moan so sweetly for him; fingers prodding at your spasming hole as he stretches you farther and farther; curling his long digits until he reaches that gummy spot inside that has you crying out so deliciously.

being this close allows him to admire the pudginess of your belly and the swell of your hip that curves gracefully into your thigh; melding so gorgeously into the supple flesh of those quivering, spread legs he’d beg to have wrapped around his head just once. to him, you’re like a deity. someone to be worshipped on bended knee until you know just how loved you are. he’s the pariah, the outcast, whose veneration knows no bounds. the offering? the very heart you saved, and seem to hold so tenderly in your palms. please take it. it’s yours— it always has been.

he gives a few final, gentle thrusts of his fingers before you come undone; armor glistening from your spend as he holds you close, whispering gravelly assertions and loving proclamations as you float back down from your high. you’re even more gorgeous like this, he muses— and if he had the coin of a wealthy governor, he’d have that same blissful expression painted on a canvas as large as it would be wide. (…oh, come now. don’t be so shy. he knows it’s lewd, but truly, he can’t help himself.)

he strokes the apples of your cheeks, wiping your tears as he helps you up and into his arms in a bridal carry; heading for the bath chambers. he’d rather die than leave his majesty in such a debauched state, and it’s about time he care for those tender, aching muscles with gentle soap and flowery oils to rub into your skin after. he may not be able to join you, gods forbid the soapy water irritate his decaying flesh, but he gets enough excitement simply being able to both pamper and spoil you rotten.

you deserve it. don’t forget that, your eminence.

[lycheedr3ams]

Death's Angel

Part 1: Looking Death in the Eye

royal!fem!reader x executioner!konig

Summary: It's 1554. You're one of the eight daughters of the Austrian royal family, and your parents do everything they can to ensure their kingdom is prosperous and peaceful. No royal court is complete without their hand-picked executioner, one who stands out against the sea of black, faceless bodies that make up the profession. It just so happens that your family's new executioner, one who has made a name for himself far and wide for his skill with the axe, has caught your eye and ruined you for good.

Warnings: MDNI! eventual filthy smut, mutual pining, forbidden love, death (konig is an executioner duh), mean sisters, mentions of medieval-type violence, overbearing parents, konig is brooding, maybe dark themes bc reader likes seeing him kill people?

Part 2

.......

series inspired by the art below!

If there was anything your parents taught you, it was to never mix with the lower, working classes. You were royalty: there was never any need for you to lift a finger, let alone even ask for anything. Everything will be served to you on a silver platter. The heads of your enemies were no exception.

You grew up watching executions like it was a normal family affair, like it was the same as lazily observing geese land in the pond behind your castle as you sat with your chin in your hand. It was always the same. Your family's star executioner, up until now, would force the victim on stage and enact whatever cruel punishment your king and queen parents decided. It was a routine. There was no malice or passion behind it, it was just a job. Chopping heads off blocks was the same as completing a to-do list for most executioners, and you grew accustomed to seeing bloodied heads rolling over cobblestone.

But your family's loyal executioner died suddenly. The peasantry said he was possessed, that the devil had finally taken the man's soul for all the heinous acts he committed. Whatever the case, your family needed a new executioner, fast. It wouldn't be long before people committed more crime, knowing the axe of judgement was temporarily frozen above their heads. you could hear your parents frantically whispering in the dead of night over which executioner to choose. there were so many contenders for the spot. you couldn't have cared less who the new executioner would be. executioners, though their jobs were necessary for functioning society, were spurned and looked down on. a necessary evil, as some may say. your parents taught you to never speak to the executioner, much less even look his way. not out of respect, but rather to keep your eyes clean from the monstrosity of whatever man could live with cutting off heads each day.

the day eventually came when your parents decided on a new executioner. they seemed pretty excited about it, and decided to get right to the "festivities" to commemorate the occasion. the new executioner would, the moment he reached the royal ground, execute the line of prisoners whose deaths had been delayed since the passing of your previous executioner. You strode elegantly, as you were taught, to your seat on the elevated surface as the victims were lined up on the lower stage. the crowd watched anxiously. there was a different feeling in the air. everyone seemed even more scared than normal. the blood-stained oak chopping block had never seemed more foreboding.

and then you saw him. out of your family's royal carriage - the oldest and dingiest one, mind you - this giant of a man stepped out and scanned the crowd. everyone went silent. not even the birds dared to sing as he walked across the stage silently, his axe slung over his shoulder, the wooden boards underneath his jagged leather boots creaking loudly. he was nothing short of a giant. his shoulders were broad, and even though his chest was clothed with black cloth, you knew he was toned. he carried that monstrous axe like it was nothing but a butter knife. the only thing that reminded you that he was, in fact, human was the faint reflection of the sunlight in his eyes from deep within his black hood.

your breath caught in your chest as you observed him. he stood still by the chopping block, so naturally that you felt your spine tingle. your father bellowed out the reason for the execution spree - something about celebration - but your mind was completely fogged, filled with nothing but morbid curiosity for this new death-bringer who would be living in your castle. the executioner was then commanded to turn towards your family and bow before the executions began. this grim reaper turned his broad back and faced your family. his eyes scanned each one of you, but they lingered on you the longest. you felt like a gust of ice wind had just raced up from his gaze alone, manifested somehow by whatever mental prowess he seemed to possess. He bowed lowly to you and your family before standing, glancing at you once more, and then facing the crowd.

your father yelled out with raised arms, "my kingdom! this is your new judge, your executioner! the one who will bring you to justice from here forth is Konig!"

king. His name means king, you thought. how ironic. that a man with such a name - likely an alias - would be performing the work that no one dared do.

for the first time in your life, you watched avidly as this new executioner, as konig, swiftly cut each victims' head off like he was slicing butter. konig commanded respect. even the crowd was silent as he worked, his grunts and the dull sound of the axe meeting wood and bone were the only things to be heard as he performed his duty. it should have scared you. he should have scared you. and when the last victim's head rolled off the block and konig rested against his up-turned axe, you released a breath that you didn't know you had been holding.

hope you enjoyed! this will likely be multiple parts, and a slow burn. i just love this so much

[hexpea]

Ch. 30 - Blackthorn Blackthorn is a symbol of hope against adversity.

As you hurried through the estate, your heart pounding in your chest with each step, your mind consumed by a single thought: Naoya. The image of him laying unconscious in the bedroom, hooked up to machines and fighting for his life, haunted you relentlessly. But as you passed by the mitamaya, shoji door open so you could see the copper plate with Naohiro's name on it. Your gaze was immediately drawn to it, Naohiro's name elegantly carved onto it. For a moment, you paused and walked into the room, your hand hovering over the plate as memories of your late husband flooded your mind. His warm smile, his gentle touch, the way he held you in his arms… You felt a pang of guilt, as if by moving forward with Naoya, you were betraying the memory of the man you once loved so deeply. But as quickly as the guilt washed over you, a surge of determination welled up within you. Naoya needed you, just as much as Naohiro once needed you. With a deep breath, you tore your gaze away from the plaque and continued on your way to the bedroom.

Entering the room, you were met with the sight of Naoya lying on the bed, his chest rising and falling rhythmically with the assistance of the ventilator, medication keeping him sleepy. The beeping of the machines filled your ears as you knelt beside him. You reached out gently to brush away a stray lock of hair from his forehead, your heart aching at the sight of him in such a vulnerable state. Memories of the previous night flooded your mind: the way he held you in bed, the sound of his voice, the fruity wine taste on his lips… Despite everything that had happened between you, you couldn't deny your feelings for him any longer.

As you stared down at him, a sense of longing washed over you, mingling with the fear and uncertainty that gnawed at your insides. How could you admit your feelings to him now, when he was essentially unconscious and on the brink of death? And what about the life growing inside you, the life that he didn't even know existed?

You got lost in your thoughts and emotions, not realizing that Daisuke had returned. You were startled by the sound of his voice. His presence felt like an unwelcome intrusion, disrupting the fragile peace of the room. You glanced up to see him standing there, arms crossed against his chest, his expression unreadable.

Daisuke's sigh cut through the silence like a knife. "We'll leave tomorrow morning," he stated firmly, his tone brooking no argument. "You can have tonight with him."

As Daisuke turned to leave, you were left alone once again with Naoya. Your thoughts lingered on your potential return to the Kamo estate. You feared that uncertain future though you didn't want to let any of that show. You knew that returning there would likely result in punishment and obviously the termination of your pregnancy, even potentially being stripped of your title -- essentially excommunication -- and forced into servitude as an attendant. You wondered if Daisuke was feeding on having to excommunicate you, the power he had over you now that your once loving uncle deemed you an enemy. You thought about how his mind would likely linger on getting to punish you in the near future during the meeting he was headed to with your father.

Bingo! You had an idea with that thought. You had to get Naoya's mother to the estate without Naobito's knowledge.

Turning your attention back to Naoya, who remained unresponsive on the bed, you felt a surge of determination wash over you. This meeting was your chance to ensure that Mizuki could see her son before it was too late. With the meeting likely to last a few hours, you knew you had a window of opportunity to make it happen. Pulling out your cell phone, you quickly dialed her number, your fingers slightly trembling with anticipation. After a few rings, her voice answered on the other end, filled with concern.

"Hello? Y/N, is that you?" Mizuki's voice brought a sense of comfort. You knew that even if you were forced to leave Naoya to die, you could leave knowing you gave him one last moment with his mother.

"Yes, it's me," you replied, your voice tinged with urgency. "I need you to come to the estate as soon as possible. There's a meeting that'll last a few hours, and I want you to be able to see Naoya." You knew she would have an hour train ride to get there, but it left more than enough time despite.

There was a brief pause on the other end as she processed your words. "Of course, I'll be there right away," she responded, her mind surely lingering on the thought of being caught.

As you continued to wait by Naoya's bedside, your mind was consumed with worry and anticipation. You lightly rubbed your stomach with your fingertips as you leaned on the mattress, cheek on your hand. It broke your heart to see him hooked up to the various machines in his own bedroom. The beeping of the monitors provided a steady backdrop to your thoughts.

Suddenly, your phone rang, jolting you out of your trance. You quickly answered, relief flooding through you as you heard Mizuki's voice on the other end. "I've arrived at the front of the estate," she said in a near whisper, her voice filled with apprehension.

"I'm coming," you said urgently before hanging up the phone.

You wasted no time, hastily making your way to the front of the estate to greet her. As you approached her, you could see the worry etched into her features. You reached out and took her hand, offering her a reassuring smile. With her by your side, you hurried back to the bedroom. You knew you had the attendants you passed by on the way on your side, they weren't tattletales. The minute Mizuki laid eyes on her son, she gave a small gasp, her eyes on him for the first time in a little over fifteen years, hooked up to all of the machines.

You knelt beside the bed with her and she took Naoya's hand in hers. Their hands were a study in contrast: Mizuki's hand a bit weathered with age, the skin lined with wrinkles and veins prominent beneath the surface. Naoya's hand, on the other hand, was strong and firm, the veins standing out against the smooth surface of his skin.

Her voice quivered as she spoke to Naoya, her eyes brimming with tears as you carefully watched her. "Naoya, my baby," she murmured, stroking his hand gently. "It breaks my heart to see you like this."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you watched her, her words a heartbreaking admission to the son she had been separated from for so long. You delicately put your hand on her shoulder in support, offering what little comfort you could in that moment. The two of you remained there, kneeling at Naoya's bedside.

After a few moments, she turned to you. "Y/N, how have you been holding up through all of this?" She asked softly.

You glanced at her, offering a small smile despite the heaviness in your heart. "It's been difficult in different ways, these past few months in general, but I'm managing," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. "I'm just glad you're here now to see him, even if he's sedated."

As you finished your sentence, a sudden wave of nausea overcame you. You took a deep breath and placed a hand on your stomach to steady yourself. Mizuki watched you carefully with concern. "Is everything alright?" She inquired gently, her eyes lingering on your hand.

You hesitated for a moment, feeling a rush of nervousness at the prospect of sharing the news for the first time with someone else. "Actually," you began, your voice slightly hesitant. "I found out that I'm…pregnant."

Suddenly, Naoya's hand jolted involuntarily in Mizuki's grasp, a subtle reaction that went unnoticed by both of you. However, his senses were heightened, even in his nearly unconscious state, and the realization of your pregnancy with his child began to sink in.

Mizuki's eyes widened in surprise, her hand instinctively moving to cover her mouth as she processed the news. " Oh my goodness, Y/N, that's wonderful news!" She exclaimed quietly, her voice filled with genuine joy despite the somber atmosphere. "Congratulations!"

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice barely above a breath. Despite the joy Mizuki expressed, you couldn't shake the looming fear of what awaited you at the Kamo estate.

"I love him," you admitted, the words escaping your lips before you could hold them back. "I've been fighting it for so long, but I can't deny it anymore. I love Naoya."

Mizuki's eyes softened with understanding as she listened to your confession. It was her turn to place a reassuring hand on your shoulder, offering silent support. "Love is a powerful feeling," she nodded softly.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself to share the grim reality with Naoya's mother. "My uncle…he's forcing me back to the Kamo estate in the morning," you began, "I won't be able to stay here with Naoya when…when it happens." Your gazed drifted toward Naoya, his form still and vulnerable on the bed. "And…my father," you continued, your voice barely above a whisper. "He'll…he'll force me to terminate the pregnancy."

Mizuki gasped, her hand flying to cover her mouth once again. "They can't do that," her voice was filled with horror and outrage. "That's…unconscionable." Her expression softened with compassion as she placed and gentle hand on your now trembling shoulder. "You have to tell Naobito," she said firmly.

You recoiled at the suggestion. "I can't," you protested, your voice wavering. "He…he won't listen to me."

Her eyes held a determined gleam as she met your gaze. "Y/N, listen to me," she began, her voice steady but urgent. "Naobito needs to know the truth. He'll see the baby as Zenin property, as a potential heir, and want to protect it. That might be our best chance to save you and your child from your family."

You felt a surge of panic rising within you at the mere thought of revealing everything to Naobito. The consequences had the chance to be dire, not just for you but for everyone involved. However, as you looked into Mizuki's unwavering gaze, you knew she was right. It was the only way to ensure your safety and the safety of your unborn child.

Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you nodded slowly. "Alright," you whispered, the weight of the decision settling heavily on your shoulders. "I'll tell him everything."

After saying goodbye to Naoya's mother, you slipped toward the meeting room quietly. You could hear the muffled voices through the shoji door. You pressed an ear against the wall, straining to catch any snippets of conversation. Voices rose and fell in a rhythmic cadence, discussing matters that seemed distant and insignificant compared to what was going on with you and Naoya. Your heart raced as you waited anxiously for the meeting to end, your mind swirling with thoughts of what you'd say to Naobito when the time came.

Finally, the meeting drew to a close and you could hear the sound of the clan leaders getting up as everyone came to a stand. Some chatter filled the air as the shoji door opened, the prospect of relaxation and revelry beckoning them after a long meeting. You spotted Daisuke and your father exiting the room, their conversation hushed and serious.

Minutes continued to pass like hours until, finally, you caught a glimpse of him, his tall figure moving sloppily through the doorway. You stepped forward, your heart pounding in your chest as you began to address him.

"Naobito-sama," you cleared your throat, your voice steady despite the nervousness gnawing at you. "May I speak to you for a moment?"

Naobito pauses, his expression unreadable as he regarded you. His eyes were sharp and piercing as they bore into you. The scent of alcohol was strong on his clothes as you swallowed hard, hoping he couldn't see through the facade you were desperately trying to maintain.

After a moment of silence, he nodded curtly. "Speak," he spat, his voice low and commanding. "What is it?"

"I'm…pregnant," you stated simply, the words hanging heavily in the air.

His eyes widened slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing his face before it was quickly replaced by a steely resolve. "Congratulations," he cleared his throat. "Naoya's heir is coming sooner than expected."

You met his gaze head-on, not reacting to his congratulations. "My family is conspiring against your clan," you explained, your voice unwavering. "My father has been plotting to take down both the Zenin and Gojo clans to gain more power."

Naobito's jaw clenched at the revelation, his expression darkening with anger. He didn't completely believe you yet.

"My sister has been working on the Gojo clan, while I was assigned to the Zenin," you explained with a pleading tone.

A tense silence settled between you, the weight of truth hanging heavily in the air. Naobito's gaze bore into you, searching for any hint of deception in your words. "And what of Naohiro's death?" He questioned, his voice low and dangerous.

You shook your head firmly, meeting his gaze with unwavering sincerity. "I didn't kill Naohiro," you stated firmly. "I loved him."

