#frowned upon i suppose but not illegal by any means

[northern-passage]

I'm in the middle of playing The Northern Passage, and I've noticed that throughout it there are various options to *attempt* to leave Lea. I've never clicked any of them, so I don't know what actually happens if you try... but I'm confused by the sheer quantity of such options that come up, since I was under the impression it's not legal to leave Lea. Especially the ones after meeting Duncan. They give the impression I'm trying to be *friends* with Lea by staying with them, even though I'm pretty sure I legally have to stay with them whether I want to be friends with them or not. Is my impression incorrect?

no, it's not "illegal"!

technically, Duncan (or anyone else for that matter) doesn't really have the power to "arrest" the hunter or anyone in the Order. The Order is self-regulating, and exists as its own political entity. this is why the hunter and Lea are supposed to be politically neutral, and why the Black Iron's interference during the Siege of Blackwater was such a big deal.

however, none of that will necessarily stop people like Duncan. and there are definitely instances where hunters and handlers have been jailed before and had to wait for someone else (like Commander Hadrien) to come bail them out. they can't really arrest them, but they'll put them in a cell to waste their time, and it's best for everyone just to comply to avoid any kind of escalation. if we use Keld as an example, a lot of the people in that town felt that Lea and the hunter had just killed a man, and if they hadn't booked it out of there, there was a high likelihood that they would have been thrown in a cell, and then Commander Hadrien would have had to come out and either argue a really good case or grease some palms, and it would have been a real bureaucratic nightmare. they would have had to let them go eventually, but they'd put them through as much bullshit as possible before then.

there's also a big difference between the Order in the south and the Order up north, which we will learn in the next update; that difference also makes Duncan more comfortable with treating Lea & the hunter however he likes.

when it comes to hunters & handlers, the handlers are actually there moreso for the protection of the hunter. people don't like hunters, and seeing one all alone will freak people out, but it's not illegal or anything for hunters to be out and about without their handlers. it's just better for everyone involved for there to be someone as a "buffer" that keeps the public comfortable and the hunter safe. handlers also tend to be the "leads" during jobs, so Lea will be the one that will engage with the common folk and ask questions, and function as a point of contact between the Order/stronghold and whoever is requesting the Order's services.

[theysherobinbuckley]

a little something I started but probably won't ever finish - alternate first meeting steddie! post s3, pre s4

(context: in an effort to cheer up his perpetually grumpy new neighbor, Eddie broke out his old skateboard and immediately ate shit for it. Cue Red calling none other than Steve Harrington to solve the problem...)

Red was barely in the door when Harringron turned on him, jaw clenched and fingers twitching. Having those dark eyes focused so entirely on him nearly made Eddie dizzy.

His lips were moving and- oh shit. Eddie was totally supposed to be listening.

"Uh, what?"

"What are you doing hanging around Max?"

Eddie frowned. "We're neighbors?"

"So?"

"So I'm being… neighborly? Is that illegal?"

"Neighborly is getting someone's mail while they're out of town. Not a super senior hanging around with a girl who's not even in high school yet."

"You better be fucking careful what you're accusing me of, Harrington, because to be honest, you don't look any better. Don't think I haven't heard your beemer pull up at all hours of the night. What the fuck is that about, huh? King Steve likes 'em young?"

Eddie's back hit the trailer before the last word even left his mouth. All the breath rushed out of him at once as Harrington pinned him with one arm across his shoulders.

"Don’t fucking say that," he seethed. "She's like my sister. I'm not- I wouldn't hurt her."

Eddie reached up to pat Harrington's arm placatingly, sending him as sweet a smile as he could muster.

"Hey, I believe you, man. I'm a little lost, sure, but I believe you." He sent a look to the trailer to his right. "Now can you let me down before Muriel sends Axel out to break your arm?"

Harrington followed his gaze and, upon seeing Muriel frowning from behind her curtains, dropped Eddie faster than if he'd told him he had the plague.

"We're in my kingdom now, Harrington," he said, grinning and waving in Muriel's direction. "These are my people. We take care of each other here. And Red's one of us, whether you like it or not."

Steve frowned, opened his mouth to respond, maybe even protest, but Eddie cut him off.

"I was just trying to make the kid smile, okay? So I got out my old skateboard, did a few tricks, busted my shit." He held up the ice pack he'd stolen from Red's fridge. "She called you 'cause she said you'd know what to do."

Harrington was quiet. Noticeably, he did not apologize for jostling Eddie's extremely sore wrist, but whatever.

"Did she?"

"Yeah, man, I tried to talk her out of it, but she seemed pretty confident you'd pick up. And here you are, so…"

"No, I mean- did she have fun?"

Eddie shrugged. "I mean, she didn't look as miserable as usual. Laughed a couple times when I fucked up a dismount. What's up with that, by the way? The constant dispair?"

Harrington's whole body tensed, and Eddie was almost scared he was gearing up to punch him just for asking.

"You remember Billy Hargrove?" he replied, his voice tight.

Eddie couldn't help but sneer at the mention of that piece of shit. Wayne had always taught him not to speak ill of the dead, but that didn't mean he couldn't think some choice things about him. Like the fact that he was pretty sure the guy was rotting in hell for all the things he'd said to Jeff in the school halls.

"Unfortunately. What about him?"

"He was Max's older brother. Step-brother."

"That's..."

"Fucked?" Harrington supplied. Eddie nodded. "Yeah. So I just- I need to make sure another Hargrove doesn't come around. Sorry I got all... you know. I've been told I can be kind of intense."

"No shit," Eddie laughed. "No hard feelings, I guess. Since it's in Red's best interest."

"No hard feelings," Harrington echoed. "Thanks for looking out for her."

Then, something Eddie had never even dreamed of: Harrington stuck his hand out, clearly expecting a handshake.

Huh.

It was over in a second, but Eddie's hand burned where Steve's had been.

"No problem. I'm kind of the park babysitter," Eddie replied. "Part of the job description."

Harrington lit up at that.

"I babysit too! Max and a few of her friends. 'S why I'm always around. I'm usually playing chauffeur for one of the other gremlins."

"That makes more sense than you having a torrid love affair with Susan."

"Yeah, she's not really my type," Harrington said with a smirk.

Eddie watched in shock as Harrington's eyes slowly, deliberately dipped up and down his form.

Talk about fucking whiplash. Eddie could still feel Harrington's strong arm against his chest, the brush of Harrington's nose against his own, the heat of Harrington's breath on his face. And now the king was checking him out?

"I see. Not into MILFs?"

Eddie was in the middle of making plans to staple his big stupid mouth shut when Harrington laughed.

"I'm more into brunettes."

And boy, didn't that seem pointed.

[gardens-light]

Finding Peace

Taking shelter in an abandoned petrol station, tension builds between you and your family. As blame and arguments raise- not like you didn't feel guilty enough already. You didn't ask for this- any of this! You just wanted to help Optimus. And it's not like the Autobot leader didn't have problems of his own. Being hunted down by humans for reasons yet unknown was bad enough- but ignoring the yearning of his Spark has slowly become problematic. Occasionally shaking his helm attempting to get you out of his processors, trying to convince himself that a 'Sparkmate' was nothing but a romancide idea that the younger bots came up with. Or is it?...

Content: Minor coarse language. Event's take part in Transformers- Age of Extinction. (Leading to major spoilers in Part 4.) Optimus x Human F/Reader. Fluff. (Reader insert.)

Sparkmate Series- Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 Part 5

"Well... on the bright side." Tessa's voice lowly spoke, while sitting upon a dusty bar. Playing with some fairy lights. "You two have finally met.."

"Where's he from?"

"I told you. He's a driver from Texas."

"Texas?" Cade scoffed at Tessa's words. "Where? Dublin, Texas? Shamrock, Texas? So why does he sound like a leprechaun?"

Shane's brows knitted together, as he leaned against the bar. "You'd get your ass kicked in Ireland for saying that."

"Well we're not in Ireland, Lucky Charms. We're in Texas." Cade's attention turned back onto Tessa. "So he drives? What's that supposed to mean? Like he drives for a living?"

"Yeah... at least he makes a living."

Tessa's words caused Cade to fall silent. His eyes flickering up to you, frowning as you tried to avoid him.

"How old are you?" Cade challenged, approaching Shane.

"Twenty."

"And my daughter is seventeen. So as far as I'm concerned, this can go two ways." Cade leaned on the other side of the bar, glaring at Shane. "One, I punch you in the mouth right here, right now. And you call the police on me."

"Dad!-"

"Or two. I just call the cops on you because this is illegal. She's a minor!"

Steady... Steady... your thoughts wandered, while trying to focus on making a 'house of cards' out of beer coasters.

"We're protected by the 'Romeo and Juliet laws'-"

"We dated for a little while." Tessa explained, cutting Shane off. "I was a sophomore, and he was a senior. It's fine."

"We've got a pre-existing juvenile foundational relationship. Statute 2705-3." Shane took out his wallet, showing Cade the small card stating the law. "We're above board."

Cade sighed, "Romeo and Juliet, huh? Do you know how they ended up?"

Just... one more coaster...

"In love-"

"Dead." Cade turned to you. "And you, Y/N?"

Shit...

An unamused expression fell across your features as the coasters came tumbling down.

"Don't look at me like that, young lady. How long have you known about this?"

Cade rubbed his temples as you silently responded with a small shrug. "Well tell me. Days? Weeks?-"

"Months."

"Months...? And you didn't think that I would of wanted to know about this?-"

"Dad. Tessa is a full grown ass adult." You groaned. "She's capable of learning from a mistake or two."

"I trusted you. Both of you-"

"To what?" Tessa butted in. "Never have fun. Take a risk. Be a normal teenager like you?"

"I am your father, okay!" Cade firmly spoke, turning his attention onto Tessa. "And I've been busting my ass to take care of you and your sister!-"

"Oh so is that why I'm busting a gut trying to juggle two jobs?" You scoffed. "And here I thought, I'm the one who took care of this family."

"Is that what you were doing when you continued working on that damn truck?" Tessa spoke to you. A frown forming upon her lips, "all you had to do was report it.-"

"You know I couldn't do that-"

"And now we're forced into hiding. And my life is over! So 'thank you', Sis. You've taken 'real good' care us-"

"None of this would of happened! If you just kept your fucking mouth shut!-"

"Don't talk to your sister like that!" Cade stepped in.

"Sure Dad. Take her side... you always do."

"Y/N-"

"Look! I get it!" you raised onto your feet. "I know I'm 'the disappointment', 'the let down'-"

"Sweetie, I've never said that-"

Your eyes wandered over your dad's disappointed expression. "You didn't had to..."

---

Sitting upon the petrol stations' roof, the gentle breeze of the cool night air felt refreshing against your skin. Soft chirping of crickets eased your headache, your eyes gazing out into the dark empty road. The sound of small grunts and sighs caught your attention, briefly gazing over your shoulder. Rolling your eyes, once seeing Tessa struggling to climb the ladder with a mug in hand.

"What do you want?" you sighed, turning your attention back onto the road ahead.

"I thought- ouch!- that you could do with a hot drink."

The sound of the metal roofing warping and creaking, under Tessa's feet suddenly felt loud. As she approached you, taking a sit upon the roof's edge, leaving a small gap between you.

"I made your favourite." She kindly spoke, handing you the hot beverage. "I couldn't make it exactly to your liking, but it's the thought that counts. Right?"

Her weak smile faded as you remained silent. Speechlessly accepting the mug from her and holding it in your hands.

"You're not a disappointment." Tessa spoke after a brief hesitation. "For if it wasn't for you, we would of lost our home ages ago."

Tessa bit her lip before continuing, "I... did tell a friend about the truck. B-But I honestly didn't think he would believe me! If I knew- I wouldn't of..."

Your side glance caused her voice to trail off into silence.

"Well... what I'm trying to say... is that I'm so sorry. I didn't mean for any of this to happen."

Sipping the hot beverage, feeling the gentle warmth fill you inside. Tessa followed your gaze, a small smile returning to her lips.

"You're worried about him. Aren't you?"

"Is it that obvious?"

"Yes." Tessa teased. "Like a lovesick girl."

You returned her smile, playfully pushing her away. "Oh shut up. You're talking nonsense, I'm just concerned about him. That's all."

"Uh-huh?" Tessa raised an eyebrow. Seeing a glimpse of you trying to hide a shy smile behind the mug.

"So... What's Dad doing?" you asked, trying to change the subject.

"Playing with some drone that he stole from the one of the guys. Dad's convinced that they would of truly killed us."

Tessa's heart sank as she watched you pull your legs close to your chest, hugging your knees a little while resting your mug against them.

"B-But that's just Dad's crazy thought." Tessa's guilt weighed on her heart a little more. Starting to wish she never said anything.

"Everything would of been fine, if only I watched what I was saying." You buried your head, resting your forehead against your knees and hiding your face. "I-If I didn't panic..."

"Shhh. Shhh." Tessa cooed, closing the gap between you. Placing her arm around your shoulders and resting her head against yours. "It's not your fault. You have a big heart, Y/N. Never be ashamed of that."

She gently pulled away, cupping your tearstained face and making you face her. "You are a rare treasure, and that Transformer better know that."

Finally smiling through your tears, Tessa rested her forehead against yours. The sound of a horn blaring in the distance broke the silence, while bright headlights burned the darkness away. You quickly raised onto your feet, causing Tessa to catch the falling mug while the hot beverage spilled onto the ground below.

You placed both hands against your chest, while gazing at the oncoming truck. Feeling it flutter with joy, as the sound of a faminular engine came to your ears.

Tessa rose onto her feet, giving you one last soft glance before leaving. A knowing smile forming upon her lips. You've got it bad...

Optimus carefully reduced his speed, as he walked out of his altmode. Trying to slow the pulsing rhythm of his spark as he approached you. Being mindful of each step he took, so it didn't appear like he was in a rush to be beside you again.

"Optimus..." your voice was low. Trying to hide the excitement within your tone.

"My deepest sympathies for your home." His soothing tone washed away the doubt and worries, that had been building up inside you. "And for leaving you so promptly. But I had to confirm we weren't followed."

You speechlessly nodded, trying to hold a relaxed expression as your eyes took in the sight of him.

Oh my...

Rust and dirt no longer coated his exterior, instead deep blue metal plates framed his chrome fisque, like pieces of armour. Your heart skipping a beat as your eyes wandered over him, taking in every detail of his broad shoulders and strong biceps.

Red flames danced across the gauntlets, but it was his torso you couldn't look away from. Your cheeks matched the warmth of Optimus' spark, as you gazed at his chest plate. Hands clutching onto your shirt, stopping the urge to reach out and run your fingertips over his toned form. Knowing that your touch wouldn't just stopped at that chromed waist of his.

"Loving the upgrade." Forcing the words out of your mouth, after swallowing your nerves.

Optimus got down on one knee, as you edged a little closer to the side of the roof. His blue optics studied you for a moment.

"You've been crying..."

Something inside him ached a little, as you temporarily turned away from him.

"It's nothing." You assured, brushing the dried tears off your cheeks. "I've just been... a little worried that's all."

"And I admittedly have been concerned about you."

That little sentence erupted butterflies in your stomach. Simply gazing up at him with wondering eyes.

How the stars sparkled in your eyes almost caused Optimus to choke on his own breath. Warmth begun to build beneath his metal plates, as his yearning spark called out for you.

His head tilted slightly as his scanners picked up something. Your body froze as he slightly hesitated before reaching out to you. Optimus' servo curled into a relaxed fist, your eyes peering down at it as he gently placed the knuckle of his index digit under your chin. While his thumb rested against your cheek.

His spark skipped a beat as a loving sigh slipped out of your mouth. Enjoying the cool touch of his metal against your soft skin.

Optimus carefully turned your head from side to side, studying your features. His scanners picking up the bruise that begun to form upon the bridge of your nose.

"That bastard hurt you." The small underlying anger within his tone caught you off guard. "I promise... I'll make him pay for what he's done to you."

"Optimus." You cooed, placing your hand on the back of his servo. Bringing it to the side of your face, resting your head against his digits.

His fans tried to push the warm air out of Optimus' vents, as the heat beneath his plates begun to build. His spark aching with a yearn he could no longer deny.

Closer... The word played on his processors. Causing him to fully kneel against the concrete ground, leaning in a little more.

Your loving eyes met the soft glow of his optics, as his servo slowly trailed down towards your waist. His thumb tracing the curves of your thighs, hips and waist.

The butterflies in your stomach tangled your nerves, your heart fluttering against your chest as a small gasp slipped from your lips. Eyes lingering over his features before closing, as you rested a hand against his chest plate.

As your heart matched the beat of Optimus' spark, syncing in harmony. A beautiful glow enveloped the pair of you, creating a warmth that made you almost forget about the world, as your lips ghosted over one another.

"Mr. Leader of the Free Galaxy is back!" an unknown mechanical voice caused you to quickly jump away from Optimus. "I knew you'd make it! I never doubted."

Crosshairs... Optimus' processors sighed. Trying to hide his disappointed expression as the leader faced his joyful Autobots. The sound of their roaring engines calming, before stepping out of their altmodes.

