#even under the threat of death you could not get me to wear any

[threepandas]

Bad End: Actions Speak

"Be Silent."

Those were the first words commanded to me by the High Dragon Prince of the South. He did not want to hear me. Did not want to see me. To even be forced to endure, my obnoxious, insignificant, human presence. Any more then he absolutely had too. If it weren't for the fact that I had magic? He likely would have preferred to have me killed.

Just like the others.

I was a prisoner of war. One, which? I had no choice but to take part in. Had been drafted, by the humans. Only to be captured, by the dragons. All I had wanted? From my second chance at life? Was to live quietly. Study magic. Enjoy what I could not, before. Instead? I got warfare. Fear. The constant threat of death.

They needed me to open confidential human intelligence. Reverse engineer defenses and weapons. My safety and quality of life? Depended entirely on my compliance. And? If those reports and devices happened to be trapped to hell 'n back? By Mages FAR more skilled then myself?

Do it anyway. You are replaceable. Either you succeed... or you die.

You... hah... y-you really...

Really can say, I guess, n-now I know...? That...

That you really DO learn faster, under fire. Enduring pain curses. Fighting lethal curses, for your very life. Fire and drowning attacks. Lightning. Wind spells meant to choke the life of out of me, by sucking out all the air from my lungs. They... they really were creative, weren't they? My old colleagues.

Yes, sadistic, in ways I had never imagined. But also? Very, very creative.

I had the scars to prove it now.

All the while, as commanded, I did not talk. Did not DARE. Still do not. Even as I am shoved around. Dragged from tent to tent, building to building. Hurried along, like an inconvenience. A faulty, inefficient, piece of machinery, that dares eat their food and breathe their air. Slow and lagging, but sadly? Oh, sadly. They could not find better.

But I endure. Survive. I do not talk, so I can not offer. I give them nothing more then they demand. Malicious compliance. Nothing more, nothing less, then EXACTLY as you commanded, oh Wardens mine. My Keepers, foul and wretched. The holders of my chains. Someday... someday, this war will end. Or I will die, my luck running out, at long, long last.

And I?

I Will Be Free.

Once, long before this all, I had heard rumors. They say that talented humans, magically gifted humans, tended to be kept as glorified, pampered little pets, in the Vampiric lands. It... it sounds nice, now. To worry for nothing. To be protected. Adored and provided for, like some exquisite house cat, lounging in the sun. I could study again. Find someone nice.

....I worry.

You see, I... I think...

I may be breaking, around the edges of myself. Hairline fractures, born of stress. It's the isolation. Surrounded as I am. None of them are human, none of them will talk to me, at me. Anything at all. They follow the lead of their Prince. And he? Oh, he has made his distain for humanity clear.

Which begs the question. Why is he here?

Or rather, why am I? Dragged, from the ratty little cloth hovel they call "my tent", by the worn and patched to incoherence cloak I now wear, straight to the central command tent. Where the Prince is. The generals. The beating heart of the army itself. Dumped on the ground at his feet, I was fully expecting that to be it. That this would be the day.

They had found a better, less worn down, mage. A stronger one. A more obedient one. My services would no longer be... required.

I sat there. In the dirt. Eyes locked on his feet and waited. Palms splayed against the floor. Why bother fight? If I did THAT, they'd use me as "an example" for the NEXT mage. No. No, better to go quick. I had been reborn once. T-there was a possibility... however small... it... it might? Happen again?

Please, Gods. Please Gods, let it happen again.

But no. I was told, with judgment in his voice, by some general, to "get up". Ha! As though they were not directly responsible for my beaten down state. How dare. How DARE he judge me? I owed them nothing. Refused to die, in some short sighted tantrum of honor or pride.

I would LIVE, damn it. I MUST live. For how ever long I could. I wanted to be free again. To read and travel, do magic for magics sake. Never... NEVER see another dragon again.

Perhaps that was hateful. But damn it... I... I was so tired.

Nonetheless, I stood. Looked at no one and said nothing. Just an empty, ragged cloak with flesh inside. I am not here. I do not suffer. Unfocus your eyes and be far away. Yes, that's right, I tell myself, far... far away. It's like meditation. Just... ride the flow of magic. Do not call it. Merely observe. Let the colors drag you in. Be washed away. Far, far away.

I hear and do not hear, there. See and do not see. They can not touch me, can not hurt me, there is nothing and everything, in the Magics. It is... so... so BeAuTiFuL.

No wonder so many are lost. Drift and never come back.

I play a dangerous game, here.

But they can not hurt me.

No one can.

In here.

No answer comes then. But I am expected to work. Perhaps it is a show? Or they wish to verify, that I am indeed, doing what they keep me alive for. Nonetheless, I sit, in the corner, silent as I got to work. As old colleagues try to stop my heart, freeze my blood, rupture my organs. As burns roar over my skin and lightning crackles against canvas walls.

I do not scream. That would be too close to "speaking". I am not fool enough to give them an excuse. There is a belt I can bite. I use it often. Will have to salvage another, as this one is falling to pieces. That and a silencing spell? My screaming is muted.

Getting better at healing magic, I think. Either I have learned to numb the pain or I may have nerve damage. I doubt, now, that I will ever win awards. For my beauty. Too many scars. My arms are a wreck. My hands a travesty. It is nothing short of a miracle, that I have not LOST any fingers, to this.

Why am I here? Why? Why?

At least in my little hovel, I can curl up and weep. Emote. Can take breaks between bouts of pain and battles of magic. But here? Like a machine, stacks are dumped before me, and I am expected to perform. Do or die, human. We can always find another.

Through it all, haunting golden eyes watch. My pain, my exhaustion, all observed, giving away nothing, by that impassive royal face. I don't know what he WANTS.

Finally, after weeks of considering me, he decides to tell me. Comes to some conclusion, no input required. Why would it be? Of course. He is a High Prince. His power is great, his honor and name without equal. Why would he need MY input on anything.

"Did I know," he asked me, voice ponderous and musing, "That of all the mages his people have captured... I had lived the longest?"

I had not. But it did not suprise me.

He sat, considering me, splayed back in his chair like it was a throne, every bit the picture of a royal. A portrait of the man he was born to be. But the distain... the distain? Had... lessened. Not gone. Never gone. Gods, no. We peons were beneath him. Especially I, a mere human. But? Apparently I was not longer quite so wretched.

Our dear High Prince decided I should get a better tent. A new cloak. Actual medical supplies. What wonders.

It made me nervous. What cost, did these things come with? What expectation? Loyalty? I had offered none and never will. That would quickly become a problem. Still, I kept my head down. Always, always, keep your head down. Let the dragons die, for their stupid fucking war.

No longer replaceable. I discovered.

In the next big attack, as there was ALWAYS a next one, I wasn't evacuated last. As attacks fell. But FIRST, as the soilders were arriving. I was... was "essential personal". Shoved in an evac cart with the fancy strategists.

They started deliberately capturing mage supplies. Books and spell papers, chalks and high quality inks. Not just to disarm their opponents. Oh no. But to give to ME. I had... I had NEVER gotten supplies. The last time I had actually, truely, desperately, needed ink? I had been forced to use my own blood.

My hands actually shook. Touching such richs now. It overwhelmed, after so long, with nothing. I... I had healing books. Could actually look things up!

Curling up, before the piles of crates they dumped in front of my little tent, I didn't care, if they saw me cry. On my knees like an acolyte before the alter. Finally. FINALLY! Answers, armaments, and supplies. Relief, after so long? Was rain on desert sands. Burned skin left tender and screaming, to the cleansing mercy, of the softly weeping skies.

This, too, the High Prince saw.

No where to store them, of course. A gift given then taken away. Held just out of reach. Just long enough to give hope. All the better to torment you with it. Oh where we would we store, your useless little trinkets, human?

But I refuse to play the game. Fine. Take them. Take it all.

I need nothing.

Retreat into the Magics. They can not hurt me. I am not here. Far, far away. I am far, far away.

The High Prince, lounging and watchful, seems to have decided. No. The human things will go to him, actually, not to the fire. He watches with strange, considering eyes. In fact? I will make my self useful. Show my gratefulness. He is using valuable storage space on me, so I am to come before him and study. Prove it is worth it.

Is he not gracious? Now press your face to the dirt in thanks, human. Bow and scrape. Be glad, be honored, that your Liege is so kind.

He does not disagree, as they tell me these things. Why would he? They are his due. I think... I think I hate him. Hate them all. But the pull of books, of proper supplies, is simply too powerful. Back to that wretched tent I go. Under the staring eyes that dissect me so. Finally, I can heal my aching body.

He watchs me. As I study, improve, learn and grow. As old books are taken from me, shipped away somewhere, beyond my reaching, and new ones arrive. I desperately make notes. Hope those notes will be enough. Work and suffer and bleed. Somewhere, in the camp, I sense others.

The come and go. Bright lights that flare and then dim. Struggling and struggling, before finally going out. Some faster then others. The objects and messages they have me working on now? Are truely nasty. Again and again, I see the crests of Nobel houses and royal seals. How powerful, I wonder, have I become? Or is it simply... specialized?

A gift, for not dying.

Over the camp walls, I have begun to recognize the surroundings. The mountains and the valleys. The trees, in bloom. It seems wrong, that the world should be so beautiful, as everything is ending. The nation I grew up in, is falling. But... but we passed Heartriver two weeks back. And THAT? Was well within the border.

And from HERE... I can see the school.

The University of Magics. All I had ever wished, was to return. But... but not like this, never like this. I'm... gods. Oh Gods, I'm sorry. For my weakness. For not choosing to die. For not running at all, before it all began. I should have. But... but I was a coward. And now everyone else, must pay the price.

I stand outside my pathetic little tent and watch the horizon smoke. Burn.

Dragons are so very, very fond of fire.

Far away... j-just go far away... the Magic will always take you. Is always kind. Towards the tent I go. I remind myself, as I force myself to move, one step in front of the other? That if the worst comes to worst? I can just... Let Go. Go DEEP. So deep that no one and nothing can ever find me again. So far away, my body forgets I ever lived at all.

Just... just a soul. Floating along like a jellyfish, in the beautiful Allthings. The light and void, the far away and gone. I-It wouldn't even hurt. Just be like... like letting go of a balloon. I could be that balloon. Disappear into endless starlight...

But... BUT! I wont.. I can't! Not yet. Not until every other path has burned. Last resort. Only, ONLY, as a last resort.

(I refuse to acknowledge... how comforting the knowledge is. That I have a plan at all. A way out.)

Entering the tent, I head for "my table". At the High Prince' feet like a dog. A lovely little carpet, comfortable little pillows, a low table to work on. It would... honestly? It would be a lovely place setting. A delightful workstation. If it were not the context. The obvious, blatant, demeaning context.

Sit at his feet and behave. Be good and you're rewarded, be bad and you're punished. Brought little treats at HIS command? Sit on a pillow, on the floor, as they talk over your head? Ha ha... I? I half expected to one day show up to find someone holding a fucking collar.

If they fucking tried? I was going to set everything on FIRE. Even I, had limits.

However, it was just the Prince and I. Uncomfortable, but I could ignore him. Walking for my humiliating little seat, I noticed him watching me. Slowed. Why... why was he watching me? Awkwardly I paused. Did NOT want to be kneeling in front of a man that was staring that intently at me. Especially not so closely to a man, staring like that. The vibes were... off.

"Did you know, pet, that we actually have several rather old alliances amoung the Vampiric Royal Houses?" He said, breaking the strange silence.

'Pet, huh? Good to know he's at least fucking AWARE. I did NOT consent to that!' I seethe, in my head.

"It's been bothering me, you see. Your wretched state." He continues, completely unbothered that he might as well be talking to a statue. I stare, seethe, would give a limb at this point, to set him on fire. "You've suffered unbearably and I've done nothing to correct it, even though I could. We needed you for the war effort, you see, but now? Now, pet, we're nearly done. And I can finally care for you properly."

"Reward you, properly." The bastard says, calm and oh so reasonable, as though I had anything to do with him willingly.

"Honestly, it's long over due. The second I realized I wanted you as Mine, I should have stepped up to care for you properly. Officially. But, sadly, it would have been a conflict of interest. An abuse of power. Now, however? Now I can finally call on our allies for their support. Get you the medical assistance you so badly require."

A pleased smile stole across his face as he considered me.

"You'll make a lovely vampire. It was selfish of me, to cheat you of the years turning you sooner would have given you, but I'm sure you'll forgive me with time. Our people needed us. I can swear to you now, pet, you will forever remain my favorite, even if I take a Queen."

Horror was like a gut punch, deliver by a fighter jet. I felt immediately and intensely sick. W-what? Frozen so completely I nearly forgot to breathe, I looked for ANY sign he may be joking. Exaggerating. But... but no. W-WHAT?? How. WHEN? At what point, in my torment? In my UTTER SILENCE? Did this man "fall in love"?!

H-How can you LOVE a women you've never-?! No. No, I KNEW how.

You decide you like the IDEA of them. The shape of their body. You project onto them your OWN narrative and decide it is a love story. Fuck. FUCK!! I was... this was... no no NO! I REFUSED. Like HELL was I could to live, trapped for DECADES if not CENTURIES, the pretty little war bride of a tyrant!

The High Prince gets up and walkes towards me. Sweeps me into terrifyingly powerful arms. When he smiles? There are fangs. Deadly and hardly the comfort he thinks they are. We are a laughable contrast. Richs and rags, power and prisoner, royal and the woman who might just burn the world to escape. Shit. SHIT. I was scared of him before.

And that's BEFORE he decided he loved me.

[odysseys-blood]

getting my transmasc card revoked because i refuse to wear cargo shorts

[ittosthicknjuicyazz]

Jealousy and pining. If the HSR men were quietly pining for the reader, how would they handle any sudden jealousy of someone else who is seemingly or even intentionally trying to get closer to the reader in a romantic way? Is there any confrontation? Sabotage? Or does this perceived “threat” encourage them to act on their growing affection for the reader? Or maybe they take a different approach all together, idk- lots of possibilities lol.

a/n: I fw this one. question is, how do i go about it 😟??

disclaimer: ooc blade prolly, violence, death, SA, you wear revealing clothing, not proof read. I'm sorry if this isn't what you imagined, I'm still fairly new to this. Also since I wrote so much for blade he's going to be the only one I write for IM SORRYYYYY 😭 maybe i'll write a part two with a different character.

someone's a wittle bit jealous

Blade

It took him a little while to get used your presence after you joined the Stellaron Hunters. And it took him a little while after that to fall in love with you. And since then, every day he'd find himself falling deeper and deeper in love with you.

Blade looked over at you, his brows slightly furrowed, "you don't have to do this." You looked back at Blade, raising an eyebrow, "uhh, yes I do. It's in the script Blade." He only nodded in refusal, "this is too much, even for you."

You rolled your eyes and rolled the long glove over your arm. Tonight, you wore your sexiest outfit that showed 70% of skin with long gloves. "Think of the mission, Blade. I know you might be jealous and all that, but you gotta put that aside think about what we need to do."

Him? Jealous? "Don't be ridiculous. what would I be jealous for?"

You only laughed in response, "i was only teasing," you looked at the time, "well, i gotta go. You be ready when I need you, yeah?" You smiled and blew him a kiss before turning around and leaving the shared hotel room.

Of course, that kiss did nothing to him. Why would it?

20 minutes passed and he's at the designated club. Immediately his eyes seek for you. He takes a few more steps into the club before he saw you. You sat on another mans lap, an arm wrapped around the back of his neck, your finger lightly tracing random shapes on his chest. You smiled, and giggled, and looked at him as if he was only man in the room.

Of course, Blade felt nothing as he watched the scene unfold. Why would he? This is for the mission. But even he had to admit, your acting was very extremely believable. And maybe it did make him feel...something.

For a split second, the two of you catch each other's gaze. And for that moment, your acting slipped. You no longer had that seductive stare, your expression now unreadable. You squinted and nodded your head just when the man under you diverted his gaze else where.

Blade took the hint, nodding his head in return. The rest of the mission went off without a hitch. Blade managed to make it to the electrical area, shut off the power all over the building, giving you enough time to jab the knife into the mans chest and leave the club before Blade turned the power back on.

Now back at the hotel, you're shivering and rubbing your hands over your arms. "You cold?" Blade wondered. You nodded, "no no, it's just. God, the feeling of that mans hands all over me, it's making me shiver in disgust." You cringe once more, your whole body shivering with intensity as though you were truly cold.

Wait, his hands were all over you? "What do you mean his hands were all over you?" Blade demanded. You shrugged, "Well, he...when you left his hands began to wander and he...groped me. I know that it was part of the plan to seduce him, but it seriously made me feel disgusted...and dirty."

Now Blade felt something. And the feeling spread all over his body. Not only did you have his hands all over that man, but that man was touching you in areas that Blade could only look at. And it made you feel disgusting. If Blade could go back, he would have killed that man himself.

"...disgusting." Blade mumbled, that word being the only thing you heard. And for a moment you thought he was talking about you, "e-excuse me?"

"That man is disgusting," Blade mumbled just a bit louder. He makes his way to you, "Go change." You stare up at him, his body oh-so close yours.

Unknowingly, your heart began to beat just a bit faster, though your shivering died down. It was almost like Blade close proximity warmed you up.

You nod, turning to grab some clothes from your bag and walking to the bathroom. You walk out with a warm set of pjs.

You're met with almost an entirely different room. The two twin sized beds now pushed together with multiple blankets layered on top of each other, not to mention a shirtless Blade on one side of the bed with a remote in his hand, switching between channels on the tv mounted on the wall. Next to him on the bed was a small pile of snacks, somehow all of them being your favorite.

"I was gone for like 5 minutes, how did you manage to do all of this within five minutes?" you questioned. "Sit," Blade responded. You were sat.

You threw the covers over your legs, making sure to set the pile of snacks over the blanket. You had to admit, this was extremely weird and extremely out of character for Blade. But were you complaining? Of course not. You have a shirtless Blade sitting next to you in the same bed. In your book, this is like heaven. And god, were you gonna brag when you got back to base.

"Why are you doing this?" you asked him. "Just relax," Blade responded, putting on a movie he thought would be interesting to you. And it was. You found yourself being relaxed in Blade's presence as you snacked and watched the movie.

And eventually you fell asleep. Blade notices and sighs, pulling your body downward to get your head more situated on the pillows, fluffing them. He then covered your body with the blanket, moving the opened and unopened snacked onto the nightstand. He turned off the TV and got comfortable on his side of the bed, not getting too close to your body. He didn't want you to be uncomfortable, especially after tonights encounter.

Later, you found yourself waking up. It was still dark, but you felt a pressure on the side of your body and over your stomach. You looked over to see Blade snuggled into your side with his large arm over your stomach. You stared in shock, there's no way this is actually happening, right? You and Blade snuggling in the same bed? you've got to be dreaming.

Just when you were going to attempt to move Blade over, not wanting the morning to be awkward, Blade tightened his grip on you. You slightly shivered as he breathed into your neck. No, this was definitely real.

"Never...." he mumbled. You almost coed out loud, Blade sleep talking was absolutely adorable to you. It reminded you that Blade was the same as everybody else, he wasn't devoid of all human emotion, he wasn't a machine. He was a living being just like you were. "Never again..." he mumbled once more.

You sighed and decided to leave it be. If it was going to be awkward in the morning, then so be it. You turned to embrace him, your fingers running through the shorter and longer layers of his hair.

[zeltqz]

begging for a jealous/possessive hanma that catches someone hitting on his s/o

#—♱𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 𝐎𝐑 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇♱—#

— syn : hanma doesn't like the fact someone's hitting on his girlfriend.