A flicker of doubt crossed Naobito's features, but it was quickly replaced by a hardened resolve. "And what of Naoya?" He pressed, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife. "Do you love him, too?"

You didn't hesitate, your answer coming easily despite the gravity of the situation. "Yes," you affirmed, your voice filled with conviction. "I love Naoya, and I want to ensure that our child is safe." As you spoke, you placed a hand protectively over your stomach, a silent vow. "My uncle is dragging me back home with a purpose."

"You do know that the accusations toward your family are capable of starting a clan war?" His eyebrow raised with skepticism.

You nodded again. "If I leave here, I'll lose everything that's precious to me. My family needs to be dealt with."

Naobito's gaze softened slightly, a glimmer of understanding flickering in his eyes as he regarded you. "We'll discuss this further later," he said finally, "but for now, you will remain under close watch. You will not leave the Zenin estate."

You gave a respectful bow as you felt your heart in your throat. You felt like you could throw up again, but you swallowed it down. You kept your head low as he left, relief and anxiety swirling within you.

As night crept on the horizon, long shadows cast along the wooden floors of the estate, you made your way back to the bedroom where Naoya was lying. Entering the room, you felt a sense of calm wash over you, even despite the situation, as you closed the fusuma door behind you, enclosing you in a cocoon of silence besides the beeping and humming of Naoya's monitors. You were safe…for now.

With gentle hands, you began to prepare your futon on the floor beside the bed. You meticulously smoothed out the bedding, tucking the edges neatly beneath the mattress, ensuring that it was as comfortable as possible. As you worked, you stole glances at Naoya, his form still and peaceful amidst the soft glow of the bedside lamp.

Once the futon was prepared to your satisfaction, you paused, your gaze lingering on Naoya's still face. He looked so vulnerable lying there, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm, his features softened in sleep even with a tube protruding between his lips. Despite the machines and medications, he seemed almost serene, as if he were merely lost in a peaceful dream. Unable to resist the pull any longer, you crossed over and leaned over him beside the bed, your hand reaching out to gently cup his cheek.

Leaning in close, you pressed a gently kiss to his forehead, your lips lingering for a moment as you whispered. "I love you," the words a soft murmur against his skin.

Tears welled in your eyes as you pulled away, the weight of your emotions threatening to overwhelm you. You pressed a hand to your stomach, feeling another slight wave of nausea, a reminder of the bind you had to Naoya. With a deep breath, you stood straight again and made your way back to the futon on the floor, slipping beneath the covers and curling up on your side. As you attempted to fall asleep to the sound of the various machines running in the room, you let your tears silently fall onto your pillow. Each tear gave very little relief to everything you'd been feeling, the pregnancy hormones certainly not helping. You couldn't help but dwell on the burdens that seemed to become a consistency in your life.

Your thoughts drifted to your childhood, a time where you'd yearned for your father's approval, for his love. You knew that you could never succeed your father thanks to their orthodox beliefs, but you still vied to be the very best you could -- molded to the image he crafted for you. But you were met with indifference, with demands that you could hardly fulfill. You were nothing more than a tool to him, a means to an end in his quest for power. He was no different than Naobito, but at least Naobito wore his ideals on his sleeve compared to your quiet and overly traditional father.

The memories of Naohiro also flooded into your mind, the ache of his loss even just five months later, still raw. You had shared dreams of a future together, you were going to betray your father anyway for him. But all of that was shattered on that fateful mission. That cursed spirit had taken him from you, leaving you alone in a cold reality, falling back into your father's arms just to repeat the cycle. History repeating with Naoya. Your love had come too late, Hanahaki Disease clearly bound to take his life any day. You could hardly bear the thought of losing him, too, of watching helplessly as he withered away before your eyes just as Naohiro had in your arms.

As your sobs filled the room, you heart the sound of shuffling sheets. You sat up slightly and looked up at Naoya who was still relatively still. His arms and legs twitched slightly, almost as if he was rousing from his medicated slumber.

Hurriedly, you rose from the futon once more and crawled on your knees over to his bedside. Your hand reached out gently to caress his face. "Naoya," you whispered, your voice barely above a breath, "can you hear me?"

His response was a faint, voice crackling groan, muffled by the tube in his mouth. He reached toward you with trembling fingers. You quickly took his hand in yours, your heart swelling with love as you gazed into his eyes, the amber color hardly visible in the darkness of the room. His other hand came up and began to motion, its fingers pinched and moving back and forth. You glanced between his eyes and his fingers, realizing his silent plea for something to write with.

With a sense of urgency, you hurried to the desk in the room, grabbing a notebook and pen before returning to his side. Handing the notebook and pen to him, you watched as he struggled to grasp both items, particularly the pen. Your heart ached at the sight of his slow and unsteady hands, knowing how difficult it must've been for him to attempt to write in his weakened state, not to mention the tube down his throat.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he managed to write out a single statement: 愛してる. I love you. It was hardly legible, his usual chicken scratch even worse than usual.

You flattened your lips in an attempt to hold back your tears, your breath catching in your throat as you read the words. "I love you, too, Naoya," you whispered back, finally able to say it to him face-to-face.

He let go of the notebook, letting it lay flat on his lap as he kept his face turned toward you. His hand moved to your cheek, caressing it softly. His thumb brushed away a stray tear or two before returning to your gaze where he pointed to his chest and then gave the 'OK' sign with his index and thumb forming a circle. You nodded with a smile, a tearful giggle escaping your lips in response.

Naoya then picked the notebook back up and underneath his declaration of love, he wrote out a single question: Are we having a baby?

You looked at the characters scrawled out and nodded again, your tears coming down a bit harder as you realized that he had heard you earlier when his mother had visited. "Yes," you nodded, your voice breaking slightly. "Yes, we're having a baby."

His eyes widened for a moment before his head turned to face the ceiling. He released the notebook and pen and weakly brought his hands together, shaking them before letting them come down to his face. He let them stay there for a moment before picking the notebook back up and pointed to his previous statement of "I love you," written above the question.

You giggled and wiped one of your tears with a finger. "I love you, too," you repeated with a trembling grin.

You had no idea what his consciousness meant in regard to his health. You also didn't know how the morning would look when Daisuke would come to try and drag you away, or what would happen between your two families. All that you had was this moment to hold on to.

Dates: July 24, 2018 - Y/N manages to sneak Naoya's mother in and she finally admits her feelings for Naoya.

[magalidragon]

we will always have the weirwood tree | a Things We Left Behind AU | teaser

Broken men break women. Jon Snow was broken. And Daenerys Targaryen was beautiful.

Happy Birthday @youwerenevermine !

This is the long awaited Lucian x Sloane AU. It had everything you love and more. Enemies-to-Lovers, Grumpy x Sunshine, second chance romance, feral Jon, badass Dany….WE LOVE IT ALL!

As I have already said I didn’t finish the first chapter and decided to go all in and just give you the full 10k smut chapter 😂 But until then, here’s a big teaser.

LOVE YOU BESTIE AND HOPE YOU HAVE AN AMAZING BIRTHDAY!!! 🥳 🎂 🎉 🎈 🎁 💕

Super sneak peek after the cut!

Jon took a deep breath and opened the door, unfolding himself from the Range Rover. A blast of frigid air pushed his coat back and he reached up to anxiously push back some of his unruly black curls. He didn't mind the cold; it suited him. He ignored buttoning up his coat and strode down the drive, crossed the yard, entered the godswood on one side, and went around the massive weirwood tree-- ignoring the worn branches that stepladdered up to the bay window that looked directly at his childhood bedroom-- out the back gate and around the edge of the house to the front porch.

He didn't even have his knuckles lifted to knock on the door when it exploded open and a silver-haired, elegantly coiffed man flew out, smacking into him. "Jon!"

"Vis," Jon sighed, patting the man's back. Vis was older than him by at least seven years, but there were times where he behaved far younger. He figured that he'd be a mess. Vis was never one to handle anything rationally or professionally. He carefully extricated himself while at the same time turning Vis around and marching him into the house. "You made it in alright?"

Vis wiped at his eyes, nodding. "Yes, the plane was a bloody nightmare, they wouldn't even bump me from business to first class, can you believe it? I didn't even get a lie-flat seat on the flight!"

"Sorry to hear, call me next time I would have had my plane get you."

A set of pale lilac eyes widened greedily, even through the grief etched on his thin, pointed face. "Oh? Well I will do that." He beckoned him into the house. "Come on in. We ordered pizza, but mine is without carbs."

Jon didn't even know what that was supposed to look or taste like. Ash, he expected, and he politely declined, holding his hand up even as Vis was trying to offer him a slice. "No thanks, I already ate."

A cool, icy voice floated down from the staircase behind him. "Don't you know Viserys, vampires don't eat actual food. He only drinks the blood of innocents."

<i>And there she was.</i>

He didn't even need to turn around. In fact, he thought if he did, his knees would either give out because of the intense <i>want</i> she invoked within him. Or he'd snap and say something he would regret because of the intense <i>fury</i> she also invoked in him. There had been no one in his life who could make him swing from emotion to emotion on either side of the pendulum except for her.

<i>Daenerys Targaryen</i>

Dany, to her friends. Satan's Majesty to him.

He held his breath, turning his head a fraction to glance at her, a bemused expression settling on his face. Tonight she wore fuzzy pink dragon slippers on her tiny feet, a pair of dragon scale-like leggings in vibrant purple, and an oversized Winterfell High Track and Field sweatshirt that had seen better days, the dark gray wolf mascot on the front almost white from so many washes. Her silver hair, the same shade as her brother's, was bound up in a variety of braided knots, some of it left loose to cascade over her shoulders. There were a few faded pink drinks within it, probably a remnant from an All Hallow's Eve costume a couple weeks ago.

Unlike her brother, her eyes were more vivid, lavender with a flame held over them. It matched the fire that was always bubbling under her surface, unleashed whenever she felt passionate about something. Which happened more often than not.

Daenerys was nothing, if not passionate.

Especially for the ones she loved.

And he hated her for it.

It was that same passion that betrayed him.

And he couldn't forgive that. Jon Snow <i>never</i> forgave and he <i>never</i> forgot.

Plus, she was the epitome of Before. And the reason for After.

The funny thing was, Dany frgave and forgot either. It made for some awkward encounters over the years. Encounters which always left him aching, wanting, sometimes <i>begging</i> for more. Things he had suppressed in himself over the years. Weaknesses. Failures. It was why he never came back here if he could help it and when he did, he tried to always avoid the house beside the weirwood tree.

Yet it seemed he'd been here more often than he ever had before, checking on things...on people. On Aemon.

Now Aemon was gone. But he as here, wasn't he? That's all Aemon could have hoped for at this rate. Even if he never had understood why his beloved great-niece and his beloved...whatever the fuck Jon was suddenly couldn't bear to be in the same room as each other without tearing each other's throats out.

He nodded to her. "Your majesty." He affected a fake bow, exaggerated and theatrical. He straightened, smirking at her, pushing down the surge of attraction. It seemed his body— notably his cock— had never received the memo that Daenerys Targaryen was off limits. She was the bane of his existence. She was the most obnoxious, annoying, infuriating, and downright ridiculous person he had ever met.

As she walked by, the top of her head barely at his eyesight, she scowled at him, giving him the finger. Her nails were purple with smiley faces on them. He hated them. "Fuck off, why are you even here? Vis, you know when you invite vampires into the house they can come in whenever they want."

[honeybeezgobzzzzz]

𓃮 Even the Sun Influences the Tide: Chapter Three

Even the Sun Influences the Tide: After the death of your foster brother, King T’Challa, you had spent much of your year of mourning in isolation. When your mother gathers you and your sister to end your mourning period, you encounter the newest threat to Wakanda: Namor. You don’t know what to think of Namor, but you do know one thing: he probably shouldn’t be making trips to see you at your beach hut.

Warnings: Angst.

To Note: Namor/K’uk’ulkan x Fem!Reader, I Tried To Make The Yucatec Maya & Xhosa Translations/Traditions As Accurate As I Can Get.

Word Count: ~2.7k

Previous | Masterlist | Next

You didn’t have much choice in dressing up for the council meeting, but for once your mind was too distracted to care. So walking into the throne room wearing your official royal dress and Xhosa beaded head veil, you calmly walked over to Okoye and pursed your lips.

��Have you found anything regarding our uninvited… guest?” You softly questioned, looking at the faces of the elders already in attendance. There was an air of tension, like thick smog, it was uncomfortable to say the least. Okoye’s forehead scrunched in distaste.

“No, my princess,” She answered, dark eyes meeting yours with a thunderous clash. There was nothing Okoye hated more than being out of the loop, or having a potential threat and enemy, breach Wakandan borders without knowledge. “There was no breach from the skies or land, we would have detected it.”

“He came from the water, Okoye, I suspect that is how he was able to enter undetected.” You pointed out. “Do we have any security or defense measures in place regarding our rivers and streams? They are connected to the ocean.”

“None at the moment, there was never a need.” Okoye grudgingly admitted. You hummed in response before hearing Ramonda approach, turning in place, you looked to her with a raised eyebrow.

“Anything yet?” Ramonda sighed and shook her head.

“She is still looking into it, I suspect we shall have more answers soon enough.” She told you before sweeping around and elegantly sitting down on her throne. Sighing at the lack of new information, you took your seat on her right and folded your hands in your lap. Ramonda lifted her gaze to Okoye. “Have you done what I requested?”

“Thrice,” Okoye answered, her lips pressing together. “Heaven Scrapes had no evidence of any activity at all.” As she spoke the ceremonial doors boomed open and M’Baku entered flanked by four of his strongest warriors. Everyone in the room let out a collective sigh, knowing his proclivity to be prideful and, well, for lack of a more eloquent answer: blunt and a bit crude.

“So our river border has been breached? I once more offer the support of my Jabari Hell screamers. If my soldiers were present this... fish man, would be bound before us as we speak.” M’Baku spoke out, taking bite out of the carrot he held. Your eyebrow rose and you resisted the urge to roll your eyes. The naval officers bristled at his tone and criticism of their duty.

“If your muscle brains were present, they would still be there choking on their fuzzy adornments.” Okoye cooly returned, her lips sneering. M’Baku glared at her and raised his carrot in her direction.

“You bald-headed demon—“

“Enough you two, show some respect,” Ramonda enunciated, shutting down the short quip between Okoye and M’Baku.

“Respect?” M’Baku repeated before rounding on the Naval officers. “Why are they guarding the river anyway? Because they did well in swimming school? These men should be ashamed to show their faces!”

“Watch your tone, Jabari!” The captain snapped back. The Jabari started to hoot, imitating their ancestral god, Hanuman.

“Elder M’Baku,” You voiced loudly, cutting the deep calls off. “Would you please take a seat so the council may convene?” M’Baku glanced at you for a brief moment, before huffing and taking a loud bite from his carrot, grudgingly sitting down. “Thank you.”

Clearing her throat, Okoye began reiterating all surveillance that had been reviewed since Namor had appeared.

“There is no aerial surveillance footage of him.”

“And nothing on radar as well.” The naval captain contributed, causing unrest to bloom among the council. The River Tribe Elder tilted his head.

“So he swam underwater for 60 miles?” It was nigh unbelievable, even with the many gifted individuals within Wakanda. No one had that ability. The elder turned to you. “And have you, princess, seen any visual of this man? You live on the fringes of our society along the river linked to the sea. Surely if anyone was to have seen him before he made his presence known, it would be you.”

You went to reply but found your throat freezing up and no words emerging. You were certain you had seen Namor two months past, hovering in the distance and watching. But he hadn’t approached you, or threatened you, and you were fairly certain that all Namor wished was for his people to be protected. Just like Ramonda. You made the hard decision to hold your tongue.

“No, Elder, I have not seen him before. I believe I would remember seeing a man with wings on his ankles. I’m sure it is not a sight one forgets.” You replied, letting your eyes drift to your lap. “If I saw what I perceived to be a threat to my home and country, I would not hesitate to inform the queen mother.”

The Elders all hummed in agreement, knowing that your undying loyalty to your home was unflappable and unwavering.

“He claims to command a massive army. I know a threat when I hear one.”

“He is trying to protect his people and his nation, queen mother,” You reminded her.

“And he is still a threat, Y/N.” She returned, giving you a stern look. “He came into my country, unannounced and unwelcome. You are soft hearted, my daughter, and your preference for diplomacy is valued beyond compare, but not in this moment.” Her words stung, but they were true. You didn’t back down from her gaze.