"We've got your warning." Drift greeted, "we've been waiting."

"Hell yeah! Boom time!" Hound cheered. "We've got the gang back together."

Drift tilted his head to the side, as his blue optics switched between you and Optimus. Smiling to himself as his processors picked up, the afterglow that slowly faded from the pair of you.

Optimus cleared his throat before speaking, "Autobots. The humans have asked us to play by their rules. Well... those rules have just changed."

"Humans, bunch of backstabbing weasels." Hound groaned, causing the ground to shake as he disarmed. Throwing heavy weaponries onto the floor.

"Hound, find your inner compass. Loyalty is nothing but a flower in the winds of fear and temptation."

Hound raised a brow at Drift's wise tone, "what the hell are you saying?"

The blue Autobot smiled, "it's a haiku-"

"Cut the crap! Before I drop a grenade down your throat."

You backed away from the edge of the roof, as Drift unsheathed his swords. "Try it" he challenged, "you'll be dead."

"Oh please do it." Hound taunted. "I wanna see you do it."

"You know what?" Bumblebee's radio buzzed, "it save us so much time."

Optimus gave you an unimpressed expression, as you gazed up at him, raising an eyebrow. A small chuckle left you as he speechlessly gestured to his Autobots. As to say, 'look what I have to put up with.'

"Well raise your hand, if you're thoroughly disenchanted with our little 'Earth vacation.'" Crosshairs spoke, while circling the petrol station. His green optics studying you, "so who's the spy?"

"Whoa! Whoa! Put those things away!" you yelped as Hound and Crosshairs immediately withdraw their guns, and pointing them at you.

"Stop, Hound! Both of you!" Optimus commanded, stepping in front of the building.

Both Autobots gave their leader a puzzled expression, as he continued. "Y/N, risked her life for mine. We owe her..."

Drift gave Bumblebee a playful nudge, discreetly pointing at you and Optimus. While Hound and Crosshairs briefly looked at one another, and turning their attention back onto their leader. Watching him stepping aside, and silently encouraging you to return to the roof's edge.

"Has there been... any sign of the others?" Optimus asked.

"No..." Hound sighed, withdrawing his weapon and settling himself upon the ground. "We're all that's left."

"They're picking us off, one by one!" Crosshairs explained.

"We're the pathetic, dirty foursome." Hound joked, "and you make five."

"Is this our best-case scenario?" Shane's teasing voice questioned you. Your eyes gazed at him, watching the Irishman climb onto the roof. "Autobot witness protection?"

"Hey Lucky Charms." you spoke, placing a hand upon your hips. "You're welcome to leave at anytime."

"Well, for the record, Super Sister. I'm not hiding with you." Shane gestured towards Optimus, "I'm hiding out with that big guy."

Tessa and Cade followed Shane's lead, as the three of them approached your side. All looking at the Autobots and they chatted among themselves.

"Sensei, with your fate unknown Bumblebee has held command." Drift's optics gazed at the yellow scout.

Bee fist bumped the air, while Drift rolled his optics. "Despite his complete and total lack of anything resembling warrior discipline."

An annoyed whirl weeze out of Bumblebee, as his optics narrowed on his comrade.

"He's like a child-"

"This 'child' is about to kick your ass!" Bee's radio buzzed. Landing the first hit against Drift's helm.

"Cage fight." Hound whispered to you, slightly leaning against the petrol stations' roof.

"What's the matter with them?" Tessa lowly asked, reaching out for your hand.

"They're on edge." You briefly explained, allowing her hand to slip into yours. "Who could blame them? They're being hunted."

"Am I the only one who sees through this puppy-dog act of yours?" Drift taunted Bee, while holding him in a headlock. "It's beneath you."

"Yes, I've been waiting for them all to dispatch each other." Crosshairs cheered. His servos gently clapping, "so I could take charge with no trouble at all. Just me. Reporting to me."

"Well, it sure looks like you've been missed." You said to Optimus.

"Autobots, humans are hunting us down. We need to know why."

"Listen..." Cade spoke, stepping towards Optimus. "I don't know why, but I might have an idea about who..."

---

"This drone I stole recorded footage of an Autobot raid." Cade explained.

You placed an affectionate hand upon Optimus' knee, as he sat cross-legged upon the floor. His servo clenching into a fist, as the dragonfly-like drone projected the video footage.

"It's in pieces, but watch what happens here." Cade pointed out, "they ripping them apart."

"That's Leadfoot." Hound spoke, as he placed a part of his helm over his spark. Feeling the saddened energy sink within his chest plates. "Savages."

"And later, this truck comes to haul him off to K.S.I. Kinetic Solutions." Cade continued. "They're creating defenses, aerospace, government contracts. They designed this drone."

"So these government guys are hunting you down, and then passing you of to this K.S.I?" Shane questioned.

"Do you know anything else?" Optimus asked.

"Only that their company headquarters is in Chicago." Cade spoke.

Perhaps... There's a chance of the Autobots being taken there. You thought.

"No way to get inside without a battle." Hound thought out loud.

"What if you had some human help?" everyone looked at you.

"Sweetie, no." Cade protested. "Besides, what are you two partners now?"

"Dad, we're targets now too." You spoke, feeling his worried stare on you. "We need to know why, or we'll never get our lives back."

"Y/N. You have done more than any of us could've asked for." Optimus kindly spoke. "I do not-"

"I'm coming." You gently argued. Seeing Tessa's encouraging smile from the corner of your eye.

"It's going to be dangerous." Drift warned, as he lend towards you.

The blue Autobot stiffed as you placed a comforting hand upon his knee. Giving him a warm smile, "you're important Optimus. Therefore, you're important to me.

A suttle warmth radiated from underneath Drift's metal plates.

"Autobots." Optimus spoke, as he raised onto his feet. "I have sworn to never kill humans."

"Big mistake." Hound mumbled

"But when I find out who's behind this. He's going to die..."

Tag List

@ursamajor17

@crowleysthings

[shenenenigans]

There’s no flower in this world more beautiful than an artificial one. That’s because everything is manufactured by lies.

@4listr @aakaneeee @bluemoonscape @rockwgooglyeyes @apriciticreveries @pwippy @nottoonedin @starry-skiez @paradisedisconcert

CW: sirius talks about the abuse they’ve suffered with guardian noct. this includes SA, and it’s a little bit graphic. but also be warned it’s very uncomfortable because it’s done by noct, who has tentacles for limbs. there is also the normal content warnings with sirius, like experimentation and murder.

NOTE: sirius might contradict himself. that’s on purpose. sirius might lie. that’s on purpose. also, this text won’t be entirely in pink. it’s a lot longer than my other like “character thoughts” posts to be fully pink, and i don’t want to hurt anyone’s eyes... and i barely edited this bare with me please

Getting branded was very painful. I believe this was done on purpose, though I’m not sure of the reason why. I hadn’t done anything wrong. Noct only makes me suffer as a punishment, so I don’t know why he had done this.

Sometimes, when I visit Noct, he’s not in a very good mood. I do try to make our flowers live for as long as possible, but sometimes a few have to die so our materials don’t get wasted. I don’t quite get why wilting flowers directly relates to Noct wanting to hurt me, but I’ve learned not to question him because it only leads to worse punishment.

I remember once, as a child, I accidentally broke one of our preservation tanks. I tripped over a pen Hanno had dropped on the ground, and I fell into the tank. Noct was so angry with me. I can clearly picture slimy tentacles lifting my body off the ground and the jarring electric shock that came shortly after. No matter how hard I tried to wriggle out of his grip, nothing worked. Noct was too strong for me to escape. It disgusted me to feel Noct touching me all over, the wet consistency of his limbs only reaching lower and lower. He even covered my mouth so I couldn’t scream.

That was the first time that Noct had been so infuriated at me that he assaulted me.

I read in a book that when humans ruled the Earth, such assaults were illegal and frowned upon in society. I don’t understand why Noct seems to think this is a normal, suitable punishment for a pet.

It was like I couldn’t wash the filth off my body no matter how hard I tried. I would shower multiple times a day, scrubbing so hard it felt like my skin was burning. And nothing would work. Nothing would ever work. I tried to like everything was normal so he wouldn’t do it again. I didn’t want him to do it again. But it happened, it always happened, and I wasn’t sure how to prevent it.

I’m sure that Noct enjoys seeing me in pain. Or rather, humans in pain. I suppose that’s why he chose to have my brand be on my spine. But he only puts me through pain to punish me, so why not put my brand on a spot that would give me less torment? I didn’t have any anesthetics either. I don’t get it. I really don’t. I didn’t need to be punished. I had been good, so why did he feel the need to torture me in such a way?

I think Noct was beginning to just have fun with me at that point. When he visited shortly after my branding procedure was done, he threw me against the wall and… Well, I’m sure that he had his reasons for it, but it felt so unnecessary. I didn’t attend my classes the next day.

Noct tells me he loves me. He tells me he loves me and he treats me like a doll meant to be cast away. He treats me like a toy. He says I’m his most prized possession, but if being prized means being abused, I don’t want it. I don’t want to be loved, I don’t want to be known, I don’t want to be seen. I wish I were invisible, I wish nobody would look at me ever again. I wish I could be clean, I wish I felt real, I wish to be hated so I never have to be loved again.

I don’t understand the concept of love. If love is sweet, why does it hurt me? Love is a selfish concept made for those in power to look down on the weak. Love is a game that damages the soul.

I despise love. I wish it despised me in return.

I tried to kill love. Multiple times, in fact. My brother Hanno showed me love, and I killed him for it. He used to yell at me through my door, telling me he was going to kill me. He told me that horrible things day after day, but he also used to tell me how my creations were beautiful. I don’t get it. I don’t understand him. One day, he told me I was like a sibling to him. He said he loved me.

He died not long afterward. It was his fault, truly.

Chiara showed me love, I killed her too. I knew I’d never be her first priority. She was only using me for pretty flowers and good food Guardian Kora would never give her. There’s no possible way she really enjoyed my company. I knew this, so I used her as an experiment and told her terrible things as she was dying.

Vera was the first to show me love. In my early years, she acted like a mother. She cared for me, even if I was just some forgettable piece of garbage. She would talk about her love, Ellie, that she killed in the Alien Stage competition. She talked about Ellie’s love for life and love for plants, and she only ever said positive things about Ellie. It never made sense to me why she simply went through with her guardian’s plans to kill her. If her love really was that strong, it would’ve been pure enough to disobey her guardian’s wishes. It would’ve been pure enough to allow Vera to run away with Ellie.

I killed her because she was a fucking liar. Vera loved Ellie, but she killed her. She told me she would never do that to me. She’d never hurt me or abandon me. Lies, all of them, lies. I had already been hurt, I had already been abandoned, so it would be remarkably easy to do it again. She lied to me. I could see it in her eyes, she lied to me. She was planning to hurt me, I just know it.

I am jealous of those with pure love in their hearts. I am jealous of those who share a love with no pain, no suffering, no power imbalance, and no heartache. So, when I see Numa and Xael together, of course I’m bitter.

I worked on Numa before. I remember getting him to trust me, and I eventually convinced him to let me operate on him so I could tamper with his tastebuds. I am the reason he can no longer taste anything but human meat. And yet, he’s still thriving. He’s still caring, and bright. He brought joy to Xael’s life that I have never had in mine. He’s not suffering, not in the slightest.

He treats Xael so kindly, so gently. Numa cradles Xael in his arms at night. He’s so soft and slow when they’re intimate. He cares so much, it’s not overpowering. He isn’t abusive. He doesn’t hold power over Xael.

I wish, just once, someone would direct their kindness to me. True, unconditional kindness. Giving me gifts isn’t true kindness. Telling me I’m smart isn’t true kindness. I need someone to read my soul, to see me for who I am, without wanting to change me or fix me. I don’t want roughness, I don’t want pain, I don’t want torment.

I just want to be perceived.

[tensionpoints]

Anyway, let’s ask questions & make note of things!

(It's a strange letter. It's more or less completely illegible…)

“Strange letter” there’s various ways to interpret this— is it strange for a vday card? Or strange for other reasons? It’s very long, for certain. and it disappears! Why else could this be ‘strange?’

“Completely illegible” is this bad handwriting, or is this wingdings? Or a secret 3rd thing?

(But, if you squint your eyes, and, you squint your heart… For some reason, you feel you could understand it)

“Squinting your eyes and heart” is a very strange sentiment, and I feel it’s too easily brushed over. Heart, obviously could refer to the SOUL, but what gets me the most about this is the grammatical structure of the sentence.

1. “But,” starting a sentence with a coordinating conjunction is, for the most part, frowned upon. Why separarte this from the first sentence, starting another?

2. “But, if you squint your eyes, and, you squint your heart… For some reason, you feel you could understand it” let’s start by sorting this into clauses.

“But, [if you squint your eyes], and, [you squint your heart…] For some reason, [you feel] [you could understand it]”

Time for some questions! Why put a comma after “and?” I could be misremembering, but a comma AFTER “and” is very awkward-sounding.

Also. It’s inconsistent? Why write it as “But, if you squint your eyes, and, you squint your heart…“ when it would be more consistent to have “But, if you squint your eyes, and if you squint your heart…” or “But, if you squint your eyes and (your) heart…” why repeat the verb? how many “you”s is the sender talking about?

3. Squinting your eyes is common to try to read illegible text, as you focus more on the finer details. What could squinting a HEART do? what would squinting a heart be LIKE.?

All in all for this section, the narration feels different to me than the usual narration in UTDR, but I can’t quite place why.

WELL,

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

OR, WAS IT THE OLD YEAR.

1. First impression I’m getting here is “does this person experience time linearly?”

2. Second thing I’m noticing: a question ending with a period rather than a question mark.

3. Thirdly, the sender seems, at best, unaware, or, at worse, confused.

WELL,

IN ANY CASE, HOW IS DELTA RUNE?

1. Why are you asking US, sender?

2. What is MEANT by “delta rune?” the game? The symbol? What are we talking about?

AS YOU ARE WAITING

PATIENTLY, THE TIME IS GOING AROUND.

THERE WAS EVEN A RUMOR OF "VALENTINE'S DAY".

HOW ABSURD.

EVERY DAY IS A DAY OF LOVE,

IF ONLY YOU BELIEVE IT SO.

DO YOU BELIEVE IT SO?

…

1. What are we waiting for? The next release, or something else?

2. “The time is going around” feels like it’s worded this way deliberately. What does this mean?

3. “There was even a rumor of “valentine’s day” is this world building? There are lightners AND darkners with valentines. Why does this idea sound foreign to the sender to the point that the day is a “rumor?” Where are you from, sender?

4. “How absurd. Every day is a day of love, if only you believe it so. Do you believe it so?” What do we mean by “love?”

SO, THE PURPOSE OF THE MESSAGE.

I WANT TO HELP!

YES, THERE WAS SOMEONE I WANTED TO HELP

…

1. Given the last section, this creates an interesting vibe imo? This is a letter of “I want to contribute” and not “be mine 💘” which makes this feel even MORE out of place. Are you supposed to be here???

I SEEM TO HAVE FORGOTTEN WHO..

YES, IT'S QUITE IRONIC, BUT I SEEM TO HAVE FORGOTTEN.

WAS IT MYSELF? NO.

WELL, PERHAPS.

1. What, exactly, makes this ironic? In general for deltarune, or is there something about you that makes this something very odd?

2. “Was it myself? No. Well, perhaps.” What is a self, sender? How could it be that “no” and “perhaps” are both answers that are viable?

REGARDLESS, WHEN I SEE THEM, I'M CERTAIN I WILL KNOW IT STRAIGHT AWAY.

I NEVER FORGET SOMEONE I DON'T REMEMBER.

WILL YOU HELP ME?

…

…

1. “I’m certain I will know” will this be true for us as well? Are you a new character, or are you a character we’ve seen before?

2. “I never forget someone I don’t remember” also feels VERY deliberately worded. Something about this line is important, I think.

3. What do you need help with? I thought you were helping someone else?

4. The two lines of “…” next to each other strike me as odd. What does this mean?

YOU ARE VERY ODD, RESPONDING OUT LOUD TO A LETTER.

BUT, YOU SEEM RELIABLE.

I WILL BE COUNTING ON YOU.

1. This gives more of an in-game vibe than the rest of the letter, acting as though we have turned this into a dialogue.

2. What makes us reliable?

3. Counting on us for WHAT?

4. I feel like there’s some kind of joke lying in wait here over “letter” juxtaposed with “counting”

NOW, PUT ON YOUR COAT AND WASH YOUR FACE!

OR, PUT ON YOUR FACE AND WASH YOUR COAT.

NOT NECESSARILY IN THAT ORDER.

OR, IN ANY ORDER AT ALL.

1. This general section really has me curious as to who the sender is. After all, this is a very strange manner of speaking here. Love the silliness. Very unsure of what this means on a larger scale.

2. Why are we being told to do this?

GOOD BY!

1. I’ve seen SOOOOOO many people mention the spelling here. Curious if it means anything, or if it genuinely is just a mistake.