— cw : nsfw content ahead ⚠︎ - deranged!hanma, death threats, choking, possessiveness, hanma refers to you as his, he almost kills a guy for you, red flag but its shuji so its ok <3

— length : 900 words

— a/n : i love my little red flag lmao. also i listened to house of ballons while writing this so its linked under the title if u wanna listen too lol

“Come onnnnnnn. You’re too pretty to be acting like this.” The man nudged you playfully, inching impossibly closer to your sitting form. “At least tell me yer name beautiful.”

You sighed exhaustedly and raised your glass back to your lips, taking a sip of your water. As you swallowed the liquid, you glanced at him from the corner of your eye. Yup, he looked like your typical wannabe punk. Someone that thinks everybody and their mamas are scared of in the streets. 

Before dating Hanma, you would’ve been scared of him. They’re known for their violence, threatening any person that dares to even walk past them on the street or look at them sideways. 

The crazed look in his eyes, the tongue piercing, the oddly dyed hair; wannabe punk. 

You put your drink down and motioned to the bartender to refill your cup of water. 

“I’m waiting girl. What’s yer name?” He was met with more silence. You could practically feel his irritation growing. “Stop being sucha bitch and just—”

“I have a boyfriend.” You thanked the bartender as he passed your cup back, filled with water. Taking another sip, you peeked over at him again from the corner of your eye, hoping to see him back away now that he knows the truth. 

But you forget who you’re messing with right now. 

“Boyfriend ? I don’t see a boyfriend. Oi!” He motioned over at the bartender, ushering him closer. Once the bartender got close enough, he wrapped an arm around his shoulder and brought him closer. “Do you see a boyfriend around here?” The bartender stammered and stuttered, so he clicked his tongue irritatedly and looked back at you. “Is this your boyfriend? Hah?”

You shook your head, remaining utterly calm. “Nope.”

“Exactly.” His voice sounded amused, as if he’d proved you wrong. “What kind of boyfriend would let ya walk outside wearing this, huuuuh?”

You could feel his fingers trailing along your thigh and closed your eyes, counting to ten in your head. In the midst of your counting, his touches got more bold, trailing them up towards the slope of your waist, up and down your arm. 

By the time you got to seven, you gave him three more seconds to get his hands off you, giving him the benefit of the doubt until the touches suddenly stopped.

You opened your eyes and looked to your left to see a long arm wrapped around the mans shoulder, the kanji sin tattooed big on his palm and you couldn’t help but smirk.

“Is there a reason you’re groping my girlfriend, hmm?” Hanma’s voice was sickly sweet and the man went red in the face. 

“No! No reason. Just mistook her, that’s all.” He smiled, showing all his teeth, hoping Hanma would let him off easy. 

“Mistook her?” Hanma hummed, confused. “Baby, did this man mistake you for anyone?”

You looked him deep in the eye for a second and fought back the urge to laugh when his lip started trembling, hoping and pleading in his eyes that you’d lie for him. “Not really. He actually even questioned your existence, Shuji.”

“I didn’t!”

“You did.” You grinned and watched the full fear sprout on his face.

“She’s lyin—” The hand resting on his shoulder quickly moved to his throat, squeezing until you saw veins forming down the length of his arm. You squeezed your thighs together, trying to calm the roaring pulse between your legs as you watched your boyfriend currently choking the fuck out of your harasser, all with a calm smile on his face.

“Don’t kill him Shuji.”

He winked and squeezed a little more until he went red in the face, his eyes threatening to pop out of his skull.

You frowned, crossing your arms over your chest. “Let go. He’s not worth it Shuji.”

“He touched what’s mine. Death would be the easy way out for him.” As if to prove his point, he began squeezing tighter and you knew if you didn’t stop him, you’d see the light in his eyes slowly fade. 

The chair squeaked as you slid off it and walked up to your boyfriend. “Shuji. Let go. He’s not worth it,” you repeated, voice a little firmer. 

Shuji had a deadpan look on his face as he stared at you, as if examining how serious you were. If he were to kill him right now, cleanup wouldn’t be an issue, your attitude would be. You’d stop talking to him for at least a week and ignore all his advances which would piss him the fuck off. 

“You’re so fucking lucky I want some pussy tonight,” Shuji said lowly in the man’s ear before letting go. 

The man dropped to the floor, coughing and holding his throat. 

You smiled and stepped over his crouched form, over to your boyfriend and wrapped your arms around his waist. “Love you Shu’.”’

“Mhm whatever.” He bent down to your level and kissed your lips. His hands gripped onto your waist, holding your tight and making you giggle into his lips. “Next guy that looks at you though, I won’t be so kind.”

[ashdreams2023]

hello dear! I don't know if you are accepting requests, but I would like to request a five hargreeves x fem!reader

where the reader is a psychic, and she works in the more "chic" part of the commission and she is interested in Five because of some visions she has of him and nananananana

Anyway, I hope you understood :))

a big kiss from Brazil MWAH!

I reached Brazil?! Y’all I’m worldwide now 😩💕

Five hargreeves x fem reader

Watching

There’s many characters in the commission to say the least, everyone got their story and how they got there, much how you ended up there.

But you weren’t that special, you don’t think so at least, not with your coworker having the head of a cow and speaking fluent Spanish and French.

You didn’t usually interact with other employees there that weren’t in your department, it wasn’t because you thought yourself better than them but everyone other than you moved too fast, worried at lot, but you suppose the calmness comes from knowing what your future is and how very little it takes to change your fate.

It was also noted that your department tended to stay to focus on appearances and self expression, you’ll be mostly found in different outfits and fun makeup, it clashed with the usual uniform but it was fine because in your case, it mattered what you said rather than what you looked.

In your years there you’ve predicted deaths, wars, fallouts and whatever you can think about.

It was your job anyways and no one knew your face to point fingers at who is telling on their little failed schemes.

Although….there has been a change of atmosphere since you began seeing some interesting visions about a certain agent.

Five Hargreaves.

An oldie he was, yet surprisingly this was the first time you’ve seen him do something so….unexpected.

End of the world? His family? A new threat from within? Interesting.

You find yourself watching him, from your department, from the windows, he always walked with a purpose and heading somewhere.

Your coworker likes to tease you about this…sudden interest of yours calling him a call for help and that you need to get laid or something along those lines.

"There’s a thin line between sliver box and a grumpy git sweetie"

"Oh come on, aren’t you even a little curious? He’s so…mysterious"

Your staring had led to some rumors spreading around but nothing crazy, you weren’t the first to show any interest in five but it did become slightly embarrassing when you caught him staring at you during a New Year’s party.

Then you were surprised to find him up in your department looking for you.

"I thought I’ll drop by instead of our regular routine of you staring down at home like a hawk and me pretending I don’t see you"

"Oh…sorry?"

"I’ll accept good coffee and a conversation as a form of apology, meet at six outside."

Did he just ask you out? You weren’t so sure about it but it did happen and there were cameras, and to say the least, you became everyone’s business within a few hours.

"Care to tell me why a woman like you was staring at old me? I know your job here and what you’re capable of" He was so calm it made you shiver but you still kept your professional face on.

"You know as much as me that if I let something out both of us would be counting our days here"

"I see the rumors are true" He smirked

"Which ones?" Your curiosity peaked.

He took a sip from his cup "that’s a subject for another day with a much filling meal"

You bit your lip and chuckled "Are you asking me to dinner?"

The older gentleman eyed you so intensely you could almost feel the blush creeping at the back of your neck "I know a good restaurant in 1987 France"

"Hmm, it’s a date then"

"Only if you keep wearing that red lipstick of yours"

So he was watching you too "don’t tempt me I might rebel off and put something else, mess with you a little"

"I thought your department was too much of a bunch of goody two shoes"

You smiled at him then moved your under the table and kicked foot making him wince in pain.

"Pick me up at 7:30pm and a word of advice, watch out for chainsaw at your next mission" You stops leaving him stunned and clearly interested.

"Will do, will do."

[call-me-maggie13]

My late 40s to early 50s boss just asked what’s wrong with 18-25 year olds these days

And as a 21 year old all I could think was

The world has been on fire since we were born and we’ve been told the adults are putting it out and now we’re old enough to realize they’ve been pouring kerosene on the flames instead of water.

Before my first birthday, 9/11 happened and the world wouldn’t let us forget it. When I was 6 years old, on September 11th, my teacher sat us down in front of a tv and showed us footage of 9/11 and then told us we weren’t allowed to cry. She said that it was real and those were real people jumping from the building because jumping was a faster death than burning.

When I was 7 years old, the economy collapsed and my family went from lower middle class to poverty, we went from healthy home cooked meals every night to mac and cheese and beans for weeks in a row. We started skipping holidays because mom and dad couldn’t keep the lights on and buy us new toys. We started wearing clothes and shoes until they fell apart.

When I was 11 years old, Sandy Hook was attacked by a grown man with a gun and 26 children and teachers were brutally murdered. My teachers never looked at us the same and I haven’t felt safe in a school since. After that, once a month we would have active shooter drills and we were taught to fight and cause as much damage as possible if an armed man entered our classroom because it gave other classes a few extra seconds to escape, it gave our siblings a few extra breaths of safety. We were taught to cover ourselves in other students blood and play dead if we weren’t hit, we were taught that we weren’t safe and we wouldn’t be safe as long as we were in school.

When I was 15 years old, my high school art teacher locked us in the classroom and told us if we heard gunshots we should line the desks up lengthwise so that they reached the other wall because that would be harder to break through than a barricade. She told us that she knew about the threats and she wouldn’t judge any of us that wanted to leave. She told us to get our siblings and stay in the buildings as long as possible, to duck in between the cars so we couldn’t be seen until we got to ours. She told us about the trail behind the auto shop that was lined with trees and led off campus. I got my brother and his friends and we left, we spent the day sitting on the floor in my living room waiting for a phone call that the people we left behind were dying.

Two weeks later, one of my friends dragged me out of a football game and forced me to go home with him. He grabbed my brothers and my best friend and forced the six of us into a two seater car before he would tell us anything. His mom worked for the school board and had told him the police found an active bomb under the bleachers in the student section, and they weren’t informing anyone because they didn’t want to incite panic.

When I was 16 years old, ISIS set off a bomb at a pop concert in Britain and killed 22 people, injuring at least 100 more. The next day at school, our teachers went over how to stay safe if we ever experienced something like that. They told us the most important thing to remember was to not remove any shrapnel because it could be keeping us from bleeding out, they said it was more important to get yourself out safely before you worried about anyone else.

When I was 18 years old, my teachers stopped teaching and put the news up on the projector and we watched as the Notre-Dame burned. The boy I had sat next to since second grade spent the entire day trying to call his sister who was studying abroad in Paris, I watched this kid I had never even seen frown fall apart in English because she wouldn’t pick up the phone. We didn’t know it at the time, but she was okay.

Six months later, my history teacher put the news on the projector again for another fire. This time, we watched as an entire continent burned for three months. We watched their sky turned orange from the smoke and their wildlife drowned in pools because they were trying to escape the heat.

When I was 19 years old, the whole world shut down because of a global pandemic. I didn’t meet a single new person for eight months, despite the fact that I had just moved across the country. I watched as people didn’t wear masks and spread it to everyone around them, I was so scared when I went back to my room every night because my roommate was immunocompromised and I was terrified I would give her Covid and kill her.

Just two months later, I watched a video of a black man being murdered by police officers. I watched the world around me explode after George Floyd’s death, people destroying businesses and police stations. I watched some of my friends realize police officers didn’t exist to keep them safe, they existed to keep the people in power in power. I learned that some of the people I had grown up with would rather watch a black man die than admit that maybe, maybe, the system was broken.

When I was 20 years old, I went to the mall with a friend to buy a birthday present and I was pulled to the ground by a twelve-year-old girl after gunshots went off in the mall. I held this child’s hands as she cried for two hours until we were evacuated by police, and then I waited with her outside and helped her look for her mom. I gave her my phone to call her mom and I watched as she called the number over and over and never got a reply. I waited with her until a police officer took her to the station to try to find out more information about the girl’s mom, I hugged this girl I had never seen before and I wished her the best. I never found out what happened to her or her mom, it keeps me up at night sometimes worrying that this little girl was orphaned.

When I was 21 years old, I started working at a daycare and exactly a week later, Uvalde happened and I found myself crying because my students are the same age those kids were. When they came in after school the next day, one of them had asked me if I had heard about Uvalde and I told her I had, I asked her if she was scared of going to school because of it. Her reply broke my heart. “We practice for it every week so that when it happens to us, we know what to do. I’m just worried that the shooter is going to start in my baby sister’s classroom and not mine.” I listened as other students with younger siblings agreed with her, one of them saying “I would take fifty bullets, if I had to to keep my little brother safe.”

Early this year, I watched Russia launched bombs into Ukraine, blowing up churches and schools and hospitals and apartment buildings. I watched as the estimated death count rose from the hundreds to the thousands to the tens of thousands. I watched men send their wives and children to bordering countries for refuge while they stayed behind to fight, knowing they would probably never see each other again.

Just four months ago, I watched as my right to medical privacy got taken away. I watched my old roommate fall apart because she was denied the right to have her dead fetus removed from her body for almost two days, I worried every time I looked away from her that the next time I saw her would be in a casket. I watched as the women around me realized the military-grade weapons that had torn children in classrooms apart were protected by the government but our bodies weren’t.

There is nothing “wrong” with my generation, we’ve experienced all these things as children and were expected to respond with patriotism for a country that continuously sacrificed their children for the “right” to military-grade weapons, that took away my freedom of choice. We are tired, we were told the world was a wonderful place then shown, at every step, how the world was a place of destruction and pain. And we are angry. We are angry because no one but us seems to be trying to fix anything. And we are scared. We are scared because our children, our nieces and nephews, our cousins and our friends children are growing up in a world that won’t protect them.

[throneofsapphics]

the ebb and flow of fate part 3

(part one) (part two) (part four) (part five) (epilogue)

Cazriel x f!Reader

Summary: Then they looked at each other, some sort of silent communication passing before their expressions shifted back to neutral as they turned to examine the surrounding area. As they turned their backs on her, right when she wanted them most. A tear finally dripped down her cheek.

Warnings: injuries, blood, poison, references to past sa, death, angst

Word Count: ~5.2k

A/N: sorry this took so long!

She paced back and forth in her bedroom, wearing a track in the wood. Overreacting. 

How does she fix this?

Wait. She paused. This isn’t her job to fix it. If they’re going to act like misogynistic, overbearing males and blame her for her sexual assault, she’s not going to give them the time of day. If they’re going to blame her for that, they don’t deserve her friendship.. 

Tears filled her eyes, as she turned to gaze at the mirror. Her hair was dull, skin pale, eyes almost … haunted. This wouldn’t do. A few deep breaths later, and she came up with a plan to get her life back. 

You can explain it, a soft feminine voice whispered in her ear. It might have been Azriel who said the words, but she knew Cassian believed them as well. They betrayed her in their own way, and she wouldn’t run to them pleading. 

If they really cared, they’d ask. She replied silently. The voice hummed. 

Her mind came back to Azriel’s threat. Don’t leave Velaris. She could play by his rules for now. Maybe even take a bit of revenge in her own way. 

-

She went out to Rita’s that night, reconnecting with a few of her friends. Lights flashed overhead as they danced, matching each other shot for shot. Thank the mother she has good tolerance. 

That night, she took out a piece of paper and tried to focus her blurred eyes. Play by the rules. 

One male looked at my ass for a secmpd. 

A female tolded me i’m preeeety.

Is that a danermeous situatomn? According two you it isss. 

She frowned down at the sheet. The words were barely legible, but he’d understand them. Play by the rules. A laugh left her as she folded the paper into fours, filled with messy creases. 

She stumbled out of her room, kicking her heels off before she left, still wearing the short and tight dress from earlier in the night. Her feet carried her down the hallway, the world swaying as she walked. 

She heard him, and slid the paper under the door, making her way back to her room as quickly as possible. 

-

Azriel opened the door, spotting a drunk y/n trailing down the hallway, holding onto the wall. He knew she’d gone out, but how much had she drunk? He crouched and picked up the messily folded paper. Her scent combined with alcohol flooded through him. This couldn’t be good. 

He closed his eyes after he read over the words. This is how she’s going to play. He should’ve known. A male looking at her ass. A female telling her she’s pretty. No threats, the bargain mark didn’t prick at him, but she was doing this to make a point. 

“Fucking brat.” He cursed under his breath. 

“Who?” Cassian asked from across the room, crossing to meet him at the door. He wordlessly passed the paper. 

Something between frustration and amusement crossed the other male’s face. “We should frame this.” 

“We’re not exactly on speaking terms with her.” They’d ignored each other for weeks now, and he knew Cassian was aching to speak to her - to clear the air and get back to their tentative friendship. But, she didn’t seem to give a damn. Going out of her way to avoid them, even training with Mor. If she wanted to play that game, he’d gladly participate. 

She’s the one who all but broke their bargain. He doesn’t owe her any apologies. 

Why didn’t you leave? His own words echoed, the broken look in her eyes took over his mind. She knows him well enough to know he didn’t mean that. He wouldn’t need to actually explain that, right? It could open up conversations none of them are ready for. 

Weeks passed, a few more notes - none of which got any kind of reaction from his bargain tattoo. The male had only sent one letter - in response to a strongly worded one sent by Rhysand. A half-assed apology he didn’t let her see. It wasn’t genuine, and maybe she was better off leaving this in the past. Part of him questioned if he should be making those decisions for her, but he was busy enough with work he could push that down. 

-

Two months had passed since the … incident, and she made her way down the hall. It was a day off for her, and she’d spend it out in the city, going through the various markets. Some fresh air would do her good - sun on her skin, and time away from the confines of the library. Her hair had some of its shine returned, her skin not quite as pale as before, and a bit of new life breathed into her eyes. She felt more like herself than she had in months. 

Of course, she still missed the two Illyrians. But - they made zero effort to approach her, and she returned in kind. 

She paused outside of the doorway to her cousin’s office. Three heartbeats. A new shield she’d experimented with hid her sound and presence completely, and their voices escaped into the hallway, clear as day. 

“Why are you avoiding her?” Rhys asked. She should leave, right now. Eavesdropping couldn’t lead to anything good. 

“Avoiding who?” Cassian hedged. 

An exasperated sigh came from Rhys. “Y/n.” 

“We don’t owe her anything. She’s nothing to us.”

Rhys snarled, she felt his power even from here. 

“Azriel,” Cassian said in a warning tone. 

Nothing. She left now. The damage was done. At least she knows exactly where she stands with them. 

In her distraction, the shield dropped and her heavy footsteps echoed as she broke into a run. 

-

Cassian whirled as he heard the footsteps. How had he not detected her approach earlier? Rhys’s power was still rumbling through the room. 

“I didn’t mean that.” Azriel said quietly. But, she was too far gone to hear that. 

“We need to find her.” Cassian fought to ignore the pure dominance rumbling from Rhys - the overwhelming power threatening to bring him to his knees. It abated, slowly. 

“I don’t think she’ll want to see us.” Azriel countered. 

“Tell me what the fuck happened between you.” Rhys all but ordered. 

They exchanged a glance. “You know about the letters.” Rhys nodded. They’d only shown him what she’d hidden and he could put the rest of the pieces together. 

“We … said things we regret.” At least he does, he can’t speak for Azriel. He’d seen her in the kitchen that day, and turned his back on her. There was more that happened Azriel hadn’t told him about. As much as he pushed, he was a stone wall - revealing nothing. 