“So you believe that handing over the scientist to Namor is our only option? That the hands of our great country Wakanda have been tied!?” Ramonda’s stare into your eyes was hard for a few moments, you were talking to the queen, not your mother. “You know that he will probably kill them, is that what you want? Blood on our hands?”

“Blood on our hands will be the least of worries if he chooses violence, my child,” It was a loosing battle, certainly with this council. The Mining Tribe Elder shifted in her seat and chose to speak her thoughts

“We have never faced an enemy with access to Vibranium before, and we have no Black Panther to protect us.” Not this again. As you sighed and rubbed your forehead, M’Baku made a sound of sarcasm.

“Because this wise council allowed Killmonger to take the throne and burn up all of your precious Heart- Shaped Herb.””

“What would you have us do?” Ramonda questioned, waving her hand. M’baku snorted.

“We find the fish man and kill him.” You muttered several curses beneath your breath, earning a disapproving look from your mother while the Border Tribe Elder exhaled harshly.

“Who is being foolish now? You would have us make war with a man we know nothing about. At least we have intelligence on the Americans.” M’Baku countered just as strong.

“If we do what he wants now what’s to prevent him from coming back and asking for more?”

You hated that he was right.

The council had dispersed and you stood in front of the grand windows overlooking the city, your arms crossed. It was decided that the scientist would be located, but you weren’t sure what your mother would do once the scientist was in Wakandan control. At the very least you could take comfort in knowing that there still would be several weeks before any action would take place.

“Y/N,” Looking over your shoulder, your eyes watched as your mother slowly walked over to you, hands clutched in front of her. “I know you do not care for the decision made by this council…”

“Have we not lost enough family members to violence and ilk?” You softly spoke, underlying pain echoing in your eyes and voice. Ramonda’s gaze softened and she let out a breath, reaching out to lay a hand on your arm.

“That is precisely why I must protect Wakanda, protect you and Shuri,” Ramonda enunciated. “You and her are all I have left of my family and I do not want anything to happen to you.” She stroked your face, remembering your child self, broken and despondent after the death of your biological parents’ death, and the promise she had made. Ramonda had promised to protect you and never let any thing happen to you, she wasn’t about to break that promise now.

You looked down and pursed your lips.

“Regardless of the council’s decision, I would like to be updated on the situation with Namor.” Ramonda’s eyes tightened at the underlying message within your words. You were not staying within the city walls.

“You’re going back to your beach,”

“I am still finding myself, mother, and until I feel that I have a purpose within my nation, I would like to stay there.” Your decision hurt her as a mother, but as the queen, she understood your reasoning.

The ride back to your beach hut was quiet despite Shuri sitting across from you, staring at you. You knew that she was itching to question you about the council meeting, itching to question your opinion on Namor. Shuri didn’t care for being subtle when she wanted to know something. Like a dog with a bone.

“What is it, Shuri?” You questioned, finally addressing the elephant in the talon fighter. She made a face at you and crossed her arms.

“Why are you still insisting staying in that shack,” She asked with a wrinkle in her nose. The beads of your head veil jangled together when you shook your head.

“I’m not arguing with you on this Shuri,” You murmured, looking down at your hands and wishing that she wouldn’t continually pick fights with you about your choices to stay away from the citadel.

“So you are just going to ignore me then?”

“I said I’m not doing this with you Shuri,” You repeated firmly, your hands clenching. “Because you and I? We’d obliterate this universe with our anger and pain, and I refuse to take you down with me.”

Before Shuri had a chance to retort or counter your words, Okoye, who had been flying the talon, announced your arrival.

“We have arrived, princess.” You stood up and addressed Okoye before she landed the ship.

“I’ll take the beam,” You announced, hitting the open button for the tractor beam. The circular doors retracted and Okoye looked over her shoulder with a disapproving look. You gave her one last look before stepping over the edge and falling from the ship. It was only about ten feet you fell, your body gracefully folding and absorbing the impact like you had been taught, all too easily. Bouncing back to your full height, you held your hand up over your shoulder in a goodbye. The talon’s retreat was quiet and soon you were standing alone on your beach with the breeze softly blowing your dress and head veil.

You found yourself staring out across the water, a sourness in your stomach and an ache at your temple. Reaching up, you pulled the head veil down and held it tight in your hand. You thought you had been feeling better, but now you felt just as lost as when you had first come to this beach. Sighing deeply, you turned to your hut. It was time to change and start your dinner.

After changing into a cropped banded top that left your midriff free and a pair of loose pants, you carefully folded your dress and placed it into your dresser for safekeeping until someone came to visit and could take it back to the citadel. It was time to get back to your simple life. Rolling up the ends of your pants, you retrieved your weighted fishing net, put your pack on your back and departed your hut to fish for your dinner.

You had decided on a fish and corn chowder for dinner this night, needing something to take your mind off the politics of Wakanda. You had goats milk in your cold storage that needed using and your corn supply was plentiful. Not to mention potatoes grew like weeds in your farming patch in back of your hut. Slinging the fishing net over your shoulder, you carefully picked your way down the path to a fishing spot you knew would prove to be fruitful.

Reaching the spot, you carefully waded into the water and wiped your brow of sweat before readying the weighted net. Your fingers curled around the net and with a twist you let the net go flying. The weights hit the water and sank deep, and hopefully, catching your dinner. You repeated the process, slowly filling your pack with nile perch. Walking back to your beach, you scratched your sweaty neck and groaned. Feeling clean was one luxury you did miss.

The sun was setting when you had all the ingredients in the pot over the fire, bubbling and emitting smells that made your stomach rumble. All you had to do was wait for it to finish cooking. You took to looking skyward at the stars sparkling overhead, the sun only just illuminating the horizon and the bush nightlife coming to life.

“I can see why you like it here,” Gasping at the soft words breaking the peaceful silence, your hand dove for the vibranium knife at your hip and you twisted on the sand, moving into a defensive crouch. Namor stood a couple of meters from you, head turned to the sky.

“Ngqundu wako, Namor!” (You ass) You hissed sharply, your left eye twitching as your mind wondered if he had really, once again, snuck into Wakanda. The man eyed you with a charming smile.

“Ma'lob ak'ab, princesa,” (Good evening) You scowled at him and sunk your knife into the sand next to you.

“You can’t just go sneaking into Wakanda!” You exclaimed while clambering to your feet in a huff. Namor stepped to the side to face you, and a lopsided grin appeared. You felt like tearing your hair out. “Do you not understand how angry my mother is that you snuck in once! Why did you come back!?”

“Call it… curiosity?” He offered, as if he hadn’t thought of that reason himself.

“Your curiosity is going to get yourself killed, Namor,” You huffed at him. His eyebrow arched at you and amusement flickered within his brown eyes.

“Have you decided that I am your enemy, princesa?” You snorted in disbelief and looked around you, waving a hand.

“I don’t know you!” You answered him, eyeing him up and down and noting how relaxed he seemed. “And I doubt my mother would approve of me speaking with someone such as you with intimate names.”

“Would she?” Namor mused, stepped closer to you. You wanted to step backward, keep the distance between you and him. But the fire was directly behind you, you had nowhere to go. You could hear Okoye’s lecturing voice in your mind, telling you how foolish it was of you to get into vulnerable position. You lifted your chin and stood your ground.

“I’ll tell her that you came again.” You warned. He appeared to be amused by your threat, and a knowing smile stretched across his lips.

“You had an infinite amount of chances to tell her about my appearance two months past,” Namor reminded you. “Yet here we are.”

The look in his eyes told you everything. He knew that if you had told her, you would have never been allowed to return home to such a remote place without guard.

“What do you want from me?” You asked, deciding to just get answers. Another boyish smile appeared and he raised a hand, brushing his knuckles against your jaw before taking one of the braids framing your face and examining the beads braided there.

“I want to know more about you,” Namor explained honestly with a shrug. Behind you came the furious boiling of your dinner, but you didn’t dare move your eyes from his.

“My dinner is about to over boil so I think I will have to say goodnight to you, Namor,” You stated firmly. Namor smiled once more and reached for your hand. Your fingers twitched in his grasp and it took everything you had not to blanche and yank your hand back when he bowed his head and pressed his lips against the back of your hand.

“Ku méejtech uutsil, princesa,” (Have a nice meal) He murmured, maintaining and electrifying eye contact with you. Your fingers were released and Namor stepped back. Then with the grace of dolphin, dove into the water and disappeared. You turned and looked at your bubbling stew, bending down to remove it from the heat.

“Saved by the stew.”

Date Published: 3/19/23

Last Edit: 4/2/23

Previous | Masterlist | Next

[minhosimthings]

Hold me Without Hurting me

Chapter 9: Nettleseed and Next steps

A/N: In which an old friend fills your life with flowers again, along a bumpy sided road.

Pairings: Ceo!Jay × Ceo!fem!reader, includes rest of Enhypen and certain other groups

Warnings: angst-fluff, hurt/comfort, friends to enemies to fake dating to enemies to lovers, Mentions of food and alcohol, swearing, jay comfort, nothing much but it's a bumpy story.

Story prompt: If I had a flower for every time I fell in love with you, I would walk in my garden forever. (This story is based on the language of flowers.)

A/N: it's really short cause my brain couldn't write anything more but I promise the next one will be longer. And more fluffier hehehe

SERIES MASTERLIST

From Saturn to Mars. A long distance it seems. According to the math, it is made up of some complicated numbers. But when you look at it, when you hear it coming out of Jay's mouth, like a prayer, a carefully memorized poem, it seemed too close to be true.

It wouldn't be a lie if you said that you missed the times you had with Jay, two lost teenagers in the middle of summer, sipping away on cherry cokes and devising plans of the future. Now the future seemed too close, too quick. Too fast coming. It seemed that all those years you've spent yearning for this time, had faded away in the blink of an eye. And it all felt useless, as you saw Jay sleeping on the couch, arms folded and face tranquil as dew.

You quietly slipped out of his room, making sure to take all your belongings and leaving a note for Jay. He usually didn't sleep in, but it seemed that last night's shenanigans had worn him out. Your feet ached as you dragged yourself back to your room, trying to not to fall down in ghe elevator ride.

"Woah Y/N hey." The elevator doors opened on your floor to reveal Sunghoon, dressed elegantly in a purple suit. "Oh hey Hoonie." You smiled at him, taking the grateful hand he had offered and stepping out the elevator. Sunghoon gently guided you back to the door of your room.

"Oh I saw your assistant in the morning." Sunghoon sat down on the couch, as you plopped onto the one opposite him, "He was with Jay's assistant." You held your head in your hands and leaned back, basically sleeping on the couch. "They must have had fun last night, what with me spending the night in that asshole's room." You grumbled, as Sunghoon looked at you with pity.

"Sunoo told me about your agreement." He chuckled, "Somehow he managed to find out that you two aren't actually dating." Your eyes widened at Sunghoon's words. "Park Sunghoon if you even dare tell anyone-" "Oh shush you know I won't tell anyone." Sunghoon cut your words off, pouring himself a glass of water. You rolled your eyes and gently massaged your feet, wincing at the sunlight coming in from the open curtains. Dusty curtains, more like.

"You know in my amazing opinion-" Sunghoon suddenly started, "I think Jay actually likes you."

Sunghoon was thankful that you didn't have a knife in your premises, as you threw a pillow at him with surprising accuracy. "It's just an opinion!" Sunghoon defended himself as you prepared to throw another pillow. "A dumb opinion!" You threw the pillow anyway, this time time missing Sunghoon's head by an inch.

"Give me the evidence for your so called amazing opinion and I'll consider it." You crossed your arms and frowned, tapping your foot on the ground. Sunghoon stuck his tongue out at you and leaned back, crossing his arms in a similar manner.

"Girl come on." He raised a brow at you, "You really think a man who is just dating you for business purposes would defend you like that? Like he did last night? Most people would have just left it for you to solve out the pickle on your own." Your eyes softened at Sunghoon's words as you considered it for a moment. True, he had defended you in a way which most people wouldn't. It reminded you of the way he fought for you in ninth grade. The memory still brings a smile to your face, as you think back to the moment your bully's face was stuffed with mud, and how you and Jay ran all the way home, only to be caught by his mother.

"Still Hoonie. How do I assume he likes me just from that?" You drawled, feeling your stomach slightly grumble. It was already 9 in the morning and your breakfast usually came at 7. Sunghoon smiled at you and pulled out his phone, frantically scrolling through whatever content was open on his phone. "What in the hell are you doing Park Sunghoon." You groaned, lifting yourself up forcefully and dragging your body over to his seat to take a peak at his phone.

"I was going to come over to your seat but alright. Suit yourself then." He grumbled as you nudged closer to him, basically shoving him off of the couch. "Here." Sunghoon shoved the phone into your hands. The screen displayed a text conversation, which you peered to read because of Sunghoon's dangerously low screen light.

"Wait a minute-" you furrowed your brows in concentration as you read the contact name, "Jay Park? As in our Jay Park?" Sunghoon chuckled.

"You really didn't notice? Similar last names, pretty faces. He's my cousin." You widened your eyes as your jaw dropped in awe. You must have stared at Sunghoon for a long time before he snapped his fingers in front of you and directed your eyes back to the conversation.

"This is why I really believe he does like you." Sunghoon stated as your eyes fell upon the messages. Flowers, museums, perfumes, all conversations about your favourite things of which Jay was basically interrogating Sunghoon about.

"You should probably take a look at this one." Sunghoon scrolled down to the last message.

Jay - I think I'll tell her about how I truly feel today.

Your heart almost stopped as you read the message. 'Truly feel'? That sounded straight out of a cheesy 20's rom com.

"Well you should probably get going Y/Nnie." Sunghoon clapped his hands together, "He's planning to take you to the flower shops today."

The sunlight hit your face painfully through the open windows as you changed into new clothes. The idea of opening the curtains to quote unquote 'let some sunlight in', was definetly a bad one.

Jungwon had returned to your room in the morning, with his cheeks the colour of wine and his smile as bright as morning glory. His dimples were on wide display as he bowed to you and basically jumped onto a trampoline when you had asked him what had happened with Kayla.

His words of 'she asked for my number' and 'I am so in love with her Ma'am.' went over your head as your thoughts swivelled around what you saw in Sunghoon's messages. Getting the fact into your mind that your college best friend and the man who broke you into a million shards was a hard one. Getting the fact that Jay said 'about how he truly feels' to Sunghoon? Possibly the hardest thing you've ever had to stuff into your mind.

"Ma'am?" Jungwon peeked his head through the door as you ran through the last steps of your makeup, "Mr Park is here." With a pop of your lips, you got up from your seat and swung your bag around your shoulder, walking out the door to meet Jungwon. "Please tell me we don't have a meeting today." You sighed, taking the file he had handed you. Jungwon meekly shook his head as a blush crept up to his cheeks.

"What is it Jungwon? Your ears are bright red." You laughed, pointing at his tomato ears as you put your heels on. "Well I was wondering-" Jungwon began with his speech, "If you could allow me to stay out a little longer with Kayla today Ma'am? I-I really wanna make a good impression for her." You smiled gently at Jungwon's request and nodded your head, clapping your hand to his back in celebration. "Finally going to impress your mother with a girl eh?" You joked to which Jungwon's ears seemed to become less red.

You were dressed casually today, white sundress, draped with a beautiful golden chain with dangled from the crevices of your neck, drawing attention to your hair as well. Less sexier than what you had worn yesterday, you thought, but all for the best incase another 'emergency meeting' popped up.

"Y/N." Jay bowed as soon as you propped the door open. You nearly froze as you laid your eyes on him. Handsome seemed to have been a word unworthy of describing him at the moment as he fixed his watch slowly and adjusted his loose blue polo shirt. The marble white trousers he had on seemed to sharpen his curves even more, making him look like the Jay you yearned for years ago. It was a more casual look, one you'd wear for picking up a basket of bread, or accidentally stepping on the neighbour's cat's tail and apologizing to it frantically as your best friend looked on, laughing at you.

"Jay." You responded, realising that you had been staring at him for too long. If it hadn't been for Jay reaching behind his back, you wouldn't have seen Kayla quietly giggling and stealing glances at Jungwon behind you. You hid your smile in your heart, young love was always so sweet. Pity you never had it.

"Shall we go then?" Jay cleared his throat, as you reached your hand forward to enclose in his, making a clear motion for your little party to start moving downstairs.

An interesting day it would be, you thought, trying not to take in Jay's intoxicating perfume.

[rosieverse]

A/N: Haiii! This is my first fanfic (abt g-idle), and I’m super excited to share it with you! I hope you enjoy it! Feel free to leave your thoughts or feedback—I’d love to know what you think! Thanks for reading!