(There was a sound like something walking away

And, the letter was gone.)

1. Again, the narration seems odd with the grammar here?

2. This is SO funny when we consider this letter was replaced with a blank. Toby why did you do this it’s hilarious.

3. I wonder if inanimate object (letter) with legs and the cup Toby asked us to look at are connected.

Verdict: probably Not gaster, but Deffo suspicious. Cant count anything out yet imo.

[raccoon-eyed-rebel]

Part 12

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Part 11 🟣 Part 13

A reverse harem vampire AU ft. Mikey, Marshall, August and Sherlock

Series summary: Somehow, you've managed to live with your boyfriend and his roommates for months before finding out they're vampires, but the real shock first comes when they find out you have a special quality. A quality the guys would love to make use of...

Warnings: Ongoing vampire shenanigans, mentions of blood, biting. Some interesting negotiations, and some unwarranted anger because of a jellybean budget...

Word count: 2.8k

A/N: There we go... A moment we've been waiting for... NO, not that moment (y'know... the moment where this finally becomes the RH I promised everyone...) Oh well, we're going for that slow burn I gues... It's a shorter one today. The vampy boys haven't been talking much...

@geralts-yenn @deandoesthingstome @summersong69 @teamfan7asy @mis-lil-red @ellethespaceunicorn @sillyrabbit81 @peyton-warren @livisss @itsrubberbisquit

“So,” you said, looking at the four guys in front of you, dragging out that one syllable until you started to feel ridiculous. You were all gathered in the kitchen, sitting around the table, and the boys definitely seemed more at ease than you were. After a few moments, a sense of calm washed over you without any good reason, and you looked at August, who nodded and smiled. It was his doing.

“I’ll have to stop doing this when we start,” he said, “we can’t have you influenced in any way – especially not this one. Sorry, princess.” When you first moved into the apartment, you had found August’s nickname for you extremely derisive. Now, you found yourself more or less offended when he used your name instead of calling you ‘princess’. Luckily, he almost never did.

“Alright,” Sherlock said, and with that, the nice feeling August had been spreading through the room disappeared, and was replaced by the tension you’d felt before. “Let’s get the formalities over efficiently and in an orderly fashion, so we know what to expect and-“

“Who died and made you king?” August sneered all of a sudden. It wasn’t necessarily hostility you heard in his voice, but it sure as hell wasn’t far off.

“I’m going to pull rank based on the fact that I’m five centuries older than you and could take you down before you’d even realize I had moved,” Sherlock deadpanned, before looking at the others, skipping you. “Any further questions before we begin?” Mike and Marshall just shook their heads.

You smiled at Sherlock, silently thanking him for taking the lead and nipping any out of line behavior in the bud like this. It was a good thing you were paying close attention to his reaction, because you might have missed the brief smile and wink otherwise.

“Very well,” he continued, “as some of us – and I mean me – have to communicate the details of the arrangement to be negotiated with their employers, I would very much like whatever is agreed upon today in writing. Is there anyone who objects to that?” The guys shook their heads, but you were still processing what he’d said.

“What do you mean you have to let your employers know?” you asked.

“You are a student attending the university where I currently teach,” Sherlock explained. “These engagements are not illegal, or even frowned upon, don’t worry. They would just like to know. I expect no problems, especially since the classes I teach are not a part of your major an-”

“But suppose I wanted to take one of your classes,” you interrupted. Sherlock looked at you for a moment. Something in his eyes caused your thoughts to take a whole new direction. What if your relationship took a certain… turn? Marshall must have heard that thought, because he almost choked on his coffee, leaving Mike and August to wonder what was going on in your head. You were glad they were probably not going to find out about that.

“A fair question,” he said after contemplating his answer for a bit. “If the past is any indication, I will have no trouble finding employment elsewhere. Over just the past three months I have had several universities offer me a position with them.”

“You would change jobs to be a part of… this?” you asked full of disbelief. When Sherlock nodded resolutely in reply to your question, stating bluntly that you still underestimated the value of ‘this’. You just shook your head and stared ahead of you for a bit while Sherlock took care of the basic administrative mumbo-jumbo such as names and dates.

“Our request is to be allowed to feed at least once every two weeks, while still allowing flexibility in scheduling. A sidenote being that minimal overlap – especially during the first period – is advisable. Can we all agree to that?” Sherlock said. The boys all nodded, and you followed their lead. So far, there was nothing new.

“I feel like Mike might get a little something extra, do we need to talk about that?” August asked. His voice was curious rather than accusatory, but there was a slight hint of teasing to the remark that made you blush. The faint arrogant grin on Mike’s face disappeared as soon as you thought about how much you wanted to wipe it off his stupid, smug face.

“As long as any privileges provided in private settings are within the confines of our basic parameters, I feel no need to discuss these matters,” Sherlock said plainly, and Marshall quickly agreed.

“A more important order of business, I would rule,” Sherlock continued, “would be the agreement that feeding is not to be withheld by means of punishment or as a result of a disagreement. If there is ever an argument so grave that differences can’t be set aside for the duration of the feeding, I suggest we take a vote to determine the course of action.”

“Hold on… what?” you asked.

“Easy, princess, this is a contingency,” August answered a little too quickly – and a tiny bit too condescendingly in tone.

“I need some help understanding this, August,” you snapped. Marshall put a hand on your arm and squeezed lightly to comfort you. It didn’t work.

“Allow me,” he said quickly, before August could open his mouth again. “Maybe we’ve been a little preoccupied with the benefits this agreement provides us with, and not transparent enough about the responsibilities that come with it. Later, when we’re discussing payment, this may make a little more sense. Because while we will absolutely pay good money for convenience and comfort, the compensation will also reflect the responsibility you will have towards us. The easiest way of putting this would be as follows: You will be our primary source of sustinence.”

“To deny feeding because of an argument,” Sherlock added calmly, “would not only be cruel, but potentially dangerous. In most cases, the chemical processes will prevent us from saying something so monumentally stupid that it comes to this, but it never hurts to cover ones bases.”

For the first time since the guys had suggested this agreement, you really realized it would be more than ‘just’ having four vampires bite you on occasion. You cursed yourself for never for a second thinking about the fact that you would become a key player – or practically the only player – in keeping them alive. That said, there wasn’t a doubt in your mind that this was something you wanted to do. At the risk of sounding dramatic: it felt like something you were supposed to do. Something you were made to do.

“In a way, you are made for this,” Marshall said quietly. Would you ever get used to how right he was about that? You looked up when Sherlock cleared his throat. He seemed very eager to get things settled as quickly as humanly – or vampirily? – possible.

“Furthermore, if there are no objections so far,” he said, “we would like at least two weeks notice of substantial disruptions in the aforementioned schedule, so that we may make other arrangements if necessary. We will grant you the same courtesy, of course.”

“Can I get an example of that?”

“The most common thing would be a vacation,” August said. “Of course, if anything were to happen unexpectedly, we would sort things out, but emergency feeding at the Bank is expensive, so we’d like to prevent having to use it.”

“So, the same thing I’d have to do if I took a job at the grocery store,” you joked.

“Yes,” Marshall said, “with the added difficulty that if one of us leaves on a longer trip, we’ll have to try to anticipate that. It’s probably worth telling you that we don’t leave all that often. Sherlock is the only one who sometimes leaves for longer periods of time.”

“And if circumstances allow it, I think I might opt for teleportation instead of whatever alternative.” Sherlock’s gentle smile was heartwarming, as always, but something about what he said made you feel a strange sense of pride. Suddenly, a question popped up in your mind.

“Does anyone else feel it’s really unfair how cool that gift is? And why do you get two?” you asked, making the others laugh.

“I’m nearly a milennium old, darling,” Sherlock answered, as if that was a real explanation. “Do you mind if we circle back to that after this is done?”

As far as the guys were concerned, that concluded the extent of their demands, which meant it was time to hear what they had to offer you. There had been so many moments where you had thought about what life would be like if you were to go through with this. Now that you finally were, you realised you hadn’t given as much thought – or any thought at all – to what you would get out of the arrangement. Not that it mattered. Nothing you could have possibly come up with could hold a candle to what they were offering you…

“I think she zoned out after ‘no rent’,” August said. He was very much entirely, totally, completely right. Because what? No rent? And there was more?

“Sweetcheeks, split between us, that’s a hundred bucks every month. My jellybean budget is higher than that,” Mike said. He wasn’t kidding – he really did have a jellybean budget. You knew that. What you’d never been told, however, was how exorbitantly high that budget really was…

“Besides, it’s less than what we’ll be saving just by not having to go to the Bank anymore,” August added. That seemed to make sense… But it was still a lot more than you had ever thought you’d get out of this. “And then there’s whatever we won’t be spending on extra groceries to keep us from having to go back to feed earlier than planned. I will somewhat reluctantly refer back to the jellybean budget here.”

“What’s wrong wi-” Mike started, but he wasn’t given a chance to finish, because August interrupted him.

“You’re a grown man, you can eat normal things instead of pounds of jellybeans!” This was clearly not the first time this subject had been breached: Marshall and Sherlock sighed, Mike frowned, and August was just slightly too worked up about this to have it be a new argument.

“And now that I won’t need crazy amounts of sugar to keep my brain running during finals week, I might!” Mike said – alright, yelled. August looked at him in disbelief as Mike continued: “We probably also won’t have to keep ten pounds of gnocchi in the pantry in case you timed something wrong.”

“Jellybean-feud aside,” Sherlock chuckled, “they’re not wrong. This arrangement will free up enough space in our budgets to easily accommodate your part of the rent and utilities, and groceries – which is the second part of our offer.”

“Say it,” Mike said next to you, having caught on to your desire to ask for something else. “We’re negotiating, right? So: negotiate.”

“I think I’d feel uncomfortable getting things that don’t feel necessary if it came out of your pockets,” you admitted.

“Would you feel more at ease with a fixed budget to spend however you see fit?” Sherlock really wasn’t kidding when he said he wanted to get the formalities over with as quickly as possible. The number they came up with was high enough to make you choke on your tea, and despite your complaints, the guys refused to agree to something you considered more sensible.

“Whatever you don’t spend, you can save,” August said. “Or you can find another way to spend it.”

“Buy me some jellybeans,” Mike suggested – probably just to get a rise out of August.

“You won’t need as many jellybeans,” you reminded him. He just shrugged.

“I know,” he sighed, “I’m going to miss them…”

There was one more thing that needed negotiating, as far as you were concerned. Well… Negotiating… There was one thing you needed to call Mike out on, and it was something you wanted the other guys to promise they wouldn’t do to you. Only now that you’d so bravely spoken up about having something to discuss, and the four of them were looking at you, patiently waiting for you to come out with it… you weren’t feeling it.

“Eh…” And then you remembered the unwelcome surprise you had been met with in the bathroom mirror that morning. “Sherlock, are these going to go away?” You turned your head and pointed at your neck, but Sherlock was already next to you.

“I’m afraid not,” he said as he looked at the bite marks Mike had left on you the night before. “These will definitely scar. They’ll barely be visible, though.”

“That’s what I was afraid of,” you said, “August, can you punch Mike for me, please?”

“I’ll do you one better, princess,” August said with a suspicious wink. Before his smug grin had even spread out all the way, Mike cried out in agony.

“That’ll do it, August, thank you,” you said, and the pain seemed to stop immediately. “Neat trick.”

“Please don’t use me as a torture device every time he does something stupid,” August said with a nod towards Mike. You promised him you wouldn’t before you continued your ‘demand’.

“None of this bullshit,” you said sternly, “seriously.”

“No marks, got it,” Marshall said. The others didn’t seem to have much of a problem agreeing to it, either.

“I’m sorry,” Mike mumbled, a look of horrible guilt on his face that made you feel sad for him – which was something you didn’t necessarily want right now. “I got a little jealous. Won’t happen again.”

All in all, you settled everything quickly, which seemed to make Sherlock very happy. He joined you in the living room after taking care of the administrative end of things.

“I guess you’re up first,” you mentioned offhandedly as he sat next to you on the couch with a book. It was one of your favorites, you noticed, and you smiled.

“I suppose,” Sherlock answered, “but I’m in no hurry. I have a few days before I truly require your services.”

“Okay, now that makes me sound like a prostitute,” you laughed. “I’d rather you didn’t wait that long, if that’s alright with you.”

“Certainly,” Sherlock said as he put the book on the armrest of the couch and moved to sit on the floor as he had the last time. “And afterwards, I believe I owe you an answer to your question about my gifts.”

“So,” you said as Sherlock joined you on the couch again. Before you could stop yourself, you were next to him, with a blanket, and leaning into his side. When he put his arm around your shoulders, you sighed contently. This was nice.

“Curious as ever,” Sherlock mused before shifting in his seat and pulling you even closer. “First of all: I’m not the only one in this house with two gifts. August has two, and I’m fairly sure Marshall is well on his way to developing his. Mike will have to wait a few more centuries.”

“What do you mean August has two? Why don’t I know about the second one?” you were a little offended that he’d only shared one with you.

“Oh, but you do know. He gave you quite the demonstration earlier,” Sherlock replied. That didn’t make things the least bit clearer… “To be able to feel the emotions of others is one thing. To influence them – the way he just did to Mike, for instance – is something else entirely. Both gifts are rather closely connected, which means it’s understandable to see them as one and the same, but I can assure you they’re not.”

“And what about Marshall?”

“You’ll have to ask him. He asked me some questions a while ago… Come to think of it, that was over a decade ago, perhaps I should ask…” You were fairly sure you would never understand how anyone could think of ‘a decade’ as ‘a while’, but you supposed it was something that just happened when you had spent nearly nine centuries on this planet. “As a general rule, we develop a mental gift first, and a physical one later. August occupies a bit of a grey area there. I very decidedly do not.” You nodded, but you didn’t say anything.

After a while, another question popped into your head: “Why did the bite on my… neck… not heal?” You already knew you’d hesitated far too obviously for Sherlock to have missed the subtle wavering of your voice. His low chuckle confirmed your suspicions. When you tried to hide your face, he caught your hand with his, and pulled you closer to him.

“It’s alright to be upset with him, darling,” he said softly, “but there’s no need to be ashamed.”

“Besides, it’s not like anyone but Mike will ever see it, right?” you joked. The pensive chuckle Sherlock let slip in reply, however… You didn’t care for it.

[not-poignant]

Hi Pia!

I was rereading the first Ice Plague story the other say and got to the bit where Eran pimps out Mosk (oof) and has that horrible encounter with that one fae that forces him to watch.

Was that fae one of the ones that fed on sexual violence/rape? He seemed to get a lot out of violating Eran at the same time as Mosk.

Also in the fae realm I take it that there's less safety net / social or cultural morality around sexually exploiting someone for money? Most of the fae that came across Eren and Mosk seemed to realise that Mosk wasn't a willing participant but they didn't seem to care or mind much. And this was in public establishments.

And yeah I know this sort of stuff happens in the human realm too but it seems more acceptable in the fae realm?

Like... most human hotels have policies in place that require staff to call the authorities if they witness anything untoward because raoe and sexual exploitation in the human realm is mostly illegal. But that doesn't seem to be the case in the fae realm? Like there's no police force or social safety net or a fae equivalent to human rights organisations or shelters.

I suppose Ash would consider the human realm superior to the fae realm in that regard right? I think I remember him stating that the human realm was better morally because abusing kids was illegal in most places and also that education in the human realm was better because is was more accessible and less based on class ect. Unless I'm misremembering .

Sorry for the wall of text lol. I'm just really curious and have a lot of questions. Thanks for taking the time to read/answer

Was that fae one of the ones that fed on sexual violence/rape? He seemed to get a lot out of violating Eran at the same time as Mosk.

He was!

Also in the fae realm I take it that there's less safety net / social or cultural morality around sexually exploiting someone for money?

Generally speaking, it just depends. Among most fae, there's less legal protections. Like, there's no one Eran could go to, in order to report what happened. There's no one Mosk could go to either. But if they were in a city of common fae, there might be police-style force of people they could go to.

But you couldn't, say, go to the Unseelie King and be like 'I was raped by this fae' because the response is going to be 'that fae needs to rape to survive, but if they're doing it for any other reason, let me know.'

It's a world that simultaneously understands these things really suck to experience, but in many cases (with the exception of child sexual assault) treats them like many other things that suck to experience. It doesn't make them easier to deal with, but it does give many a different perspective.

Most of the fae that came across Eren and Mosk seemed to realise that Mosk wasn't a willing participant but they didn't seem to care or mind much. And this was in public establishments.

And yeah I know this sort of stuff happens in the human realm too but it seems more acceptable in the fae realm?

It is, especially in certain cities, or in desperate times (it was definitely desperate times during The Ice Plague). It mostly depends on who runs the bar/pub/establishment, honestly. Some will allow that stuff, some won't. Some will kill you for it without blinking.

I suppose Ash would consider the human realm superior to the fae realm in that regard right?