“Why haven’t you fixed it?” Rhys carefully watched both of them. His brother’s eyes were almost black, and he saw the tentative leash on his power, threatening to break free and destroy anything posing a threat to his family - even if it’s them. 

“She hasn’t made an effort either.” The words came from Cassian. Suddenly, he felt … childish. Holding onto a grudge like this, foregoing friendship and something else that had built. He should’ve been the better person, to go to her and try and get both sides of the story - to let go of a stupid grudge costing him so much. Azriel was still quiet next to him. Rhys didn’t say a word, only studying the two of them. 

“Fix it.” It wasn’t quite an order. “Before it’s past the point of return.” 

Were they already there?

Alarm crossed Rhys’s face, eyes glazing slightly. His hand reached for the knife at his hip. He knew that expression - danger. 

“She left Velaris.” Rhys stood, shoving his chair back. “Find her.” That was an order. 

It had been months since the last threatening letter arrived - but immortals could be patient. A trap could be laying in wait for her, anywhere. Azriel was still trying to sniff out how they had eyes on her movements outside of Velaris.

“Any idea where?” Cassian asked. 

“I’m locked out.” 

He cursed under his breath. 

“I have an idea.” Azriel sighed, as if the situation was a mere annoyance - a fly fluttering around his head. Cassian fought the urge to snarl. 

“Be quick.” The worry in Rhys’s tone set him on edge. Azriel tensed as well, but grabbed on to his arm and winnowed them, traveling through the world through his shadows. 

The sleeping mountains. She’d told them they’d been used for healing in the past, and explored them before as part of her research, he and Azriel in tow occasionally. A pit settled in his stomach. A sense, tugged against his consciousness. One he’d never heard before, a soft and feminine voice pleading; find her. 

-

Clear mountain air filled her lungs as she winnowed to the first place she’d pictured. 

A sparkling, turquoise lake lay before her - dipped beneath two peaks. A lake for healing. One of the few places she could find complete peace. Where her thoughts seemed to float away, worries became insignificant, silence became healing. She settled herself on the edge of the lake, watching the water ripple across, tossing stones once in a while. The dew from the moss soaked into her dress, coating her legs as she kicked them out, resting back on her elbows. The midday sun was a warm glow on her skin, pleasantly heating her body. 

She tilted her chin up towards the sky, breathing in the fresh, clean, nearly untouched air. She let her mind drift, let the sounds of nature around her float in, acknowledged any thoughts - and let them go. 

The temporary peace was bliss, weights lifted off her shoulders - she felt her body calm for the first time in weeks, maybe months. Almost like a drug, she was high on the absence of how her mind went quiet for once. No memories beating against her mind, rattling and tightening her throat. 

Like everything, it was temporary as she heard the beat of wings. Loud in the way he was announcing her presence. The familiar scent hit her a second later, and her jaw clenched. Rhys had set up some way of notifying as she left the city. Boundaries, she needed to set some fucking boundaries.

-

He spotted her, propped up on her forearms - legs stretched out in front of her, the sheath of one knife. One. outlined under her dress. The midday sun set an ethereal glow around her, as if the light itself was drawn to her. Beautiful. She was beautiful, magnetic, and he hated how it drew him in. That wasn’t quite enough to abate his anger as he landed a few feet behind her, the slope set him a few feet above - towering over her prone form. 

“I didn’t know you were this stupid.” Cassian seethed. Any earlier thoughts of mending bridges disappeared. Her fists clenched as she stood, slowly turning to face him, but she didn’t meet his gaze - her eyes moved behind and a ring of white shown around them. The hair on the back of his neck stood up. In the split second, before he could react, a familiar wave of magic, her magic, shoved him to the ground. 

He was rolling, back on his feet - moving. He spotted Azriel landed ahead of him, no doubt his shadows whispering to him. It passed in minutes. Flashes. And it was over. They needed to leave now, the carnage and prisoners tied in front of them could be dealt with later. The archer, now dead, had come from the trees nearly one hundred paces away. 

It took a few seconds for him to realize her magic hadn’t joined the fray. 

-

A pained cry came from behind him and he swirled to see her, the tail of an arrow sticking out of her thigh as she fell to her knees. An arrow meant for his head. A string in his chest tightened, tugged, and his face went slack. 

Look, a voice had whispered. Beyond. Not at Cassian, she knew that. Her eyes scanned the horizon, magic starting to curl under her skin, reacting to a danger she couldn’t see. Treeline - the leaves shifted in the opposite direction of the wind, a small zing - her magic acted on its own, shoving him to the ground as a blur shot through the air. There was no question about it, no chance she could let that happen to him. Not only because he came after her, but she physically couldn’t let harm come to him. 

The ash arrow that would’ve gone through his head, lodged in her thigh. Magic left her at once, an empty stillness left behind. Azriel had landed as well, him and Cassian moving into action faster than she could think. Don’t look don’t look don’t look she chanted to herself, and palmed the knife sheathed on her thigh, a pained noise left her - it had gone right through the fabric and as she moved it she could feel it. Not lodged, directly through her leg. 

A pained and pathetic noise left her as she fell to her knees. The wood was slick, not like blood - something thicker. Hands shaking, she reached her opposite arm across to try and grab the knife - cut the arrow and get whatever the hell it was out. Wrong wrong wrong, her body seemed to scream. 

A hand gripped her wrist, Cassian’s face pale and raw. “Out,” she screamed, “I need it out.” 

“Hang on a second,” he murmured, examining it. Her body was barely holding her up, but if she fell backwards it would only push it further into her - push whatever was coating it around into her bloodstream.  Azriel was there as well, shadows swirled around her wound, examining. Two shields had surrounded her, tinted blue and red. 

Magic ripped shredded through them like paper. She knew exactly who that was, it sung to her like a familiar sound - echoing the magic she normally could reach. 

Her sister shoved Cassian out of the way, falling to her knees in front of her.

She bit the inside of her cheek harshly enough she tasted blood. 

Azriel’s hazel eyes met hers as he stood behind her sister. Something like grief, pain, and a hint of anger flooded through them. The normal cold mask had disappeared, replaced by raw emotion she’d rarely seen from him. He staggered a step back - his eyes going wide, pupils blowing. His expression mirrored Cassian’s from before. Then they looked at each other, some sort of silent communication passing before their expressions shifted back to neutral as they turned to examine the surrounding area. As they turned their backs on her, right when she wanted them most. 

A tear finally dripped down her cheek. . 

They turned their backs, again. That pain was more than the physical. That pain struck deep into her soul. He’d meant his words. If a friend was so easily discarded, were they friends in the first place? She was nothing to them, just as he’d said. At least she knows exactly where she stands with them now. The air is cleared. 

Mor’s frown followed her gaze - right at the two Illyrians, undoubtedly seeing the tears filling her eyes. She turned to her sister and saw the questioning look on the blonde’s face. She shook her head. Not here, not now, not ever. The last few months proved she didn’t need them. Want is different than need, and want she can overcome. As soon as she was well, she’d drag her sister back in the training ring. Luck or fate had him there in the nick of time, but she couldn’t rely on that. 

Mor had cut through part of the arrow with her magic - her hand now reaching to slide the arrow out, instinct guided her and she snatched Mor’s wrist. 

“Don’t touch it,” she snarled. 

“It needs to come out,” She replied, expression cautious. Gods, she wants it out … but a sense, something tickling at the back of her neck, tells her it’s a bad idea. 

“Pois-” she tried to force air into her lungs, tried to override the panic, but her sister's eyes had widened in understanding. Had the arrow been intended for her? Or designed to down whoever was in her path? 

“Just nod or shake your head,” Mor said softly. “Can you feel your magic?” 

A shake of her head. Mor’s mouth tightened and a small shield surrounded the wound - even as her sister’s magic seemed to recoil against it.

-

Cassian had to turn away from her, had to dig up every semblance of self control he could muster. The bond snapped for him and Azriel at the same moment - but he could see it in her eyes, it hadn’t for her. If he didn’t turn away right then, he would’ve done something abnormally stupid. Maybe Mor knew, because a shield had thrown up around the two of them, blocking out all sound and access. It’s likely Rhys was the only person who could break that down, or tear it away. Sometimes he forgot just how much power Mor has, of what the female was capable of. 

Rhys winnowed in, with a few quiet words he’d explained what he saw. Azriel stood next to them, one eye on the males still unconscious and bound a few paces away. They turned back in time to feel Mor’s shield drop. She met their eyes - and he could read the panic as clear as day. Her brown eyes glazed for a moment, before she winnowed out. 

“What?” He demanded. Rhys paused. Azriel had gone stiff next to him. 

“Some kind of poison.” He said under his breath and winnowed. Take care of this. House of Wind he spoke into their minds. Another clear order. 

-

She awoke to her sister pacing at the foot of the bed, burning a hole in her carpet. Y/n was laid on her side, arrow still poking from her thigh. 

“Don’t touch it.” Mor said, spotting her hand reaching for it. She withdrew it quickly, tucking her hand up into her chest. 

Normally, her sister's anxiety would increase her panic, but this time she calmed, like she needed to be the strong one now. Rhys came back with Madja, and she forced herself, promised herself she would keep her mind steady and centered. The lack of magic felt like a missing limb. 

The healer hovered over her, magic running different diagnostics as she asked questions she could barely answer. Mor explained what she could, still moving back and forth. 

“Good call.” Madja said to y/n, “keeping it in place.” She smiled weakly at the praise. 

“Getting the poison,” Rhys flinched at the word. Madja hadn’t explained exactly what it was yet, and probably for good reason, “is going to hurt.” Like hell. Her eyes had a silent question, do you want them here? She gave a slight shake of her head. 

Madja turned to them. “Both of you out. Keep a shield around here. Do not enter until I say so.” Their faces tightened, but they didn’t dare question her, only shooting a nervous glance to y/n. She nodded at them, looking more confident than she felt. 

“I can’t use any pain relief,” Madja talked her through it. She had spent hours watching the healer before. “I don’t know how it will interact.” 

“Do you know what it is?” her voice was hoarse and each word hurt like hell. Madja’s silence was an answer enough. She handed her a piece of leather. Y/n steeled herself, and dug her teeth into it. 

Her voice was hoarse from screaming by the end - like whatever it was was fighting to stay inside and she felt each droplet leaving, but the healer said she could only get what was clinging to the arrow, what was still clenched to her muscle. Anything in the bloodstream would have to come out the natural way. She’d moved quickly to get it inside a vial - out of the air and before it could make contact with anything. Because of that, it had to go slowly, in all it took around an hour. 

“Now the easy part,” she gave her a reassuring smile and yanked the arrow out before she could protest. Her teeth clenched, but soothing magic ran through the wound, stitching it back together. After what felt like an eternity, she helped her move to sit. Rhys must’ve asked her mind-to-mind, because the door swung back open the second she was situated.

Then - more diagnostics, more notes scribbled in between. Madja’s face was too neutral. 

“What was it?” Mor asked. 

“Bloodbane.” The two winced, although she knew they suspected it. She did, for certain, given she couldn’t feel her magic still. 

“How long?” Y/n asked. 

Madja clicked her tongue. “One week at least. It was a heavy dose,” she shot her a tight glance. “Once it wears off, you’ll need to be cautious. Your magic will come back in a flood.” 

“We’ll take necessary precautions.” Rhys assured her. 

She winced as pain echoed up her thigh, radiating through her body, and waited for the other shoe to drop.  Madja clocked her movement, and slowly added, “there was a small trace of modified hemlock.” 

Silence filled the room, and she could’ve sworn the temperature dropped. Modified? Madja, if she was unnerved, didn’t show it. Hemlock could kill in the right amount. “With the dose and the alterations, you can expect to feel sharp pains, perhaps just in your leg or body. Luckily it wasn’t a full dose.” Luckily. She supposed Madja was right - compared to the normal symptoms of that particular poison, she’d be grateful if that’s all she experienced.  

“What can you give her, for it?” Mor asked. 

From the brief studying she’d done on healing, and the books she’d read - y/n already knew the answer. “Nothing.” 

Madja sent her an approving nod. “We won’t risk any interactions. Nothing for the pain, no drugs, no alcohol.” Maybe this was the Mother’s way of scolding her - of calling her a dumbass. 

Madja clapped a hand on her shoulder. “Try to keep activity to a minimum. Drink plenty of water, let it run its course. I’ll come by twice a day for the first week.” 

She grimaced. If Madja’s insisting on coming twice a day. She’d be lucky if any of them let her leave the bed. 

The healer gathered her supplies and began to take her leave, Rhys walking her out. 

-

Azriel had escorted the leftover soldiers to Hewn City as he flew back to Velaris. Flying faster than he ever had, he realized - like the winds were adapting around him, encouraging him to move faster - faster. 

He landed on the balcony, Az a second behind him. “She didn’t …” his words trailed off, seeking confirmation. He shook his head. Maybe it was the ash arrow, blocking her magic and keeping her from realizing. 

“No.” He responded quietly. “She didn’t.” 

“Do we tell her?” Gods he’d thought about finding his mate before, thought about it a lot over the decades - they all had. He supposed it was some primal instinct in him, always searching for that connection. As soon as she’d taken the arrow for him, her magic working instinctively, he confirmed his suspicion. But, suspecting and feeling it snap were two very different things. 

“Not now.” 

Madja and Rhys’s conversation drifted through the open doors. 

“Keep a close eye on her,” she was telling Rhys, intending for the two of them to overhear. He noticed Azriel’s shadows swirling around him. “The Fae Bane,” he shuddered, “is significant. One week is the minimum.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. 

“I don’t know exactly how they modified the hemlock.” His fists clenched, some of that deadly rage returning. “But the intention is pain without permanent physical damage. Expect sharp pains, depression, nightmares, and possibly hallucinations.” 

“We won’t leave her alone.” Rhys promised her. 

She gave a nod. “No alcohol, drugs of any kind, tonics, or pain relief of any kind. Even if she begs for it.” 

Begs? Would she be in that much misery? His chest tightened. As mad as he might still be at her, the thought of her in agony is worse. 

“Understood.” He replied, as if he’d heard this before. Maybe Madja was sharing it for their knowledge too. 

“I’ll keep looking into it. I’ll be back in the morning” Her careful eyes fixed on them, nostrils flaring. “I need a word with these two.” She fixed a look at Rhys, who gave a quick bow and strode back inside, not bothering to look at them. 

“I’ll keep your secret,” Madja murmured quietly as they approached her. She’d scented the bond - on them? Or y/n as well? Nothing flew past her. “I’ll trust you two to take care of her. She won’t be herself.” Her words felt like a warning and a plea. 

“We will.” Azriel answered, in that cool and voice of his. Cassian was nearly trembling with built up anger and those protective instincts - ready to tear apart the entire house, kill any threat - perceived or real. “Tell me everything, please.” Azriel said mildly.

Madja, of course, picked up on it too - and gave them all of the details she could; in layman’s terms. Depression, nightmares, pain. He picked up on those three - the ones she put the most emphasis on. And instructed them to hide anything that might slow down the healing process. Although, he got the distinct sense the house might do some of that work for them. 

She left them with one final word of caution; “I cannot guarantee how much she will remember - if anything.” 

Rhys, as if sensing the end of the conversation, strode back through the doors. “I’ll take you back,” he said to the healer. 

-

Minutes later, Rhys returned looking drained. “I’m sure Madja explained everything to you.” In more detail than he could know. “I’m not going to force you to babysit her, but your assistance would be appreciated.” 

“She doesn’t need a babysitter.” Cassian countered. Azriel noticed with a hint of amusement that he’d bristled and come to y/n’s defense. 

Rhys only raised his brow, running a hand through his already disheveled hair. Azriel, so far, had refused to process just how close they came to losing her. That’s something he could think about later. “For the next week or so, she does. We can’t leave her alone.” Azriel read through that; he’s terrified of what might happen if they do. 

“I’ll keep eyes on her,” Azriel said with a soft menace. Like hell he’d let anything hurt his … his and Cassian’s mate. Even herself. Even if he still was pissed at her. He kept the neutral mask firmly in place, but part of him felt a bit ashamed at the relief in Rhys’s eyes. He’d harbored some doubt they would help. 

“We’ll work things out.” A rotation, he figured. They all still had jobs to do, duties they had to keep. Rhys or Mor would tell the priestesses she would be off for the next few weeks. Perhaps she could bring some work for her to do here, if she had any moments of lucidity. 

Gods, he had no idea what to expect - and that put him on edge more that he’d let on. Azriel worked on knowing everything, that was his nature. 

“Can anyone else help?” Cassian asked, but he could sense the doubt in his voice. 

“I don’t trust anyone else. Except Amren.” Something pricked the back of Azriel’s neck. He knew Amren wouldn’t harm her, but something about her always made him uneasy. 

Madja hadn’t oversold the side effects. Not at all. When they entered the room, minutes after their conversation with Rhys. Mor was already wiping a wet cloth against y/n’s forehead. 

Pale and wan skin, fists clenched and eyes squeezed as her leg seized. The scar was red and angry. A contrast against the rest of her skin, marring the otherwise untouched flesh. Reflexively, he looked at his own hands. Cassian, putting on a much better show than him, sauntered up to Mor and snatched the cloth from her, nudging the female out of the way. Her eyes dug into his back, but she promised y/n she’d be back later, shooting each of them a warning glance. 

-

They had the gods-damned audacity to show up, acting like everything is perfectly normal. Like they hadn’t torn her soul in half this morning. The day had been too much. So much happening in such a short amount of time, maybe two hours if that. Words, words were too difficult as she clenched her eyes shut - a pain, one she wasn’t sure was phantom or real - ripping through her thigh. 

A gentle hand ran a wet cloth over her forehead, she hadn’t realized she was panting. The bed dipped, and she blinked her eyes open to see Cassian sitting next to her. Worry radiated through his features. Where she could usually feel his or Azriel’s emotions … nothing. Maybe a side effect of her magic disappearing. 

“Talking can wait until you’re feeling better.” He offered. An olive branch. She didn’t want it, so she turned her head away from him. One finger gently pressed against her cheek, dragging her attention back to him - frowning. “If you’d rather talk now, we can.” 

-

She slapped his hand away, gritting her teeth through the pain to cross her arms over her chest. “Why bother?” Her voice was bitter. “I’m nothing to you.” 

Did they both say it in Rhys’s office? She couldn’t remember clearly. Everything was blending together, memories blurring in and out. 

He blinked twice. “That’s not true.” Her eyes slid to Azriel, and he gave a short nod. There was some sort of emotion in his eyes, one she couldn’t read. That pissed her off more. 

“It doesn’t matter.” She muttered. Not now, she told herself. It’s not something she can talk about now. There’s too much to process. What happened earlier … 

“You’re not in your right mind.” Azriel cut in. Her jaw dropped and her eyes rolled. “Why did you go off on your own?” His voice almost sounded pained. Cassian cut him a sharp look, hissing in warning. 

“I’m a free female.” 

“Nearly a dead one. If we hadn’t been there - the arrow still would’ve hit you, and you’d be gone.” Maybe he learned something from the soldiers already. Did he forget she saved Cassian? Well, he wouldn’t have needed saving if she hadn’t left. Her head shook, those thoughts were useless. 

“Not the time Az,” Cassian snarled, standing abruptly and shoving him towards the door. Azriel’s shoulders tightened, and he strode out the door, shutting it softly behind him. Uncomfortable silence filled the room. 

“You should sleep.” He finally said. 

“Then leave.” 

He let out a low edged chuckle. “I wish, but you’re stuck with me princess.” I wish. The words had the effect he wanted and she willed the tears away as she turned on her side, facing away from him. This might be the most miserable week of her life.