──── ୨୧ ────

Genre : Dark Fantasy , Romance

Themes : Forbidden love , enemies to lovers

Setting : A war-torn world where Heaven and Hell fight for dominance over the mortal realm. You are an angel tasked with bringing hope to mortals, while Soyeon, a cunning demon general, leads the forces of chaos.

──── ୨୧ ────

The mortal realm lay bathed in twilight, the sky stained with shades of orange and crimson like an open wound, the air thick with the scent of ash. The breeze, warm yet brittle, stirred the dust and carried it through the devastated landscape. It was a place ravaged by chaos, one that had been scarred by the conflict between Heaven and Hell. You hovered above it, your wings glowing faintly, the only light left in this dying world. Your orders were clear: Protect the villagers of Cindral from the demon forces descending upon them.

This wasn’t a simple skirmish. The boundary between Heaven and Hell had weakened, and the mortal realm was caught in the fray. Humans, desperate for salvation, turned to the celestial forces—and you, an angel of the lower ranks, were sent to answer their cries.

Gripping your celestial blade, you descended into the fray. The sound of battle echoed beneath you, the clash of steel and the cries of demons tearing through the village. The demons, grotesque and vile, were ransacking the place, their laughter rising above the flames.

Despite the unease gnawing at your heart, you pressed forward. Your wings cut through the smoke and flames as you struck down the first demon that dared to approach. The villagers, though terrified, caught glimpses of the light you brought, offering them a fleeting hope in this hellish scene.

The desperate wail of a woman pierced the chaos, and you found yourself drawn to it. Without a moment’s hesitation, you followed the sound, pushing through the wreckage. Inside a crumbling hut, a young mother shielded her child, her eyes wide with terror as a demon towered over them.

In one fluid motion, you raised your blade and sliced through the demon’s form. It crumpled to the ground with a guttural shriek. The woman, tears staining her face, whispered a soft "thank you," but the flames roared too loudly for you to hear her clearly.

Then, a voice—cold, venomous, and chilling—cut through the air.

“Well, well. What do we have here?”

The temperature seemed to drop, the shadows around you lengthening in unnatural ways. You turned slowly, your hand tightening on the hilt of your blade, and there she was.

Soyeon.

The demon general stood before you, a figure of darkness and allure. Her armor shimmered in shades of black, its edges seeming to absorb the light. Her horns curved elegantly, and her dark hair flowed around her like a veil. But it was her eyes—golden, predatory, sharp with amusement—that made your breath catch.

“An angel, playing savior,” she mused, a smirk dancing on her lips. “How quaint.”

You steadied yourself, narrowing your gaze. “This is your doing. Leave this place, demon. The suffering you’ve caused ends now.”

Soyeon’s laugh was low and sultry, like a predator toying with its prey. “Suffering? Oh, darling, we’ve barely begun.”

Without warning, she lunged. Her twin daggers gleamed with malicious intent, slicing through the air toward you. The clash of metal rang out as your blades met, sparks flying between you. She was fast—faster than any demon you’d ever faced—and there was something almost graceful in the way she fought. Every movement was deliberate, as though she wasn’t merely trying to defeat you, but… testing you.

“What’s the matter, angel?” she taunted, her voice a hushed whisper as you parried another strike. “Second thoughts about your holy mission?”

You gritted your teeth and met her eyes, your blade slashing toward her in a fierce counterattack. The blade grazed her shoulder, and she hissed—yet her grin only widened.

“Impressive,” she purred, stepping back, studying you with a calculating gaze. “I didn’t expect such a challenge. Too bad I’ll have to end you.”

Before you could react, Soyeon disappeared into the shadows, her presence melting away like smoke. You stood alone in the aftermath of the battle, the flickering flames casting long shadows around you, the village in ruins.

The flames in the village smoldered into the night, their crackling a reminder of the chaos that had unfolded. You stood amidst the ruins, breath steady, but your heart was far from calm. Soyeon’s presence lingered in your mind, her smirk and mocking words haunting you. You had faced demons before—had vanquished many—but there was something different about her.

You had been ordered to eliminate her. The celestial hierarchy had no patience for demons who toyed with their victims, and none more so than the demon generals, who led their forces with terrifying precision. But there was more to Soyeon, you realized. She wasn’t just a general, a mere soldier of Hell. There was something else beneath her wicked exterior—something human.

You didn’t want to admit it, but the thought unnerved you. Was it weakness? Compassion? You pushed the thought aside. Your mission was clear. You would defeat her, as you had been ordered.

The morning after the battle, you received your orders. The celestial council had deemed Soyeon too dangerous to remain unchecked. You were to track her down and end the threat once and for all.

But as you stood there, staring into the rising sun, something inside you hesitated.

The journey to find Soyeon was not easy. She was a skilled tactician, always one step ahead of you. You had to follow a trail of destruction, the whispers of mortals and demons alike guiding you in the right direction. Yet, every time you thought you were close, you’d find nothing but emptiness, the traces of her presence fading like smoke.

It was late one evening when you finally found her—or rather, when she found you.

You were walking through a dense forest, the air thick with the scent of damp earth and moss, when the familiar chill of her presence washed over you. You turned swiftly, your hand instinctively reaching for your blade, but it wasn’t Soyeon’s daggers that greeted you.

A quiet laugh rang out from the shadows.

“Always so cautious, angel.” Soyeon’s voice echoed through the trees. Her figure appeared in front of you, her form illuminated by the dim light of the moon filtering through the leaves. She leaned against a tree, her golden eyes gleaming with amusement.

“You’ve been following me,” she said, her tone teasing. “How sweet.”

You didn’t draw your blade immediately, despite the turmoil within you. “I’ve come to end you, Soyeon.” you said firmly, your voice unwavering despite the odd sensation twisting in your chest.

She cocked her head to the side, her lips curling into a smile. “Is that so? I’m afraid you’re not going to make it that easy.”

Soyeon stepped forward, her steps graceful and silent, like a predator circling its prey. But there was something in the air, something different about this encounter. You couldn’t quite place it—her presence wasn’t filled with the same malice it had been before.

For a moment, neither of you moved. The world around you was still, the only sound being the rustle of the wind in the trees.

“I’ve been thinking,” Soyeon began, her voice softer than you had ever heard it. “About what you said in the village.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“The part about suffering,” she continued, her gaze focused on something far away. “You said I was causing suffering. But… maybe you’re wrong.”

You frowned, confused. “What are you talking about? You slaughtered the innocent.”

Her golden eyes met yours, no longer filled with amusement, but something far deeper—something raw, almost vulnerable. “I never wanted this war. I didn’t ask for any of it.”

There was silence between you as her words hung in the air. The tension was thick, but this time, it wasn’t the usual animosity between angel and demon. It was something else.

“You don’t understand,” she said softly, almost to herself. “I’ve been forced to fight, to kill, to serve. But there’s something inside me, something that wants out.”

You stood motionless, trying to piece together her words. Was she confessing weakness? Or was this a trick, a way to lure you into a false sense of security?

“I’m not asking for your mercy,” she continued, taking another step toward you. “I just want you to know that not all demons are the same. Some of us…” She trailed off, shaking her head. “Some of us are just caught in the middle.”

Her gaze held yours now, the sharpness of her eyes replaced by a kind of weariness.

For a brief moment, you hesitated. This was not the demon you had been told to eliminate. There was something more complex about her—something you had never expected.

The silence stretched between you, thick with questions you didn’t know how to answer.

“Why are you telling me this?” you asked, your voice quiet.

Soyeon’s lips twisted into a smile, but it wasn’t the mocking smile she had worn before. It was tired, regretful. “I don’t know. Maybe because I’m tired of being the villain. Maybe because, for once, I just want someone to understand.”

Before you could respond, her expression shifted again, hardening into something more familiar. “But this doesn’t change anything, angel. I’m still a demon. And you’re still my enemy.”

Her eyes gleamed, and just like that, the moment of vulnerability vanished, replaced by the icy mask of the demon general.

The weight of Soyeon’s words lingered long after she disappeared into the forest’s shadows. You stood there, rooted in place, the cool night air biting at your skin as you tried to make sense of everything. The demon general, the ruthless killer you were sent to destroy, had spoken as if she were not a force of pure malice—but as a being tangled in something far more complicated.

You had expected to find an enemy—a creature of darkness, whose heart beat to the rhythm of destruction. But instead, you had found something… else.

You didn’t want to admit it, but the seed of doubt she planted began to grow. Was she truly the villain? Or was she just a victim of the endless war between Heaven and Hell?

The next few days passed in a haze. You carried out your mission, protecting the mortals who were caught in the crossfire of the ongoing battle. But your mind often wandered back to Soyeon. Her words, her eyes, the way her voice had softened in the forest—they clung to you, unraveling the clarity you once had.

You hadn’t expected to see her again so soon, but one night, when you were patrolling the edge of a ruined town, she appeared.

“I thought you might be here.”

Her voice was familiar—sharp, but with something else. You didn’t turn immediately, instead letting her words hang in the air between you. You had prepared yourself for another fight, but now, you weren’t sure if you were ready for the confrontation.

“What do you want?” you asked, your voice quiet.

Soyeon stepped forward, her silhouette half-hidden by the shadows. “I’m not here to fight you,” she said, her tone almost casual, though there was an edge to it. “I came to ask you something.”

Your heart skipped a beat, the tension in the air thickening. “What?”

She was silent for a moment, her gaze unreadable. When she spoke again, her voice was softer than you expected.

“Do you ever wonder if all of this—the fighting, the killing, the wars between Heaven and Hell—is worth it?”

You blinked, taken aback by her question. Of all the things you had anticipated her saying, this was not one of them. “What do you mean?”

Soyeon’s expression remained unreadable, but there was something almost mournful in her gaze. “I’ve spent so much of my existence fighting for a cause I didn’t even choose. Heaven doesn’t care about the demons who are born into this war. Hell doesn’t care either. They just use us as pawns in their endless game.”

You took a step back, confused by her words. “But we have our duties, our purposes. We fight for a reason—”

“Do you even know what that reason is anymore?” she interrupted, her voice rising slightly, her eyes flashing with frustration. “Do you know why you fight, angel? Because the truth is, Heaven doesn’t care about you either. You’re just another soldier, doing what you’re told.”

Her words stung, more than you wanted to admit. Was she right? Did Heaven truly care about you, or were you merely a pawn in their grand scheme?

You had never questioned it before. You had been raised to believe in the righteousness of your cause, in the purity of your mission. But now, standing before Soyeon—someone who had experienced a different kind of suffering—you felt your convictions beginning to crack.

Soyeon sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly as the fire in her eyes dimmed. “I’m not asking for you to abandon your duty. I’m asking you to see beyond it. To see that there’s more to this world than the war. More than Heaven and Hell.”

You said nothing for a long time. Her words echoed in your mind, relentless, like a song you couldn’t escape.

“You’re asking too much,” you whispered, feeling the weight of the universe pressing down on you. “I don’t know how to see beyond this. I’ve only ever known this fight.”

Soyeon’s gaze softened. She took a step closer, her voice gentle, as though she were speaking to herself rather than to you. “I don’t know how to see beyond it either. But I’m trying.”

There was a long pause, and for the first time since meeting Soyeon, you wondered if you, too, could learn to look past the fight. Could you see her—not as a demon, not as an enemy—but as someone who was, in the end, just like you?

Before you could voice your thoughts, the sound of distant marching reached your ears. You stiffened, instinctively reaching for your blade.

“Damn,” Soyeon cursed under her breath, her eyes narrowing as she glanced toward the horizon. “I was hoping to have more time. Looks like your reinforcements are already here.”

You turned, seeing the familiar glint of angelic armor in the distance. Heaven had sent more soldiers. Your allies were closing in fast.

Soyeon turned to you, her expression unreadable once more. “I’ll go. I’m not here to make you choose sides.”

You looked at her, your heart racing. You didn’t want her to go—not after everything she had just shared. But you knew she had to.

“Will we ever meet again?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Soyeon hesitated, then gave a small, bittersweet smile. “Maybe. Maybe not. But remember this, angel: Not everything is black and white. You’ll find that out sooner or later.”

Without another word, she turned and melted into the shadows, her presence fading like smoke in the night.

The battle between Heaven and Hell raged on, relentless as ever, but the days following Soyeon’s sudden disappearance left you unsettled. You found yourself torn between the duty you had always known and the nagging doubt she had planted in your heart. What if she was right? What if this war—this endless cycle of violence and destruction—wasn't the only way?

The celestial forces had arrived to reinforce you, and the village was secured. Yet, even with the victory, you couldn't shake the sense of unease. Your comrades congratulated you, celebrated the triumph over the demon forces, but your thoughts drifted to Soyeon. You wondered where she had gone, what she was doing, and what her life was really like beyond the bloodshed.

It wasn’t long before you found yourself standing in the same forest where she had spoken those unsettling words to you. You had come here to reflect, but now it seemed like fate had drawn you back. The familiar scent of damp earth filled your lungs as you ventured deeper into the woods, uncertain of what you were hoping to find.

You walked for hours, your wings rustling faintly in the wind, until you reached the clearing where you had first encountered Soyeon. It was eerily quiet, the only sound being the soft rustle of leaves.

You hadn’t expected to find her again—at least, not so soon. But there she was, standing in the center of the clearing, her back turned to you.

“I knew you’d come back,” Soyeon’s voice echoed, a hint of amusement in it. She didn’t turn around.

You stopped, just outside her reach, your heart pounding in your chest. “Why?” The question left your lips before you could stop it. “Why are you doing this?”

Soyeon finally turned, her golden eyes locking onto yours. She seemed… different somehow, less guarded, like the walls she had built around herself had started to crumble. “I’m not doing this to make you question everything,” she said softly. “I just want you to see that there’s more to me than what you’ve been taught. More to me than what I’ve been forced to become.”

You stepped closer, your heart heavy. “But you’re still a demon. And I’m still an angel. We can’t—”

“You don’t get it, do you?” Soyeon’s tone was sharp now, the frustration returning to her voice. “I never wanted to be this. I never wanted to hurt anyone, but I was born into this war. And you—” She stopped, her fists clenching at her sides. “You don’t even see it. You’re just a tool in a system that doesn’t care about you, either.”

Her words stung, but they also made you think. The more you listened, the more you realized there was so much you didn’t understand—so much about the demons, about Soyeon herself, that you had never been told.

“What do you want from me?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I don’t want anything,” she replied, her voice quieter now. “I just want to stop being this. To stop being the enemy.”

The air between you seemed to thicken with tension, a fragile stillness hanging in the space that separated you. You stared at her, not knowing how to respond.

Soyeon’s golden eyes softened, and for a fleeting moment, the hardness in her expression melted away. “I don’t want to keep fighting,” she said, her voice trembling just slightly. “I’m tired. I’ve seen enough bloodshed to last a lifetime, and yet… here I am, still fighting. For what?” She looked up at you, the vulnerability in her gaze unmistakable. “For a cause I never chose?”

You couldn’t answer her immediately. Instead, you took a step closer, drawn to the pain in her eyes. There was no malice in her gaze now—only the raw honesty of someone who had been broken by the world they were born into.

For a long moment, the two of you stood there, caught between two worlds.

“I can’t make you see what I see,” she continued, her voice shaking with emotion. “But I wish you could. I wish you could see the other side of this war. The side where we’re not enemies. The side where maybe… maybe we could be something more than what we’ve been made to be.”

The weight of her words settled into your chest, heavy and unrelenting. You had always been told that demons were evil, that they were meant to be destroyed. You had never once questioned it. But now, standing here with Soyeon, you began to wonder: Was that really true?

You didn’t have an answer. Not yet.

Before you could say anything, the sound of movement in the distance reached your ears. Both of you froze. Soyeon’s expression hardened again as she looked over her shoulder, her eyes narrowing.

“They’re coming,” she murmured, almost to herself. “Your comrades. And my… allies.”

You tensed, knowing what that meant. The battle was about to begin once more.

“I don’t want to fight you,” you said, your voice barely audible.

Soyeon’s gaze met yours, the gold of her eyes flickering with something you couldn’t place. “I don’t want to fight you either,” she replied softly. “But this is the world we live in now, isn’t it?”

Without another word, Soyeon turned and disappeared into the woods, her figure fading into the darkness like a shadow. You stood there, rooted to the spot, torn between two worlds, unsure of what would come next.