He maybe thought that way once, but I don't think he does anymore. Like, we can see in The Nascent Diplomat that almost all fae (including Augus and the Raven Prince) have extremely strong and visceral reactions to child sexual abuse. It's clearly very frowned upon and if anything, more decisive action is taken in the fae realm than in the human realm (where most child rapists never get sentenced or see any consequences for their actions - Oxcillian was killed without a trial lol).

Something being illegal doesn't actually mean the people committing the act are seeing consequences for that act in any consistent or meaningful way.

Stertes attempted to rape Eran, and Mosk murdered him. It really just depends on the fae that are around at the time.

I would say the system is uglier in some ways, and cleaner in others. It highlights the power differential and class structures in a more stark way, but our human world has those too, and they're often more hidden, insidious, and sometimes even more damaging.

I find that really interesting to think about. I don't think Ash thinks the human realm is better anymore.

[kanansdume]

Thornidala AU

Thorn is assigned to watch over Padme after some sort of attack on the Senate/Coruscant or assassination attempt on Padme happens. They're actually in a rotating schedule, so Thorn is not the ONLY person assigned to watch over Padme as a bodyguard and generally they aren't assigning Commanders to this, but the trooper who was supposed to go on shift that day ended up hurt or something and Thorn maybe is on some sort of light duty leave after an injury and so jumps at the chance to volunteer (probably not entirely going along with medic's orders by doing so lbh) and so spends a day with Padme at the senate building playing bodyguard.

Padme's pretty busy, so while she's professionally friendly when she sees him and does recognize his rank as a Commander and asks how she managed to rate a higher ranked officer out of the blue, she's not paying Thorn a whole lot of attention and is just doing her job.

Until Anakin shows up in her office and Thorn really isn't SUPPOSED to leave the office, that's... part of the gig here and Padme actually asks Thorn to stay because she's super busy and she's trying to ask Anakin to leave and it goes badly and they end up in an argument and for a hot minute there, Thorn's worried he may have to step in and make Anakin leave. Anakin doesn't really raise his voice, but he does go from manipulative (think like the Senate Hostage episode) to more quietly demanding (kinda like in ROTS when Padme tries to insist that Palpatine's not the mensch Anakin thinks he is) and Padme is... folding. It's REALLY not Thorn's place, but if Padme's heading in that direction he'd rather not be in here when it does, so he just sort-of quietly asks if she needs him to leave, and the reminder that Thorn's been there this whole time sort-of brings Padme back to herself and she insists that Anakin leave this time.

Once he finally does, she turns to Thorn and says something to the effect of "I'm sorry you had to see that, he's not normally like that, it's just this war..." and nothing happens that explicitly makes a MARRIAGE clear to Thorn, so he has nothing to really keep secret aside from the fact that she's not making the relationship public, but she's not doing anything entirely wrong. Not recommended, frowned upon, perhaps, but not illegal. Thorn just responds with "I completely understand, Senator, this war affects us all."

Thorn's very accepting response to his accidental viewing of something Padme's sort-of embarrassed about means that any time she has to bring a squad of troopers with her on a trip or needs a trooper to accompany her somewhere, she inquires if Thorn is busy. Sometimes he is, but more than once he's available to accompany her and while he never views anything that intensely personal again, Padme knows he's trustworthy and professional.

After the Clone War ends and Palpatine removed from power and the clones released from service and granted citizenship in the Republic, things aren't going well for Anakin and Padme's marriage. They kept it a secret as long as they could, but since Anakin can spend so much more time around and with Padme now, and Padme is still swamped with work having to fix up the Senate and work out treaties with Separatists and Neutral Systems and re-work relationships with the Corporate Alliance etc etc she hardly has time for her marriage. Anakin is resentful of how little time Padme has for him and Padme starts to get frustrated at this resentment.

Things devolve until Padme just leaves for Naboo and tells Anakin not to follow her, and she goes to visit her family. Anakin is seething and basically about to explode, similar to the Clovis 2.0 arc, but maybe he does something like snap at an initiate/padawan or something and one of the Masters forces him to sit down and talk about it, because that's a line you don't cross and if you cross it, it's time to sit down and figure out how to get back in balance. Anakin doesn't really want to talk, so he effectively gets grounded until he does.

Padme goes to visit her family and is rattled enough by the way her relationship has gone that she's more inclined to lean on her family for support and listen to them when they express worry for her and just... lets it all out. Everything she's gone through, every fear she's kept bottled since the Trade Federation occupation over a decade ago, the secret marriage, the war. Her family helps her work through it and she eventually decides to end things with Anakin.

Whether this means basically serving him divorce papers or just sending him a message saying it's over, this causes Anakin to implode. He's angry, he's furious, he wants to just chase Padme down and make her see sense, but he's grounded and can't go anywhere and the Jedi won't UNDERSTAND and eventually he just kinda... starts screaming at the Jedi, starts letting it all out because it has to go SOMEWHERE and it may as well be at the Jedi who made the problem in the first place. And shit comes out that make the Jedi aware that Anakin's broken some vows and once Anakin kind-of lets it all out, he just... keeps going maybe. He gets it into his head that somehow he can get back what he's lost, if he just... proves himself better he can get Padme back and if he can appease the Jedi he'll stay a Jedi and somehow he can STILL HAVE BOTH so long as he just does as the Jedi say, so he goes along with it.

They end up sending him to Tatooine after a while with a chaperone on a sabbatical and to make amends for the massacre of the Tuskens. He stays with Beru and Owen or just meets up with them and spends time with them and they consider him Family obviously and treat him as such and while he doesn't have good memories of Tatooine, he does like the way it feels to spend time with Beru and Owen, who give him the kind of familial commitment he's so wanted, who feel so familiar to what he had with Shmi. Not QUITE the same because they're not focused on him above all else, but... similar. Family is the Most Important Thing in Tatooine, and as a member of their Family, he is Important. And, eventually, he starts to actually heal and gain some self-awareness and realizes that he DOESN'T really want to stay with the Jedi, it's not the right path for him and won't make him happy.

Padme in the meanwhile has been convinced to leave the Senate once she serves Anakin divorce papers and has been healing on Naboo, working at the university maybe with her brother-in-law or helping out at the mountain village her parents founded near Theed where she was born, getting back to her roots so to speak. Eventually she probably joins her father's Refugee Relief Movement again, helping him out as the President or taking on some sort of higher position in the organization.

And it's here that she meets Thorn again, who's either been helping out in the Refugee Relief Movement himself or working with similar organizations and he ends up on the same project as the Refugee Relief Movement with Padme. He is surprised that Padme recognizes him when he comes up to say hello and even more surprised when Padme says she wouldn't mind his company if he wants to stay and catch up some more.

They end up spending a lot of time together, partnering on projects sometimes and spending meals and leisure time together. Padme introduces him to Naboo literature and tells him childhood anecdotes and Thorn teaches Padme some of the card games the clones had invented during the war and all the ways to cheat at them and all about the crazy flora and fauna he's seen on his travels since the war. On the little time off they're given, Padme offers to take him to see various sights around Naboo. One night, when she wins her first game with him, she kisses him, to both of their surprise. But she decides to commit to it and asks if it's something he wants, and if not then there's no pressure. Thorn does. The next morning, Padme realizes that maybe they should talk about this a little more and tells him she's not really looking for a committed relationship, but that she likes him and she likes making him feel good and spending time with him. Thorn understands and is willing to live with those conditions.

After the project ends a few months later, they go their separate ways, promising to keep in touch.

Padme stays on Naboo again, getting some rest, Thorn goes to Coruscant to see Fox and catch up with his brothers who still work on the planet. Fox is in a relationship with at least one Jedi and so Thorn wants to get his advice on how that kind of stuff works because as much as he was willing to abide by Padme's limitations for their relationship, something about it was starting to sit a little different and he didn't know what to do about it. Fox tells him that it's obvious he fell in love with Padme but if she's not ready for a relationship or just doesn't feel the same way he's going to have to accept that and be happy with what she IS willing to give him or walk away. Thorn mentions that maybe he should just find himself a nice Jedi like Fox did and settle down and Fox just laughs and is like "The fact that you think anyone SETTLES DOWN with a Jedi just goes to show how bad of a match that would be for you."

Padme and Thorn keep their promise of staying in touch and meet up again when Padme makes a trip to Coruscant or something and Thorn decides to tell her how he feels. Not because he's expecting a relationship out of it, Padme was pretty clear on the arrangement and how she wasn't ready for a serious romance yet, but because he doesn't want to be dishonest with her and if she needs her space from him because of this, he wants her to be able to take it. The last thing he wants to do is make her feel uncomfortable, even inadvertently.

Padme, however, doesn't want space. She's not ready for a romantic relationship still, but the fact that Thorn came to her without expectations and was ready to step away if she asked speaks volumes. He makes her feel safe, and happy, and makes her laugh, and she's not interested in giving that up if it doesn't bother him that she also can't give him what he wants. Thorn just wants to make her happy, in whatever shape that takes, so they stay friends, but Thorn does request that they don't sleep together anymore just so lines don't get too blurred.

Fast forward several years down the line, Padme and Thorn have remained good friends and only gotten closer over the years. Padme is really happy and settled in her job running her dad's relief organization because it does allow her to choose when she travels for work and when she stays home on Naboo to reconnect with her family. Padme brought Thorn home to meet her family once and he got to talking with her mother about education opportunities on Naboo he could take advantage of if he was interested. He's worked his way through schooling while doing some local jobs on Naboo and helping out with the relief organization occasionally. He's finding he really likes using his hands to be creative and has gotten into textile engineering via connections to Padme's old handmaidens. Having individualized outfits that can double as armor is both creative and practical! He also likes music and has a very decent singing voice and has picked up several instruments, but that's more of a hobby. He also loves dancing, but has no desire to learn to be good at it. He knows he COULD, but it's more fun to just let his body move to the music however it wants to, it feels like freedom.

Thorn's obviously gotten to know Padme's family and gets along pretty well with them. He's also managed to befriend her former handmaidens, including Sabe. Padme spends time getting to know more about Thorn's friends and family, which likely is predominantly Fox and the other Coruscant Guard commanders, but potentially a few men who were in other battalions as well, especially if they had joined up in the relief organization with him or are also taking advantage of the education opportunities on Naboo. Padme was obviously always polite and friendly to the clones but hadn't truly made time to get to know them very well during the war and certainly wasn't familiar enough with them to know what sort of traditions and culture they had built for themselves or understand their values and history. Most of what she knew was probably second or third hand through Anakin or Ahsoka, so a lot of what she learns by finally just spending time with the clones in an informal capacity is very new to her and she has to unlearn a lot of assumptions she may have had about them.

Getting back together (or getting together for the first time, depending on how you look at it) isn't dramatic. It's not a life or death decision and doesn't involve a crazy romantic gesture. Thorn and Padme go out to watch a meteor shower one night or something, or they make a visit to a nearby animal sanctuary, or to an orchard to pick some of their own fruit so Thorn can try his hand at baking some new recipes Sola or the handmaidens recommended he try, and Padme just looks at him and knows. She knows that this is the person she wants to spend her life with. She can be happy without him, now, she knows that, too. But she'd rather be happy WITH him, and keep doing things to make HIM happy. So she takes his hand to get his attention and when he turns to look at her, she kisses him. And there's no more shadows, no more hesitation, there's just him, just them.

Thorn ends up designing and creating Padme's wedding dress, and when they eventually start their own family, Padme gives birth to twins, a boy and a girl.

[yutafrita]

[3:12pm]

Pairing: Faerie!Ten x Witch!Reader (she/her) WC: 1.8k Genre: College/ Magical School au Warnings: swearing Taglist: @nini0620

It was supposed to be a joke. He didn’t mean to make you actually fall in love with him.

He didn’t think the love spell the etsy seller had was real. Everything he knew of love spells of the sort required there to be actual face-to-face contact, not selling things through an online seller that also sold cute bracelets and overpriced candles.

“Ten, you should buy it,” Doyoung was staying the night at Ten’s after the two were working on their masters theses. While Ten got ready for bed every night he tended to leave a podcast on in the background, and tonight the hosts were cracking jokes about the online market for love spells.

“Yep.”

“$20 says it works,” Doyoung paused before adding, “and you have to clean my bathroom.”

“$20 says it works,” Doyoung paused before adding, “and you have to clean my bathroom.”

“You really are tired of doing your own house chores huh,” Ten tsked before he began the process of adding the spell to his cart. “It’s not gonna work.”

“Then buy it- better yet, do it on that girl in your cohort.”

At this, Ten frowned. He knew exactly who the warlock was talking about- you were hard to miss. The Potions department was generally small, and those getting a Masters that specializes in Healing Potions was even smaller. You were one of only two non-faeries in his cohort, the only witch, and breathtakingly beautiful.

You were also very shy.

Ten had tried chatting you up only for you to nervously nod in his direction and scamper away. Every time he tried speaking with you, it was always the same.

“She has a boyfriend,” Ten tried and failed to hide the irritation in his voice. The only guy he had ever seen you speak with was Mark- nice guy, but from what Ten could tell it seemed like you two couldn’t stand each other.

“Mark? You freak- that’s his sister,” Doyoung was annoyed, and laid himself down on the couch. “If it’s not gonna work then why are you so scared?”

“God, you are the worst,” Ten punched in his credit card information to the website, all the while taunting Doyoung. “Why do you even want me to try it anyways?”

“Dude…. I just want to mess with you, plus, if this works… easy income for me.”

“I thought you said no respectable witch would do a love spell?”

“If I don’t get a job after getting my masters and I have to pay for these student loans, I may not be so respectable.”

There was several reasons why love potions were either frowned upon or- depending on the country- were outright illegal. It was impossible to correctly gauge how long the effect would last for, consent would become murky at best, and the victim would often become incredibly obsessed with the person who the spell was made for them to love.

You were chewing on your last stick of gum, pouring over your lab notes. Mark was your half-brother, and the two of you shared an apartment across campus together. He glanced over at your notes and sighed.

“Why do you want to do medicine again? That’s a faeries job.”

“Witch’s have healing spells for a reason,” you reminded him. This was a song and dance you often had to do, especially when you were the only witch in your classes.

“Yeah, sure,” Mark went back to his bowl of cereal. “Have you spoken to any of your classmates?”

Your pressed your lips into a tight line, “do you like making me feel bad?”

“No, I just don’t want you to waste your youth not making any friends,” Mark loved his sister, but watching your shyness and awkwardness constantly get in your own way really harshed his mellow.

Annoyed, and frankly tired of being in the house despite it only being noon, you shut your textbook and grabbed your backpack off your chair.

“I’m going out.”

“To the library?”

“Take out the trash,” you snapped at him before charging out of your apartment. It was outside headed towards the university that you felt like you were hit with a bucket of cold water. It felt as if a hand had grabbed your brain and squeezed it, forcing any thought except one to flee.

All you could think about, was your classmate Ten.

The way he smiled. The way he smelled. The way his black faerie wings seemed to shine with a silver hue when would see him walking across campus. How he was the only classmate of yours that tried to speak with you.

You needed him. You needed him in every possible way.

You looked down at your sweatpants that wore a food stain- you would need to change before you could even attempt to speak to him. What should you wear? Well- something that matched with Ten would be perfect, but how could you even find out what he was wearing to class that day?

*****

Ten didn’t think much of it when the etsy seller called him to confirm your hair hair color.

“It should take affect sometime today, now to undo the spell -.”

Ten held back his scoff simply replying with, “you both need to eat a hornet stinger.”

“Yep! Call me if-,” Ten hung up on the faux witch, returning to reviewing his notes. He was seated in the school’s library with Doyoung across from him, who was eyeing the faerie with suspicion.

“Who was that?”

“That love spell scammer.”

“You don’t know if they’re a scammer,” Doyoung teased, “what if she like… actually falls in love with you?”

“Then I owe you twenty bucks,” Ten stuck his tongue out then, packing his backpack up, “I have class with her now, so I guess we’ll find out.”

Ten knew he fucked up when he entered your shared class that day. You were dressed in an adorable outfit- a flirty short skirt, a floral button up, and platformed sneakers. All perfectly matching Ten’s own outfit. How did you even know he was wearing a floral button up with black sweat pants? The shoes too- he just got them himself!

Instead of sitting in your usual spot in the back, you had taken the seat next to his typical one, much to the chagrin of his fellow faeries. Not wanting to be caught staring anymore, he quietly took his seat.

Ten was delusional- at least, he had to be, he thought. Yeah, he was being egotistical. There was no possible way you would have bothered to cast a simple observer spell to see what he was wearing so you could match him. And, maybe you just wanted to be closer to the professor today.

"Hi, Ten," your voice was soft, and he almost didn't hear you amongst the light chatter going on in the room before class.

Ten looked up at you, meeting your gaze in an attempt to be casual, and greeted you with a small smile. It was the way your eyes widened that made the hairs on the back of his neck raise.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!

Panicking, he took his phone out and sent a flare to Doyoung.

Ten felt your eyes burning his side all throughout class. He had no idea what he was supposed to do until Doyoung finally texted him back.

Ten gulped, and once class was dismissed he looked your way with a forced, positive smile.

"You look-."