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[peterparkersnose]

Sucks to Suck

pairing: Din Djarin x senator!reader

word count: 2.7k

warnings: near death experience, sexual references, sexual thots, not smut but sensual i guess?, alcohol consumption and drunk reader, respect of consent, SEXUAL TENSION and description of weaponds and snakes, tiny bit of body dysmorphia, swearing, takes place in between S2 of the Mandalorian and The Book of Boba Fett

The Mandalorian Airs Tomorrow!

a/n you guys see my padme reference there? huh? enjoy the tension the not angst but angst i loved writing this (it is 1am help i started writing this at 10pm) the sighing gif is literally din giving into his intrusive thoughts this whole story it was too perfect not to use (also i make up star wars planets lmao wut) my favorite mandalorian fic of mine besides secret

summary Din is Senator Y/N’s bodyguard and helps her after an attack

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read time: 10 mins 1 seconds

The Mandalorian your father hired to protect you while you were visiting planet Elaeia was less than ideal.

The same one who also came back to accompany you to a senate meet where there was a threat made against your life.

And the same one that followed you around your whole beach vacation.

Somehow he turned in to an on call babysitter for you. Every time you saw him waiting outside your ship you began to loathe the trip. And soon, he began to show up around your house. Didn’t your father trust you? You were way past the age for need of a babysitter. You were a young adult, you could be the babysitter. And you were a damn senator. But as always, you sucked it up and tried to make the best of the situation.

“Don’t you ever get tired of the suit?” you asked, trudging up the stairs of your luxury apartment you rented for the week.

“Never.” Din lied. He couldn’t count the countless times he had wanted to rip it off and spent a night with you. Chills sent down his spine as he tried to think of something different to ease himself into the long week ahead.

But you were work. Your powerful father was paying him more than any bounty could. He needed the credits more than he needed you, right?

“What do you wear under there anyways?”

He hesitated to answer. “Clothes.”

“Really?” you asked sarcastically.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” he muttered, almost barely enough for you to hear.

“Where are you going to crash tonight?” you asked him, placing your bag on the ottoman in front of your bed. “Not tired,” he lied again. The way he wanted to hold you in that comfortable bed was-

He had to stop his thoughts there.

“What time is it?” you asked him. “Around 7.”

“Shit! I’m going to be late.” you panicked. “I’m sorry, I thought we had some time to rest.” you apologized, knowing Din was exhausted from the trip.

The dress that was already hung in the closet for you was what you were going to wear to the banquet tonight. Without even caring, you opened your bag and pulled out the bra you were going to wear for the night. Without hesitation, Din stepped out of the room. Not today.

The dress was a deep blue and was form fitted. It jutted out at the bottom, complimenting your shape. It had long sleeves and a low neckline where your necklace was going to rest that night. You tied your hair up into a large bun with a braid around the base.

“Your train is here…” Din said, stepping in the room carefully. “Thank you. Wait- Mando?”

His heart skipped a beat when you said his nickname. You had known his name for a while, but he still enjoyed it when you called him Mando. Din was stunned at how you looked. I mean, you always looked good. But he could imagine standing next to you at the banquet in a suit, your arm draped over his and a ring on your finger.

The armor didn’t exist in that world.

“Yeah?” he asked. “Can you get this for me?” you asked, handing him the necklace you were going to wear that night. It was gold. Large and resembled tree roots. It was to sit along your chest and clip under your breasts along with behind your neck to stay put.

He handled the necklace carefully. His arms reached up and placed the necklace in front of you as his fingers trailed up the back to clasp the neck clasp.

“Dank farrik,” he sighed. His gloves were in the way of handling the tiny clasp. “Hold it for a second,” he told you. Din sighed as he made the decision. He slowly slipped off each glove and set them down on the bed.

You seemed to tense when his hands brushed your shoulders. You turned your head and saw his gloves sitting at the edge of your bed. The skin was cold and his hands were surprisingly soft.

Din hadn’t touched a woman with his bare hands well… ever. Sure he had brought in bounties who could identify as female. But nobody as elegant and beautiful as you. He would never forget the oddly intimate encounter.

“Thank you,” you said smoothly, adjusting the necklace around your ribcage. “You could call this more of a corset,” you huffed, smiling as you caught a glimpse of his skin as he slipped his gloves back on.

Standing in the mirror, you struggled getting the bottom clasp closed. You turned your body, trying to see if you had gained a bit of weight since you last wore this piece.

“Din,” you called sweetly, almost with a bit of song in your voice. He turned around on his heel as you saw from the mirror and it made you smile. “Yes?” he asked in the same tone you called him.

The way you called for him made him think about one of the rare memories he had of his parents. How one called out to the other. It was a brief moment but gave him deja vu when he heard you speak his name. Speak his name like a wife would call to her husband.

“It won’t-”

The sigh from his modulator was hard to miss.

“Can you help?” you asked, eyes looking up into his viser.

“I’ll hold them, don’t worry.” you smiled, your hands branching down lifting up your breasts.

Under the mask his eyes widened at the comment.

Din got down on his knees to try to get a better angle of the clasp. No other reason. He tried his best to focus on the clip but he couldn’t keep his eyes off the way you held yourself. Thank the gods for the viser, or he would have died of embarrassment.

“How’s it going?” you asked him. You could feel him struggling again with the gloves.

“What if I…”

You attempted to hold your breasts with one arm and had the other hand come down to help him, but the plan failed. Your boobs folded over on his hands without fail.

His hands quickly retreated from your ribcage. You noticed the stress in his demeanor, his breathing quickened.

You thought he was upset with you. Possibly disrespecting his creed, you felt horrible. Guilt knit tightly in your stomach as you knew you were going to think about this event the whole night. The embarrassment was enough for a lifetime.

Din couldn’t care less about his creed at the moment. He had never felt boobs before.

“Oh god! I am so sorry,” you said in horror.

“I can have someone at the banquet do it, let’s just forget-”

You were silenced by the sound of his gloves hitting the ground. Once again, his hands were at your service.

“Let’s get this done. We’re going to be late.” he said.

Grabbing the chain once again, he clasped it on the first try.

He escorted you to the train silently. He held one of your hands in his. The other hand held his pair of gloves.

Din hadn’t even notice you grabbed his hand. And to be honest, you didn’t really either. It was an instinct. Trains always freaked you out and he knew that. The gap between the ground and the train car, the speed they went at. Commercial trains were filled with unsuspecting people. Thankfully, the banquet event sent out personal trains for some of the local senators.

Finally you only noticed when he pulled away to put his gloves back on as you pulled closer to the event.

Had he really been holding your hand the whole time?

Meanwhile back at the apartment you had rented, you expected it to be empty. There was no need for a guard, you had only just arrived. Your location to be revealed to possible rebels wasn’t likely, you were stationed there for only a short time. A guard would follow you home along with Din.

You knew Din was capable of protecting you, he had every time. Something about a man in armor killing in your name just did something to you. But the uncertainty of almost everything about him made you push that idea to the back of your mind. And anyways, you were bound to marry for a political reason some day. It was coming eventually you assumed. Dates were never nearly as exciting as an adventure with Din.

The guard honestly was a joke at this point. It gave your advisors a piece of mind though, so you allowed it.

The seemingly empty apartment was carefully broken into. The sliding glass door from the balcony was opened, no fingerprints left and promptly shut as the rebel left.

Poisonous snakes were left slithering in your sheets.

It was something you would later recognize as a similar thing had happened to a senator many years ago. Poisonous bugs left to crawl in her bed.

Din walked you off the train platform and back to your apartment as quickly as he could. You, on the other hand, we’re being difficult.

“Don’t you ever take vacations?” you asked him, barely able to stand upright. He ignored your strange drunken question and kept holding on to you. “You didn’t answer meee!” you yelled, breaking free from his grasp and raising your hands to the air. The mist had accumulated from the oncoming storm.

“No. I don’t.” he sighed, grabbing your arm gently and guiding you back to the lobby with a hand placed on your lower back.

“Din,” you slurred, holding on to his armor in the elevator. Your fingers marched up his beskar chest plate as you asked him this.

“You ever had a girlfriend before?”

He blinked furiously under his helmet. What the fuck?

“Y/N, let’s get you to bed. Hm?”

“But Dinnn,”

“Come on,” he sighed, placing his hand on your back. The guard was stationed at the door. Din gave him a nod.

“I’m not sleepy!” you insisted, angered that you were being forced to end this wonderful night.

Din threw his gloves on the kitchen counter. He was getting sick of the things. After all these years in gloves, his hands never felt as uncomfortable and sweaty as they did that night.

“Here,” he sighed, steadying you by the shoulder and unclasping the clasp by your neck. The heavy necklace seemed to fall off yourself, only slightly catching at the waist.

“Thank you mister.” you said, letting it drop to the floor with a shake of your hips. Along with that you left your heels.

He saw you face dive into your bed and chuckled a bit as he was picking up after you. That necklace was probably worth more than the beskar he was wearing.

Din eyed up the couch, exhausted after watching you all night. He stood in the balcony of the event and watched you drink yourself almost to the point of embarrassment until he decided it was time for you to return home.

He had just began to settle in when he heard you scream.

It wasn’t like he had heard you scream before. He was used to all the rage screams when an article came out portraying you negatively. He was used to all the screams over the phone with your friends. He was used to the muffled screams he heard as he hid in his quarters when you would have dates over and prayed it would end.

But he would never forget this one.

He knocked over the vase on the coffee table, but didn’t really care.

The prolonged scream attracted the interest of the guard who busted in, spear ready.

Din had made it in the room first. He drew his blaster watched as you simultaneously chucked a snake in his direction. His blaster shot, killing the thing.

“Are you okay?” he asked, grabbing you immediately. You wrapped your arms around his neck and cried into his armor.

The guard ripped back the sheets and found three more slithering in the sheets. The sight of that made you shriek more.

Din’s hand ran across the back of your head. His fingers hadn’t felt hair like that in forever. His own locks didn’t match up to your softness.

The guard removed each snake and silently killed them.

“Cardillian Greybecks,” the guard sighed, now bagging the snake carcasses. “I’m going to bring these down to the base, are you two all right alone or should I call someone?”

“We’re fine.” Din said sternly, praying for the man to leave.

He calmed you enough to sit you back down on the edge of the bed. “Everything is okay. No more snakes, see?” he says, shaking out a blanket.

“Fuck,” you sighed, your hand running down the side of your leg. “You alright?” Din asked, shaking out the pillows just in case.

“I must have scratched my leg in the scuffle, it really fucking hurts.” you slurred, rubbing the side of your leg. Of course the alcohol was still there.

“Oh gods,” Din sighed, asking for your leg immediately. Laying back against the bed, you lifted your right leg in the air for him to inspect. If he wasn’t so worried he would have thought the pose was somewhat provocative.

“Shit,” he sighed. You were bitten.

“What?” you asked eagerly, pulling your leg back. He held on to it though, staring at the festering wound on your leg.

“It hurts. Please,” you begged, pulling your leg back. Din was scrambling on what to do.

“This…” he sighed, hating the only option available. There wasn’t enough time to get you to a proper medic.

“Hold still.”

He slowly lifted his helmet up to the bottom of his nose to reveal his mouth and chin.

“Din!” you yelled as his lips made contact with your skin. “What the-” you began, but immediately soothed as you felt the venom leaving your bite. A needy moan escaped from your lips.

Din spat out the first round of venom. It stung his lips. It wasn’t enough to kill him, it wasn’t in his bloodstream. It tasted bitter and artificial.

“Oh my god,” you whined as his lips continued to suck on the wound. “Din, holy fuck.” you moaned, squirming in his grasp.

Even though you just had been on the brink of death, this was one of the most sensual things you had ever experienced in your opinion. The thought of his lips teasing you drove you up the walls.

He spit out another round. “One more, I’m sorry.”

You gasped at his voice. No mask, no modulator. “Oh gods, don’t stop.” you begged. Your back arched as he took in the final round, finally tasting blood to indicate the venom was gone.

He spit it out on the ground and slipped his mask back on.

“What?” he asked out of breathe. He had convinced himself he didn’t just hear what he thought he did. His ears were muffled by the mask in its awkward position.

Sitting up in bed, you patted the mattress. He sat down.

“That was so hot,” you whispered near his ear.

He didn’t say anything to you. You had prayed he would rip off his mask and take you then and there. Din wanted the same thing too, he would feverishly re play this night over and over in his mind for years.

But you were wasted. And he had a creed.

Even though after each passing day without Grogu his allegiance to his creed drew weaker, he still had his limits.

Din knew you would regret those words in the morning. But the phrase Cara told him many moons ago rung in his brain.

“Drunk words are sober thoughts.”

“Talk to me when your sober.” he replied. He stood up and removed the base of the helmet once again. You embraced his body as he kissed you on the top of your head.

“Din,” you feverishly whispered. Without a second thought, you stood up. His body pushed against yours as you passionately kissed his lips. Your nose bumped the mask up more, but neither of you cared. His nose brushed against yours as you kept your eyes shut. The urge to look was strong, but you respected him too much to take a peek.

“One day,” he smiled, breaking the kiss. “Are you sure I can’t see more?” you asked. He shook his head as he pulled the mask down again. “One day,” he repeated, his voice now modulated again.

“Thank you for saving my life.” you said. “Any day,” he said sarcastically.

He placed the blankets securely over you.

The room was dim enough where he was sure if he was ever caught he would have an excuse. And you would lie for him, he was certain of it.

“Just one more thing-” you asked as his silhouette made its way through your door. He turned and looked at you.

“What color are your eyes?”

He had the widest smile on his face. The thought of you trying to form his face in your mind was almost comical for him.

“Brown. Good night, Cyare.”

“I knew they were brown, I knew it.” you whispered to yourself, convinced Din couldn’t hear.

He smiled as he retreated to the couch, unsure if sleep would visit him after his eventful night.

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[jjzzhyunie]

UNDER HIS GAZE | HAECHAN #1

pairing: haechan x fem!oc

title: chapter #1 ‘me and the devil’

prologue: “Do you even know what you're doing? You don't even know how to use it correctly.”

summary: Parents murdered by vampires, Yoo-jin Seo seeks revenge on Donghyuck by hunting him down.

genre: thriller drama, vampires, modern au, vampire hunter x vampire, plot twists, enemies to lovers trope.

note: this is a series.

©️ everything belongs to @jjzzhyunie 2024

In the tapestry of time, death spins a web of tales, each moment woven with care into memories to recall. Yet Yoojin eyes afire, holds fate in trembling palms, against the hourglass' constant sand.

As Yoojin walks through the forest woods, the memories of her parents' funeral seep in, wearing a tradional korean attire in all black comes back to her. The solemn procession, the sounds of wailing, and the sight of her parents' pictures being lowered down with the coffin to the ground.

This all flickers like a tape in her mind, Yoojin pushes onwards despite all of this. Determination was a weak word for what she is feeling. The pain on that day was a fresh wound, still bleeding.

'I'll catch him.' Yoojin tells herself, like a mantra that strengthens her doubts. She will catch him.

She contiues down her search in the unknown secluded area, parts of the forest were barely lit by the sun and Yoojin can't help feeling a sense of uneasiness. The trees seem to loom over her, their shadows dancing eerily in the dim moonlight. Every rustle of leaves makes her jump, every snapped twig sounding like a potential threat. But Yoojin pushes through the fear.

Looking for any signs of life but her own, Yoojin was unsuccusful at it. Though her body was nothing but left weak. Hunger, a constant companion on the journey with her, it's presence felt in every pang of emptiness. But grief and anger, stronger than any hunger that consumes her, leaves no room for respite.

A relentless restlessness grips at her soul, as the darkness of mourning and rage take take their tol. Each step, each breath, a struggle against the troubling tide of pain, fueling her ceaseless pursuit.

Going up somewhere the soil sinks under her boots, four men start to spot Yoojin and their presence immediately setting off warn signals in her body, even before her mind had fully registered the danger. The two men behind let out a whistle of some kind, which made Yoojin's arms stand up with hair.

Their smirks were a big gateaway that they cannot be trusted, with their rifles in their hands casually held. "You look lost," was the smooth reply from one man. He looks to be older, mid forties and the leader of his three friends behind him.

Yoojin was ready to reply to them instantly. "I'm heading somewhere," she said cooly.

They looked at each other, their expressions sly as they exhanged looks. "Well, we wouldn't want a beautiful young miss like you getting lost all alone in the forest. Especially with vampires lurking around lately." One of them said.

"Maybe we can help you out?" The man in front of Yoojin said, his tone drippng with insincerity.

She grits her teeth together, her body tensing as she prepeared to defend herself in neccessary when the men took few steps forward to where Yoojin stands. She keeps her vague answers sharp.

"I appreciate the offer, but i can manage on my own." Yoojin replies with her gaze sweeping over the group, sizing them up nearly.

Yoojin quickly went past them around and starts to walk the front path to leave them, but one spoke behind Yoojin and the men hurdle to follow Yoojin anyways, despite her protest from earlier.

"Now now, lets not be hasty. We're just trying to protect you from the vampires that can be around." The sinister tone was a camouflage by the fake-pretend chivalry.

Yoojin could see right past it with her uncomfortable intuition.

Before she could react, the two leap to the front and block the path, their large bodies looming in the narrow pathway. In blink of an eye, she was suddenly pressed up against them, her rifle falling to the ground with a loud thud. And soon enough, before she knew it Yoojin felt a rough hand grab her arm and push her down. Face hitting the rough ground betwen soil and auburn dry leaves. Pinned up behind four men.

Men's laughter rang out, a cruel sound that sent chills down her spine. Yoojin struggles to get out, any sort of movement was impossible under the weight of four men. It became tiring, a tug of war rather to escape this clinch.

Yoojin grows numb real quick, despair clawing at her as the men overshadow behind. The sounds of clothes become a scary alert to her. Yoojin's eyes widen and she panics once more.

"Now isn't the time to be screaming," He laughs. "No one can hear you anyways. We're deep in the forest."

The three men that watched everything unfold suddenly turn towards the sound of a twig snapping. The three rifles turned towards the trees and steep flooring. The man pinning her down looks up too.

"Go check it out you three," their leader said nonchalantly but fimrly too. They can only glance back at him, the tension was papable in their hesition to walk up to where the sound came.

Then without a humanly possible warning, a flashing scene through the trees from above landing on one of the men with a deadly precision. There was a brief moment of shock.

"It's a vampire!"

Chaos erupts when the two remaining men saw how their friend was dismembered and killed with a single slash, the sounds of rifles being fired sets Yoojin's adrenaline on fire.

But it was too late, the figure had moved way before the human eye could counter.

The vampire dispatched the two men next, his movements like lightning came to life. Only one remaining was the leader and it wasnt long until the man moved off Yoojin to grab his rifle to deal with the vampire. He raised it up to fire at the shadow-figure only to be met with a deserved fate.

Yoojin took the advantagr to crawl closer the familar weight of her own rifle in arms. With a determined cry she rose to her two own feet, spinning around and firing both the man and unknown vampire.

He fell to the ground and mortally wounded, but the vampire was merely scratched and its eyes ablazed by the challenge.

In quick movements it lungs to Yoojin. She leapts back, her own rifle clutched title to her hands. Yoojin knew she had to run away, she did not stand a chance against this vampire.

She ran for it. Yoojin darted through the forest, her feet pounding against the ground as she ducked under low hanging branches and leapt over a fallen logs. It was as if the trees themselves were closing in on her, their trunks forming a disoreinting maze that all looked the same.

Each step forward felt like a step eeper into a nightmare, as if she was trapped in a cycle of endless chase.