The sound of footsteps approaching made you turn. Your comrades were getting closer, but your heart was no longer focused on the fight ahead. It was focused on the question that had been haunting you since you met Soyeon: Could you ever see beyond the war? Could you ever see her for who she truly was?

The battle would soon be upon you, and yet the war within your heart had already begun.

The sound of marching grew louder as your comrades drew closer, but you stood frozen, caught between two paths. The light from their armor glinted in the distance, a stark reminder of your duty. They were angels, your brothers and sisters in arms, all sworn to protect Heaven’s ideals. Yet, in that moment, they felt distant, as if they belonged to a world far removed from the pain and doubt that now churned in your chest.

You looked back in the direction Soyeon had disappeared, your heart heavy with the weight of your thoughts. She had left, vanished into the forest’s depths, but the conversation you had shared remained, lingering like a whisper in your soul. She was right about one thing: this endless war, the cause you fought for, had never felt so… hollow.

“Get a move on, we have demons to eradicate!” a voice shouted, snapping you out of your thoughts. It was Hyun, a fellow warrior who had fought alongside you for years. His voice was impatient, but there was a harsh edge to it that unsettled you.

You didn’t reply. Instead, you turned toward the incoming group, your wings folding tightly behind you. The decision was inevitable. Soyeon was gone, and the army was approaching.

But as you took a step forward, something shifted inside you—a tug at your heart, a pull toward something you couldn’t yet explain. You hesitated, just for a moment, your gaze lingering on the forest that had swallowed her whole. Was it possible? Could there truly be another way?

“You’re not thinking of deserting us, are you?” Hyun’s voice broke through your thoughts again, this time with a warning in it. He had noticed your hesitation.

“No,” you said, your voice firmer than you felt. “I’m coming.”

But the war within you raged louder than ever. You had promised yourself that you would follow the path of righteousness. You had sworn to protect the innocent, to fight for Heaven’s will. But could that will truly be righteous if it was built on endless bloodshed?

“Stay focused,” Hyun continued, his tone softer now. “We need to end this fight. The demon forces are strong in this area.”

“Understood,” you said, though your mind was miles away.

The battle was brutal, just as you had expected. The sounds of clashing steel, the cries of the fallen, and the screeching of demon beasts filled the air. You fought with all the skill you had, cutting through the demon forces with precision, but your mind wasn’t fully in it. Every slash of your blade, every strike, seemed to echo with the words Soyeon had said to you. “We’re just pawns.”

You fought on, not out of conviction, but out of habit. Every time you struck down a demon, the hollow feeling inside grew. You had always believed the demons were the enemy, but now, you couldn’t shake the doubt that lingered in your chest. Were they really all the same? Were they all as cold-hearted as the ones you had been taught to hate?

The battle continued, but something in you had changed.

Hours later, after the bloodshed had subsided, you found yourself standing at the edge of the battlefield, watching as your comrades gathered the fallen demons to dispose of them. Your hands were still coated in blood, but it wasn’t the blood of demons that troubled you. It was the blood of a war that seemed endless, a war that seemed to make less sense with every passing moment.

“Are you done with your self-pity, or are you going to help us clean up?” Hyun asked, his voice laced with a mix of exhaustion and irritation.

You didn’t answer, not immediately. You had lost your sense of purpose on the battlefield, and now, all you could think about was Soyeon. You had promised to end her. You had been ordered to destroy the demon general.

But now, you wondered if you could even do it.

“I’ll be fine,” you said, finally turning to face your comrade. “Just… need a moment.”

Hyun gave you a skeptical look but didn’t press. He walked away, leaving you alone with your thoughts. You stared at the blood-soaked ground, the bodies of demons and angels alike scattered around you. This was supposed to be the price of peace, the price of righteousness. But now, it felt like a curse.

The next few days passed in a blur of post-battle procedures. You cleaned your armor, reported to the higher-ups, and assisted in healing the wounded. But nothing felt the same. There was a hollow emptiness that you couldn’t escape. You had fought with every ounce of strength you had, and yet, here you were, questioning everything.

The celestial council soon summoned you for a private audience. You knew what it was about: your hesitance in battle hadn’t gone unnoticed. They had seen it, sensed it. Your inner conflict was becoming a problem. You had to choose—choose the side you would fight for, once and for all.

As you stood before the council, the words of the celestial elders were cold and unwavering.

“We have received word that the demon general Soyeon is still alive,” the head elder, a towering figure of divine authority, said. “Your mission remains the same. You must find her and eliminate her before she can regroup her forces.”

The pressure was immediate. The weight of the task, the weight of Heaven’s will, rested on your shoulders.

“Do you understand?” the elder asked, his voice stern, his eyes burning with authority.

“Yes.” you replied, your voice tight. You could feel the tension in your chest as you nodded. But in the pit of your stomach, doubt gnawed at you. Was this really the right course of action? Was this the path you were meant to walk?

“You are dismissed,” the elder said, and with that, you left the council chamber, your heart heavier than it had ever been.

That night, sleep didn’t come easily. You lay in your quarters, staring up at the ceiling, unable to silence the thoughts swirling in your mind. Soyeon’s words kept echoing in your ears: “Not everything is black and white.” You knew what you had to do, but you didn’t know if you could anymore.

You rose from your bed, the weight of your decision pressing down on you. If you followed through with your orders, you would be fulfilling your duty. But would it be the right choice?

The pull in your heart, the one you had felt when Soyeon spoke to you in the woods, was stronger than ever. She wasn’t the monster you had been taught to believe in. She was someone lost in this war, just like you.

And that, perhaps, was the most terrifying realization of all.

[league-of-sam]

Catching A Ghost | Simon 'GHOST' Riley

Ghost x Reader

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Simon 'GHOST' Riley x AFAB!Reader!OC 18+ MINORS DNI! t.w // angst, mental health, language, violence, death, sexual themes/SMUT, military inaccuracies, language inaccuracies (google translate).

Catching A Ghost: Masterlist

You bounced your leg the entire journey, so much so that Ghost had made several comments about you shaking the car so much that you were giving him motion sickness. 

But you were nervous, going into a public place without the protection of your mask, your face in full view of everyone – a room full of the known enemy. 

Soap had placed a comforting hand on your knee, which helped a little, but not enough.

When you pulled up to the venue, your jaw dropped.

It was beautiful; a grand mansion in the middle of Las Almas. White, marbled walls and stair cases, spotlights all the way up to the golden double doors. The place was trawling with masked security holding a magnitude of automatic weapons. 

"Fucking hell..." you whispered, grabbing onto Soap's hand tightly.

"Hey, we're gonna be fine, pet."

Ghost turned from the front seat, leaning in to the two of you.

"Here are your comms, don't let anyone see."

You took the first, slipping it into your hair covered ear, Soap following your actions.

"6-2, checking in." you mumbled.

"7-1, checking in."

"Shadow 1 reading you loud and clear. Let's do this." Graves answered.

With one final nod from Ghost, you and Soap exited the vehicle, and his arm tightly wound around your waist as you ascended the steps to the doors.

Time to put on a show.

Wordlessly, you handed the doorman your invitation, Soap squeezing your side tightly as the two guards shamelessly took in your appearance.

"What is your purpose here?" they asked, patting the two of you down.

"My name is Natalia Belyaev, I am the daughter of billionaire investor Dmitri Belyaev." you said in your perfect accent, eyes narrowing as the man in front of you stooped down to pat your legs.

"So, I suggest you take your hands off my ass before I have you shot against a post."

"Easy, Reaper." Ghost chuckled into the comms, "Let's not massacre just yet."

"My apologies, miss."

The grand doors opened, revealing a reception room full of people, dressed to the 'nines. You recognised some of the people there, having seen many of their faces on various terrorist watchlists. 

"6-2 to 0-7, there are hundreds of wanted terrorists here."

"Stay on target, Price. We've got 'em."

"Thermal imaging and software ready to go for the signal." Graves said.

Moving elegantly around the room on Soap's arm, you faked pleasantries with many, enduring the disgusting flirting with most of the men in the room. The two of you observed for well over an hour before locating any sign of the office.

As you chugged down your fourth glass of Champaign, desperate to calm your nerves, Soap moved in front of you, pulling you flush against his chest, lips grazing your ear.

"Soap what the fuck-"

"Voice down, the guy in the corner won't stop watching you."

Sure enough, when you embraced Soap to get a good look over his shoulder, there was a man, eyes locked on you. 

"Are you made?" Ghost said, with what sounded like concern.

"Negative, just think he might be interested in our little assassin here."

Soap didn't let you go just yet, feeling a little apprehensive and protective, which gave you an unsuspicious opportunity to examine that side of the room. The man locked eyes with you, giving you a nod, before raising his head to look up at the balcony.

You followed his gaze, seeing a set of marble stairs, cut off with a red rope. At the top, two armed guards stood, and a door sat to their left.

The office.

"It's Ale's informant. Laswell must have told him what I'd be wearing."

"Are you sure?" Ghost asked.

You rolled your eyes, "Well he's just shown me where the office is, so I'd say I'm pretty damn sure, L.T."

"Graves, get ready on that hacking device." Soap instructed, not waiting for a response before guiding the two of you closer.

As you approached the staircase, the guards pointed their guns at you, muttering that the floor was off-limits to guests. Issuing a flirty apology, you walked away, being sure to swing your hips dramatically.

At that moment, the band began playing, and the floor cleared. A quick, Spanish beat was being plucked. Around the room, men picked up women, bringing them into the space, locking you and Soap right in the middle.

They were playing the fucking Tango.

People began dancing around you, dipping, twirling, moving rapidly to the beat. You and Soap looked at each other, seeing no way off the dancefloor. 

"Shit! Do you dance?" you whispered, standing close.

"I'm from Scotland!"

"What, they don't have dancing in Scotland?"

"Steamin' jesus, don't fuckin' tell anyone about this."

"About wha-"

Before you could protest, Soap dipped you down, bringing your leg up to his hip delicately. His eyes never looked away from your shocked ones as he gracefully threw you around the dancefloor. 

Ghost, confused, watched from the small tablet in his hand. He could see Soap tossing you around like a ragdoll to the music. 

"Ya need to get up to that fuckin' office, I've been sat here for over an hour."

"Well, we need a distraction!" you pleaded.

"Then make one."

You growled, frustrated with Ghost's impatience and complete unwillingness to be useful.

In all honesty, with most of the guests dancing, it was a pretty big distraction. The only problem was the armed guards at the top of the stairs. That was, until Alejandro's informant ran over to them.

You couldn't quite hear what he said, but he spoke in such frantic Spanish that the two guards sprung into action, following him through the room. As he passed the two of you, he shot you a wink, and you took that as opportunity to go.

"This is 6-2, it's go time."

Rushing up the stairs with Soap on your tail, you burst into the room, slipping off your heels as you hopped to the desk.

Soap closed the door, locking it and then wedging a chair under the handle. Looking out the window, he saw commotion on the dancefloor, with Alejandro's informant pointing to someone. He watched in horror as the man he pointed to was thrown violently over the table, punch and glass going everywhere.

"Okay, we got about 5 minutes before someone comes a'knockin."

"Shit." you pulled the memory stick out of your shoe, "Graves, I need you. Start now!"

"On it, darlin'."

You sat on the seat, Soap leaning over you as you watched the computer light up, black screen with rolls and rolls of green code flashing.

"Alright, stick it in."

You did as told, shoving the memory stick into the port, "Okay, go!"

"Initialising data transfer."

A green bar appeared, indicating that the transfer had began. There was nothing you and Soap could do now but wait. 

"Ghost? You still got eyes on us, right?" you asked.

"Affirm."

"So, you saw Soap do the Tango?" you smirked, looking up at him.

"I did."

"You recorded it to show everyone else, right?"

There was no silence for a moment, until a low chuckle came through the comms, "Fuck yeah I did."

You burst into giggles, Soap groaning in embarrassment.

But that was cut short.

The thumps of boots could be heard on the step, and with swift movement, Soap was peering out of the window.

"Fuck! They're coming!"

You turned back to the computer, leg bouncing as the number went up slower, and slower...

94%...95%...96%...97%

"It's not gonna be done in time!" you exclaimed running a hand through your hair.

The guards were mere steps away now. You looked around panicked, while Soap moved the chair from the handle. You heard mumbles from outside, one of the guards saying that he'd heard movement.

98%.

"Do you trust me?" Soap said, pulling you up.

"Yes?" you said, confused.

99%.

"S'good. I'm really sorry for this."

You looked at him, but before you could utter a word, his hands slid around your waist, slamming your body into his, and his lips fell on yours.

Oh no. Oh fucking no.

Despite yourself, and what ever the fuck you were feeling for Ghost, you knew Soap's thinking was quick, and might actually work.

You threw your arms over his shoulder, deepening the kiss, sliding your leg through the elegant slit on your dress and up his body, sitting it above his belt. It was heated, Soap's hands running all over your body as you clutched at his clothes, and you could feel your face burn, knowing most of the squad could both see and hear you.

The door was being banged on, every boom making your body jump.

"S'alright, this'll work." Soap mumbled into your mouth.

"It fucking better."

The lock shattered, making the door swing open to reveal the two guards from before. The light from the hall shined into the room, illuminating you and Soap.

In that position, it was no secret to what you were supposed to be doing. Your face was flushed, hair messy. Deep red lipstick was smudged around both your mouths. 

Yeah, if you walked in on this, you'd be walking straight out, blushing.

"100%. Get the hell outta there." Graves said in your ear.

"Oh, my, so sorry. How embarrassing!" you said, clambouring off of Soap.

You reached behind you, yanking the memory stick out, and ran around the room to put your shoes back on.

Pulling your dress down, you stumbled over to the guards, who were stiff with shock.

"I am so sorry," you flirted, pushing your breasts together, "me and my bodyguard, well, you know how it is. We just needed a little privacy."

"I-it's quite alright, Miss Belyaev. Please, go." one stuttered out, moving to let you pass.

"Why thank you, boys. Such gentlemen." you said, tugging at their collars, your fingers lingering.

"If you'd like a reward, come and find me later." you winked, passing them by.

Soap grabbed your hand, yanking you down the steps, leaving the guards blushing messes from your proposition. He held you close, wiping his face on his sleeve.

"Christ, (Y/N), did ye have to wear so much lipstick?"

"No one told you to kiss her, sergeant." Graves voice came, not hiding his anger.

The two of you snorted, walking with a quickened pace to get out of the building as soon as possible. With a quick scan of the room, you could see that Alejandro's informant was nowhere to be seen.

Back in the car, Ghost was white-knuckling the tablet so hard, he thought he might break it.

What the fuck was that?

His breathing was heavy and irregular, his heart beating out of his chest. He wanted to shoot Laswell for insisting on thermal imaging capture. He didn't need to see that. He didn't need to see his, well, the closest thing he had to a best friend all over girl he had feelings for. 

The first girl in over ten years to break through his barrier.

Luckily, he didn't need to distract himself, as around 6 armed guards jogged past the window. 

Right. 

Professional.

"Soap, somethin's going on. Get out o' there."

"We're coming, L.T. 30 seconds away."

Ghost looked out of the window to see you and Soap hand in hand, bombing it down the steps. You were barefoot, tossing the heels aside as you clutched the memory stick.

His heart lurched up into his chest as the doors burst open, and the popping of gunfire polluted the air. You had screamed, dropping to the floor, Soap throwing his body on yours as the two of you rolled down the last few steps. 

Alejandro's car screeched to a halt behind, Rudy jumping out to throw Soap into the car before they sped off.

Ghost swung open the door, shooting three of the guards down before picking you up, and tossing you into the back seat before climbing in himself, and stepping on the pedal.

"Are you hit?"

"N-no, I'm good." you panted, fear in your eyes.

"Get changed, they're following." he said, tossing a duffel at you.

You frantically zipped it open, pulling out the contents - boots, trousers, shirt, knife. Not even bothering to cover yourself up, you did your best to get changed as Ghost sped through the back lanes of Las Almas.

Lights flashed behind, and a scream ripped through you once again as bullets littered the car, shattering the glass.

"I can't lose 'em, we're gonna have to run for it!"

"What? We have no defence!"

"Just fucking do it!"

With that, Ghost rammed the car through an opening in the woods, throwing you into the door with a hard slam. The car bounced over downed trees, speeding through the greenery until Ghost stopped the car, hopping out and running to your side.

"C'mon, we gotta go." he said, hands dragging you from the car.

You were barely upright before he was pulling you deeper into the woods. You reached into your ear to communicate with the team, only to find it empty.

Shit.

You were completely alone in this now.

The car got smaller as you rushed through the woods, Ghost occasionally looking back to make sure you were following, and to shoot bullets past you at the men who'd managed to stay on your trail.