"Come over to my place," Ten cut you off, making your eyes become as wide as saucers as you studied his expression. You stood up, packing your bag up quietly, relishing as you were aware of the fact that not only was he near you, but watching you. You turned back around to meet his gaze.

"I'm a lady, Ten."

He blinked quickly- both confused and embarrassed. "Sorry I-."

"Are you driving?"

You clung to Ten's arm the whole five minute drive to his place, obsessively commenting on how cute he looked and how excited you were to actually see where he lived.

"What do you mean by actually?" Ten asked, parking his car out front his apartment complex. You pulled back then, keeping your grip on is arm but looking up as you tried to piece together an excuse. "You can be honest," Ten forced himself to sound giddy, his hands clammy as they stayed on the wheel of the non-moving car.

"Hm... maybe I'll say it when we get inside," you taunted, slipping out from the car. Ten frowned, but forced his smile back on as he got out from his car and led you to the front door to his place. Ten was taking his keys out from his backpack, and dropped them as soon as he felt you pinch his wings.

"Hey! Um, let's wait until we get inside," Ten urged, grabbing your hand and turning it away. You pouted, taking your hand back. Touching someones faerie wings were typically a sure-fire way of trying to turn on the other person, and while in another situation he'd be intrigued by your clear proposition, all he could do was be anxious and feel horrible for what he accidentally did to you.

Finally, Ten's apartment door opened, and seated on the couch was Doyoung. He held a jar of hornet stingers, but you didn't seem to care as you leapt onto Ten's shoulders, kissing his cheek vigorously as he shouted in surprise.

"Doyoung!" Ten cried out, rushing up to his friend with an outstretched arm. You stopped your assault on Ten's face, sending a glare at the person who to you was an intruder on your moment. Without an additional utterance Doyoung was slammed from the couch against the wall, knocking him unconscious immediately and sending the jar of stingers to fall from his hands onto the floor.

"Shit!"

"Tennn!" you whined as he peeled you off of him, bending down to collect the jar and whisper a small apology to his knocked out friend. Within seconds, Ten had cracked the jar open, slamming the stingers into both yours and his mouth. He kept his hand placed over your mouth, apologizing profusely as you fought back before you finally chewed and swallowed the stingers.

The craze in your eyes faded away as if something had finally been shut off. Nervously, Ten moved his hand away, and watched as you began to pace his apartment.

"I don't... what did... I'm sorry?" you were confused, just coming back to your senses full of shame.

"Don't... apologize. It's my fault."

Ten sat down with you, and explained everything. From the joke bet, and the way he didn't think it would actually work.

"Wow. Why... Why did you think of me?" you couldn't help the genuine curiosity you felt along with the shy blush you felt creeping onto your cheeks.

Ten, however, couldn't hide his blush at all, instead nervously laughing and turning towards his now snoring friend. "Wow um... maybe we should wake him up?"

“Maybe hold out until you can get him that 20 bucks?”

[arlecchno]

mission accomplished [ scaramouche x reader ]

thirteen | guilty

prev masterlist next

truths were told, and confessions were made. will everything go back to normal once the trial's allayed?

warnings: swearing, scara is once again soft for you, anxiousness, a bunch of anxiety talk i think, pierro being kaeya's dad is NOT canon, mentions of guns and illegal drug use, possibly a lot of errors about courts and trials but eh whatever

a/n: lmao i had a bunch of headaches writing this tbh, partly it was because i was sick and the other is my very minimal knowledge about laws and courts... idk if i did a good job or not with this chapter but i'm pretty proud of it. 3.5k words here we go!!!! happy reading!

grammatical errors may occur so please let me know if i've made any mistakes!

teyvat court looks the same as ever.

its rippled glass windows shines through the pristine tiles as the 'click and clack' sound from everyone's footwear can be heard across the hall.

it's not uncommon that you've been here for trials a couple of times before since you were a cop, but those were only because you were attending to present evidence or be an observant. you never would've thought that you'd be standing here as witness, instead of a detective.

“trial's in 10 minutes.” the tsaritsa said, her heels clacking on the tiles as she headed to your direction.

dottore perked his head up. “is the attorney already there?”

“yes, claire's already inside taking care of the files.” she replied to his question, stopping in her tracks once she's close enough to the small circle you've made in the hall.

you huffed, nervousness already starting to creep up your body. “i'm not sure if i'm ready.”

pierro raised a brow. “how so?”

“i... i don't know. i mean– there's hardly any evidence, y'know?” you looked up at the tall man. “this case was not supposed to be about me to begin with. i'm only involved in this as a victim now because of that stupid incident. the pre-trial was only a few months ago, why do this now?” you pressed, fidgeting with your attire.

the tsaritsa sighed, arms folding. “detective, you know how it works. most cases like these need to be in trial sooner or later, this should be common knowledge for you.”

“i obviously know that, it was a rhetorical question.” you scoffed, darting your eyes somewhere else.

“then what's bothering you so much?”

you frowned and looked down on the floor, taking a few seconds to answer her question. “him, obviously.” you remarked, referring to the man who attempted to take your life.

the tsaritsa, pierro and dottore have already made their way to the courtroom, leaving only you and scaramouche in the hallway. the both of you were sitting on a bench, not daring to move, even if you had less than 5 minutes left before the trial.

“i think we can go now.” you said after a moment, looking at the time on your phone screen. you were still bundled up with undescribable emotions, but you thought it'd be best to push those aside for now.

scaramouche let out a tsk. “you're clearly disrupted. you're gonna lose this case if they twist your mind.”

looking up from your lap, you fixated your gaze on him. “...at this point, i don't care if i lose. i just want to get this over with.” you replied, standing up from your seat.

the ravenette frowned at you and grabbed your wrist immediately, making you turn your head. he tugged your hand, gesturing for you to sit back down, and you did reluctantly.

you had your lips pursed into a thin line and an unreadable expression plastered on your face that made him sigh upon seeing your complexed state.

“look, i don't know what will happen in there, and i don't know how everything will be played out, whether you lose or not isn't up to me to make that decision.” he paused, looking at you to make sure you were looking right back at him. “but i'm gonna be there, sitting right in your vision. i'll be there for you, helping with whatever i am capable of, 'kay?” he said calmly, rubbing your hand to ease out your nervousness.

you narrowed your eyes at him for a moment before moving your gaze to the courtroom door, the very door that will lead you to your worst nightmare. “...fine.” you said dejectedly.

“a little enthusiasm wouldn't hurt.”

you looked back at him with a small frown. “fine, let's go kick their ass.” you emphasized, the warmth of your hand quickly leaving his to stand up from your seat.

“not exactly as enthusiastic as i thought, but i'll take it.”

by the time you got in the courtroom, it was already filled to the brim. jurors were getting comfortable on their seats, attorneys getting their files of evidence ready, your colleagues sitting in the audience, it all feels both surreal and nostalgic.

as you and scaramouche took your seats beside the tsaritsa, the judge and defendant finally arrived through the other end of the door. standing up, everyone greeted the judge, which she just waved everyone off to sit back down.

this is it, you thought to yourself.

everything will go back to normal once i'm done with this trial.

you're sure of it.

“i call ms. y/n to the stands.”

you exhaled from the breath you didn't know you were holding in, palms already starting to sweat. you closed your eyes for a few seconds before you opened them again, trying your best to prepare yourself for what's about to come.

the male beside you looked at you in slight concern, nudging you with his leg to make you look at him, giving you his rare and genuine smile once you did.

slowly getting the confidence to continue on, you firmly smiled back at him and rose up from your seat, quickly fixing up any wrinkles from the formal attire you're wearing.

you got this.

you repeated the same sentence again and again in your head, until you've finally got to the stands beside the judge's.

i'm gonna be fine.

“is it true, that on the night of march 19 20xx, you were out with mr. scaramouche?” your attorney, claire, asked, starting off with a simple question for you to answer whilst walking over to your stand.

“yes.” you said flatly, looking at her who's now in front of you.

“and is it true, that you were both undercover on the same night you were shot?”

you gulped, looking down. “it's true.” you muttered after a few seconds, fixing your eyes back up to the crowd in front of you. their eyes stared back, making you slightly uncomfortable in your seat.

she nodded at your answer, turning back on her heel to her desk. “i have no further questions.”

the jurors to your left were writing up something in their papers regarding the scene just now, making you pursed your lips at the thought of losing this case.

the defense attorney stood up now, heading over to you to present his scene. his shoes making sounds on the tiles made you sweat.

“ms. y/n.” he said your name in a confident voice. “why were you undercover that night?”

(rule number 1: never ask 'why' questions)

you rubbed your sweaty palms under the stands, nervousness still evident on your face. “i was assigned to be undercover for a primary drug case, involving the defendant.”

he raised a brow in confusion. “was there any clear evidence that my client was doing illegal schemes while you were undercover that night?”

“n–no, but we've obtained evidence over the last—”

“but not during that night, no?”

you clenched your jaw in irritation. “no.”

“then you could be charged for stalking my client for no reason.”

the crowd gave a small gasp, a few murmurs and whispers thrown out across the courtroom.

claire stood up. “objection!” she yelled. “she was undercover, she had every right to do her duty as she was assigned to do.”

the judge nodded in agreement. “agreed. mr. alex, are you questioning ms. y/n's work in the police department?”

“no.” he defended almost immediately. “frankly, i admire her dedication as a true detective, your honour.”

the judge gave him a bored look, her eyes looking over her small glasses. “then do not bring up such irrelevant topics to support your case.” she said coldly. “continue.”

sighing, the man continued on. “you were shot in one of the alleyways of golden st, correct?”

“yes.”

“how can you be so determined that it was my client who shot you? there aren't any cctv's in the area.”

you gave a look at the man in question a few feet away from you, him already staring back at you with a mischievous smirk. you quickly moved your gaze back to the attorney in front of you. “i was the one who was shot. personally, i'd definitely know what the person looks like before taking away my life.”

“huh.” he simply said, walking around the courtroom. “say, you're a normal citizen. you get robbed by an anonymous person on one fine day, and there were no cctvs around. how can the police officers really trust you if you didn't know what the person looked like? what if you were just lying all along?” he asked, stopping by in front of his desk.

honestly, how is this guy even a defense attorney?

“objection!” your attorney yelled once again. “leading questions are not allowed, and you do not have the right to call a witness a liar.”

“sustained.” the judge looked at the brunette. “any more questions you'd like to ask to ms. y/n?”

the defense attorney grumbled, but stopped abruptly, as if a light bulb suddenly popped on his head. “yes, actually. if that's okay with you, your honour.”

the woman on the higher stand fixed up her glasses, bringing up a hand to gesture him to continue.

“ms. y/n.” he continued once again, walking back to your stand. “how can you be so sure it wasn't you who shot yourself?”

(rule number 2: never ask questions that could lead up for the witness to explain details.)

now everyone in the courtroom let out a loud gasp, whispers getting louder and louder.

the judge gave the defense attorney a dirty look, as he was the cause of the chaos happening in the courtroom right now. “order in my court!” she yelled, making everyone go back in silence.

“i beg your pardon?”

“i think my question was obvious enough.”

you stayed silent for a moment.

straight to your direction was scaramouche, who has been staring at you the whole time. you looked at him with a confused look, clearly disrupted with his blasphemous question.

the ravenette gave a small smile at you and nodded, a sign of reassurance. you looked back at the man in front of you.

it's okay, i can do this.

just be professional, don't let the emotions get to you.

just explain everything to make him stunned.

taking a deep breath, you started your statement. “i was shot with a .380 acp caliber, while the usual handgun caliber for police officers is the 9mm. though having the same diameter, they're still quite different from each other.” you stated, while a screen in the courtroom shows the evidence you were talking about.

“detectives are not allowed to bring their badges and guns along with them during undercover duties, so it'd be preposterous of me to shoot myself just to get your client to jail. after all, this was all about the case i was working on in the first place, not about me being injured.”

you exhaled, taking a moment before you continued again. “mr. james was involved in several illegal drug dealings and it was my job to catch him on the act. it was just unfortunate luck that i was shot in the shoulder and got my leg broken in the process.” you said.

“as i am aware, several evidence leads everything back to him, and i have a witness for my incident. if anything, i'm as innocent as every other human being here, except for mr. james of course.” you finished off, looking at the man who's been haunting you all this time, his usual smirk turning into a frown upon hearing your statement.

“alright now, ms. y/n. i make the rulings here.” the judge waved you off.

the court room fall silent the whole time, all eyes were glued on you. jurors continued on writing on their papers as you sat there on the stands confidently.

the man in front of you groaned in defeat, unable to break you. he turned his back to you and headed over to his desk that had his client. “i have no further questions.” he mumbled.

and the trial went on like usual, questions and cross-examinations being thrown at you one by one. scaramouche was asked to the stands to make some points and answer questions, but they were all simple ones.

until the last few questions came.

“what did you do after ms. y/n was shot?” attorney claire asked out of the blue.

scaramouche widened his eyes at her question. he took a few seconds to register it in his head, making the judge impatient.

“answer the question, mr. scaramouche.” she said, looking at him from her stand.

the ravenette still didn't answer. instead, he searched for you with his eyes in the crowd. all eyes were on him, and it was no doubt that you had yours on him too.

you never found out what scaramouche did after you got shot, even if you've asked him about it a bunch of times in the past. he always managed to shrug it off or change the subject, until you just, gave up on asking. so it'd be normal for you to be waiting expectantly on his answer right now, in court.

he gulped, moving his gaze down on his lap while fidgeting with his fingers. “i chased after mr. james.”

“did you get him?”

the ravenette looked up at attorney claire. “yes.”

“and what did you do after that?”

“i...” he trailed off, looking back down. “i punched him, until he's unconscious.”

attorney claire hummed at his answer. “how did you find y/n?”

he looked at the woman in front of him. “we always had earpieces on us whenever we split up during undercovers, so it'd be easier to communicate with one another, or give a signal to locate each other in case anything happens.”

“ms. y/n gave you a signal?”

scaramouche nodded. “yes, she did.” he said, the ever so tough and scary guy he usually was is now replaced with a nervous wreck. “that's how i found her in the alleyway, a few seconds before she was shot.”

the jurors to his left nodded in acknowledgement, and wrote up something in their papers. he sweated, thinking if he said anything wrong.

“what were you feeling at the time?”

“huh?”

attorney claire cleared her throat. “i'm sorry, i must not have been clear enough. what did you feel when y/n was shot?”

the defense attorney stood up from his seat quickly. “objection! what relevance does this have to the case?”

the judge looked at him with narrowed eyes. “overruled.” she said, making him slouch back to his seat.

everyone in the courtroom was silent, intently listening to what scaramouche was about to say. scaramouche pressed his lips together, unable to get the words out of his mouth.

“mr. scaramouche, everyone's waiting on your answer.” the judge said coldly.

he resorted on looking for you in the crowd again like last time. once he did, you smiled at him, mouthing an 'it's okay'.

ah, how the tables have turned.

if you think that scaramouche was nervous enough on the stands, then you should've looked at yourself in the crowd. you kept fidgeting your clothes, darting your eyes everywhere, and sometimes even biting your thumb nail too, an anxious look on your face every time scaramouche was asked a question.

even the tsaritsa had to calm you down multiple times like a mother, nagging at you to get it together.

scaramouche got his composure back together after the subtle reassurance you gave him, sitting straight to get ready to answer her question.

“i felt... scared.” he hesitated for a moment, looking down on his lap. “y/n has always been my partner in various of cases for the last 5 years, so seeing her, lying helplessly on the ground with a gun pointed towards her got me petrified.”

jurors were frantically writing on their papers as scaramouche continued on talking. “i... thought that'd be the last time i've ever got to see her.” he said, voice breaking. “we don't get along well all the time, but that doesn't mean she's not important to me. to say that she means a lot to me would be an understatement. she– she's everything to me.” he confessed, making everyone in the courtroom gasp, you included.

looks like attorney claire just knows what kind of questions would break him.

claire nodded. “i see. thank you for telling me that, scaramouche.” she said, heading back towards her desk. “i have no further questions, your honour.”

“alex.” the judge called out to the defense attorney. he perked his head up upon hearing his name. “do you have any questions for the witness?” the judge asked.

he shooked his head defeatedly. “no, your honour.”

“then we'll proceed to the closing statements.”

after the closing statements were done, with the defense attorney saying a brief closing with no confidence, jurors were asked to be moved to the jury room to make their deliberations. everyone took the break by waiting outside the courtroom.

scaramouche was last to leave the courtroom. when you saw him twisting the doorknob to close the door, you immediately called out to him and ran towards him.

if it weren't for his fast instincts, he would've been tackled down to the floor right now, given how you almost instantly forced him into a hug.

“oh, um...” he said nervously, hands hovering your waist, not knowing where to put them.

“thank you.” you said, voice muffled from your buried face in his suit. the smell of his cologne still strong even after the dreadful trial you had just now.

the ravenette smiled at you after a moment, hands finally finding their way to reciprocate your hug, with one arm wrapped around your waist, his other hand patting your head affectionately.

you two decided to stayed like that for a few minutes, finding solace in each others arms.

unbeknownst to you and scaramouche, the group you've completely forgotten about were standing a few feet away from the both of you, staring with bored looks on their faces.