Yoojin stumps her foot over a rock, tripping on the ground front face. As Yoojin stumbles and fell, her eyes catching sight of the abandoned hospital in the area. Its crumbling walls cast long shadows across the floor. Before she could even process the situation, the vampire leaned down his hand grasping her arms.

But just as he moved closer, a voice cut through the stillness breaking the tension. As Yoojin looked up, she saw Donghyuck standing there. His eyes fixed on the other vampire, his stance was tense and intimdating.

The guy looks so familar, then it all clogged Yoojin's mind. That was him. The night of her parents death, he was the last one Yoojin saw before disappering in the night.

The tone in his voice was like a challenge between sarcasm and unbothered. "What are you doing in my territory?" he echoed, his gaze narrowing studying the other vampire. He looks newly turned and batshit-crazy to Donghyuck.

His words were met with defiance, the other vampire refused to answer or move out of the area which Donghyuck has claimed since last night.

Yoojin watched in silence, her gaze flickering between the two vampires with uncertain fear and fasincation. She had never seen such an interaction, and she wasnt sure what is going to happen. What will this mean for her?

The tension in the air could be cut with a knife as Donghyuck's rolled up his sleeves, his body language was a clear gateway to how threatening he became. Before Yoojin could even react, he took a decisive step forward, his gaze locking onto the other vampire. In the moment, the vampire's face shifted to Donghyuck, dropping Yoo-jin carelessly to the ground.

"I am going to count to three, and you better run off."

For a brief moment, the vampire hesitated, as if hoping for some sort of reprieve. But Donghyuck's tone was clear, his expression firm. Before the vampire could fully proces the situation, Donghyuck's voice rang out.

"One."

Suddenly the latter ran off, he took the cue and left for Donghyuck's final number. Yoojin’s body became tense, a sense of familiar danger alerts her to run for it. She grabbed her rifle and took off running. As if her life depends on it.

Donghyuck’s eyes on her as Yoojin fled suddenly. But she didn’t dare to pause to look back at the killer of her parents.

Unfortunately, her escape was cut short when she trips up over a patch of loose soil on the edge of a steep slope.

She stumbles, losing her balance and then she starts to roll down the hill, tumbling recklessly down like a sack of potatoes.

As Yoojin lands front face to the bottom, at the base of the hill. She groans, her body aching from the rough fall and landing. She felta wave of embarssment wash over her.

Suddenly, Donghyuck's voice rang out above, and she looked up to see him standing at the top of the hill. "What an idiot," he muttered, his tone laced with annoyance, as he begins to go down the slope to get to her.

She could feel her cheeks burn with anger and shame. The humilation was enough to sent her to her early grave. Her legs felt like jelly amongst the many bruises from the fall.

Donghyuck approached her, his expression unreadable. Under his gaze was this human girl, who strangely looks at him as if she's already known him. Hated him.

But he can't seem to remember her.

Yoojin found herself in a situation sooner than she expected. She takes a small peak and saw that Donghyuck is armed with a knife, not only that, but his foot on top of her rifle when she reached for it. She was once again, weaponless.

"It's you." Yoojin said with an itch to now seek her revenge.

Donghyuck tilts his head slightly at the sound of how hateful she sounds to him, as if she already knows him. He turns to look down at the girl properly with his eyes.

"Do i know you?" He asks smoothly with an undertone sarcasm in it.

"No but i know you." Her reply begins. "You killed my parents!" Yoojin starts while turning her lips to a thin unwelcoming line. Fists clenched together.

Donghyuck's mouth twitchs slightly at the accusation. He narrows his eyes at the human girl, Yoojin was slowly getting up from the ground. Dusting off any bits of dirt remaining to the clothes.

"Killed your parents? I don't ever remember laying a finger on them, darling." Donghyuck casually said, uncared for the situation of the loss. It's more like he's certain that the accusation is wrong.

Yoojin never expected such belief that seems so real, but she saw Donghyuck that night. She remembers a face like his anywhere. "Liar, i saw you that night and i'm going to kill you."

Yoojin's hand reached out a knife to slash forward to the vampire's shoulder blade. It never crossed Yoojin's mind there would be a power difference, even though thats the most basic knowledge out there. Vampires are much superior in terms of hunting. But she didn't care for her safety. She was driven by grief and revenge more than the fear of dying.

Donghyuck was amused more than surprised by the attack. An attempt, he would call it rather. He easily pushed back Yoojin and twists her around until a single push to her back makes her fall over a large tree to the front. Completely he parried a knife, not even using his vampire genetics. More just his heightened survival.

"Do you even know what you're doing? You don't even know how to use it correctly." He said with his head tilted with arms crossed over his chest.

Was he seriously just correcting Yoojin on how to land a slash on him? She felt insulted. Belitted.

Which only caused her grief and anger to mix together, close to exploding like an erupted volcano. Yoojin turned back and lung her hand forward, the knife creating this whoosh sound in the air. Donghyuck takes simple steps back to avoid being slashed by a basic knife, a kitchen knife it looks to be.

She then ends up being tripped up, again, for what felt like a hundreth time falling over on the ground. Donghyuck saw how she was so easily tripped by his feet. Yoojin's defence was down, she's not rationally thinking. Donghyuck made sure to put a stop to her mindless swinging with a knife.

It looked like child-play to him.

Yoojin lets out a small eugh when she lands on the ground with her head slightly bumped. The rifle was somewhere on the ground between the auburn leaves, and her knife laid next to her face. Her blurry vision grew to normal, Yoojin saw Donghyuck standing above her in front.

She flashed him a glare, her hair completely roughed up with leaves in them from the fall. "What do you want?" Yoojin throws because Donghyuck was just staring at her, not impressed.

An eyebrow was raised on his face when he saw that glare on her face. He sighs tiredly.

"Get up," Donghyuck says simply looking around the area, his voice smooth yet demanding. He doesn't make any move to remove his foot from the ground, he just waits for her to get up from the pathetic ground.

Looming over her, he did see a few things in the dim light outside on her face. Donghyuck saw the minor cuts and scratches on her face, indicating it from the falls. Maybe even struggle against the troublesome people earlier.

She grunts when leisurely going up on her feet, Yoojin blows some of her messy hair away in a huff, like a small child does. Yoojin made sure there was a good enough distance between the vampire and her eyes ocasionally observe the surroudings.

"What do you want?" She asked again. "Going to kill me like you killed my parents, huh?" Yoojin slowly brought up with an intent to provoke malicous to him.

Yoojin saw Donghyuck let out an exasperted sigh, the patience starting to wear thin. He rolls his eyes slightly and crosses his arms. "I already told you, i didn't kill them." He repeats sounding frustrated.

But when he saw her eyes constantly looking down towards the rifle, he simply reached for the weapon and shown it to her. He held the rifle with his two hands. "Looking for this?" he mocks, tapping the rifle on the ground.

Yoojin tried to hold the urge to just, try and stab him again. But she failed because the next thing that happened was Donghyuck quickly dodging a knife in the air that Yoojin reached for nearby before. He gave a disappoited eye roll.

The next thing she knew, she was held in a tight grip. Wrist held by a very strong hand forcing her to drop the knife and Donghyuck wasn't being so, tolerant anymore.

His grip was pretty tight but not enough to snap a bone yet. It is strong enough to keep the girl from not atacking him every five seconds like a maniac.

His expression is unreadable as he looks down at her widen eyes full of fear, his dark eyes piercing into them. The amusement from earlier is gone and now he was simply serious on the matter.

"I'm going to let go of your wrist now, and if you try anything i'm going to break it. Got it?" Donghyuck threatens sternly. But he saw Yoojin's non verbal reply as a sign that she understood it.

Yoojin was tempted but she didn't act on it this time. In fact she stood still and slowly takes back her wrist released from his hand. Donghyuck trails off next.

"See? I'm trying to be Mr nice guy, i don't usually do that." He points out sarcastically at the sudden quiet girl, but all he got was a glare. And as if she wants to just run away. Far away from him.

He sighs again. "Look, you're hurt and you must be lost. I have enough space for you to camp in my home."

"How do i know you won't kill me?" She shot at Donghyuck, defensively holding suspicion.

He gave her a look, as if thats the most obvious thing in the world. Donghyuck matter of factly points out. "Because if i wanted you dead, you'd already be dead."

She scoffs but Donghyuck already started to make his way back up, he assumed the girl will follow. She has nowhere else to go and her chances being safe from other vampires are high with him.

"Didn't realise vampires have sense of hospitality." She sarcastically shouts but eventually Yoojin weighs the pros and cons. Ultimately she starts to slowly tag behind Donghyuck.

Maybe she can always get back at him. But not right now.

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Spared | Gaz x Reader

Day 20: Spare Me w/ Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

Summary: After your good-for-nothing husband abandons you in the face of danger, Kyle takes matters into his own hands.

Word Count: ~ 1.1k

Warnings: a/b/o dynamics, guns, someone being shot, death, mentions of blood, forced proximity

A/N: im ovulating. hope you enjoy<3

Requests are open!

Your pained whimpers leaked through the door.

It was slowly driving him insane.

You hadn’t done anything wrong. This wasn’t your fault. There was no reason a sweet omega like you, the scent that had previously been heavy with the sweet fragrance of fresh fruit, was now sour and soaked in fear. You hadn’t known what your husband had been doing behind your back.

It wasn’t your fault.

You shouldn’t even be affecting him this much, he was wearing his scent blockers, and taking his pills that were described to him on time in the correct doses, but he couldn’t get the house out of his head.

Normally, he’d be able to tune out the fear of the family members they used as bargaining chips, only seeing them as a way to get information, to make their victim crack under the pressure and stress.

Your husband had been affiliated with Makarov, supplying him and his men for a deal between the two. Giving the criminal weapons, ammunition, armor, shelter, everything. But it hadn’t been enough, and he’d been double-crossed, turned in for a profit.

“Talk!”

He heard Price yell from the door opposite of the one you were in. A slap. The man spat, Kyle could hear it, probably at his Captain.

He’d been at it for almost an hour by now, Ghost working the tools away, having the man screaming while you remained in the room just across from him. Gaz knew it was purposeful placement, letting you sit and wallow in your fear, wondering if you had a turn next, or when it might be. What would they do if you didn’t say anything?

He doubted you knew anything, considering how purely unguarded you’d been when they had stolen you from your home in the middle of the night.

Just another thing that made his alpha perk up and chomp at the bit. You were defenseless and vulnerable.

But he tried shoving those thoughts down, especially when he heard heavy boots hitting the floor, the metal door creaking open, and Price coming out with bloody knuckles and a scowl.

“Bring ‘er in.”

He rumbled, not seeming pleased by the pure lack of care that was on the man sitting in the chair’s face. As if unbothered.

Kyle was quick to obey, opening your metal door, nose crinkling at the thickly sour scent in the room. It was dark. The concrete floor must’ve been hurting your soft skin by now, leaving marks and intentions besides the bruises already left on your skin.

You whispered, scooting away and shaking your head frantically at him as he approached with a gun in hand. Your back hit the corner.

“Nonono, please—“

You began, the ache only building in Kyle’s chest as you began crying again, thick tears rolling down your too-thin cheeks. Your husband hadn’t been taking very good care of you. All the Sergeant wanted at this moment was to take you away and coo and fuss over you until you were all better again.

He saw your eyes growing mildly distant as he picked you up by the scruff of the neck, dragging you over to the other room, holding your nearly limp body in front of your pathetic excuse of a husband. He didn’t say anything.

Kyle pulled out a pistol from its holster, clicking the safety off, and placing the cold metal against your head. You whined deep from your throat, and he watched as even Price shifted uncomfortably at the man’s lack of reaction.

An alpha was supposed to protect their omega. They would naturally react to any threat against them. This was common knowledge they’d seen firsthand in battle before.

“Talk, or yer missus is gonna have a new piercing in her head.”

John growled, but the man refused still, shaking his head, and looking away.

You began squirming again, head jerking away from the gun, only to hear the bang go off and reverberate through the room with its cold, concrete walls.

Except when you opened your eyes, there wasn’t a hole in your head. There was one in your husband’s.

“Gaz—“

Price started, surely about to reprimand him, when Kyle cut him off before he could.

“Negative. Not taking any complaints on that one. That’s not how you treat your wife.”

He snarled, the raw ferocity in his tone making both men tense, Ghost subtly shifting into a defensive position. He noticed.

Your confused sniffles were the only thing keeping him from just tackling someone to the foot with how wound up he was. He clicked the safety on the gun, tossing it to the floor, and hoisted you over his shoulder while you squealed, grabbing on tight to not fall off.

Fast learner, you were.

He ignored anyone’s looks or the shouts Price tried to follow him with, storming off to his little room, the one he stayed in when not on the bunkers. He pulled the key out, jamming it into the hole, turning and opening the door.

He shut it behind him, locking both of the door’s locks behind him, walking into a room as he carried you limp as a rag doll into a warm, dark bedroom that he only turned a dim light on in. It smelled like him. It was also warm like his honey brown skin.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, pulling you against him; before feeling the blood soaking your clothes and sighing.

“Clothes off.”

He murmured, the command gentle and sweet, but still a command at the end of the day. You whined, pulling the soiled nightgown off, leaving your underwear on to have at least a shred of dignity.

You heard shuffling on the other side of the bed and heard his clothes hit the floor before he turned to face you. His calloused hands wrapped around your soft body, pulling it closer into the warmth of his skin. His nose nudged at your scent gland right on your neck, rubbing against it, greedily inhaling as he pulled the blankets over both of you.

“Can’t believe that arsehole, not protecting a sweet thing like you,”

He murmured to himself, voice vibrating against your skin as your eyelids began drooping, hazy, exhausted mind eager to rest after the traumatic day, especially in the arms of a reassuring and warm alpha.

“Doesn’t matter, though. My pretty ‘mega now, gonna stay with me, aren’t you?”

He mumbled, sentence trailing off as the both of you fell asleep.

You weren’t sure if you were in less trouble now than you had been earlier, but you also weren’t sure if you cared or not.

Tags:

@hawke1917

@angstober

[brokenpieces-72]

Railed

Navigation

TW: Character death, exhaustion and some grief, let me know if there is more.

Task Force 141's journey into the island wasn’t one they were unused to, coming in via a rowboat though was a little different. That and wearing bullet-proof vests under more civilian attire. Price was wearing his beanie, with a brown jacket, a sweater underneath. Soap had his dark jacket on, zipped up all the way, room only at the collar. Gaz had on his coat and a grey shirt. Ghost had his hood up, wearing both a hoodie and coat, along with his balaclava. Each of them had basic hunting rifles and packs with standard gear inside. John had been under prepared before but never felt like it. They were going in with minimal knowledge and a guide or two somewhere on the island. This was more blind than any of them wanted. But it was all they had… time to clean up this disaster.

Once they reached the shore the boat was hauled on to the land, and hidden with what they could find. The boat was the only way back, and if it came down to it, they would need someway of getting back and hopefully getting proper evacuation measures. For now though too much commotion would lead to national involvement. Find the girl or the old man, eliminate the threat, and let the rest carry out. That was their mission.

“Where do we start?” Kyle asked his captain.

“Right now we’re four men on a hunting trip. We ask around for the girl.��� Price said. If only it could have been that easy.

“Steaming Jesus.” Johnny breathed looking at the old man’s body. He had been taking them to find the girl when they’d witnessed Charles first hand. The monster was a thing of twisted nightmares. Despite their efforts to rid themselves of the thing then and there, taking pot shots and firing with the mounted weapon. Didn’t stop the thing from getting a hold of the man, Eugene and taking a bite before scurrying off to Satan knows where. If any of them had any doubts, they were gone now. The men had reached him as he breathed his last words, telling them to find the eggs, find his son and the girl.

Kyle crouched next to him and shut Eugene’s eyes. The hole in the body was huge. Simon got down on the other side getting Eugene’s arm around his shoulder. “Kyle.”

No more instruction was needed as Kyle assisted the lieutenant with moving Eugene off the tracks. Price and Johnny both keep an eye out weapons posted, ready for the monster if it decided to come storming back for another mouthful. Branches and leaves covered the dead man.

“Laswell’s intel was spot on.” Price said, sounding almost disappointed. “Right let’s go find the girl.”

The men followed their captain back to the train, and surprisingly it still ran. Simon took the controls, moving the train forward. Kyle stuck near the gun at the back with Soap close by and Price sitting on a small bench inside. The reality, if you could even call it that, was sinking in. A reality that shouldn't even be a reality. The question that remained was whether to contact Laswell to get evacuation ready or to try and kill the damn thing. The girl had already sent it to a number of big names, ones that wouldn't hesitate to come in with heavy fire power. Laswell was trying to reduce the damage that could be done.

The four men continue moving in silence, while Simon periodically checks the map to ensure they're headed where Eugene was taking them. The old man had been glad to see them, almost excited. Finally some help had come, and he was more than willing to tell them everything they needed to know, answer their questions, give them names that would help them on the island. Walked and talked like he was a veteran monster hunter or something. Showed them respect. When Charles attacked, he was calling shots.

Death was something the 141 were familiar with but the monster… that fucking monster. It was a death that would stick with them.

They made it to the train shed, stopping it just outside the shut door. There was an old house nearby likely where someone lived. Price got out and pounded on the door of the shed. There was a bit of rustling inside. Probably you, reaching for a weapon. The rest of his men stayed back, hovering around the train. John overheard a gun reloading as he was looking to his men for a moment. He tensed and had his hand on the trigger of his own gun. Then he heard your voice

“Steven King.” He heard you say through the door.

“Dark Tower?” Price replied. It sounded almost like a question. There was quiet, and then the creaking of the door opening a crack. It was chained up on the other side, leaving only a couple inches for him to see some young eyes peering through.

“…who are you?” You asked.

“Captain John Price, SAS.” John answered. The door shut and the chains were removed on the other side while his men came a little closer. The door opened slowly and Price looked down to see a teenager with bandages on her arms and a rifle… pointed at him. Seeing his men behind him, you pointed the rifle towards them, eyes looking startled. Price stepped back out, arms out from his sides. You looked between him and his men. No, you was looking for something, someone.

“Stand down.” He called back. The men lowered their own weapons and you followed suit. After a long breath dropping the gun, you shouldered the rifle. Likely been holding your breath that whole time.

“They sent help.” You said, looking at Price and then the rest of the 141, then back at Price. “Come in.”

The all four filed in, their clothes dotted with rain. The pattering of drops could be heard above them on the old roof. Inside was another train engine, but it was in a repaired state. You shut the door looping the chain around it, but leaving it unlocked. On one of the walls was another series of photos, notes and rough drawings. You came over to them, ready to get started.

“Can’t believe it worked. Won’t lie, it’s was like a 10% chance someone might actually check the videos. Even Eugene wasn’t sure, he wanted to contact an archivist on the mainland. He should be on his way here soon.” You said, the men went very quiet. You had been through some shit, under those long pants they expected was the cause of your limp, and who knows what else.

“He’s dead.” Simon stated. Not an emotional man but there was sympathy in his voice.

“What…” your face plummeted. Never an easy part of the job. Their silence confirmed their truth. You started to wander around the room, as if you might find a different answer. Your fingers picked at your bandages and nails, even your hair. “How?”

“That fuckin nightmare.” Johnny said. There was a hard “fuck” heard from you. You paused and looked between the four men. You wiped your nose with your arm. You straightened your back to attention, focusing on the objective.

“Right. I’m just finishing repairs on this one, you have the one from Eugene, there’s parts and pieces around the islands but unfortunately I’m public enemy number two, so in order to get them it requires running errands. Sorry to say. Uh… some of them may have weapons we could also use, and there is a final plan but it’s flawed so…yeah that’s all I got.” You said ending with a shrug.