He had to keep you alive. 

No matter how conflicted his heart was, you had to live.

You just had to.

[eviltiddyproductions]

Vincenzo : Episode 1

Oh my god STOP this title card is saurrrrr good

It is giving me the nostalgia of old crime thrillers which used to have these quiet , animated and wonderful title cards.

his hair are styled to the T my god, not a strand displaced. my dumbass wants to ruffle it a little.

and just like that an entire building is down 🫨

all of the shots up until now have been so pleasing to me. the cinematography is so unserious hot!? mind you, I'm four minutes in. 💀

the random ass vertical shot just as i said this

i thought he was the mafia boss? he's a lawyer

the shots are so beautiful HELP

Ohhhh, his boss is dead.

lmao the man just casually eating pasta. that's an Italian baby 🇮🇹

this man is so busy chowing down on that pasta that he cannot see the threat sitting in front of his table

did Netflix change its subtitles again (since i saw this happen with alchemy of souls i have never recovered my trust in them) like i can read! let them be

throw the pasta in this racist's face vince!!!

[foreboding music]

'regret is the most painful thing one can experience in life' bars! saying this before you kill someone and you're giving them a chance is funny but still bars

all of that blatant racism and heat for Vincenzo but can't handle 3 sentences said in Korean

i knew they were going to burn everything as soon as I saw the damn plane 😭

the driver liked that 😂

the score mixed with the silence is actually so good

not a second has been wasted as of it. it's been so pleasing on the eyes

yes!!! snap and kill that cigarette #real #lungsareourfriends

got out of that bathroom so elegantly to kill everybody 😭😭😭

Adrenaline playing let me just

no way they cut to a scene this cute WHO IS SHE I LOVE HER

lmaooo where is this discussion going, is she trying to strongarm him? gotta be the most adorable way I've ever seen

LMFAOOOO she is deadass singing Für Elise while making him take out the cake topper 😂

a string of money coming out she is so unserious 💀✋

wait I know this man

it's candy in my ear !!! cutie !!!

I LOVE HER

Do Bong Soon's dad and Itaewon class villain! Him being here... will this be a hit or a miss 😟

he's mad because she's working for the enemy, it's giving Itaewon Class

I still find it fun as of yet though

lmao is this emotional blackmail. ah we both clocked it 😂

cutieeee

i just watched xo kitty before this so this man getting a free taxi is so funny when my girl was running for her life in Korea when she got out of the airport

lmaooo not this limo man being a kidnapper

he's got really pretty eyelashes

[sinister laugh continues] 💀

honestly kidnappers accidentally kidnapping someone from the mafia is a storyline i can always get behind. you deserve each other!

the old man from alchemy of souls!

[ominous music playing]

superiors being lax after getting an important tip from a junior once again before impending doom

the way i already know what's going to happen to taecyeon like let me not get attached

His hair are so poofy and cute let me run a hand through them 😭

my man who burned like 7000 acres and contributed to 100% of climate change just got kicked in the face and knocked out cold by two casual robbers 😭

a true homecoming

i did not expect this show to be funny

speaking in lower tones with pauses so we know for sure that they're the bad guys doing a business deal

flower of evil detective?!! they really picked one person from each of the 5 kdramas I've watched 💀

he's having the worst day one can have in a new country 😂

the dramatic ass Italian music playing

the piano player 😂 oh wow the tenants of this building are something

lmaooo Vince having the weirdest day in Korea after having an intense I’m the shit, fear me moment in Italy is sending meeee

what is going on in this building

awoop monk jump scare

how does he look THAT good in a blue shirt

lmaooo the chef

everytime water goes out in foreign serials the south asian in me wants to beg people to just keep one bucket in their bathrooms just in case!

do not burn yourself king

the shower doing its own concert with breakdance slay

freezing water is always better than getting burnt by hot water 😭

he gets my pigeon hate omg they’re always outside your window !!!! doing the most 😡

leave sir 🐦 omg don’t use your phone !!

is that his mom? free us from the dumbass narrative of mom leaving child for adoption as heartless. y’all hate women and don’t get it at all

she is correct! this is literally not relevant and y’all are just trying to rile hate for her here. he’s teary eyed. oh no she worked for an abuser ?!!! let her TALK

MOTHER I WILL AVENGE YOU

wait isn’t that lawyer our girl?

eugh annoying perverts. stop taking pictures of strangers challenge failed

get them aunty!

okay opera chef !!! lmaooo the dramatic music playing in this show gets me 💀

nawww he made the chef cry 😭

I'm bonding hard to every 3rd character on the screen like why is the conversation between lawyer dad and mom wrongly in jail making me soft

I know it's actors being actors but I'm so happy to see laywer dad ( Yoo Jae Myung) be soft again. I was ready to fight through the screen with him in Itaewon class.

I love the Mr. Cho actor so much. He truly has the funniest expressions. 😂

NOOOO Mr. Cho. Oh this is nasty

lmao is her dad emancipating from her

#saveMrCho omg

NO NO NO NO NO you cannot do this to me

I am suddenly terrified like I'm already low key devestated

beat his ass sister !!!

lmao the Italian ass entry 😭

help how has he not fallen to his death that's a measuring tape 😭

i need to take a self defense class at some point lol

slayyy

[kaiser-brutus]

异种核心 「xenocore」

So, this is basically a story I just started working on. It's heavily inspired by Transformers, Jurassic World and Ultraman. If that sounds interesting, do check it out. I hope you enjoy :) 🙏

*The image below does not fully represent the characters in the story*

The Foreign [Chapter 1.1]

Within the vast darkness of the cosmos, unfamiliar planets, adorned with neon colours and intricate details visible through the naked eye, were torn apart by an invisible force. Chunks of their planetary contents drifted into the empty void of space as time passed.

Down below, pieces of debris levitated aimlessly in the vacuum, revealing to be infrastructural scraps when more debris came into view.

These fragments derived from the planet, Lumiere. The futuristic cities that thrived there, were now breaking apart along with the planet itself. It was as if gravity had inverted tenfold, lifting and pulling up everything in its path.

As the bizarre phenomenon continued its devastation, a sleek maglev car raced off on its track. It expertly manoeuvred through the cityscape while unleashing a barrage of energy blasts from its blasters, creating a glowing display of luminous streaks cutting through the atmosphere.

The energy blasts made quick work of the approaching enemies, obliterating their highly sophisticated cybernetic bodies. These enemies were a handful of cybernetic theropod dinosaurs, their raven bodies contrasting sharply with the minacious glow of their crimson eyes.

Amidst the clash of technology and prehistoric aesthetics, one of the enemies went for an ambush by pouncing from the roof of a nearby structure but failed as it was swiftly dispatched by the Maglev car's missile.

After traversing a series of slanted turns and loops akin to a roller coaster, the Maglev car drove off a dead end, becoming airborne. Right in front, a huge cataclysmic spectacle unfolded. Chunks of the cities’ and planet's surface levitated, swallowed into the boundless expanse of the cosmos. A massive fissure promptly ensued, splitting the cities apart, amplifying the severity of Lumiere's grievous state.

The airborne Maglev vehicle transformed into a cybernetic Tratayenia, Sirius. After a brief period of free falling, Sirius elegantly performed a forward roll upon crashing onto the ever-tilting city terrain, instantly getting charged by three cybernetic, raven dinosaurs afterwards.

Reacting swiftly, Sirius spun around, simultaneously transforming his right arm into a sleek machete integrated with an energy blaster. 

Capitalising on the momentum generated from his spin, Sirius concurrently thrust the blade into the chest of the first enemy and fired a devastating energy blast right through it, pulverising the enemy’s core.

After swiftly retracting his weapon, Sirius immediately followed up with a clockwise spinning kick that smashed squarely onto the second enemy’s face, sending it tumbling away.

Despite the sheer agility Sirius harnessed, the third foe caught him off guard, impaling his right shoulder with the tip of its extendable long tail. Sirius shrieked in anguish as the enemy hoisted him up, slamming him through a futuristic overhead bridge and onto the unforgiving ground.

The tail became dislodged from Sirius’s shoulder, but Sirius began sliding downward at a rate of knots as the steepness of the terrain rapidly exacerbated.

Adapting quickly, Sirius sunk his razor-sharp claws into the ground in an effort to impede his descent.

However, like a thief in the night, an unknown adversary swooped in and snatched Sirius off the surface he was clinging to like a comet, hurtling him down hundreds of miles parallel to the sharply tilted cityscape until he impacted a new terrain below. Although devastated, this area appeared seemingly unaffected by the planet-destroying phenomenon.

Dust and ash promptly scattered into the atmosphere upon impact, creating a hemispheric cloud of debris that enclosed the impact site. Immediately after, Sirius was violently launched across the desolated city terrain, ramming into a ruined structure which instantly crumbled upon collision.

As the dust and ash were settling, a pair of ominous crimson eyes blazed brightly within the lingering haze, their explicit illumination pierced sharply through the blinding obscurity, emanating a dark and formidable presence.

Out of the blue, from within the haze spurted a vibrant ray of energy beam that cut across the atmosphere, shooting towards Sirius, gusting clear of any remnants of haze in the way.

"ULTIMATE SHIELD!!"

Fortunately for Sirius, two layers of crescent-shaped energy shield emerged before him, each adorned in enthralling colours of neon blue and green as well as intricate patterns.

These shields of otherworldly semblance and ethereality successfully protected Sirius from what could have been a lethal blow from the mighty energy beam.

The saviours who defended Sirius with their shields were Quasar, the cybernetic Albertosaurus and Stellar, the cybernetic Gorgosaurus, their advent brought a welcoming relief for Sirius who struggled to rise to his feet.

“General, are you alright?” Quasar checked in, expressing concern in his voice while both newcomers helped Sirius on his feet.

With the lingering dust and ash finally cleared, the figure with a baleful pair of crimson eyes was revealed to be Andromeda, the cybernetic Diabolus Rex.

"We..better keep moving" Stellar suggested, her tone carrying a sense of unease as she and the others witnessed the gravity of their situation.

More cybernetic raven dinosaurs showed up, aligning forces with Andromeda.

"Phantom Siege, erase them." Andromeda commanded.

"Have you retrieved the incubator capsules, General?" Quasar urgently asked.

“Yes, all in here.” Sirius answered, tapping on the storage compartment in his chest where the capsules were securely hidden.

“Good. Get to Emperor Etendus, we’ll buy you some time.” Quasar instructed as multiple intricate components and gears of his cybernetic form began shifting harmoniously. Rows of giant sickle-like blades were deployed on both sides of his outer ankles, followed by one equipped at the tip of his tail.

Without hesitation, Sirius rushed his way to the “Imperial”, where the emperor resided while his comrades fended off the enemies.

Incarcerate, a formidable adversary from the Phantom Siege, leapt forward with a serrated dagger in his right hand. He tried plunging the blade into the top of Quasar’s head but missed, striking the metallic ground with an audible “clank” as Quasar evaded to his right swiftly.

In response, Incarcerate promptly reconfigured his left arm, equipping himself with a dark machete and swinging it at Quasar in the hopes of damaging him. However, the blade ended up only slicing the air as Quasar leaned back in the nick of time, barely avoiding the slash. 

Incarcerate immediately followed up with a forward thrust of his machete only for Quasar to deftly evade to his right. Now, possessing the angular advantage, Quasar seized the opportunity to deliver a swift roundhouse kick to Incarcerate’s body.

Reacting quickly, Incarcerate caught the roundhouse kick with his arms, trapping Quasar’s leg firmly within his grasp. Using his tremendous strength and a powerful torque generated by turning his whole body, Incarcerate tossed Quasar by his leg, soaring him through the air akin to a fighter jet taking off.

Amidst Quasar being airborne, Incarcerate transformed some sections of his neck and jaws, reconstructing his mouth into a powerful plasma cannon. He fired at Quasar with superb precision, putting his enemy in a nosedive towards the ground with just one shot.

Quasar plummeted into the cityscape, demolishing every desolate structure unfortunate enough to be in his trajectory, leaving a trail of augmented ruination in his wake.

Meanwhile, Incarcerate began shifting from his orthodox stance, winding his right arm backwards and swiftly extending it diagonally downwards towards his left, his right foot advancing a step forward concurrently.

He already retracted his left arm as well, his left forearm raised diagonally towards his right with his wrist inverted so his claws poised upwards.

Once moved into position, the intricate mechanisms of his arms abruptly shifted in unison, emitting an audible and confirming “clank”. He winded his right arm back again, simultaneously taking a step back with his right foot.

Now, his right arm illuminated with an ominous crimson blaze, surging with immense power.

"We are Phantom Siege, the evolutionary supremacy of you" Incarcerate calmly declared, plummeting his right palm into the earth with thunderous impact.

With one single hit, enormous fissures came barreling in swarms, promptly ripping through the metallic ground that supported the weight of the city structures for eternity. The catastrophic quake rampaged through the cityscape, collapsing buildings like frangible biscuits under pressure.

Once the quake had reached Quasar, the ground underneath him erupted, launching him and everything in his vicinity sky-high. The eruption also spewed out constant long, luminescent strips of purple light that travelled upwards.

Out of the blue, gravity seemed to vanish, causing pieces of infrastructural scraps and Lumeire’s crust to levitate alongside Quasar in the purplish void.

As Quasar struggled to traverse his way inside the gravity-absent space, Incarcerate, well in his element, swiftly sprang among the countless structural scraps with lightning speed akin to a laser reflecting off a mirror.

At a moment’s notice, Incarcerate lept towards Quasar from one of the scraps, slashing him with his claw-like sword. Incarcerate bounced off from another scrap towards Quasar and delivered a second slash. From here onwards, it was just a deadly dance of “rinse and repeat” as Quasar would be sliced and diced with ten more slashes, with the last one being the most potent.

After issuing the final blow with a flourish, Incarcerate returned to the ground below with a menacing pose, his gleaming swords proudly displayed as his adversary ignited into a blazing fireball. A deafening explosion soon followed, sending shockwaves rippling through the atmosphere.

__________________________________

The “Imperial” was a marvellous feat of construction ingenuity on planet Lumiere, a futuristic palace of titanic proportion, towering all other structures by several miles.

Its base stretched across an area of more than 50 kilometres square. The lower half of the “Imperial” largely consisted of countless rectangular structures of labyrinthine arrangement, forming a gentle slope on both sides of the palace that gradually steepened towards the heavens, reminiscent of a towering volcano.

At the top of this magnificent megastructure, the slopes abruptly transitioned into a 90-degree vertical drop, where a colossal cannon-like structure resided, dominating the upper half of the palace with its imposing presence.

Inside the Imperial Palace, the almighty emperor of Lumiere, Etendus, paced with slow, methodical steps. His calm authority filled the brightly lit hall adorned with pearly and technological aesthetics.

Surreal light bulbs, emitting a welcoming ray of oceanic light were installed on the lustrous pillars and ceiling, suffusing the hall with a subtle azure hue.

Despite the emperor’s serene demeanour, his heart lurked a great looming sense of trepidation which was promptly alleviated by a call of a familiar voice.

“Lord Etendus!” Sirius’s yell echoed through the vast expanse of the hall as he dashed frantically towards the emperor. “Sirius, the capsules, have you retrieved them?” Etendus inquired with a tad of urgency in his tone. “Yes, Your Majesty, they're here.” Sirius answered, unlocking the storage compartment in his chest.

Using a mild energy ray shooting from the palm of his clawed hand, Sirius guided the delicate glowing capsules into his grasp.

“Well done my loyal soldier.” Etendus commended. “I’ll quickly transfer them to the escape pods. Our clan may have fallen, but our descendants will thrive and carry on our legacy in a distant world where they’ll call home.”

After hearing Etendus’s brief speech, a wave of sadness and dread washed over Sirius’s heart. With the once blissful existence eradicated, now confronted with the daunting possibility of extinction as Lumiere spiralled towards annihilation, surviving through this war was far from guaranteed.

Etendus parted his jaws marginally, activating the same mild energy ray Sirius used to extract the capsules. Except, the energy ray was emitting from inside his cybernetic mouth, allowing Sirius to manoeuvre the capsules to Etendus, passing it to his entrance where they were secured somewhere within his mechanized body.

Amidst Sirius’s moment of sorrow and apprehension, the pearly aesthetics of the palace hall abruptly turned sombre and gloomy. The azure lights that evoked a sense of oceanic tranquillity were replaced with an ominous scarlet glow, bathing the hall with its sinistrous embrace as the emergency siren bellowed a petrifying cry of despair.