“what the hell are they doing?” dottore asked, arms crossed with a sour expression on his face.

pierro scoffed. “to think she wants to get a chance with my son, here she is hugging another man so tightly as if he's gonna vanish in a second.”

while the two men were scowling at you two, the tsaritsa on the other hand had a faint smile seeing you have your moment together.

looks like her plan is going well.

it took around thirty minutes for the jurors to come to a verdict. everyone was asked to reconvene in the courtroom to hear the final closing of the trial.

“members of the jury, have you reached a verdict?”

a spokesman for the jurors stood up, holding a piece of paper that includes the results of this trial. “we have, your honour.”

the judge nodded. “members of the jury, on the case of this trial, what you say?”

you looked at scaramouche, making him fixate his eyes on yours back. your hands were shaking from the nervousness ever since you got back in the courtroom, so scaramouche decided to do the only thing to calm you down by taking your hand in his.

his genuine smile was there again, the very smile that made your heart skip a beat without you knowing the reason why. you swiftly broke eye contact with him to focus your attention on the jury instead.

the spokesman cleared his throat. “on the count of illegal drug trafficking, we find the defendant...” he trailed off for suspense. “guilty.”

everyone on your side of the court room sighed in relief. that's only one down, you thought.

now the last verdict is what's making you scared shitless.

“and on the count of attempted murder of a law-enforcement officer, we find the defendant...” the man trailed off once again, making you sweat from anxiousness.

come on.

“guilty.”

oh how you burst out of happiness the second you heard that word.

man if you're a law major or a law worker plz refrain from bullying me for the shitty errors i've made in this chapter haha i think i did very bad

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[five-rivers]

Wings

Good people grew wings.

How wings grew, why they grew, and the exact criteria for being a good person, were unclear. Science had discovered many things over the years, but human wings remained a mystery and the closest thing to real magic the average person would ever know about. Even so, this one point, that you had to be good to grow wings, was agreed upon by virtually everyone.

You had to be good.

Saintlike, even. Literally. If a person had wings, even teeny tiny ones, and was even vaguely Catholic, they were almost certain to be sainted shortly after their death.

This was why Danny was sure there had to be some kind of mistake. That this had to be a prank. Or a trick. Or even the result of some weird ghost power Danny didn’t know about.

Not that he thought he was a bad person. He tried his best! But he was well aware of his many, many flaws. Some might say that was the first step to working on them, except… He did not do that.

Which was yet another sign that the small, downy lumps growing very painfully out his back couldn’t be real.

He didn’t deserve this.

(A sentiment he meant in many ways. Primarily the obvious one, but he also didn’t want to have to deal with two new limbs on top of everything else in his life.)

(Like, he’d just gotten used to having a tail, and the tail wasn’t a permanent addition. Or even an addition, really. It was more of an exchange. Two legs for one tail.)

He inhaled shakily and turned away from the mirror. His face was pale and drawn. Dark circles were painted under his eyes. Slightly pink scars from the fight with Skulker last night stood out on his skin. They’d fade in a few days.

Hopefully, so would the little bumps on his back. If not…

His knuckles went white on the counter. At some points in history, it had been dangerous to have wings grow in out of nowhere. People would wonder why. And if that why wasn’t compatible with what the local government wanted, if what they were doing was good but illegal, well… But the point was, some people had taken rather extreme measures to avoid being caught.

Like cutting off their wings.

Nausea rose in Danny’s throat at the notion of cutting off any part of his body. He could do it. He had access to enough sharp things and had a high enough pain tolerance. Plus, he could turn certain body parts intangible, to get a better angle on—

He turned to the toilet and threw up.

The article he’d read on the internet had said that, sometimes, wings growing in disrupted the other functions of the body. Hormonal imbalance.

Wings might be magic. This experience? Not so much.

Then, when did radical changes to his person ever happen painlessly for him? The Accident, the Accident Remix, his ice powers, puberty in general…

Yeah.

He shuddered and reached for the lever.

Maybe they’d be small. Size depended on how good you were. At least, that was the prevailing theory. Since he shouldn’t have his at all, they should be small. Tiny. Hopefully. Hidable. Something he could keep under his shirt. Something no one would notice. Something that wouldn’t be investigated, wouldn’t be questioned.

Oh, god, what if they showed up on Phantom as well? That would be a nightmare. Most ghost hunters and occultists didn’t even think ghosts had feelings. One showing up with wings would make them furious. They’d be convinced that he was faking. That he was trying to capitalize on how people thought of wings to make himself look better.

Oh, geez, and that wasn’t even getting into how they’d interact with his suit, which repaired any damage done to it every time he transformed.

He shifted, rings sparking over him, and reached around his ribs to touch his back. Which still had two very sensitive lumps.

.

“Danny,” said Jazz, sitting on the edge of her bed and steepling her hands, “how many times have you saved Amity Park?”

Danny frowned. “What does that have to do with anything?”

She pressed her fingers to her lips. “Okay. How about how many times you’ve saved the planet?”

Danny shrugged.

“Don’t you think that might, I don’t know, contribute to the present situation?”

“That’s—I don’t—Jazz, I live here. Of course, I’m going to protect the place I live.” He started pacing back and forth.

Jazz stared up at him. “Are you sure that’s what going on? Really?”

“Yes?”

Jazz stood up and put both her hands on Danny’s shoulders. “Danny. You’re a good person.”

“I’m not, though.”

“Okay. Tell me why you think you aren’t a good person.”

“Bad future ring a bell?” replied Danny acerbically.

“You mean the future that never happened.”

“I wasgoing to cheat on that test.”

Jazz inhaled deeply, then sighed. “Cheating on a test does not make you a bad person.”

“I destroyed the world.”

“No, you didn’t,” said Jazz. “last time I checked, the world was just fine. And wasn’t Dan half Vlad anyway?”

“It was still my fault,” mumbled Danny.

“Maybe,” allowed Jazz, “but that doesn’t mean you aren’t a good person, doing good things. Also, you wouldn’t be the first person to grow wings even though you did something bad earlier. Everyone does bad things.”

“Like who?” mumbled Danny.

“Uh,” said Jazz, “I haven’t exactly prepared a list. Um. Oscar Schindler. Like, by all accounts he was kind of terrible right up until, you know.”

Danny sighed and extracted himself from Jazz’s grip. “How am I supposed to hide them, anyway?”

“Well, if they stay small, you should be able to just cover them up. I wouldn’t recommend binding them, that’ll deform the bones. But if they get bigger… Can’t you just keep them invisible and intangible?”

“No,” said Danny, after a beat of time staring at Jazz to make sure she wasn’t joking. “I can’t hold onto either of those for that long. Especially not in human form.”

“Well,” said Jazz. She ran a hand through her hair. “In that case… You might not be able to hide them.”

Danny closed his eyes. “I hope they stay small.”

But he had a feeling they wouldn’t.

[candlewaxandp0lar0ids]

if I can never give you peace — two || Jungkook

Pairing: Jungkook x reader // Word count (chapter): 5.8k // Genre: Mafia AU, Hybrid AU, enemies to lovers // Ao3

↳ It starts like quite a few stories do, in your world. Girl meets boy, who happens to be a hybrid, girl buys him at an auction where hybrids are sold, boy falls in love with her, girl gets bored of him. Then it’s not so typical anymore, when the boy ends up forced into illegal fighting rings, until he makes a wrong move and the girl’s father decides he needs to be killed.

Where does that leave you? Well, you’re the one who handled Jungkook’s fight and generally organized his life, and, when the girl’s father, your boss and mafia leader, tells you he wants him ‘put down’, you’re the one who has to get it done. Except, instead, you let him escape, and everything turns out fine.

Until he comes back.

Warnings and tags (chapter): Descriptions of violence, Threats, kind of dark in general

First · Previous · Next

The car is late, you think as you smooth over the fabric of your skirt, your mouth twisted in a disapproving scowl. Annoyance is one of the few emotions that ever appear on your face, and you don’t even bother to hide it. You have only been standing there, waiting, for a few minutes, but it already disrupts your perfectly well-oiled routine. This is just one of the many changes that have come with Jungkook taking over, but it could be the one you are the least fond of.

You used to have the routine down to a T. You knew exactly when to leave your apartment so that the car would stop in front of you right as you reached the pavement. There were small hiccups every now and then — traffic, last-minute phone calls —, but most of the time, it went perfectly. You liked that. Having that kind of control, when your life had always been completely out of your hands, was comforting.

That went out the window the day you started working for Jungkook.

When the car stops in front of you, five minutes, that’s three-hundred seconds, after the agreed-upon time, you take a short breath before opening the door and stepping in.

There, of course, is your new boss, sitting with his legs widely spread on the leather seat. He changed your discreet sedan for a limousine, which you find obnoxious, but you didn’t protest. You liked to think that you were better than that at picking your battles

“Mr. Jeon,” you say with a nod, voice even.

Jungkook grins when you call him that. You know he enjoys the title, the power it indicates, particularly since hybrids are supposed to only ever have the same last name as their owners.

“Lot of work to be done today,” he comments, and you know he’s just saying that to rile you up. You used to report to Mr. X, but you worked on your own more often than not. Now, you’re basically Jungkook’s glorified secretary. You wouldn’t particularly mind the change if it didn’t mean that you had to sit and watch him superbly ignore your carefully crafted schedule, as he had every single day for the past week.

“Indeed,” you reply without batting an eyelid. “This morning, you have a meeting with Suga,” this one he should go to, he never misses them, “then you are supposed to eat with Fred Lucas,” chances were he wouldn’t show up to that and make you take him to a fancy restaurant instead, and you would be the one to have to handle the situation with him, “and later today I think it would be important for you to pay a visit to the Mystery Room.” That place was one of the few legal aspects of the business at the moment, if you ignore the drugs that get sold there, and it was not a location you should lose right now. “They have been quite… difficult, since the change in direction.”

That last one is new, and you’re not sure how Jungkook will react to it. Of course, there is plenty more work to do, but you’re trying out new methods to get him to do at least what really matters. You don’t understand why he would hire you if he doesn’t let you do your job, but hey, at least you’re alive. And so is your family.

You don’t know how long that will last, though. Unless Jungkook seriously gets his act together, it won’t take long for someone to think that they can do the same thing he did, and have him murdered. You’re even mildly surprised it hasn’t happened yet. That’s the thing, when a leader gets killed. It weakens the whole structure, and it gives people ideas.

The grin disappears from Jungkook’s face and he nods gravely at that last piece of information. That catches your eye, because it’s new. You tell yourself that maybe, just maybe, he spent the last week riding the high of his victory against Mr. X, and that he will be efficient if there’s trouble, at least.

“Cancel that second thing,” he says. “I want to eat at that restaurant I went to last week. You should get me a reservation there.”

Or not.

“But you can go meet him,” he adds, and you blink.

“Mr. Lucas is expecting to see you,” you say, in case you weren’t clear.

“And he doesn’t get to demand my presence like that,” Jungkook snaps. You bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from wincing. His voice sounds harsh, cutting. Dangerous. “Did he think that I’d go ask for treats because a human joined us? That’s not how that shit works.”

Okay. He’s not wrong here, but you don’t know about this— approachto the situation. Fred is, indeed, one of the two human leaders who decided to immediately join Jungkook when the news of the death of Mr. X and the uprising of hybrids in various parts of your branches in the city spread. You wouldn’t be surprised if he expected a treatment of favor for that, too, but you’re not sure letting him know how little his gesture was appreciated was the way to go.

“I don’t think—”

“He’s replaceable,” Jungkook says with a dismissive movement of the wrist. “I’ll swap him for one of my men the second he makes a mistake. It would be a lot better if no one forgot that.”

The look he gives you makes his message crystal clear. You feel your mouth getting dry, but you know nothing is showing in your expression, and that at least is a relief.

“I’ll go to the meeting and get you your reservation, then,” you say, pulling out your phone. “Does the rest of the schedule work for you?”

Jungkook frowns, and the tiniest feeling of satisfaction spreads in your chest. You know he’s just applying pressure and waiting for you to crack, but you won’t.You’re used to contorting yourself to please everyone. You’ve made it work for years, and it will take much more than those childish games for you to snap.

Or, at least, that’s what you’ve been telling yourself for the past week.

“Fine.” Then he closes his eyes and leans back in the seat. You raise an eyebrow at the sight. You know it’s not because he trusts you, but because he doesn’t think you have the guts to do anything to him — and because, even if you did, he’s pretty confident he wouldn’t have any trouble stopping you. You hate that you find something endearing in that vision. Jungkook was genetically designed to be handsome, and he is.More than that, though, when you look at him right now, even though his long bunny ears are skillfully hidden under a headband, he looks cute.

And he could — and would — take less than a second to snap your neck.

“This afternoon should be fun at least,” he mumbles under his breath, and you hide your grimace.

Shit. That can’t be good.

It’s been clear to you from the very first day that Suga knows exactly what he is doing. It’s also been clear that this isn’t his scene. Being at the forefront of operations, taking the lead — it’s obvious that he would much rather stay in the shadows. You’re not sure how important he was to Jungkook’s organization before, since no one has bothered trying to inform you of that, but you suspect that he’s usually more the type to be in the field.

Right now, though, he’s standing in front of a small group, exposing what the recent developments have been. Sitting behind Jungkook, you listen to him attentively. Those reunions should become less frequent, but right now things could still change completely, and you cannot afford to be taken by surprise.

You are, however, starting to feel less and less comfortable with the fact that nothing seems to be coming out of them. Sure, Yoongi informs you of the people who have sided with Jungkook and of those who are openly opposed to him — a minority, so far — but there is a large group in between that seems to be in no hurry to take position. And you don’t like it.

It hasn’t been long since Jungkook has taken over, but you should at least have gotten someintel by now. You’re not sure what isn’t working here. For now, you don’t want to risk provoking anyone by offering your services. Worry is starting to gnaw at you, though. You could all be driving into a dead-end street at full speed, and that stupid struggle you’re having with Jungkook just isn't worth dying over.

“So not much has changed,” Jungkook comments, tapping his fingers onto the table. He looks nonchalant, but you notice a muscle in his jaw twitching. You wonder if he understands more than he lets on.

“Things have been stagnant,” Yoongi admits without batting an eye. “There hasn’t been any open rebellion, but communication is lacking.”

“That needs to get better.”

“We’re working on it.”

They probably are, but it doesn’t look like that’s going well. Word has reached your ears that some of the branches have been keeping hybrids at bay as discreetly as possible.

“What about that Mystery Room thing?” Jungkook asks, frowning. “What’s going on over there?”

“The what?” Yoongi frowns.

Jungkook looks puzzled — pissed, actually — for a second, then glances at you over his shoulder, and the attention of the whole room suddenly shifts to you. You straighten your back, swallow.

“The owner of the bar has missed a payment to us,” you state calmly, “and it seems that he has no intention of making it and is trying to get out of his contract with us. It would be better if we didn’t lose it right now.”

“What do you mean, ‘it seems’?” Yoongi asks, narrowing his golden eyes at you. His voice sounds more like a hiss, and this time, you struggle to hide your reaction. You haven’t forgotten what it felt like, when you thought he was going to kill you. It’s affected you more than you’d like to admit.

“I have a contact who—”

Yoongi clicks his tongue, and you close your mouth.

“I’m going there today,” Jungkook informs him, and Yoongi nods.

“I’ll be around.”

The two men have a silent exchange of looks. Their relationship is somewhat atypical, not something Mr. X had with anyone. It looks like they genuinely rely on and trust each other. You suppose someone else would find it touching, but you don’t have it in yourself. Especially not when that means they both have it out for you.

“Haven’t you been following what we’ve been talking about here for the past week?” Jungkook snarks at you, and you blink. “Any information you get from now on needs to get to Suga so he can factor it in.” At that, you give him a disbelieving look. That just won’t work. It can’t. Not for the first time, you wonder how much he underestimates you, exactly. If he knew anything about the way you work, about how many contacts you have and how much information you’re usually juggling with, he would never ask that of you.

Yet you nod. You don’t know yet if you’ll send a believable amount of intel to Suga, or just absolutely drown him under it until they tell you to stop, but once more, this just isn’t worth fighting over.

Especially when fighting over something can so easily mean dying over it, in your current situation.

“Will do, Mr. Jeon.”

He looks displeased, and you know it’s because all he’s waiting for is for you to slip.

“I shouldn’t even bring you to these meetings. You’re not even taking any notes. That’s fucking useless.”

It takes everything in you to bite back a scoff at that. You could tell him you don’t need to take notes when Yoongi is talking about minimal changes in a landscape you know on the tip of your fingers, that maybe you would if he said anything of value, and that this wouldn’t be an issue if people actually feared him.

You marvel at how annoyed that quip makes you. You suppose you don’t like it when your competence is questioned. You don’t like the threat either, though. You don’t want to risk falling out of the loop.

“I’ve gotten you a reservation at that restaurant,” you say. “If things are done here, I’ll be on my way to meet Mr. Lucas.”