“What’s the plan?” Simon asked. You gestured to map on the wall.

“There’s a wooden bridge, I’ve gone over it more than once but Charles never follows, he runs off. He knows it won’t hold his weight, and below is… a tiger trap.”

“Tiger trap?” Kyle asked. This was certainly primitive.

“Yeah like in the most dangerous game, but instead of sticks its broken rails, rocks and some other debris. The plan is to try and get him on the bridge, detonate it, blowing him sky high and let gravity do the rest.” You explained. “The only problem is getting him across. We… I think if we get the eggs and put them in this sort of altar temple thing it might get him enraged and pursue anything moving across that bridge… getting the eggs is a whole other story.”

The sound of your voice wasn’t positive. It sounded defeated throughout the plan. Even with the extra help there were limitations, limitations they were intent on overcoming. But you. You were tired and had lost your friend. By the sounds of it everyone on the island knew how to avoid Charles. That gave them time and less to worry about. There the masked mob but that could be dealt with later. It was pouring and you needed to finish up some repairs.

“How long will the rest of those repairs take?” Price asked.

“…an hour, maybe.” you replied. “If you need somewhere to rest or… something my place is up the way, it’s not locked. I’ll be along shortly.”

“And your name?” He asked.

“Everyone calls me brat…” you answered. Seeing the unwavering expressions of the men you cleared your throat. “Y/N. Call me Y/N.”

Taglist @yourlovely-moon @kaoyamamegami @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @sans-chara @1mommyrose4ever29 @smitten-haematite-quartz @talia-the-gemini @yuki2129 @whitetiger846 @graystorm444 @chibiduck @reaperxxxxzz @danielle143 @sobbingnshtting @cringeycookies @cryingpages @dcnocap207 @reaper-chan666 @bestbookfriends @thriving-n-jiving

[wannaeatramyeon]

Gun Park x Reader: Retirement

You've been waiting for this day

"Happy 20th Birthday!"

Gun had mentioned he would retire at this milestone.

When you raise the question, all you get is a noncommittal answer. He still has unfinished plans, and despite the increase in danger and punishment of getting caught, he isn't ready to wrap up this life.

You're under no illusion as to the kind of man he is, but had pinned your hopes on a passing phrase.

.

.

The months and years fly past.

"Happy 21st Birthday!"

"Happy 22nd!"

"It's your 23rd... Happy Birthday Gun."

You've been waiting faithfully for him.

You counted down the years by his side, but there's no end in sight. Truthfully, you could be content if he gave you an actual deadline but it seems the target is forever moving.

The sleepless nights wear you down. Grinds at your patience. Each time Gun is away, you fear your phone buzzing. You worry about someone telling you that he is injured or arrested, or even worse - dead.

This year, the timing is unfortunate but you think this is the best gift you can give him. Releasing the shackles that weigh him down, one less weakness for enemies to target.

You tell him it is over.

His response surprises you, "We have something good. Have patience and wait for me."

You don't give him an answer. You can't even bring yourself to respond to the request for more patience, the only indication of emotion are the narrowing of your eyes and threat of angry tears.

You tell him it's better if you both separate.

.

.

"I'm out," Gun announces.

There's a finality about this conversation. Charles knew this day was coming, each year borrowed time. He tells Gun that it's not easy to wash the blood off his hands, but he seems different today.

Like there's a renewed spark, something which has gradually fizzled out over the last few years with no real successor or foreseeable endgame.

"If it's for Y/N, then you're making a mistake."

Taking a drag of his cigarette, Gun considers this. "Funny. I thought the same about you if you dared to say no."

Charles isn't the young man he once was, didn't hold the power he once did. Maybe in his youth he would have killed Gun to keep him quiet. Perhaps it's old age that has softened him. But the elephant in the room is that rejecting Gun would just cause further headaches.

Instead, he negotiates the terms of Gun's exit.

He doesn't make it easy, and he doesn't make it quick. This agreement needs to benefit Charles Choi as much as Gun Park. Besides, Gun can put in the effort if this is truly what he wants.

.

.

Dismantling everything Gun has built with his own two hands comes easier than he expects.

There's hardly any anger or resentment with this outcome, just acceptance. On the worse days, he carries on his warpath by thinking of you.

He is violent and merciless, destroying all lingering evidence of the crews and any underhanded dealings of HNH Group.

A final death rattle for the Shiro Oni in exchange for a clean slate for Elite.

Isn't it peculiar where life takes you. What was once the mission given to his potential successors is now the lifeline for Gun and a new beginning.

At the end of it, Gun has no legacy. He erases all trace of his empire.

Charles finally lets him go. It's an anticlimax. Dismissed like a normal employee, handing back your credentials to your boss.

But it's done.

.

.

You wake up tangled in bed together. You give him a sleepy smile, and he finds you radiant.

For his 24th birthday, Gun has his closure and he has you.

[thegodmother007]

My New Neighbor Chapter 11: Apologies

TRIGGER WARNING: This story will eventually contain violence, angst, threat of death, swearing, dark humor, adult themes like sex & drugs, racism, classism, sexism etc. Do not say you have not been warned

Chapter 11:

Slowly I came into consciousness after what felt like one of the deepest sleeps I have ever had, absent of any dreams or thoughts throughout the night. The first sensation to hit me as I regained my senses, was throbbing pain in my head. Keeping in tune with the beating of my heart, sharp pain wrapped itself around my head like a beanie. Next was intense thirst, it felt like my tongue was stuck to the roof of my mouth and I hadn’t seen a drop of water in years. Cracking my eyes open, I can feel they were crusted over, painfully plucking on my eyelashes as I regained my sight. Blurry at first, but slowly my hungover brain started piecing together the visual input I was receiving and I started connecting the dots. 

My hand timidly ran through hair, pulling the rogue strands stuck to my forehead with sweat, away from my face. I rub my eyes, noting that I must have been dead to the world, as once I have the opportunity to look around, I do not recognize where I am. I feel panic seeping into my blood as I look around, my headache reacting to the increased beating of my heart, fed by the fear of being in an unknown place. I see a dresser, enormous in its build, which had bottles of perfume, lotions, boxes of what I can assume is jewelry, & a few miscellaneous items like hair ties and clips. I see the curtains are drawn so I have no idea what time it is. A few pieces of decor are scattered on the wall; a mirror, paintings, a windchime or two & other trinkets. To my right, a bed in the corner of the room larger than an olympic sized pool, already made. A brown comforter with forest green and rust orange pillows, neatly arranged. At the end of the bed, a cream colored knitted blanket, seemingly strategically placed by the owner of the bed. Looking around, I had no idea who the owner of the bed even was. 

I think about last night, memories of being tossed into a pool of beer and being sucked on by a giantess, in between tequila shots, come flooding back. I feel a cold sweat break out, fearing I might be in Myra’s place. What was she going to do with me? She ‘claimed’ me as her ‘drinking buddy' during the party, could she have chosen to take me home as well? Was I now ‘hers’? My stomach dropped at the thought of being used by the giantess again. I look around within my immediate vicinity and see I am shirtless. I look beneath the blanket I am under & see I am only wearing my boxers. Closing the opening in my blanket, I look around to see my clothes are immediately next to my ‘bed.’ My bed seemed to be a folded comforter, or maybe even giant towel, further deepening my fear that Myra took me home with her. To my relief, a few cups of water have been placed next to my bed, the plastic cups look like the ones my friends & I brought for the party to have our drinks in. Without much hesitation, I down 3 cups of the water left for me, the cold liquid soothing my dry & irritated throat. Once I had my fill, my next task was to find my phone. I did not see it around me, so I stuck my hands in all my pants pockets, hoping to locate it. No such luck. My breathing became shallow as I realized that Myra may have taken my phone, intending to keep me here against my will. I thickly swallow and grab my pants, slowly standing on weak & wobbly knees to put them on. 

I stand on the uneven surface of my bed and look around to see where I can get out. My headache continues to pound,  reminding me of its presence behind my eyes, makes finding an escape that much harder. As I look around from a new angle, I see I am on the nightstand of a giant’s room. I walk to the edge, seeing a carpeted floor 30+ft below me. A fall from this height would undoubtedly kill me. That is, if being Myra’s property didn’t kill me first. I froze as I felt the familiar tremors of giant footsteps. Panic freezes my blood and I try to find a place I might be able to hide. Nothing is available, besides the bed I was once laying on. Without any other option, I slid myself back under the covers of my bed and hid there, like a child would hide from the ‘monster’ in their closet. Except, I was hiding from a real monster. I steadied my breathing and laid still as stone as I heard the creaking of the bedroom door slowly open. I dared not look up at Myra, keeping my head under the covers, remembering that the fear I had in my eyes last night just egged her on. I could hear her breathing over me as I balled myself up. 

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

I woke up about 8:15am this morning, as seen on my phone screen that sat charging on the nightstand next to Cain. My first concern was to check on Cain, ensuring he had not vomited in his sleep & choked on it. Gently lifting the blanket, I saw he was still clean from last night’s bath. He was still out cold, however not moving, but breathing slowly. He needed to sleep this off, so I quietly creeped out of my bed, making it quickly to give Cain some time to sleep. I grab my phone and close the door behind me, leaving it open a crack in case he wakes up. Walking into my living room, I see the party ended up leaving my place a complete mess. Discarded lime carcasses, cups of stale drinks, salt sprinkled on my table, wrappers from food left scattered and plates with half eaten food on them; all left for me to clean up. With a groan, I grabbed a trash bag from underneath the kitchen sink & started discarding all the refuse in my apartment. 

The entire time, my mind wandered back to Cain & how upset & scared he was. My heart panged with guilt for not being there, for being foolish enough to think the Humans under my care would be safe around my brother’s friends. My hands got sticky as I cleaned up the empty soda cans and sweet wrappers. After about 20min of sorting through personal belongings & garbage, I was able to get everything thrown away. Before I start wiping & disinfecting everything, I check my phone’s notifications to see about 7 messages from various part go-ers, ranging from 9:21pm - 3:44am. Some read “Thanks for the party, sorry it got cut short.” “Heard what happened with Myra & your Human. Hope he’s okay” Others were not as kind “You touch Myra like that again bitch & I will beat ur ass i stg” “Idk why u brought humans to a party when they can’t hang Vi. Lame ass party...” 

I blocked the contacts who were being assholes & stuffed my phone back into my legging’s pockets, starting to clean up once again before Cain woke up. My mind raced at what he would have to say to me once he did wake up. My mind imagines the worst case scenario as I dread having to confront the Human I had hoped to befriend. I felt my hopes being dashed against the rocks, remembering how Myra treated him last night, my anger rising as I recall her arrogant attitude. 

Wiping the sweat from my brow, I see that my apartment is as good as new, smelling lemon fresh once again and not like weed & stale beer. I figured that I would check on Cain before starting on breakfast. If he was awake, I would see if he would let me make him something to eat, or if he wanted me to let him go home. Either way, I would not judge him or resent him for his choices. I crept down the hallway and slowly entered the door to see a lump on Cain’s makeshift bed, moving. Pulling my hair back, I slowly walk up to him and crouch down to be closer to him. “Cain?” I whispered as I gently peeled back the washcloth I had wrapped him in last night. To my utter surprise, I heard a scream emit from the ball of cloth I was slowly peeling away! The sudden yell shocked me so much, I fell onto my back with a loud thunk, finding that in the next moment I was laying on my carpeted bedroom floor, staring at the ceiling. My heartbeat was felt in my ears as I regained my composure. I pushed myself up by my elbows, looking up at the nightstand that stood taller than me in this moment as I recovered from the jump scare. I see Cain’s head pop up & look down on me, laying there with my face pale. “What the fuck, Cain?” I ask breathlessly. “Vi?” I hear him ask with relife in his tone and my face falls in annoyance as who the hell else would it be? 

I sit up, staying at my lower vantage point on the floor, as I look up at Cain “Yea, just me.” I confirm. But I wondered if I had startled him while waking up. “Did I scare you?” I asked genuinely and Cain’s face faltered. “I didn’t know it was you.” He admits, which confuses me. “Who else would it be?” I asked, wondering who in the world would have him scream like that. Cain clears his throat “I- I thought you were Myra. I thought she brought me home or something…” It clicked for me that Cain does not remember anything after Myra’s assault on him. I shook my head “No, you’re in my unit. I kicked Myra & all my brother’s friends out when I saw what they were doing..you know, to you...” I did not want to say it outloud, fearing that I would make Cain re-live it if I did. He nods “Yea, about that…thanks for being there by the way, Vi…” He says with venom in his words, but I deserved that. I hung my head down and nodded “I fucked up, I know I did.” I admit. I look up to Cain who has somehow pulled himself from his makeshift bed and is now standing at the edge of the nightstand without a sound, arms crossed and face red. “I called & texted for help over & over. Where the fuck were you?” He asked me. I felt shame cast its shadow over me. “I’m so sorry…I was outside smoking with a friend and we lost track of time. My phone didn’t have its ringer on and I didn’t see-” I was immediately cut off by Cain “So you left 3 Humans with a ton of drunk & high giants & you thought that was a good idea?” He asks and in hindsight, it wasn’t. 

I shook my head “I don’t know what I was thinking, I-” I got cut off by Cain “No, because you weren’t thinking, Vi! Why would you leave us with your prejudiced friends if you knew that’s how they saw Humans? As playthings?!”  I sat up straighter and my face hardened. “My brother decided to invite a ton of his prejudiced friends that I didn't know about. I never expected they would do that. I thought they’d behave, I didn’t think it would turn out this way.” Cain scoffed “That is an understatement. Do you know how scary that was Vi? To know my one lifeline at a party where I am surrounded by beings 100X my size, was nowhere to be found all night?” I could hear a shaking in his voice as it cracked on the last word. I sat up on my knees and shuffled over to Cain who sits on the edge of his ‘bed’. His head is now in his hands as he breathes deeply. “I thought I was going to die..” He admits and my heart shatters. I wanted to reach out and hug him, to apologize, to hold him in that moment, but I kept my distance. I am sure he didn’t want a Giant touching him right now. I hang my head and feel my chest tighten as I watch Cain reeling over the party “Cain, I am so genuinely sorry. I didn’t know that my brother was inviting those kinds of people. If I knew, I would never have left you alone with them.” Cain doesn’t respond, instead focusing on managing his emotions & breathing. 

As I sat there, waiting for Cain to say something, I remembered something in my pocket that I picked up while cleaning. “I have your phone. I found it on the coffee table..” Gently I place the tiny cell phone at his feet, which he grabs to inspect. He scrolls through a few things, probably checking notifications like I did earlier. I sit down on my bedroom floor and just watch him look at his phone as he scrolls, answering people. Eventually he pauses his scrolling. He watches something intensely & I can barely make out the sound coming from his phone as music and some screams. I didn’t ask him what it was, but periodically looked back over at him as he watched the video. Once finished, he looks at me, with raised eyebrows.  

“You choked Myra?” he asks with a serious look. My heart drops & my face falls as I recall last night’s events & how angry Myra made me with her flippant attitude over harassing Cain. I just stared at him blankly, not sure what to say. Without explanation, Cain flips his phone to face me, where I get as close as I feel I reasonably can, to see what was on the screen. I could make out a couple figures that looked like me & Myra arguing, shot from a POV of someone at the party. More specifically, a Human POV standing on my kitchen counter. The music was too loud to hear what we were saying, but a few moments in, I am on video grabbing her by the throat before my brother steps in, blocking & ruining the shot. When the video ends, everything falls silent between us. After a few beats, I nod “Um..yea..” I confess and wait for Cain’s response. He was quiet for a few moments, piecing together what happened. 

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

It was weird seeing Vi worried, especially worried over me. I didn’t give an answer right away, but I could sense she was waiting with bated breath to see what I thought. But I didn’t know what I was thinking at this moment. Was it cathartic to see Myra being tossed around by a ragdoll like she did to us? Yea, a little bit. Was I also still royally pissed that Vi completely left us behind and at the mercy of strange & intoxicated giants? Absolutely. I just stared at Vi as she stared at me, letting the silence blanket us in awkwardness. Her eyes are sincere, almost saying aloud “I’m so sorry..” begging for my forgiveness. I sighed and realized that she was really sorry, but that didn’t immediately fix my anger towards her & the other giant party goers. A small whisper coming from the edge of the nightstand caught my attention though as Vi asked me “Can I make it up to you with some breakfast?” My interest was immediately caught as my hollow stomach begged me for something to eat. “It’s a start..” I say with a lighter tone, which seems to relieve Vi’s anxiety. I sat there, realizing how silly it was that I was unintentionally comforting a giant in this moment. 

Vi slowly stood to her full height once again, towering over me & reminding me just how unbalanced the power dynamic is with giants. Nothing in her gaze & how she looked at me changed though. Her face & eyes remained sincere & full of remorse. But something in my chest felt different. Slowly, I changed how I was feeling towards Vi. Any other giant hovering over me would have felt domineering and threatening, but not with Vi, not right now. Her desire for my forgiveness and approval really put her in a different light, a more equal light. I was not used to a giant valuing the thoughts and opinion of a Human, let alone myself. Shit, it was difficult to get other Humans to respect each other. And I never expected it coming from an 85ft woman. As I ponder this new feeling, her hand slides up towards me, offering it. My blood, once again, ran cold at the idea of crawling into a giant’s hand. In an attempt to avoid that option, I asked “I figured you could bring me breakfast?” and Vi got low to be level with me once again “You’re going to need to get off this nightstand eventually. Don’t worry, I will go slow. I cleaned you off & carried you in here last night with no problems, I will be super careful.” She promised, hoping I would trust- wait. “Wait, you what? Cleaned me off? Is that why I woke up in just my boxers?” I asked surprised, realizing I had been sitting here without a shirt on, the entire time. Quickly, I grabbed my shirt, which was a little damp and squeezed what water I could out of it, confirming to myself that Vi did in fact, take it upon herself to wash me & my shirt off. 

I watched Vi’s face grow red and she sputtered out a quick response to explain away, bathing me while unconscious “Well yea, you threw up on yourself & I didn’t want you sleeping in vomit, so I washed you off while you were blacked out.” I felt myself reeling at the image of Vi bathing my unconscious body without my knowledge. After a moment or two & some vivid imagining, I decided I didn’t mind it all that much, actually. In fact, I kinda wished I was conscious for that part, disappointed that I wasn’t. I stopped what redness threatened to cross my face as I looked back up at her. All I managed to say was “Thank you.” as I still debated getting into her waiting hand. Knowing I had no other real choice, I stood up and walked over to her where I stood next to one of the hands that bathed me & cared for me last night. My hand only covered the tip of her finger. I felt a slight twitch of her skin when it met my palm, undoubtedly she did not notice the twitch. I look at her hand, remembering how callous and dangerous the other giant’s hands were last night. I pull back a moment, looking up at Vi who's been watching me intently this entire time. “It’s okay. Take your time.” She assures me and I take a breath or two before re-trying. I thought of it like an amusement park ride & Vi was the operator. 

Slowly, I step into her hand, feeling the warmth on the bottom of my feet as her skin shifts beneath me. As I step, the skin feels warm and squishy. I use her thumb as a hand-rail and do my best to find my balance as I inch to the center of her palm. I can feel her pulse underneath me, as the weight of where I was rushed over me. I was sitting on a living platform, in the palm of someone’s hand. I looked at my own, imagining from Vi’s perspective what I must look like to her. The one word that comes to mind was “insignificant.” I put my hands down to hold myself level, realizing I’ve shot my own ego down and look up to Vi who gives me a smile. “You ready?” She asks me. I wouldn't have felt ready if Vi hadn't given me such a beautiful smile before asking me. I quietly request “Be gentle?” knowing that my hangover wouldn’t be able to take moving very fast right now. 