Out of the blue, an unknown dark figure burst through the palace's ceiling with a thunderous rumble, sending debris scattering in all directions. With a supernatural grace, the mysterious figure landed effortlessly together on his hind legs and right arm, his left arm poised high in the air, fingers splayed, displaying an imposing presence of elite competence. 

He raised his head slowly and steadily, revealing his radiant crimson eyes.

The newly arrived threat was Aesir, the cybernetic Indominus Rex, another warrior of the Phantom Siege.

"I'll hold him off. Emperor, get the capsules to the escape pods" Sirius instructed with assertiveness, ready to face the malice for the survival of his clan.

"Understood, may the odds be with you, soldier." Etendus responded solemnly, his tone carrying a mixture of gratitude and concern.

"Your ravage will not come to triumph, invader." Sirius firmly declared as he instantly reconfigured his arms, equipping himself with a gleaming sword on his left arm and an energy blaster on his right.

Aesir unhesitantly armed himself with weapons of his own and squared off with Sirius. The two fighters circled each other for a brief period of time, analysing each other in an effort to cherry-pick exploitable weaknesses. Aesir made the first move by faking his attack, pretending to advance towards his opponent, even emitting an intimidating grunt to further deceive Sirius.

Sirius, falling for the bait, fired an energy blast at Aesir, who swiftly evaded it by springing to his right. Seizing an opportunity to counterattack, Aesir spun anticlockwise and unleashed a diagonal energy-infused tail slash that dashed towards Sirius, causing a medium-sized explosion upon impacting him. 

Amidst Sirius’s momentary distraction caused by the explosion, Aesir immediately charged forward, executing a counterclockwise spinning kick. Sirius narrowly ducked under the attack, sweeping Aesir by ensnaring his ankle with his long tail and yanking it, tumbling Aesir to the floor while manoeuvring to the right.

Sirius swiftly pointed his energy blaster at Aesir’s head, about to shoot. However, Aesir managed to grab hold of the side of Sirius’s blaster together with his hands and jaws, misdirecting the weapon away, causing Sirius to narrowly miss his shot.

In a panic, Sirius kept firing his energy blaster blindly while desperately trying to wrestle his weapon out of Aesir’s mouth. Aesir, with his immense bite force, swiftly crushed Sirius's weapon along with his arm, disarming his adversary whilst incapacitating one of his limbs, killing two birds with one stone.

Sirius howled in agony as Aesir spun around, dragging Sirius by his mangled arm with his jaws and flinging him across the palace hall with tremendous force.

Sirius’s back collided with the hall’s pillar, sending tremors coursing through the structure, leaving behind a chaotic pattern of fractures on the pristine, solid pillar. The collision also caused one of the pillar’s lights to blow out, scattering glittering sparks in all directions.

As Sirius dropped onto the floor, suffering from the excruciating pain surging through his body, Aesir seized the opportunity to capitalise on his rival’s moment of weakness.

Utilising his hydraulic legs, Aesir leapt into the air, reminiscent of a grasshopper. With his weapon of choice, a sleek arrow-shaped edged weapon deployed on his left arm, he aimed to plunge the tip of the blade into the top of Sirius’s head.

With his sheer willpower, Sirius managed to stand up despite his pain and evaded Aesir’s assault by manoeuvring to his right in the nick of time.

Undeterred, Aesir swiftly followed up with a backhand swing of his weapon which Sirius leaned back just enough to dodge and quickly moved behind Aesir. Aesir pressed on, swinging his weapon relentlessly, desperately trying to reach Sirius. However, Sirius kept leaning back, maintaining his splendid elusiveness by keeping himself narrowly out of his opponent’s onslaught.

Using his sharp claws, Aesir delivered a blow with his right hand, stepping his rear foot forward at the same time. Sirius, with his brisk reaction, clamped his jaws onto Aesir’s attacking arm by his wrist. Using Aesir’s aggressive forward momentum against him, Sirius executed a beautiful throw by swiftly pulling Aesir's wrist and sweeping his inner thigh, effortlessly hoisting Aesir off the ground and over Sirius’s hips, tumbling the assailant towards the floor.

However, Aesir showcased an astonishing feat of agility by slightly adjusting himself amid his descent, pulling off a near-perfect landing on his feet instead of falling onto the floor. With his back now mostly facing Sirius, Aesir retaliated with a swipe of his powerful tail, only for Sirius to simply duck under and lunge forward with a powerful energy “charged” body slam.

The impact sent shockwaves rippling through Aesir’s body, knocking the wind out of him and hurling him back a great distance away. Aesir desperately latched onto the floor with all four of his limbs, his razor-sharp claws digging deep into the surface, scarring the pristine palace floor with a palpable sign of a fierce rivalry.

Once Aesir gradually came to a halt, he calmly rose to his normal bipedal stance, unfazed. Using his cybernetic eyes, he briefly analysed Sirius’s body anatomy, even concluding his most possible fighting style based on the moves he witnessed.

“A general indeed.” Aesir commended with ill-intent behind his deep murmuring.

The mechanisms on Aesir’s ankles reconfigured subtly as he prepared his next move. Subsequently, he leapt towards a pillar and bounced off from it with dazzling speed, hurtling straight towards Sirius.

Seizing this rare opportunity for an easy retaliation, Sirius intercepted Aesir with a circular spinning kick to his head the moment Aesir entered striking distance. However, the pitch-black darkness of Aesir’s figure faded glitchy and translucent. What was supposed to be a swift and clean shot, ended up only meeting air as Sirius’s kick cut across Aesir’s frame like he was a ghost, leaving Sirius utterly puzzled.

All of a sudden, Sirius sensed a crushing force colliding with the top of his head. Apparently, Aesir had somehow positioned himself above Sirius without notice, delivering the oblivious fighter a devastating tail slam down onto his head.

Disoriented and damaged, Sirius wobbled, sparks spewing out from his cybernetic head as he tried to regain his footing and focus. Aesir, now augmented by his new bizarre ability, traversed throughout Sirius's vicinity with unearthly speed, leaving a dark holographic apparition behind in his wake as he darted from one spot to another in a blink of an eye.

Before Sirius could collect his wits, he had already received another head trauma from Aesir’s flying kick that struck out of nowhere, the heel of Aesir’s foot driving deep into Sirius’s cheek.

As Sirius was sent hurling across the hall by the sheer power of the kick, Aesir instantly positioned himself at the receiving end of Sirius’s trajectory, swiftly delivering a spinning kick that redirected Sirius towards the opposite direction. In a flash, he repositioned himself again in front of Sirius, issuing another spinning kick that propelled Sirius to a different direction. Following, he positioned himself before a hurtling Sirius once more, ready to execute another attack. Aesir armed himself with his arrow-shaped bladed weapon and mercilessly thrust it into Sirius's chest as Sirius hurled towards him.

Sirius was impaled with a sickening squelch, the razor-sharp edge of the blade slicing through his cybernetic organs with buttery ease. The tip of the weapon burst out from his back in a gruesome display of brutality.

The weapon, trickling with the mechanical fluids of its opponent, was yanked out savagely, ripping through the insides as it exited the body. Sirius stumbled backwards, each movement sending shockwaves of pain scorching through his chest as he collapsed to the floor on one knee.

With grim determination, Sirius abruptly transformed his left arm into an energy blaster in an effort to catch his enemy by surprise with a single shot. However, Aesir simply turned glitchy and translucent once again; a holographic version of himself, rendering Sirius’s retaliation utterly in vain as the shot he fired went completely through his enemy’s intangible form.

Moreover, Sirius noticed a faint afterimage of Aesir bolting past him with blinding speed right as Aesir turned holographic, leading him to turn around to face his adversary’s true form.

To his surprise, standing before him were five Aesirs assembled in a wedge formation, each positioned diagonally behind the next, reminiscent of a sharp arrowhead. Together, they formed an imposing streamlined formation, ready to trounce any challenger in their wake. Out of the five, four Aesirs were merely holograms, only the one at the centre remained corporeal, solid and tangible.

In the heat of despair, Sirius frantically unleashed a hail of energy projectiles from his blaster, aiming at the real Aesir. In response, Aesir danced effortlessly between the shots by darting amongst the holograms with unfathomable speed. “We have transcended beyond the limitations of your species’s evolutionary construct, the embodiment of perfection you could only dream of.” Aesir taunted, his deep, tranquil tone resonating through the chamber, casting the atmosphere with the ever-looming fate of vanquishment.

At last, Sirius stopped his resistance, his body finally succumbing to his injury as he collapsed on one knee onto the floor. “Then, why do the bidding of the malevolent?” Sirius’s question emerged in halting tones, each word a testament to his dwindling strength.

Aesir deactivated his holographic ability, sizing up his defeated adversary.

__________________________________

Etendus, who had arrived at the evacuation station near the peak of the “Imperial”, placed the final incubator capsule inside one of the escape pods. The intricate mechanisms of the interior of the escape pod activated, reconfiguring itself to secure the delicate capsule. Sensing a commotion nearby, Etendus turned around to inspect.

On one of the bridges leading to the evacuation station, a swift and nimble combatant was on his pursuit, his movements fluid and precise as he raced effortlessly on the tight surface of the platform with short, rapid strides.

As he drew near his target, Etendus, he pounced with a sudden burst of power, leaping high into the air towards his left with deadly elegance. As he hung suspended in the air, he promptly transformed his entire body into a colossal drill, charging towards Etendus with the ferocity of a raging bull.

Undeterred, Etendus calmly stood by for the incoming onslaught. With the instincts of a seasoned warrior, he easily sidestepped and ensnared the slimmer part of his enemy’s drill form with his powerful jaws, spinning him around in a full circle. As the enemy urgently reverted to his original form, Etendus sent him hurling away from the evacuation station.

Upon returning to his original form amid his fall, the enemy skillfully landed on all four of his limbs. Rising onto his hind legs with a composed demeanour, he unhesitantly squared up with Etendus, exuding an aura of readiness.

Meanwhile, the escape pods were ready to launch as indicated by the azure light illuminating from the fine gaps between the sleek metal platings that shielded the colossal cannon-shaped structure.

A dazzling ray of azure beam was promptly fired from the muzzle of the cannon-like structure, producing a towering pillar of vibrant illumination ascending into the darkness of the cosmos, a magnificent display of otherworldly technology.

On the bridge where two cybernetic theropods were ready to face off, The foe initiated the engagement, storming towards Etendus on the offensive. Etendus responded in kind, charging headlong towards the enemy with a menacing roar that emanated both primaeval and mechanical essences. The two combatants quickly met in a clash, their gaping jaws bristled with serrated teeth a hair's breadth away from chomping each other in the face.

__________________________________

Year 2014

England, 5:00 pm...

A sea of Clouds, bleak, infused with a dense colouration of dismal grey, blanketed the vastness of the sky like a veil of sorrow. Its brooding presence casted an aura of gloom into the atmosphere.

Bellowing thunder proclaimed its imposing presence akin to a ferocious beast marking its territory, showcasing Mother Nature's dominance over her realm. Lightning trailed across the heavens with its dazzling burst of jagged brilliance, its electric tendrils slithering through the dark clouds like a mysterious serpent of divine origin.

A heavy downpour mercilessly plummeted into the town below, each raindrop a tiny bullet smashing into every surface in its wake, creating a minuscule explosion of water upon impact, drenching the streets in a spattered mess.

Despite the ever-raging thunderstorm, the streets were bustling with commuters, each seemingly preoccupied with their own business as they wove through each other, impatiently navigating the urban landscape in search of home. Their umbrellas, vibrant in various colours, shielded them from the elements pelting down from above, creating a flamboyant display reminiscent of a blooming flower bed stretching across the great expanse of the streets.

Herds of children could be seen stampeding out of their school, enthusiastically hurling themselves into their parents’ embrace with joy and laughter, a prime representation of a blissful childhood.

Amid the cheerful spirit teeming around the school gate, a boy emerged from a nearby alley, strolling on a passageway underneath the second floor of a building. His red hoodie partially masked the bitterness written on his face and the unhealed scar branded beside his left eye. His presence exuded an ominous aura of darkness and wretchedness, sharply contrasting the blissful innocence of the children nearby.

Suddenly, the boy tripped over a person’s outstretched leg, causing him to topple onto the rainwater-filled floor and landing flat on his torso, knocking the wind out of him. He promptly coiled his arms around his body in a tight embrace, curling into a fetal position. The weight of the searing anguish pinned him against the unforgiving floor as the downpour relentlessly pelted his body, drenching him in the freezing rain.

“Look where you’re going, Asian boy.” Taunted the man who tripped the boy, his smirk dripping with condescension.

“Crawl back to where you came from, shithead” One of the man’s companions sneered before lashing out, swinging his leg like a wrecking ball and ruthlessly colliding his foot onto the boy’s face. 

Helpless and defenceless, the boy could only cover his face in agony as the assailant tossed his partially smoked cigarette at him.

As the 3 men turned their backs and left, the boy mustered up his will in an effort to stand up, triggering waves of pain surging through his body with every movement.

Numerous towering figures of adults weaved past the miniature stature of the assaulted boy, completely disregarding the obvious presence of a victim. The boy struggled to his feet, his left arm clutching his upper abdomen in pain. As he looked up, he caught a glimpse of one of the commuters, a woman. She gave the boy an unsympathetic side-eye coupled with a swift, condescending smirk, her scornful action reflected in the boy’s pupil as she walked past.

Sensing a presence beside him, the boy looked to his left. Within the comfort of a nearby shelter was a silent witness, his face hidden behind the frame of his smartphone, filming every detail of the misery and humiliation the boy just faced. Upon getting caught red-handed by the boy, the witness lowered his phone, revealing an irritating smirk of mockery before disappearing into the crowd of commuters, umbrella in hand.

Seemingly numb to the ridicule he was subjected to, the boy pressed forward amidst the heavy rainstorm with reluctant stoicism.

__________________________________

The silence of the chilly interior of a convenience store was shattered by the abrupt ringing of a Shopkeeper's Bell as the boy pushed open the glass door at the entrance.

Stepping into the frosty realm of the store, the boy immediately made his way towards one of the aisle sections with laser focus, not even acknowledging the cashier at the counter.

“Make sure you pay for your stuff, kid.” The cashier uttered nonchalantly, immersing himself in his newspaper. He lounged in the comfort of his office chair with his back pressed heavily against the cushion in a sluggish manner.

The boy stopped at the snacks section of the aisle, his gaze fell upon the Snickers bar before him. In a moment of hesitation, the boy nervously darted glances at the cashier, taking a deep breath to alleviate the boiling anxiety within him. The boy mustered up his courage, snatching a handful of Snickers bars from the shelf in the blink of an eye. With the agility of a cat, the boy bolted for the exit, his foot thudding the floor in rapid succession as he escaped.

The resounding ringing of the Shopkeeper’s Bell alerted the cashier when the boy opened the door and vanished into the freedom of the bustling streets.

“Have a good day kid. HEY!! YOU DIDN'T PAY!!” Exclaimed the cashier, the sudden realisation of stolen products woke him up from his immersion in his newspaper.

“GET BACK HERE, YOU LITTLE THIEF!!” The cashier bawled, his tone seething with exasperation as he scurried out of his seat in a hasty pursuit of the boy.

__________________________________

“Three days ago, on August 15th, a tragic murder of four children from Dansfield Primary School was discovered around the Appledine Way in Bedford.” Reported the female news anchor on the television.

The news broadcast displayed footage of crime scene cleaners in stark white bio suits, their actions were purposeful yet ambiguous as they retrieved all remnants of the tragedy for disposal. Black body bags, heavy with the contents of homicide, were carefully transferred away, never to be seen again. Later, the screen cut to footage of detectives scouring the crime scene, scanning for any glimmer of evidence amid the bloodshed of chaos.

The news anchor continued reporting…

“Despite massive investigation efforts done around the vicinity of Appledine Way, Dansfield primary school and numerous other areas, the police still have no clue on identifying potential suspects. This case remains unsolved, the authorities are appealing for any information that could aid the investigation.

It is a murder case like no other. Various gashes and stab wounds have been found on the victims’ bodies, but no trace of the murderer was left behind. DNA tests and CCTV footage revealed nothing, suggesting a highly proficient killer is on the loose…”

The footage of the news broadcast gradually zoomed outwards, revealing the thin black frame of the television set. The audible and distinct voice of the news anchor slowly faded into faint murmurs as parts of the walls and everyday objects like the portable socket outlet came into view. 