Changing the subject. Deflecting. Trying your best to live to see another day. It seems like it’s all you’ve been doing for the past week. You know you can keep it up for a long time, you’re patient enough. You also know that this game is set up to make you lose.

Right now, as Jungkook looks at you, clearly not amused by your attitude, there is a terrifying moment during which you fear that he might just drop the charade. The only point of this whole thing is to get rid of you. He could decide he only wants to do that any second.

“Yeah, right. Be on your way.”

He dismisses you like you’re some low lackey, but that, at least, isn’t anything new, and you know how to handle it. You bow politely, then exit the room.

“You really wanna keep her around?” Yoongi asks once you’re gone, and Jungkook groans.

He doesn’t know why he had expected you to break easily. He’d seen you work for Mr. X, do that same shit he makes you do and survive as long as you had, so he should have known you’d be good at it. He supposes he’d been used to you making decisions for him, back then, and had thought that was a normal thing for you, that you wouldn’t enjoy being in the position of taking orders. But you were, after all, just someone who worked for others that whole time.

Not that he gives a fuck about it. He couldn’t care less why you did the things you did. All he wants is to give you a taste of your own medicine. Dangling a false chance of survival in front of your eyes and let you handle the rest yourself. So as long as you push through… well. He’ll let it slide.

It’s not like you can keep doing it forever anyway.

Fred Lucas worries you. He’s always smiled too widely, been too loud, made too many jokes. You know Mr. X considered him to be some sort of buffoon, but also kept his distance from him. Mr. X didn’t like people who pretended to wear their hearts on their sleeves.

“Always a pleasure to see you, (Y/N),” he greets you warmly when you walk up to him and you give him a nod. If he’s upset that Jungkook isn’t there, he doesn’t show it, just like you don’t show your distaste for his use of your first name. “I’d like to discuss with just you, though,” he adds, eyeing Hector, who’s standing beside you. The fact that you still have him by your side is the only good thing that has come from working for Jungkook so far.

You don’t like that. You’re all too aware of the fact that this is his land, and that the only reason why he’s saying that is that Hector is a hybrid. If that gets back to Jungkook, it wouldn’t be good for Fred — but you don’t think he’ll go down without a fight. You glance at Hector, who looks as placid as always and offers no help. The gears in your head are turning fast. Before, you were protected by how indispensable you were considered by Mr. X. That is clearly not the case anymore, but Fred likely isn’t aware of that. Yet.

On the other hand, sending Hector away would show weakness, and you can’t afford that.

“Hector goes where I go,” you say.

Fred’s smile widens even more.

“Of course, of course, can’t trust anyone those days, can you?”

You wonder if it’s a jab at you and how quickly you changed sides, but he is more or less in the same position, so you could just be paranoid.

“Come on, come on in, let’s get ourselves a drink.”

You don’t want a drink, but you do follow him in. The sooner you do that, the sooner you will be out of here.

Fred has a lot of things to say. Most of it isn’t relevant to anything that is happening right now, but you’ve never been able to tune things out. You always worry you’ll miss an essential piece of information. So you listen as he babbles about his business — getting weapons in and out of the city, something he is decently good at — but also about his family, his friendships, and his favorite kind of alcohol. You let him pour you a glass, even if you have no intention of touching it.

“I hear you,” you manage to interrupt him, “but I am curious to know why you wanted a meeting with Mr. Jeon. It seems to me that you have the situation here under control.”

Flattery has always worked on Fred, and you have no issue in using that against him.

“Of course we do,” he gloats. “It’s just— There are a lot of rumorsfloating around those days, you know?”

You do know. You suspect Fred has heard the same things as you. You also suspect most people have been very careful not to let those things reach Yoongi’s ears.

“People are talking about a ‘human opposition’ forming,” Fred gasps dramatically. “Can you believe it? Some people are really not happy about being led by a hybrid.”

That seems to be more concrete than what you’ve heard, which means that Fred could be exaggerating things… or that he was contacted to join that opposition. And you don’t like that second possibility, not at all. You trust Fred about as far as you can throw him, and that means you certainly don’t trust him to not try and play both sides.

“That was to be expected,” you reply calmly. “I do not doubt that Mr. Jeon knew such a reaction was coming.”

Fred narrows his eyes at you, trying to gauge what you knew then and what you know now. Which isn’t much, but that’s not something you plan to let slip out.

“Do you know of anything specific?”

You see from the glint in Fred’s eyes that he knows the game is on. If you know something and he doesn’t tell you, he will look suspicious, but he could also reveal too much, and you doubt he wants to play his cards so soon.

“I— don’t, unfortunately,” he finally says, and you nod. Either he hasn’t heard of the Mystery Room, or he is voluntarily hiding it from you. Regardless, that limits how useful he is to you. “But the word on the street is that Jungkook may not know what he’s doing all that well.”

You send him a sharp glance. He’s taking a risk in telling you that, you both know it. That doesn’t make the information any less precious.

“I see. And, again, I don’t suppose you know where this— ‘word on the street’ is coming from?”

He shrugs, a true picture of innocence, and maybe you’d have believed it if Fred hadn’t been in the business for longer than you. He knew, he just wasn’t telling because he wanted to preserve his opportunities if something happened.

“I have to go, then. Thank you for the drink, Mr. Lucas.”

“Please,” he says, holding out his hand. “Call me Fred.”

That won’t be happening.

“Goodbye, Mr. Lucas.”

Once you’re out, you take a second to collect yourself, Hector following like a shadow and waiting for you silently.

“Is everything okay?” he asks after you’ve mulled over the conversation that just happened for several minutes.

“It’s fine,” you say as a reflex. You couldn’t stop thinking about how Fred had taken a gamble when he’d proclaimed his allegiance to Jungkook. He’d bet on him coming out on top, and yet you didn’t trust it. You couldn’t think of a reason why he would do that instead of carefully waiting to see how things would go, like everyone else. You didn’t like this. Not one bit. “We need to get to Mystery Room,” you add.

“Of course,” Hector nods, gesturing towards the limo, and you don’t bother repressing a groan this time.

“God. That’s so tacky.”

That brings a smile to Hector’s lips, but you don’t smile back. You never do. Instead, you climb in, roll your eyes at the whole thing, and let yourself be driven away. You can’t come to a conclusion about Fred Lucas just yet, but you have no intention of forgetting about him either.

It takes you a few seconds, once you’re out of the car, to understand that something isn’t right. You’ve never been good with feelings — instincts, as hybrids call them — and the air doesn’t feel particularly tense or charged to you. Hector stands a little close to you for comfort, and you piece things together from there. There are a few cars around, but not too many, which isn’t surprising considering it’s the middle of the afternoon. Still, you can hear voices from inside, and you know there’s an argument going on there.

“Let’s go,” you say with a decided nod, and Hector leads the way, shoulders tense, ready to pounce if needed. You trust him to do his job, and that’s a lot, coming from you.

You frown when you walk into the bar, taking a few seconds to let your eyes get adjusted to the lack of luminosity, and that frown only deepens when you hear the argument going on and recognize Jungkook’s voice. God. The concepts of subtlety and discretion are completely lost on him, aren’t they?

Making your way through the room, you try to evaluate the situation. Yoongi is leaning against a table, looking bored out of his mind, though you’re sure he doesn’t miss anything from what is going on in the room. As if to prove your point, his golden eyes flick towards you for a second when you approach, before looking away, clearly uninterested. Other than him, it seems that the only other people present are the owner and various employees. You think it’s stupid and dangerous that they showed up here basically alone but, for the millionth time today, you grit your teeth and don’t say anything.

There are five men around, including the bouncer and a security guard. They’re probably armed, and that’s to say nothing of anyone you cannot see. Outside of Yoongi, though, no one pays attention to you, not until the bartender asks loudly “Mojito, as usual, Miss (L/N)?”

It’s a bit early for that, actually, but you give him a nod. The Mystery Room isn’t quite your scene — you’ve always been one to prefer classy restaurants — but that doesn’t change the fact that you’re well-known here, and everywhere, actually, which is something that everyoneknows, except your own boss. That is obvious by the way people’s attitude shifts when they see you. The owner bows to you politely. You acknowledge it with a curt movement of your chin. Jungkook raises an eyebrow at that. He doesn’t look happy about it.

You wait until you have your glass in your hand to say something. The silence that fills the room is heavy, and you can feel Jungkook’s anger emanating from him, having lost the men’s attention. He’s the man who murdered Mr. X, took over half of his operations without anyone noticing, and their fucking boss, and they’re still treating him like a low-life hybrid.

“You haven’t been paying what you owe us,” you say, almost lightly, when you get your drink. “Has business been slow?”

You know it has. You know people aren’t too sure what to think of Jungkook yet. You also know they’ve still made money. Better yet, you’re sure the men in the room know youknow that. You’re giving them an obvious way out. All they have to do is say “yes”, and you’ll come up with something. You won’t let them go off scot-free, but there’s no need for this to end in a bloodbath, either.

“That’s not the issue,” the man says, voice raspy, and you don’t let it show, of course you don’t, but you’re still taking the hit. They’re underestimating Jungkook.

This might be the last mistake they make.

“I think it would be better for everyone if we could work through whatever issue there is,” you say slowly.

Better for them, really, especially because this is you giving him a second chance. There won’t be a third one.

“I’m afraid we don’t, uh, approve of the recent change in direction,” he replies, a stupid grin on his face. He’s mocking you and your infamous overly procedural speech. You know people say you can’t accept who you’re working for, that you can’t take the idea of having blood on your hands.

You may not care, but you’re well-aware of it, and you really don’t appreciate him saying that to your face. You’ll have to make an example out of him.

You sigh and shake your head at his answer. You’re not going to enjoy this. You’ve seen people’s attempts at rebellion against Mr. X, even if those were few and far between, and no matter how much of a fight they put up, it never ends well. For them.

You’re prepared to just leave the place and arrange for it to be set on fire during the night, when Jungkook’s voice snaps you out of it.

“What’s your problem with the change in direction, fucker?”

The mood changes immediately. Hector’s hand on your shoulder gently pulls you back, and Yoongi hops off the table to come stand next to Jungkook, hands in his pockets. He looks nonchalant and relaxed. He could probably easily kill everyone in this room and not get a drop of blood on his jacket.

The owner squares his shoulders and walks up to him. He’s slightly taller and much larger than Jungkook.

“Listen, bunny…”

You barely have the time to widen your eyes at the word, to think about all the ways Jungkook has made it clear that he’s not your typical rabbit-hybrid before his right hook connects with the man’s jaw, so fast you would have missed it if you’d blinked.

A moment of stunned silence follows, during which the man stumbles backwards, hand coming to cup his face in disbelief. And then, he seems to decide that it’s a good idea to retaliate. The dozens, hundreds maybe, of fights you’ve seen Jungkook win flash before your eyes. He doesn’t stand a chance.

People start moving around you, but it seems like it’s only a fistfight. No guns are drawn, for now, and you’re reminded of how much you fucking hate watching people fight. You take a step back, bored already at this stupid display of strength and violence. Still, you can’t help it when your eyes are drawn to Jungkook. There’s a— curiosity within you. How much has he truly changed, in the past two years?

For one, he certainly isn’t pretending this time, isn’t trying to make this fight last for a few more rounds. There iscertain showmanship there, though, you note. He’s giving time for the owner to recover while he takes out some of the other men with hits of surgical precision. He wants them to seewhatever he’s going to do to their boss. Hector and Yoongi keep the fight contained, don’t let anyone escape or call for help, but Jungkook doesn’t need their help. No one here is a threat to him, and it doesn’t take long for the men to be on the floor, groaning in pain.

The owner pushes himself up, spits some blood on the floor. Jungkook turns to face him and beckons him closer with a flick of his hand. He looks amused.

“You fucking piece of—”

This time, Jungkook doesn’t go for the head. His fist gets the man in the ribs, and that first punch is followed by dozens of others, not giving the man any respite, not letting him breathe. When the man falls back, Jungkook doesn’t stop, though the hits slow down, based on what you can see and hear. You have to clench your jaw to stop yourself from grimacing at the sound of flesh hitting flesh, of the bones underneath clashing. It was drowned out, back when he fought in a ring, but knowing it was there disgusted you back. You don’t know why, you just hate it. It makes you sick.

When Jungkook finally gets back up, he hasn’t even broken a sweat. There are five men on the ground, clenching different parts of their bodies and crying out in pain, and he isn’t even out of breath.

“You should fucking reconsider,” he spits out.

They won’t have to. This place will be gone soon enough.

His eyes meet yours as he walks out, and his expression turns to a disgusted scowl. It almost draws a scoff out of you, but you hold it in, and instead, you follow him dutifully.

Jungkook doesn’t speak to you in the car, eyes instead on his bloody knuckles. It will heal fast, you know, and that’s probably why he doesn’t bother taking care of it. When the car stops, you look outside and find yourself faced with your own apartment building. It’s not even five in the afternoon yet. You turn around to give your boss a quizzical look.

“You’re not needed anymore,” he shrugs. He doesn’t sound like he’s playing this time, though you’re still sure that he wants to get on your nerves.

You hate that it’s working this time.

“The day isn’t—”

“I think you’ve proved exactly how efficient you are today,” he says, obviously dismissing you. “I have no fucking idea how you got this job.”

You bite your tongue not to reply. You don’t care about the job, you don’t care about his opinion of you, you barely even care about the Family. You should just nod, give him the usual “yes, Mr. Jeon,” and walk out. But something keeps you in place a little longer than it should, and that’s how much you hate jobs that aren’t well done.

Your voice sounds distant to your own ears when you say what you’re supposed to, your body doesn’t feel like your own when you walk out and close the door. Your breathing quickens while you hear the car leave behind you like it’s all happening in a dream, your head spins, and you stand frozen in place, staring right in front of you.

Is this your life now? you wonder, feeling your heart thumping like it’s trying to get out of your chest. Are you going to let yourself be so disposable, so mediocre, let everything you’ve spent years building fall apart? This isn’t the time for pride, you’re well aware of that, but it’s still eating at you inside.

You walk back to your apartment like you’re in a trance. There’s a heavy weight on your chest, and you realize you have to make a choice. If things stay like that, you suppose Jungkook will have your head at some point. This is a fight of patience. One you cannot win. But if you make yourself indispensable, then maybe, maybe you can survive it. You’ve done it once already.

You brush aside the little voice mocking your reasoning, telling you that you’re doing this because you don’t want to lose your status. Not because it’s wrong, but because you know that’s not enough of an incentive for you to take a risk. You need something stronger than that. Even if you know it’s a lie.

That doesn’t stop your hand from trembling as you dial Yoongi’s number. You’re happy there’s no one to see you, because God, you couldn’t take your carefully crafted facade crumbling right now.

“Yes?” he answers quickly. If he’s surprised to hear from you, it doesn’t show.

“What are the plans for the Mystery Room?” you ask, satisfied that your voice doesn’t quiver, even if you’re a mess right now.

There’s a silence at the other end of the line, and you suspect he’s considering not answering you, so you take the initiative.

“You need to at least replace the owner,” you say, kicking off your shoes. “You can convince him to sell to us,” — convince, one of your favorite euphemisms — “or get rid of him and get the place from his family. Burning the place down is also an option. We can’t let what happened slide like that.”

“Hmm,” Yoongi says.

“Also, it would better if Mr. Jeon could avoid fighting with people. The last thing we want is people who think they can challenge him.”

“He can take them.”

“That’s not the issue. If people think they have a chance, they’ll keep trying. We don’t want them to do that.”

Another, longer silence.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because he’ll listen to you.”

“And you think I will listen to you?”

You roll your eyes. It’s strange, you know you’re gambling your life right now, but the tension you were experiencing earlier has been replaced by an eerie calm. You feel detached from everything.

Maybe you’ve been doing this for too long.

“You don’t have to,” you say, “but this is my job. I’m good at it. If you just let me do it, it would be far more efficient than whatever has been going on for the last week. I know you don’t trust me, but you can probably come to the same conclusions as me in this situation at least.”

Your heart is hammering in your chest. This is an explicit critique, something you would never have risked with Mr. X, and it’s the most open act of defiance that you’ve ever done — and it’s to convince them to let you workfor them.

“We’ll see about that,” he replies dismissively, and your shoulders fall at first, but then he adds, almost reluctantly, “I’ll take what you said into consideration.”

“Good. We also need to talk about tomorrow’s meeting. I’ve gotten some important information about the opposition to Mr. Jeon, and I think—”

As you explain the situation to Yoongi, you feel yourself calming down. Maybe it’s because you’re doing something that’s familiar to you, you’re not sure, but you can breathe again, and that solidifies your conviction that you’re making the right decision.

Finally, you’re ready to take back your life.