With all the care I can imagine Vi could take at her size, her hand slowly lifts me off the nightstand I was trapped on, and into the air, closer to her person. I couldn’t help but look over the edge a little bit, knowing that we are just going to get higher from here once she stands straight. I watched the floor push away from us as she stands, taking me with her all the way up. Once stationary, I look around from my new perspective and take in the view. From up here, everything looked almost to scale with me. I took this brief moment to imagine myself as a Giant and how normal Vi’s room looked from all the way up here. I imagined flopping down on the bed, or being tall enough to grab one of the perfume bottles from her dresser top. I imagine myself being eye-to-eye with Vi and being able to face her without the primal fear of Giants chipping away at my resolve. I turned to look up at Vi, who I see was watching me look around the room like it was the first time. I look away as I become embarrassed for being so interested in her room & my surroundings, it must have looked dumb to her to see the puny human in her hand was so easily entertained. “S-sorry..”

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

I watched Cain tentatively walk into my hand, unsure at first, but pushing forward anyways. I admired his courage while holding my breath as he settled into the middle of my palm, afraid that any movement would spook him. Once he was still, he looked up at me to give me the ‘go ahead.’ This felt different, this felt much more..intimate to me than last night did. Last night, Cain was unconscious, unaware, & unmoving. He didn’t need to trust me last night, he didn’t even know where he was at the time. Now, he had to literally put his life into my hands, choosing to do so even after Myra & her friends were so cruel to him. I felt grateful that Cain was still willing to give me a chance, still interested in making our partnership in the apartment work. I bring him close to my chest, being careful not to bump him with my chest. The thought made a rosy red color creep along my face and I felt embarrassed for even thinking of that. Quickly I ignored the flashing images of Cain in his boxer shorts from last night, hair wet and face soft & peaceful…”STOP” I scream internally at myself. Looking down to see if Cain saw my embarrassment, I noticed that he was looking around my room like it was the most interesting thing to him, like he was studying it. I didn’t want to break his concentration on whatever it was he was doing, but it didn’t last long before he turned to me and acted like I had caught him doing something he wasn’t supposed to. “S-sorry..” He says quietly, but just loud enough that I can hear him. “It’s weird being so high up, it feels like I am a Giant just standing in your room, everything looks so normal up here…” He explained and I smiled, “Maybe I should get on the floor one of these days to get an idea of what you see?” Cain didn’t seem opposed to his suggestion and nodded “Wouldn’t hurt.” he says as I turn to leave my room. 

I walk out into the hallway & to my kitchen, holding Cain steadily. “Are you a fan of pancakes?” I asked him before setting him down on the countertop. “Absolutely! You do have syrup though, right?” He asks with a tone that tells me we are going to be okay. 

AUTHOR’S NOTE: I am so sorry for taking so long to post. Life has been busy & my family, health & job have to come first. I was also doing quite a bit of traveling lately so I wasn’t able to devote the time to writing. As much as I would love to say that I will start posting regularly, I know I cannot commit to that right now. I will always do my best to post semi-regularly, but I appreciate any & all support this community gives me! Thank you for reading.

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[cinnaminyoons]

LIAR, LIAR !!

!!   ksj x m!reader

!!   wc | 5.7k

!!  tags | guns, threats, mentions of violence/sex work, drinking, reader has an older sister

[ event masterlist ]

petty thief/mob boss

stuck in interrogation rooms across from one another 

“i’ve been waiting to kick your ass all week.”

“i’m telling you, the guy’s innocent. just look at his file – look at his face. nobody that young and anxious can lead the country’s most notorious crime syndicate.”

the two officers glance into the plain white room. a dark-haired man sits inside, hands in his lap. he wears scuffed white sneakers and ripped blue jeans, and he shivers in a plain t-shirt. he’s staring across the hall into another room, where a younger man lazes with handcuffs around his wrists and a bored, dangerously calm expression – his head rolls in his direction and their supposed gang leader snaps his gaze quickly away, eyes wide as his knee bounces rapidly.

the older officer scoffs. “looks can be deceiving, junior. his handsomeness doesn’t make him innocent.” he shares a glance with another officer on the other side of the bullpen and claps a hand on his shoulder, herding him towards their suspect. the cadet fumbles with the manilla folder and clutches it to his chest.

“now,” he says assertively, “don’t speak to him. let me do the talking. guard the door in case he makes a run for it.”

the cadet isn’t sure that’s exactly protocol, but the senior officer has several major cases under his belt, and he’d be damned if he told an expert how to conduct himself. he nods, passing it over, and opens the door for him.

the officer takes a seat opposite the man, who watches them rigidly. he opens the folder and shuffles through the stapled and free sheets of paper silently, letting the room stew in uncomfortable tightness.

he whistles, impressed. “you’re a sky university graduate and student, mr kim? already one doctorate under your belt and you’re still studying?”

seokjin smiles tightly. “yes, sir.”

“what in, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“radiopathology. i’m going for a medical degree this round. sir,” he adds as an afterthought.

the officer locks his fingers together on the table. “studies like this – must cost you a fortune. how are you, financially?”

his gaze flicks to the younger officer by the door. he shrugs, small and tight, and his shoes scuff against the floor. he sighs, a haunted look in his eyes. “fine, i guess, but i’ll die before i pay off my student debt.”

the cadet snorts and covers it up with a cough. the senior officer gives him a sharp glance.

“then why continue?” he flicks through the pages, more for appearance than any mental refreshment. “your academic records tell me you could get a hefty paycheck, even fresh out of university, with your current doctorate. seems like overkill to me.”

something flickers over seokjin’s features. he drops his gaze and sits straighter, as if bracing himself. “my father developed cancer. an occupational hazard. with both degrees, i’ll gain the ability to not only prevent such deaths, but also to treat those in suffering, alleviating their pain.”

the officer eyes him with an unreadable smile. “you’ve practiced that.”

“yeah. i’ve had lots of experience with therapists and applying for tertiary grants. it gets easier to say every time.”

the officer leans in. seokjin leans away.

"so, will i be free to go anytime soon? i'm not trying to obstruct justice or anything, but i have a tutorial tomorrow at eight in the morning and i really need to get my affairs in order." seokjin frowns, mostly to himself. "i haven't even started my flashcards. i'm so screwed..."

"you'll be right to leave when i say so," he says sharply. "i've got a couple more questions for you, mr kim."

across the hall, a young woman in a blue pencil skirt and black heels enters the interrogation room. she shuts the door gently, sharp eyes raking the young man's figure, and shifts the folders against her chest.

"eyes up, little brother."

your gaze flickers upwards, following her without raising your head as she takes a seat across from you, smoothing her skirt beneath her legs.

"hello, yn," she murmurs, clasping neatly manicured hands over the files. "i haven't found you here since you were twelve. what would father say?"

"that i'm a terrible son. now everyone knows that i failed to get the job done."

she sighs, pursing her lips. "don't joke like this. what were you thinking? you're here for charges of petty theft and assault and battery. you're a better man than that."

"i fucked up, okay? it should've been a clean job – in and out without so much as a whisper. how the hell was i supposed to know that the lady had a side bitch? and," you lean forward, chains clinking as you press your palms against the table, "and, he threw the first punch. all i did was defend myself."

her eyes narrow into a glare. "you nearly killed the man! you're lucky he's not going to the media with this. there's only so much i can do for you, idiot, and i've only got two choices for you."

"jail time or – let me guess – community service?"

"no. jail time or help me find evidence for a case."

you blink. "what?"

she glances up at the camera in the corner of the room and sighs. "do you see the man across from you? white shirt."

you don't need to look over. "yeah. why, he your boyfriend?"

"he's the leader of an international crime syndicate. i know it. i just don't have the legal proof of it." she drums her fingers against the table. "this is where you come in. i need you to get close to him, grab some irrefutable audio recordings, and return to me. that's all i need."

you lean back in your chair, which creaks. you rub your eyes and wince. "fuck, noona, i'm not a grifter. i don't do long-cons. i like jewellery and shitty safes."

"it's either this or jail," she says firmly. "i can clean these charges off your record if i get him. let's just say that some very important people are banking on his arrest. please, yn – do it for me."

you shake your head incredulously, pressing your lips together. "you're asking cats to bark, noona. even if i wanted to, i don't have the right skillset – i'm no actor. and besides, what the fuck can someone like me do to get into a gang leader's inner circle?"

"i don't care how you get it done. if my intel serves, then he's partial to men like you," she emphasises, widening her eyes meaningfully. "get him chatty in bed if you have to; i don't give a shit. i believe in you, yn – you've got a solid history of excelling at everything you set your mind to. you could've been a brain surgeon, if you really wanted it."

you glance over at the man himself. your tongue darts over your lower lip. you turn back to the sergeant, slumping back in your chair. "there's no way that he's got any experience. he looks like a prude. he'll probably be asleep before i close his legs."

she makes a face. "i don't ever want to hear about that. listen, just try. for me? maybe you can get by with a little flirting – finally put that face of yours to good use. you didn't suffer through our family pinching your cheeks and telling you how you'd be a heartbreaker when you grew up to do absolutely nothing with it, right?"

"noona, i don't know..."

"oh, come on. it's not like he's hideous. can't be too hard to tell him he has nice eyes, can it?"

you sneak another glance, doubt written all over your features. it crumbles and you grimace, lifting a hand to rub the back of your neck. the other arm dangles from the cuffs. "fine! fine. i'll do it. for you. if i die, it's entirely your fault."

she lights up. "thank you! you've got this. stop by my apartment tonight, alright? i'll fill you in on the details, and you can get started in the morning. you can crash on my couch if you want to – i'm sure i've got enough of your clothes in a box somewhere to last you until you leave."

"yeah, yeah." you lift your hands towards her. "just get these fucking things off me, noona."

—

"what is this?"

"a good time, hyung!" taehyung grabs seokjin's elbow and drags him out of the sleek black car. he grins, bright and giddy, with a childish charm that suits his face but not the price tag of his suit. he wears burgundy, and if one looks closely, his glossy black shoes carry scars and scuffs from many tumbles. a surprising number of people have been close enough to notice – taehyung's carefree demeanour always masks his brutality.

seokjin's face twists, lightly peeved, as taehyung breezes past security without so much as a glance. "you told me you needed to pick something up. you lied to me."

he lifts a finger as the heavy bass music squeezes his lungs. "nuh-uh. i didn't lie – i do need to pick something up! i'll grab you something on the way in, too."

"can't you go one night without getting your rocks off?" seokjin nearly shouts. he can barely hear himself over the music. it is, however, satisfying to raise his voice, especially as taehyung flaps a dismissive hand in his direction.

"of course i can! but would i like to? no! oh – is that a new dancer? he's cute."

seokjin lets taehyung reel him through the club, blinking against the blue strobe lights. someone brushes against him and the hard steel lump in seokjin's jacket gives him pause, but seokjin meets his eyes unflinchingly and he drops his own, pushing his way through the crowds.

"i have better things to spend my time on," seokjin says, rather crossly. taehyung sits him down at an empty booth, firm hands on his shoulders. "not even a private room? i didn't raise you this way!"

taehyung huffs. "come on, hyung. it's not like it'll kill you. you deserve a little rest, especially after that fiasco with the mole! private rooms are quiet, and quiet means space to think, and space to think means that you'll be grumpy for the next two days. just let the music drown out the stresses of everyday life."

as he speaks, arms animated and dramatic, a good-looking man sashays over, wearing nothing but a pair of tight black shorts that leave little to the imagination. he sets down a beer in front of taehyung, who pushes the glass across the table towards seokjin.

then, when taehyung's mouth opens to continue his lecture, the man crawls onto the table with a seductive smile and begins to dance – or grind, really, against the air.

he's good. seokjin notices the snappy, controlled edge to his smooth, rolling movements more than his nakedness, and he wonders if he's a dancer. he wouldn't be surprised – with a body like that, he's bound to do well in such a place.

"are those moccasins?"

evidently, taehyung has different priorities.

taehyung prods at the dancer's ankles and he slides into a neat perch on the table's edge, his thighs trapping taehyung in the booth. he tilts taehyung's chin upwards with a flirty smile.

seokjin half-expects taehyung to vanish into a bathroom with him, but to his surprise, he shakes his head and gently places his legs aside.

"we're here for you," taehyung explains in response to seokjin's raised eyebrow as the dancer sways away. "plus, you're my ride home; my car's still being fixed up, can you believe it?"

"it's been a day, taehyung. give them time." seokjin glances around, hands resting almost mechanically on his thighs. if it wasn't for the frown on his face, he would look at home on set and in front of a camera. "so, your plan was to get me drunk? i'm not going to drink this."

"why not? you're getting paranoid again."

"someone could've spiked it," he argues. "and it's not paranoia – it's called vigilance and helps me stay alive. do you know how many times you would've died if i wasn't there? more times than i can count."

"oh, please. you're holding air above my head. i can take perfectly good care of myself. you just like to feel important."

if he were anyone but his little brother, he would no longer have a tongue to wag.

taehyung shrugs and reaches for seokjin's untouched beer. he lifts it to his lips, sipping delicately, and his face screws up in disgust. he gags, pushing it back towards seokjin. "no. still gross. ew."

he shakes his head like a dog ridding itself of water before his expression clears. he leans forward. "anybody here catch your eye?"

"no."

"come on. someone here has to at least touch your impossibly high standards."

seokjin rolls his eyes. his gaze sweeps over the dark club. "the bartender."

"bold move." he squints harder at the bartender through the strobe lights. he purses his lips. "you know what? i don't think i know him. damn. but finders keepers, i suppose – i'll go find out who he is."

"taehyung," seokjin says sharply. "he's working. don't make it harder than it needs to be."

he blows a raspberry, settling back down in his seat. "buzzkill. fine – you go talk to him, then. give him your number, or something."

"and do what everyone else does? present myself as desperate? absurd."

taehyung groans. "you are making my job way too hard. i am trying to get you laid. you're as good-looking as me – this should be easy!"

"as good-looking," seokjin mutters disdainfully. he raises his voice slightly. "i was just accused of a myriad of crimes, embezzlement and racketeering included. forgive me if i'm a little wary of strangers."

"you're fine," taehyung drawls. "you played the good boy so well. i barely recognised you in cuffed levi's." he casts an appreciative glance in the bartender's direction and begins to stand. "i'm gonna shoot my shot with smiley over there. my dear, he's a sight for sore eyes. wish me luck!"

"i'll break your legs."

"it's 'break a leg', generally."

"sit," he demands.

taehyung whines, "i'm not a dog," but sits anyway.

seokjin rises to his feet. "stay," he says, as if he hadn't heard his last words at all.

taehyung wiggles a finger. "that's the kind of attitude that makes people dislike you, hyung." he starts to sway. "be open-minded. easy as the ocean waves. light as a sea breeze."

"are you drunk from one sip of beer?"

he stops swaying. "you're so cruel! you'd be nicer if you just shot me in the head. since you care about your stupid reputation so much, i'm gonna go have my fun, and you can sit here and brood like the handsome and emotionally-unavailable man that you are. good-fucking-bye."

he stomps off – far too suavely, so that it looks more like a catwalk stride than a temper tantrum. however, once his grumpy gaze catches sight of a familiar head of blond hair sitting at a booth with three equally-familiar friends, he brightens and waves his arms, shouting over the music in frantic german.

the woman turns, her arm linked with a pretty korean girl. she grabs taehyung's hand and pulls him down next to her, squishing the three of them into the wall, and the beaming grins and laughter around the table suggests to seokjin that taehyung has been rather well-received.

a small smile tugs at seokjin's lips. at least he has his friends.

he sighs and stands, dusting off his trousers. he pauses by the end of the booth's table, his attention caught by the bartender. he's smiling, chatting to a co-worker as he shakes a mixer. he wears a bowtie and a waistcoat, the sleeves of a crisp white dress shirt rolled up tight at the elbows – same as the other bartender. but he seems to glow in it: everything around him appears brighter, sharper, more vivid.

maybe taehyung was right. maybe he does need to loosen up.

"hey. what can i get for you?"

seokjin slides onto a bar stool. "just a rum and coke, please. thanks."

the bartender grins. nods. he looks better up close. "not a problem. shall i open up a tab for you?"

seokjin hums in thought. he shakes his head. "i'll just take this one. you have a nice smile."

it takes a half-second for the bartender to register the compliment. that smile grows slightly flustered. "oh! thank you. one rum and coke."

he bustles away. seokjin thinks it's a shame that he wears no name tag.

he returns quickly with seokjin's drink in his hand, and seokjin almost smiles at the fact that he skipped over all the other waiting patrons to complete his drink first. he hides his amusement with the chilled rim of the glass.

"so, handsome... when does your shift end?"

the bartender grins. "half an hour. is there any reason in particular you're asking?"

"i'm not so ill-mannered as to take your attention off the other lovely patrons just to compliment your arms or the way that bowtie looks on you. i can appreciate a strong work ethic."

"you're starting to sound like my boss," the bartender laughs. "but for you, handsome, i can make it twenty minutes. think you can nurse a rum and coke for that long?"

"for you?" he raises the glass. "as long as you need."

—

seokjin's waist fits in your hand ever so perfectly. when you'd first met him, you'd played it so safe that you'd almost forgotten to give him your name. you gave yourself a new last name and a subtle accent, but that was as far as the changes went. sure, you were well-known for being in the drama club in high school, but it wasn't your... passion. nothing quite hit the spot like black gloves and diamonds.

"you look lovely tonight," you comment with a smile, leaning in to keep the waitress out of it. she slows to a stop beside a table set for two and bows before taking her leave.

"as do you," seokjin says gently, a smile lighting up his face when you pull his chair out for him. if it's not the candlelight throwing shadows, you think there's a warm blush on his cheekbones. "i adore the way you dress. i can appreciate a taste for the finer things."

you finger the diamond choker around your neck, set with white gold. it sits above the deep v of your black shirt, accentuating just how deep it falls, and provides a nice contrast. it matches the chopard watch and its woven steel bracelet on your wrist.

"finer things?" you tease, stroking the collar of your shirt. his eyes flicker from the diamonds to the split of your chest. "it's more of a... bad habit, to be truthful. but when i heard where we were headed tonight, i was afraid i'd be wildly underdressed, and then overdressed."

he laughs softly – a sweetly unique sound that has your lips curving up automatically. "you don't have anything to be worried about. you look like you were born for this life. actually, you make me self-conscious – i should've tried something more avant-garde than a suit."

you shake your head with a laugh. "it's a learned skill. you've found something you look ravishing in; why not exploit it?"

"you're too kind." he's had a thousand people compliment the cut of his jacket and tailoring of his pants, but none felt quite so heart-fluttering as yours. he hides his smile with his slender fingers and averts his eyes to escape the alluring heat of your gaze. "but, truly – those diamonds do look stunning on you. do you have much of a collection?"

"oh, no; i couldn't afford it if i tried. it's such a shame. i feel like they're calling for me to touch them, and sometimes the desire is simply too strong to resist, you know? i indulge myself terribly."

he brushes his fingers over his plush lower lip. "it's alright. i know the feeling. i really do love the way you look with them, so would you mind bringing me the next time you go to a jeweller's? anything that catches your eye, you can have. anything at all. it'd be a sin to deprive you of them when i've seen you in these simple ones – i can't imagine what i'd do with myself if you wore something a little more... eye-catching."

you pause. your eyes widen. "oh – oh, no, seokjin – i couldn't ask that of you."

"that's why i'm offering, love." he smiles sweetly.