The scale of the spacious, dark living room slowly uncovered its true form, casting an eerie ambience that lingered in the atmosphere. Out of the blue, a dazzling flash of light caused by a lightning strike illuminated the room, exposing the intricate colours and flower design on a nearby sofa.

A gentle brief rumbling of thunder ensued, its deafening sound greatly insulated by the thick walls of the house. As the voice of the news anchor dwindled into nothing more than an indistinguishable rustle, a cordless phone emerged, standing imposingly on the peak of a wooden table.

A sudden ringing of the phone broke the eerie silence of the living room, masking the muffling sound of the television with its infuriating cry for attention. A hand swooped in, swiftly snatching the phone from its charging dock, muting its ringing as a result.

“Yes?” the receiver answered elegantly, placing the phone to her ear.

“Marlin Jones?” Asked the person on the other side of the call.

“Yeah.” Marlin replied, her voice carrying an ounce of suspicion.

“This is Officer Patrick Davis from Westline Police Department, we’ve found your son.”

……..

“Look kid, we called your parents, they're coming to get you home.” The officer stated, his expression burned out, his tone weary.

“But I’ve stolen something, am I not supposed to go to jail?” The boy opposed in an effort to persuade the officer with his righteous logic.

The officer rose from his seat, visibly at the end of his rope with the argument. He leaned towards the boy, his hands planted onto the desk with the strength of a colossal tree. With austerity written on his face, he glared into the boy’s eyes.

“Look kid, listen up. Jail isn't a fun place to stay in, this ain't your house or a playground. It’s a rough, dirty place filled with bad people that will gladly harm you. So do me a favor, go back home.” The officer warned assertively before turning his back and reaching for the door handle.

Right before the officer exited the interrogation room, the boy promptly sprang out of his seat in a last-ditch effort to convince him. “Officer, I’ve stolen something I shouldn’t have, it’s only fair and responsible for me to be put in jail!” The boy declared, his tone brimming with an aura of determination, his eyebrows frowned with unparalleled resolution.

The officer exhaled exasperatingly, his hands resting idly on both sides of his waist. Gathering his final ounce of patience, he attempted to reason with the boy again. “Hey kid..” he uttered before being interrupted by a call from his radio. “Brian, Mr and Mrs Jones are here, get their son now.” announced the officer on the other side of the radio. “Copy that.” The officer replied.

After a brief sigh, the officer sprang into action, advancing towards the boy and grasping his wrist. “Alright kid, time to return to your parents before they get mad.” The officer advised as he swiftly hauled the boy by his wrist. The boy attempted to break free, but against the unyielding clutch of the officer, his desperate struggle fell into vanity.

In a burst of hysteria, the boy let out primal shrieks of terror that quickly filled the air. “NO!! LET ME GO!! I WANT TO GO TO JAIL!! I WANT TO GO JAIL!!” The boy screamed and begged, tears pouring out of his eyes. His chaotic thrashing disturbed the eerie calm of the interrogation room as he flailed his arms in a futile attempt to latch onto nearby furniture.

At last, the boy lashed out, inflicting a bite onto the officer’s arm in the hopes of freeing himself. “GOD DAMN IT, YOU LITTLE SHIT!! HEY, SOMEONE HELP ME DEAL WITH THIS LUNATIC!!” Howled the officer. In a flash, Another officer rushed into the interrogation room, hastily positioning himself behind the boy. By wrapping the sheer bulk of his arms around the boy’s upper and lower jaw in a deadlock, he pried open the miniature mandible like the shell of a scallop.

Upon freeing the officer's arm, the boy resumed his hysterical mayhem, thrashing uncontrollably as his limbs turned into hazardous fury of weapons.

As the two officers hoisted the boy by his feet and shoulders, the boy retaliated with a series of wild, frantic lashes from his arms and kicks that could knock the wind out of someone if they were careless. It was a scene reminiscent of an exorcism from a horror movie as the two officers cautiously carried the crazed boy out of the room. “I DON'T WANT TO GO HOME!! I DON'T WANT TO GO HOME!!!” The boy’s scream of dread reverberated through the atmosphere.

__________________________________

With a sense of urgency, the boy strolled hurriedly as he entered the front door of his house. Each of his steps surged palpable dread of the foreseeable peril into his heart, triggering him to speed up his strides as he traversed his way through the eerie but luxurious interior of his house. Before he could reach the safety of his room, a hand emerged from a room wreathed in darkness, snatching the boy by the cap of his hoodie as he passed by.

“Let me go!!” Exclaimed the boy, thrashing wildly in an attempt to free himself from the dominating grasp of the unknown adult. His flailing arms, an airborne projectile, assailed any furniture in their wake, knocking off objects that once stood at the peak of the tables and desks. Meanwhile, the unknown adult maintained his vice-like grip on the boy, displaying no sign of struggle.

Dragging the boy to the living room, the unknown adult tossed him to the marble floor. The cap of the boy’s hoodie fell off as a result, spilling the beans of the atrocity swept under the rug. Akin to a war-ravaged scenery, the boy’s face was a clutter of trauma, adorned with sabbing gashes and crimson contusion, narrating a tale of untold tragedy within his life.

As the boy gradually regained his footing, shielding his face within his hoodie cap in shame, his eyes fell upon a minacious silhouette standing before him amidst the darkness of the room…

Marlin Jones wielding a hefty, rusty chain.

Marlin swung her arms, her chain gradually picking up speed reminiscent of an industrial turbine as it spun, each rotation harvesting an ominous amount of raw energy and power, producing a deep metallic whirr reverberating through the atmosphere.

The slow, rhythmic rotation of the chain quickly accelerated into a chaotic vortex of menace. In a fit of rage, Marlin unleashed a barrage of onslaught, hurling the chain towards the boy. With a combination of exquisite elegance and brutality in its motion, the chain bolted through the air with lightning’s fury.

“WHY CAN'T YOU JUST SIT PUT?!” Marlin bawled as the chain clashed with the boy’s arm with all its amassed power and weight. The boy wailed immediately upon the excruciating assault, his tone a mixture of anguish and anger.

“WHY CAN'T YOU JUST BEHAVE?!” Marlin promptly silenced the boy’s wail by continuing her attack, whipping the chain across his face in a flash, drawing out a splatter of blood from his mouth.

“WHY CAN'T YOU JUST LISTEN?!” Marlin finished her combination with a swift final scourge across the other side of the boy’s cheek. A sickening squelch resonated through the air as the rusty, worn metal peeled chunks of skin and flesh off the boy in a gruesome display of violence.

The once pristine, snowy white walls of the house now bore bloodshed scattered far and wide, turning them into a canvas that portrayed a tale of the anonymous horror of mankind.

Blood poured profusely from the gaping wound on the boy’s cheeks, soaking the marble floor in a puddle of crimson. Collapsed onto the floor on all fours, the boy mustered his strength in an agonising attempt to stand up. Each of his movement surged shockwaves of searing pain throughout his body, pinning him to the bloodied floor.

“WHY CAN'T YOU JUST BE LIKE TIMMY?” Marlin roared in a crazed madness.

“Instead, your GRADES are FAILING!” Marlin added, her chain seamlessly whiplashing through the air with deadly elegance, landing a crushing blow to the boy's back.

Upon getting struck, the boy collapsed back onto the floor amid his gradual ascent, his face submerged in the pool of his own crimson as he lay sprawled on the floor.

“All the teachers DISLIKE you!” Marlin immediately followed up, lunging the chain towards the boy. Like a ferocious serpent, the chain impacted the back of the boy’s head with immense power and breakneck velocity. The boy instantly clutched the back of his head in sheer agony, using his hands to shield against the relentless onslaught. The unbearable anguish surging through his mind made him curl up in a foetal position, soothing the pain while bracing for incoming attacks.

“You’ve DISGRACED us enough!!” At last, Marlin lashed out a final whip to the helpless boy. However, her fury was far from vented. “Now, YOU'RE learning to STEAL?!”

“What kind of son did I raise?” Marlin began pacing back and forth frantically, the imminent threat of an uncontrolled outburst never absent. “Those rescuers should’ve left you in the ruins of your hometown to ROT!!” Marlin bellowed, pointing a finger at the boy, her eyes burning with hatred.

As the boy struggled to his feet, Marlin turned her back to him, seemingly about to walk away before suddenly turning back around to scold him. “And how many times have I told you not to hang around with those mucks, they are a bad influence! WHY DON’T YOU GET IT?!”

“SPLAT!!” In an aggressive act of fortitude and defiance, the boy, still on all fours, spat a mouthful of blood vehemently onto the floor, aggravating the crimson clutter beneath him.

Blood persisted to cascade from his wounds, drenching his neck and hoodie as he fitfully got onto his feet. “They are not mucks.” The boy declared. He gradually raised his arm, eventually pointing an index finger at the murder case news broadcast on the television. “They–were MY FRIENDS!!” A rebellious roar, a mixture of unwavering fearlessness and resentment, exited the boy's mouth.

Seemingly at the end of his ropes with his stepmother, the boy snarled at Marlin, his face etched with unyielding aggression. “You did this, didn’t you?” The boy hissed, his hand trembling with palpable rage as he pointed an index finger at Marlin.

“Wow, you catch up quick huh?” Marlin commanded nonchalantly after breaking out of her momentary look of surprise.

The unknown adult who dragged the boy out to face Marlin’s wrath, discreetly grabbed a pipe wrench from a table behind, sneaking up on the unsuspecting boy. With a swift wind up, he slammed the hefty wrench onto the boy's knee, dislocating the joint with an audible snap.

The excruciating pain instantly flooded the boy's mind, bringing him down to his knees. His wail of agony quickly filled the air, only to be silenced by a devastating followed-up blow to the back of his head.

“Insufferable scum.” The unknown adult, Marlin's husband murmured as he approached his wife, handing the pipe wrench over to her.

Marlin condescendingly smirked as she took the pipe wrench. The boy, lying incapacitated on the floor, tightly covered the severe wound on the back of his head, barely containing the cascade of blood. Fragments of tissue matter stained the floor and the boy’s fingers as blood rapidly seeped through the gaps between his tightly closed fingers.

Marlin approached the boy, her gleaming, scornful presence reflected in her eyes. Using her feet, she pushed the boy slightly, turning him over enough to reveal his face.

Marlin tightened her grip on the pipe wrench. With a barbaric ferocity, she bashed the boy’s face repeatedly with her weapon in hand, each blow carrying the intention to cripple. The sickening squelch of flesh mangled and bones fractured upon impact resonated into the air. Every vicious strike triggered a splatter of blood and tiny fragments of tissue to be scattered to the surroundings, painting the floors, walls and furniture with crimson brutality.

Even with the barrage of onslaught inflicted, the attacks displayed no sign of receding, each devastating blow was delivered with the same lethality as the last. Drips of crimson splattered onto the sofa, family portrait, and the attacker herself, soaking her in red over time.

As the living room was gradually adorned with the vile bloodshed like a slaughterhouse, Marlin still persisted in her ruthless pummelling, her bloodlust completely fogging up her mind. Within her rain of attacks, every beatdown produced a squelch of mutilation across the atmosphere. The seemingly endless torment eventually spawned a burst of blood sprayed onto the Television’s screen.

Marlin, her clothes now bathed in gore, finally seized her bloody rampage. Debilitated and disfigured, the boy lay motionlessly on the floor, his face a manifestation of mangled flesh and bone. His feeble breathing was his only sign of life.

“Any last words?” Marlin asked. The boy's eyes faintly blinked before he answered. “You’ll….pay..for this…” A nearly obscure murmur exited the boy's mouth.

Marlin nodded sternly and with a final wind-up, she slammed the pipe wrench onto the boy’s temple with every ounce of her strength. In the blink of an eye, all signs of the boy’s struggle had ceased to exist, his faintly opened eyes now sewn shut. For awhile, the air across the rooms of the house was filled with a surreal sense of stillness.

Marlin eventually woke up from her rage-like trance, fully comprehending the atrocity she had committed. She loosened her grip on the pipe wrench, steadying her breath as her adrenaline dissipated. 

“Stupid muck got it coming, acting all tough and defiant under our very own eyes. Scum’s forgotten his place!” Marlin’s husband grumbled, his frustration seething through.

“I’m done” Marlin uttered, her voice lingering with a tad of exhaustion as she returned the bloodied pipe wrench to her husband. ���We need to clean up this mess real quick before somebody finds out.”

“Don’t worry hun, that’ll be sorted out in no time.” Marlin’s husband replied arrogantly.

“Sure you’ll do.” Marlin smirkingly cooed before heading downstairs from the living room.

Marlin’s husband turned around and tossed the pipe wrench onto a nearby table. He whipped out a smartphone from his pocket, texting an unknown recipient. “Everything is under control and discretion, well done.” he texted.

While attending to his text messages, a dark, minacious figure rose up a few feet behind him, its towering stature slowly revealed as it gradually stood upright. Thick, inky blackness shrouded its colossal, humanoid form, permeating the air with an oppressive, unparalleled dread.

With Marlin's husband oblivious to the presence of the divine, the dark entity slowly raised its head. Its eyes, glowing ominously in bright crimson further exuded its aura of malevolence, a symbol of mortality, ready to strike.

[smashlawlai]

Here’s a Super Smash Bros. Lawl moveset for Marluxia from Kingdom Hearts:

Reveal Trailer:

The trailer begins with Pit and Dark Pit fighting in a garden-like stage, where cherry blossoms gently fall around them. Suddenly, the air grows still, and the cherry blossoms swirl unnaturally. The camera cuts to a figure in a black cloak with a scythe, surrounded by flowers. Marluxia appears, saying, "Your demise shall be swift," and the screen flashes: "Marluxia Reaps His Revenge!"

Moveset:

Marluxia wields his massive scythe and controls flowers and wind, using them in graceful yet devastating attacks. His moveset revolves around elegant combos, long-range slashes, and flower-based magic that can trap and weaken his opponents.

Neutral B (Blossom Reaper):

Description: Marluxia swings his scythe in a wide arc, sending out a wave of pink energy shaped like petals. The attack has a long range and deals moderate damage. If fully charged, the wave becomes larger and hits multiple times, knocking opponents upward.

Inspiration: This move reflects his scythe-based attacks in Kingdom Hearts: Chain of Memories and Kingdom Hearts III.

Side B (Floral Whirlwind):

Description: Marluxia summons a whirlwind of cherry blossom petals that spirals forward, trapping and damaging enemies caught within it. The whirlwind travels slowly but covers a wide area, making it useful for zoning or edge-guarding.

Inspiration: Based on Marluxia’s ability to control petals and wind, which is a central part of his combat style.

Down B (Scythe Trap):

Description: Marluxia plants his scythe into the ground, causing a trap of pink, thorny vines to spread in front of him. If an opponent steps on the trap, they are grabbed by the vines, immobilizing them for a short time and making them vulnerable to a follow-up attack. The vines disappear after a few seconds if not triggered.

Inspiration: This move represents Marluxia’s manipulative and controlling nature, as he uses traps to corner and defeat his foes.

Up B (Petal Glide):

Description: Marluxia leaps upward, surrounded by swirling cherry blossom petals. He can glide for a short distance in any direction after the initial leap, and anyone in his path takes damage from the petals. The move provides excellent recovery and mobility.

Inspiration: Marluxia's graceful movement and control over flower petals, seen in his boss battles in Kingdom Hearts.

Final Smash (Reaper's Judgment):

Description: Marluxia transforms into his Kingdom Hearts III reaper form, riding his massive flower-themed scythe. He charges across the stage, dealing massive damage to anyone in his path. The attack ends with a powerful, flower-filled explosion that knocks enemies off the stage.

Inspiration: His final boss form and ultimate scythe attack from Kingdom Hearts III.

Taunts:

Up Taunt: Marluxia swings his scythe elegantly, and petals swirl around him as he says, “Your fate is sealed.”

Side Taunt: He holds out his hand, causing a pink rose to bloom in his palm, before it disintegrates into petals that scatter in the wind.

Down Taunt: Marluxia raises his scythe, and thorny vines sprout briefly from the ground around him as he smirks.

Victory Poses:

1. Victory Pose 1: Marluxia stands atop a hill of flowers, holding his scythe across his shoulders, as petals rain down around him.

2. Victory Pose 2: He spins his scythe in a circular motion, creating a whirlwind of petals, then slams it into the ground, causing a burst of pink energy.

3. Victory Pose 3: Marluxia vanishes in a swirl of petals, reappearing in front of the screen and saying, “Submit to oblivion.”

Defeat Pose:

Defeat Pose: Marluxia kneels on the ground, his scythe planted beside him as he looks down, surrounded by withered petals.