"you'd really buy such expensive things for me? i'm flattered, truly, but i wouldn't want our relationship to become... transactional." you reach across the table and place your hand on his. his bright smile turns shy. "i've loved our time together, seokjin. i don't want to lose that."

it takes a second longer than usual for him to compose himself and find his words. "you wouldn't lose it. they'd just be gifts – you wouldn't have to do anything in return. don't worry," he emphasises, squeezing your hand gently, "about the money. i have lifetimes of it. i'd be glad to know where it's going."

you squeeze his hand as well, turning your palm up to grasp his knuckles as if you're about to kiss them. your thumb runs over his joints and the curves of his knuckles, and chuckle. "you really are too good to me, seokjin."

the hum of the restaurant fades away into a low murmuring ripple. the lights fade to dull spots. everything but him vanishes, pushed to the furthest extremities of your consciousness, and you lean in. he follows.

the kiss is soft and silky. his lips tingle where they press to yours, like the gentle tang of a teaspoon of lime juice. you sip on him slowly, like mezcal, and relish in the sweet sting, as rich and bright as an amaretto sour.

he tilts his head, and the kiss deepens to something more appropriate for the bedroom. he catches himself before it goes too far with a soft gasp, pulling away. his dark eyes flutter open, flicking up to yours.

he clears his throat. "so, are you hungry?"

"of course," you reply, matching his nonchalance. you shrug with an embarrassed, lopsided grin. "i've just never been to a restaurant that doesn't offer their menu anywhere..."

seokjin's eyes widen slightly. a flush remains on his cheeks – the memory of your lips on his sticks to the forefront of his mind, crowding out much else. "oh! it's a fixed menu, love. it's why i asked for your dietary requirements the other day. they base the size on how many people there are. i'm so sorry – i'd forgotten all about it the moment i saw you." he giggles at himself endearingly. that severe, revenge-served-cold persona at the bar seems entirely removed. he even sits differently – a little more open, relaxed.

you watch him with a soft smile. "you're quite the charmer, did you know that? i could sit here and listen to your voice the whole night long."

"well," he laughs again, "i think that's how dinner dates work, so you’re in luck."

a waitress, different to the one who seated you, stops by with a polite smile and the entrees. you thank her and glance back down at each other, smiling when your eyes meet.

this might not be so hard, after all.

—

it doesn't take much to slide into seokjin's 'inner circle' – and not the one he lets you into in the bedroom. that one came first. after that, it was simply existing by his side, practically living in his luxurious penthouse apartment and massaging his shoulders when work became rough, until he grew comfortable enough not to flip over his classified papers when you leant over his chair to kiss him on the cheek.

you have yet to find anything incriminating in those glances; it's all reasonable numbers in those financial year statements. he takes his work with him – not just between work and home, but even to the bedroom. he sets his messenger bag on a chair with his tie next to the wardrobe, which means that you can't creep away and take a late-night sneak peek at anything under those superficial numbers.

one night, you're milling around the living room directly in front of the entrance, your shoes patient by the front door. the apartment is oddly shaped, as far as apartments go. maybe they're different for rich people, but you haven't seen one quite like it before. the living room branches out like a capital 't' and hooks around in a loop, with a staircase on the right leading up to a mezzanine containing the bedroom, office, and bathroom. in the day, it's brightly lit; huge panels of glass stretching across the walls from floor to ceiling display downtown seoul's skyline. at night, spots of light glimmer in the darkness, and a slow, blinking red dot will sometimes make its way over the roofs. before you, seokjin says, he kept the curtains closed as soon as the sun went down, but that you've shown him a beauty in the night that he can no longer ignore.

you lie along the leather couch, a pillow folded beneath your head. your eyes are closed. conventional, inoffensive radio songs float through speakers inset in the ceiling. despite those speakers in every room – so that he doesn't have to carry one around with him – he still has a dedicated movie setup, complete with atmos speakers. somehow, he'd found the sweet spot for the audio, despite his open-plan home being a noticeable springboard for sound.

the door opens, and a set of footsteps enters. the door closes behind them. your brow furrows and you're on your feet in half a second – those aren't seokjin's steps.

the young man in front of you instinctively reaches for something at the back of his belt. you've watched enough movies to know what it is that he's got his fingers around.

"well, he-llo, gorgeous," he greets flirtatiously in a deep, smooth voice. he wears a peach-coloured three-piece with a matching tie and a black shirt. a lock of dark hair curls romantically over his eyebrow, and you wonder how long he took in the bathroom to get it right. "you look familiar. have we met?"

you don't relax. neither does he. you smile politely. "i don't believe we have. i imagine someone like you would be hard to forget."

"hm." his lips curve up. "then allow me to introduce myself. kim taehyung: art aficionado, music connoisseur, and lover of many. i decorated this place – do you like what i've done with it?"

"it's better than most apartments i've been to."

he hums and moves towards the bar on the corner. he moves behind it to pour himself a glass of cherry cola – he's not as clueless as he looks, then. he'll keep an eye on you this way. he adds ice, and it clinks in his glass. 

he begins, "my brother... he's not one for aesthetics. i'm certain he'd live in a cement box if it had everything he needed in it. i've made it my personal mission to fill his homes with as many useless objects as i can before he becomes suspicious. take this, for example."

he points to a white vase of lilacs on the end of the bar and fixes it, brushing his knuckles over the flowers. "this vase... it's beautiful, but it cost as much as a car. i haven't the slightest idea why. i could go to the nearest department store and get something identical for a handful of spare change."

he lifts his glacial gaze, staring at you from the corner of his eyes. he's not talking about vases.

you scoff and sit back down, turning your back to him. he's not going to do anything – not when he's assuming such things about you. "you don't even know my name, but you're already insulting me."

"i've been pushing him to release some stress. he takes himself too seriously – someone needs to loosen the stick up his ass, maybe replace it with something better." he pops a blue umbrella in his glass with a twirly pink straw and lifts it to his lips. "i've had this conversation with three other men before you, did you know? you're the first to understand it." he tilts his glass in your direction, almost a toast. "i like you."

"what are you here for, kim taehyung?" you ask bluntly. you rest your arm over the backrest and watch him over your shoulder. his sad little glass of cola makes your fingers itch – you need to make him a proper drink.

he gestures vaguely at the city skyline with the cola. it sloshes dangerously close to the rim. "what we're all here for. a good time. that, and i wanted to know who had my stoic brother wrapped around their pinky finger. seeing you now – i can see why."

"thought he wasn't one for aesthetics," you comment drily.

he laughs at that, full and animable. "oh, attractive and witty. that must be the reason why my brother can't think straight anymore – as soon as someone has a sharp tongue, he's completely enamoured. do you like him as much as he likes you?"

you rise to your feet, finally unable to hold back the carnal desire to make him a drink of the clothes he's wearing – that little party glass won't do. smoothly, he moves around the bar, keeping to the opposite side at all times as you slip off your white jacket and drape it over the bench you wouldn't notice the action if you weren't looking for it. you already had seokjin in the palm of your hand – it was this boy you needed to worry about. his suspicion might brush against something it shouldn't.

you reach for a coca-cola and the bottle of grenadine syrup. "i keep his company because i enjoy our conversations."

"sounding more and more like an escort," he comments blithely. "there's no need to be so tense around me, big boy. i just want to know if my big brother is in good hands. yours seem very capable."

plucking a couple of maraschino cherries out of the fridge, you balance them on the ice in the tall glass. you turn, and you bite back a smirk as taehyung's brow twitches upwards.

"thank you," you say, setting the glass down and sliding it across the bar. "i didn't poison it, if you're wondering. just a simple roy rogers. a man of your standing deserves better than a can of coke garnished with an umbrella."

he watches you move around the bar, whipping up a pisco sour. he plucks the cherries off their stems with his teeth and chews slowly, savouring the sweetness. "huh. you're ticking all the boxes – hyung might have to share you with me. that – or you can tell me why you're really after him. you're not an escort, so it's not about money. you don't fuck him nearly as often as he needs to be, so it's not about sex."

a dull, steely thump. you turn around, the shaker in your hands.

his fingers slide off of the silver handgun on the bar. he raises the roy rogers to his lips, his eyes fixed on yours.

he's seen a lot of reactions to a gun. he's seen fear, he's seen hysteria – hell, he's even seen lust. the drink pauses halfway to the bar when you laugh boisterously.

"you can't intimidate me, kim taehyung," you chuckle, shaking it dry. "you wouldn't believe the number of people who've pulled a weapon on me. some were twice your size – ex-military types, far too trigger-happy to continue shooting and call it patriotism. i'm not going to hurt you or your brother, and i won't tell the cops that you're packing. pleased?"

you pop open the shaker and drop in the ice. you resume shaking.

the front door opens. those are seokjin's footsteps.

you turn around with bright eyes, grabbing a glass. "oh, seokjin! how was your day? i've been waiting to kick your ass all week – my mario kart skills are getting better."

"my day was boring, but much better now that i've seen you. you'll have to show me your new moves." he looks up from digging around in his messenger bag and halts at the sight of taehyung in his peach-coloured suit and platform boots. his gaze hones in on the glint of steel taehyung didn't quite manage to hide.

his eyes narrow and his expression hardens. his voice snaps their consonants, arctic-cold. "are you threatening my partner, taehyung?"

"of course not," you interrupt, sending taehyung a candied grin. "your little brother was just making himself comfortable. it'd be hard to be at ease with that digging into your back, wouldn't it?"

the thick silence between them is palpable.

"come now, darling," you hum, pouring the cocktail. you add the garnishes and hold it out with an inviting smile. "you're at home. relax."

after a pause, he steps forward. another step. he dumps his bag on the couch as he passes it and accepts the drink with a grateful sigh.

"you're too good to me, love," he murmurs, tilting his head to allow you better access with your kisses. "i'm sorry i didn't introduce you to taehyung earlier. he's always so busy with the family business. did he play nice with you?"

"mm, of course," you whisper sweetly, sliding your hands up over his thighs and hips. you press a kiss to his jaw and lift your eyes to taehyung's – he glares daggers back, and his mouth thin into a tight line. "we're getting along well. a few initial speed bumps, yes, but all relationships have their rocks and pitfalls. even if we didn't," you nibble on his earlobe just to see taehyung divert his gaze, "he'd have to get used to me, sooner or later."

[fatuismooches]

Allow me to feed you more brainrot!!

Hey! I saw that you liked my writing about the ending where the Fragile!reader doesn’t make it in time, so why not give you some thoughts of mine on what sort of habits or tendencies the ill reader has gained? This is supposedly a few centuries into it, though no time is specified really. (Note : Let me see what I can cook in a few days with the ‘broken heart’s ending. Stay tuned!)

1.The desk is [name]’s bed now. As many years have gone by, the duties of the second harbinger has been mostly assigned to you as you are(were?) the lover to II Dottore. The sparrow tended to work on paperwork’s until their hands felt numb, shaky handwriting only stabilized with a use of a machine or primarily writing with a typewriter. The sparrow goes on missions, though internally craving to stay near and only focus on the revival of the fallen crow. The desk is where they tended to spend most of their time at, either for research or paperwork when they were free. Though the sparrow was treated with some sympathy, their unhealthy habits haunting them to the point they passed out on the desk or even harbinger meetings. Their fragile and porcelain like body was beyond pushed to their limit, but they will not stop. Though around their fellow allies such as the dove, they will ease on it to ensure that the sparrow’s allies are not overly concerned. The sparrow does not want anyone to be concerned more than the sparrow had pushed them away. Even by the time when no Fatus under the Fatui Harbingers command no longer recognize the name of the Doctor, only to recognize yours instead, you never take credit for the work you’ve done yourself. You always stated that the work you have done should be credited to II Dottore himself—The research and notes he had left behind was the starting foundation to your own search, afterall.

2.Dragged to rest. By the time the sparrow is remotely close to finding something that would give the first major step to the resurrection to the great II Dottore, they had taken supplements, no matter how bitter, to force back and silence their illness though it only ever managed to be temporarily. The rare nights where one of the harbingers that were your friends were free to check you from their busy nights—wether it be the Damsellette, the Regrator, or Tartaglia, you’d be dragged to your bed even with how much of your mental stubbornness would try and argue back. Your physical stubbornness is not well due to how your fragile body is, already at a melting point with how you are treating your body, the rebellion of yours falls into silence as the harbinger pulls a blanket over you as they give a light threat that they better not see them snooping around to study. Your body agrees even though your mind is exactly the opposite, but you wish them a goodnight’s rest as you close your eyes. That night, you ended up passing out for little more over 12 hours.

13.Flinch at sudden contact, and protectiveness. With your lover dead, the sensation of touch has become almost unbearing. Especially to your now scarred body from your experiments, anyone who dares to even tap your shoulder might become the next test subject to see if they could be resurrected with the next concoction you create for the sake of the unmoving frozen corpse of the Doctor. Your face is the most vulnerable—most possessive of the mask your lover once wore every day, almost every hour of the night. So you keep it close, it is important as your life and you’d defend it till the very end. With the cause of the Crow’s death, the fox-fur wearing Sparrow has taken a distaste to anyone who may pose a threat to the Crow. Especially with the Golden Comet, now you have become the underlying term of ‘overprotective’. Overprotective to someone who wasn’t even breathing anymore, safely encased in permafrost in the hidden depths of the lab. If any word of something or someone that can end up harming your lover ends up getting into the sparrow’s ears, be prepared for the threat to be wiped from existance in record time. Such thing shall not exist anymore under the sparrow’s gaze, and they will not escape it.

4.To ramble to something inanimate. With the death of the segments and Prime himself, [name] had gotten the habits to ramble off in one of the segments’ rooms or snuggle in the bed of Prime’s. How you spoke and rambled away as if they were still with you, perhaps maybe they were. Somewhere, someway, you could even bring the segments back. Though your primarily focus was on Prime, you still mourned for each copy and clone there ever was of Dottore. The Sparrow loved each and every version of the Crow there was to offer, from the small hatchling Zandy to the original Zandik. Omega, Beta just to name a few.. it was not too uncommon for a Fatui Harbinger or Fatus for business just to see the lover of the Doctor ramble against a object that one segment may have owned, or them snuggling into a clothing they may have wore.

(Should I write some ideas if Dottore did eventually get resurrected?? Perhaps your thoughts on it would be great. I also think when Dottore does get resurrected, Dottore might also be frail because your body sort of just weakens from a lack of use and he was dead for a while too.. so now you got Frail!Reader and Frail!Dottore just collapsing together, PFT.)

[starheirxero]

IF I DON'T TALK ABOUT JULY 16TH, I'M GOING TO COMBUST-

SUN LOVED THESE CHILDREN SO MUCH- HE LOVED THEM NOT UNLIKE ONE LOVES THEIR OWN- HE PARTIALLY RAISED THEM, GODDAMNIT-

HE LOVED THEM, AND HE LOST THEM, AND HE COULDN'T DO ANYTHING-

FOR THE LONGEST TIME, HE THOUGHT THEIR BLOOD COATED HIS HANDS- FOR THE LONGEST TIME, HE THOUGHT HE KILLED THE ONES HE WAS SUPPOSED TO PROTECT-

HE DIDN'T, AND HE KNOWS THAT NOW, BUT IT WON'T BRING THEM BACK- IT WON'T CHANGE THE FACT, THAT THEY THOUGHT IT WAS HIM-

IT WON'T CHANGE THE FACT, THAT HE COULDN'T PROTECT THEM, LIKE HE WAS SUPPOSED TO-

I AM GOING TO START EATING THE FLOOR--

HE REMEMBERS THEM, EACH AND EVERY ONE-

JACKIE, JAMIE, JAMES, KIT, HUEY, HOWIE, EVELYN-

HE REMEMBERS THEIR INTERESTS AND QUIRKS- HE REMEMBERS THE LITTLE DETAILS, EVEN, AS IT'S ALL FADING-

HE KEEPS SAYING THESE NAMES LIKE A MANTRA, TO REMIND HIMSELF, NEVER TO FORGET THEM, EVEN AS MEMORIES ARE SLIPPING BY-

HE SOUNDS SO MOURNFUL-

FUCK, IM GOING TO BE SICK/POS-

The thing that really gets me is that they really sound like children- I don't know exactly how to describe it, but they sound like kids I would've known when I was little- Hell, some of them do sound like kids I knew, some of which I was even friends with!

THIS PUTS SO MUCH WEIGHT ON BLOODMOON'S ACTIONS, JESUS CHRIST-

THEY WERE CHILDREN- CHILDREN WITH FAMILIES THAT LOVED THEM, THAT MOURNED THEM-

EVELYN'S FATHER WAS MENTIONED- HE WAS A FARMER, AND SHE LOVED WEARING OVERALLS BECAUSE OF IT-

SHE WAS NEVER ALLERGIC TO PEANUTS, SHE WAS OBSESSED WITH THEM INSTEAD-

MY HEART-

The one thing about Fnaf lore, that always kind of bothered me, was that the missing kids felt more like plot devices- There isn't much about them, outside of Susie, though only if you read the books- Which is fine, if they aren't meant to be the focus!

However, by making them characters, I feel like it puts so much more weight onto William's actions. It turns him into a larger threat, a monster.

Which is exactly what is happening here!

By giving them names, personalities, it feels like there is so much more weight on Bloodmoon's actions, y'know?

He robbed them of growing up. He forced their parents to bury them.

God, their parents must despise Sun! If Dazzle ever remembers, I could honestly see her dad becoming a character!

The moment, he'd see the twins, it'll be on sight!

Though, it generally makes me curious! I wonder, if Dazzle is really the only ghost kid left behind.

I wonder, if there are going to be more. There were little hints of the possibility dropped!

Some of them might not be as forgiving, which would be really interesting to see!

-Stardust

YELLS AT THE TOP OF MY LUNGS YEAH YEAH YEAH!!!!!!!! LITERALLY EVERYTHING YOU SAID HERE AAUAGGHHHH

Sun has quietly carried so much love and care and guilt over these kids for years of his life, a grief that bubbled under the surface, and we never truly saw how much that weighed on him until now as he has to stomach that one of them has come back and they forgive him :(((

AND YEA THEY'RE LIKE. THEY'RE SO BELIEVABLY KIDS THAT IT MAKES MY CHEST HURT. The way Sun talked about their habits and interests didn't feel strange in any way, like how sometimes people write kids and its like. have u ever interacted with a child in ur life HDKWHD it was just. they felt really truly alive.....

AND IT ABSOLUTELY DOES ADD MORE WEIGHT TO WHAT BLOODMOON DID YEAH. AND UR POINT ABOUT CANON FNAF YEAH YEAH YEAH!!!!!!!!!! Oms I was thinking something similar the other day and I'm SO GLAD YOU WERE ABLE TO PUT MY THOUGHTS INTO WORDS AHDKSNKD

Like. I mentioned that harm or death of children is the quickest way to make me sniffle and wail and wail, but fnaf never really managed to make me truly sad and weepy about the kids because, like you said, they were more plot devices rather than full characters.

BUT YESYES ALSO LIKE U SAID, by fleshing out their lives and making them more solid characters, it adds so much more weight to the actions of the murderer!! Bloodmoon looked at these little humans who flocked to him because they loved Sun and he saw food, he saw easy targets, and he took advantage of that to the highest degree!!! And it's like holy shit!!!!! Whadda hell!!!!!!!! Like u said, he robbed them of growing up, he had just as little regard for their new lives as he did the rats in the theater and it's like. AUGH.

BUT ALSO YEAG OUHG if Dazzle's dad or another dead kid became characters I'd lose it /pos

It would just be a very bittersweet feeling, especially if it was Dazzle's dad, and I think I'd never emotionally recover. Tsams if you hear me HAKAHSKS