Tag list: @chaiwivluv @mintyrae @btswdwsmhrdt @xxquenwxtchxx @fekitza @kimmieloveswho @deeepvibes @lonleycoffee @gookiebts @kpop-baka @taecallsmenoona @mimiinluv @dabbingangels @jooahchu

[b000mbayah]

Fuck ups

･:⁰;★;'°`;☆:･*☆･:*,';★｡･.ﾟ,'.☆｡･:･ﾟ★:･ﾟ'*☆･:*

Requested: No

Word count: 900

Warnings: Drinking, swearing

･:⁰;★;'°`;☆:･*☆･:*,';★｡･.ﾟ,'.☆｡･:･ﾟ★:･ﾟ'*☆･:*

It wasn't entirely your fault. You had told yourself it wasn't, and now it's up to you if you want to believe that or not.

You just needed a way to de-stress, so you ran away from the dorm, you ran away from the group of people that make you seem the closest to reality, the group of people you've called family for the past seven years or so.

You had ran to the closest bar, sitting down and instantly ordering the strongest alcohol they had in stock, downing that in a matter of seconds before ordering another.

You had never had a high alcohol tolerance, but the more you drank, the more sober you seemed.

"Another" you speak, your voice still somewhat heavy with guilt as the bartender serves you another fragile glass of clear liquid, pristine and bubbly.

Your fingers wrapped around the body of the glass, your lips attaching to the rim as you gulp down the substance inside.

However, once you placed the glass down upon the dark marble surface in front of you, a new girl seemed to have appeared beside you, drowning out her depression with the same drink you had been drinking all night.

The desperate look in her eyes had spoken enough to tell you that she wasn't here for fun either.

"Another" you speak to the bartender "make it two" you add, pursing your lips, thinking of a conversation starter to kick you two off.

You thought until the two drinks were placed in front of you, but nothing had came to your mind... so you just went with it.

"Here" you slide her one of the two drinks, she smiles lightly at you and nods, drinking the one you gave her without a second thought.

She gasps for air as she pulls away, a crimson look on her face as she tries not to choke on the drink. "T-thanks" she coughs out, you pat her back a few times.

"Want another?" She shakes her head at your offer.

"I can order my own, don't worry about me" she flags down the busy bartender, asking for another glass.

You can't let the conversation die out that easily...

"Why are you here?" You ask, staring down at your drink, the flashing lights outline your shadowed figure in the glass.

"Just wanted a drink" she shrugs, sipping on her new drink like she hasn't got a problem in the world.

"No one downs an entire glass of alcohol the way you do without feeling like they're worthless, you're lying…" you could hear her sigh, it was evidently audible even in this building filled with obnoxiously loud music.

"Just some.. complications at work, that's all" the girl rubs the bridge of her nose, her eyebrows furrowed together. "How about you?"

"Just the some stupid mistake" you laugh historically "I fucked up infront of… Coworkers.." you frown, pushing your drink back slightly. 

"I never knew the consequences would be so severe though" you roll your eyes, scowling at JYP for forcing you to lay low, to keep you out of promotions and performances for a while. They had entirely hidden you from the public..

"Sounds like my reason" she chuckles, her hand covering her small smile. "I'm Ryujin, in case you didn't know," she introduces herself.

"I'm y/n, in case you didn't know," you copy her words, smiling gently, finally realising it's Shin Ryujin.

"Y/n? That name sounds so familiar.." She thinks long and hard, the alcohol isn't doing her any justice either.

"Twice" you smile as she clicks her fingers.

"Yesss, Twices legendary model" you both laugh at your supposive nickname.

"Not so legendary anymore" Ryujin raises an eyebrow.

"How so?"

"It was a mess, the performance I mean. I was supposed to do a vlive on set because that's apparently something I have to do now" you pause to roll your eyes.

"And uh, the kid I had done the photoshoot with had come in the room with a pack of cigarettes and bottles of alcohol. Now everyone thinks I've been giving the kid illegal things for his age" 

"Oh wow" Ryujin hides her temptation to laugh, not wanting to be disrespectful to you, someone she looks up to.

"Now mine seems so… not as bad as yours" she awkwardly scratches her elbow, a shy smile playing with her facial expressions.

"I've just made multiple mistakes lately, they're so small but everyone seems to notice. I've had a warning about it and I'm honestly tired of everyone picking out on every small mishap I commit on accident" Ryujin explains.

"I understand" you nod, smiling as you realise something,"We're both fuck ups"

Ryujin smiles at you,"yeah, I guess we are fuck ups"

"Maybe we were destined to meet here" you joke, making Ryujin shocked, freezing her as her brain computes your words.

"YAH! Nooooo" she shakes her head and slaps you after breaking free from her state of confusion.

You both laugh and walk out of there together, not caring if someone sees and takes photos.

As long as you're both together, what's the worst that could happen?

[faeriefics]

Faeries in Middle-Earth

Right, so... With my latest series featuring a character of the fae persuasion, I thought it'd be good to get my ideas about a fae species in Middle-Earth down for reference because -- OH BOY, do I have all the thoughts. Everything from culture, to society, to monarchy, to lifespans, to abilities. And given I headcanon the fae becoming extinct at some point during the first age (or, I suppose extremely endangered might be more accurate), I'm going to start with the Really Important Story-Relevant Elements.

Note: I will be adding to this as time goes on - I will issue out shorter updates or subsections separately and then add them to this! So this will be the main directory for all things fae. I will be accepting questions or potential ideas if anyone has any queries or any information they think could be a useful addition (with my discretion as to which ideas I think are plausible for this mess I've made lol)!

The Essentials:

✵ The fae, as the legend goes, were created by Yavanna for two key purposes - 1) to create balance among the natural elements, and 2) to encourage peace among other species. To bring about these goals all fae, upon coming of age, came into their magical abilities.

✵ What those abilities were was not up to the faerie themselves, but was instead dependant on the potential that faerie possessed, in the eyes of the valor and fate. Every adult faerie possessed magic, but the amount of power they possessed, as well as the nature of the power they possessed, was left to fate.

✵ Expanding upon this, all fae had the same two physically 'magical' characteristics - 1) that their blood held properties unlike any other species; the ability to not only heal (almost) any wound but to strengthen the individual who drank from them. 2) fae rarely cried for they did not cry tears of water, but shimmering dust which some scholars later called to be fairydust (additional note - faeries eyes are protected so this dust is unable to injure them, but it does make crying uncomfortable, especially so when others are attempting to make a faerie cry to extract this dust, typically by means less than pleasant).

✵ Fae, unlike elves, were not immortal creatures - they could die naturally. However, a faerie belonging to a prospering society (one which helped their surrounding lands prosper), could live for a very, very long time. Some say thousands of years. The main ways to cut that natural lifespan short were through physical injury, or through targeting a faerie's soul-connection.

✵ Fae experienced something akin to a soul-tie with another person; similar to the concept of soulmates, with the difference being that a faerie was physically unable to live without that person after they had bonded. It was not always romantic or sexual - some soul-connections were platonic, slightly rarer, but occasionally soul-connections could form between family members. But most commonly faeries mated for life with the person they had bonded with. Which meant that falling in love with those outside the fae race was, generally, frowned upon. Not illegal, and certainly not impossible; but it meant that a faerie was signing up for living a much shorter life, to grow old at the same pace as their loved one, and to eventually die at the same time. So, to kill one bonded faerie was to kill two birds with one stone. As such, many of the stronger fae resisted falling in love, or getting too attached to friends and family, for fear that it would render them vulnerable.

✵ Given that all fae possessed these two qualities, as a society they were relatively withdrawn from outside species - limited interaction when intervening and keeping the peace was necessary, but faeries would never travel alone - always in groups. This led, particularly after the disappearance of the 'good fae', to many speculating about their ways of life and their physical characteristics - not all of which was true. And with time, by the Third Age, much of the information about faeries would be diluted and not necessarily the full truth, if true at all (such as the silly rumour that faeries were winged creatures who fluttered through the sky like butterflies).

✵ The traditional fae vs. the 'radical' fae - a civil disturbance occurred midway through the First Age. Partly as a result of the fae being a powerful species, perhaps the most powerful of their time - their armies travelled all corners of the world tackling all manner of dark creatures; from orcs to juvenile dragons - all creatures who threatened to overthrow the natural ways and destroy peace fell beneath their magic. The fae were powerful - but it was not their way to rule the other species, to overthrow the leaders of elves, dwarves and man, to become the species to rule them all. Tradition stated that all sentient creatures who did not present a danger to nature, and the sacred balance which kept everything thriving, were entitled to their free-will. To govern amongst themselves, to create their own cultures, traditions and languages - the fae could step in and suggest that war between species and cities was ill-advised, but it was not their place to prevent them. However, some began to believe that it was the place of the fae to rule over all others - that the only way to ensure and maintain that peace was kept was to unite all people under one crown. This radical thought spread through the fae kingdoms like wild fire, and was especially inclined to afflict those fae who were unsatisfied with their lot in life; with the abilities and strength (or lack thereof) that they were granted in life. That unsatisfaction turned to anger and bitterness, a process which many scholars later described as the 'darkening' of fae. A darkening which made powers which had, previously, been given for the benefit of the world, turn into destructive, terrible curses to all who opposed them. Radical thoughts eventually translated towards radical action - as the 'dark fae' (as they were later called), led by the eldest daughter of Queen Seraphine, Philomena, turned their sights upon ruling all of Middle Earth, and usurping the throne of the fae for herself.

✵ The Big Question: How did the fae die out? Balance and peace were the glue which held fae society together. The split between traditional beliefs and the new radical thought of fae-domination to enforce peace, shattered that balance; splitting the opinions of friends, families and, most dangerously, those with great power among them. Princess Philomena resented that her youngest sister, Princess Shaeleign, was declared heir after her coming of age ceremony - where it was revealed that she held a sacred power, one far stronger than her elder sister. It did not matter that Shaeleign tried to resist the declaration, not wanting the throne, the decision had planted a darkness within Philomena - the eldest princess was banished from the kingdom, along with her 'treasonous' followers - the Queen had not wanted to, but she could not risk the majority for a daughter who made her thoughts of usurpation common knowledge. A few years passed, and the kingdom fell back into a fragile peace; Shaeleign was advised to marry a powerful faerie prince of a far away kingdom, and on the day of her wedding, Philomena returned. With a vast army of orcs at her side. The slaughter was nothing short of brutal, the magic of the 'dark fae' combined with the brute force of the orcs overran the 'light fae', as the scholars would later dub them. The more fae the orcs killed, the more fae blood they consumed, the stronger and more impossible to kill they became. But when Philomena finally made her way to the castle, intent on killing all who stood in the way of her throne, she found only her mother. Shaeleign, by all accounts, had disappeared; never to be seen again.

✵ The orcs enslaved any light fae they had failed to kill in the bloodbath, harvesting them for their blood and forcing them to use magic to benefit their wicked aims. And when the last good fae breathed their last, drained of their magical blood, and the last jar of fae blood was consumed - the orcs had grown so relient on the strength they had gained through the fae, that they turned upon the dark fae. It is common belief that, certainly, all the light fae had died; but the fate of the dark fae was more a subject for debate. Some say that every type of faerie perished at the hands of the orcs, but others claim some of the dark fae escaped; bitterly plotting a return to power, a return to taking the world as their oyster.

Society:

✵ Fae society was certainly tied into power: the rarer a faerie's abilities, the more sought after and the more opportunities that faerie might have. The stronger and volatile a faerie's abilities, the more formidable they were seen, and the more capable they were in magical offence and defence. However, this is not to say that faeries who were granted common abilities (and abilities of lesser extent than others) were seen as useless to their society. In fact, many faeries who were granted less power went on to become influential academics, artists and innovators. Their roles were simply intended to be less magical and more for the benefit of culture, academia and diplomacy. This was all seen as a part of maintaining balance.

✵ As a faerie's abilities and power were granted upon their coming of age, and their abilities were allocated almost entirely by chance, most faeries tended to accept their lot in life. Content in knowing that whatever the outcome, their role could still hold importance. Not only because it was, frankly, beyond their control, but also because this allocation allowed for equality throughout the fae kingdoms. For example, a fae couple could have four children, and statistically, they could have two children with lesser magical abilities (who would still have a realm of prospects), and two with rare or strong abilities - which allowed even those belonging to less renowned bloodlines, or from less wealthy households, to climb the fae social ladder.

✵ A basic rundown of the class system of the fae would be, from top to bottom: 1) The Monarchy - consisting of the current ruling King/Queen, and their immediate heirs (the only system which was almost inaccessible to outsiders, except through marriage or usurpation - the former of being extremely unusual and frowned upon). 2) The Higher-Ups - the fae did not have 'Lords and Ladies', and instead ranked citizens in this category as being the most important people beneath the monarchy - e.g. generals, warriors, powerful nature faeries, diplomats, famous artists/musicians/writers, etc. 3) The 'Average' - the third class tended to be made up of ordinary fae. The concept of a 'lower class' was incredibly foreign to the fae, the regency did not flourish off the suffering of those beneath them, but through the cooperation of the everyday fae. Ordinary fae may have included apprentices, the recently come of age, those with 'average' magical ability who, while not spectacular, made themselves beneficial.

✵ Like other societies, the fae had a 'social ladder' - though, unlike many others, their hierarchy was less of a pyramid (with peasantry making up the majority at the bottom, and the very top containing only the monarchy), and more of a totem pole of almost entirely equal opportunity for fae from all circles of life to move up and down - depending on either their personal magical ability or their influence and impact upon society - with the only exception being the monarchy.

[naralanis]

little bumps in the road (pt. 8)

Previously on LBitR

“For the record, I still say Disney World would have been far safer than this insanity.”

Lena does her best to ignore Kara’s muttering. While this may be one of the more insane schemes she has ever concocted in her life, the truth of the matter is that she would have never, ever suggested it if she didn’t honestly think they could pull it off.

“Maybe,” she concedes, squinting at the drugstore compact sitting on the nightstand as she readjusts the wig. “But it certainly wouldn’t be as productive.”

She turns to Kara, who’s still frowning, and fluffs the strawberry blonde locks cascading from her own head. Maybe she should just bleach her hair and be done with it.

“So, what do you think?”

Kara’s frown deepens considerably. “You still look like you, Lena. I’m not sure about this.”

“Wait, hold on; I’m missing a crucial piece,” Lena retorts, reaching for a pair of thick, black-rimmed glasses sitting on the nightstand. “Ta-da,” she says flatly, pulling them on. “Unrecognizable, I’m basically a different person.”

Kara pulls a face, and Lena mentally kicks herself, rushing to pull the frames off.

“Kara, I didn’t mean...”

The blonde raises a hand, stopping her in her tracks. “I know,” she says, though she does so through clenched teeth. “I still think this is a monumentally bad idea. Explain to me why I can’t go with you.”

Lena sighs. “Because you’re supposed to be dead, Kara--it’s far less risky if I go in alone. Even if I get caught, you remain a secret. Plus-- I know the building. I used to own it, once upon a different Earth, remember?”

Kara crosses her arms over her chest, looking entirely unconvinced. “I still think we should wait for Alex. She’s going to respond soon, Lena, I know it.”

“Maybe she will, maybe she won’t. Call her again tomorrow,” she says, as evenly as she can. “But I’m doing this, Kara. I can’t just stand by while you go without powers for another day--who knows when Alex will actually be able to help? I need to do this.”

Kara stares, pensively and worriedly, not saying a word for a long time. She looks at the wig Lena’s wearing, at the outfit they bought a few towns over to make her look like some intern--button-down, dark jeans, oxfords, at the medical supplies they’ll use to take a sample of her blood and transport it to LuthorCorp tomorrow. Her gaze lingers on the glasses Lena’s still holding, and she releases a sigh, sounding more than defeated--she sounds afraid.

“You know you don’t have to do this, right?” she waves a hand over the considerable space between them, seemingly at a loss. “There’s nothing to... atone for, or whatever.”

Lena smiles, knowing it doesn’t reach her eyes.

“We’ll have to agree to disagree there.”

Kara looks anguished, seems to be grinding the gears in her head, like she knows that at this point she’s just grasping at straws.

“Is it too late to find a vet lab somewhere?” she tries, with no conviction behind her tone.

“No, but LuthorCorp will have the equipment for much faster, and more accurate results. I can do this, Kara. I promise.”

Kara visibly deflates, and Lena knows the matter will be dropped, just like that. “Fine. I concede. I’m never talking you out of this, am I?”

Lena feels her smile twitch a little, but she reaches over the gulf between them, putting the glasses back on the nightstand.

“No, darling, I’m afraid not.”

Kara’s responding sigh seems to echo in the motel room; it lingers in the air, heavy with a fear Lena knows she’ll try to brush off.

“Alright, fine. Now please take off that wig--you as a blonde is freaking me out.”

Breaking into LuthorCorp is quite simple, in a manner of speaking: all one needs to make it through the main doors is a swipe card. If she had the necessary materials, Lena could easily clone one with her eyes closed, but as it is, she needs to acquire one from an actual employee.

That is easily accomplished; Kara, decked out as tourist (complete with a neon-orange fanny-pack of her choosing), distracts a low-level minion having his lunch break on the public plaza right across the street from the main building, and Lena just walks right past them, disguise in place. His entry card and lab-coat are in her hands in less than a second, and in the other, she’s already crossing the street.

With any luck, Lena will be in and out of the building before the card is ever reported missing.

The problem, however, lies in getting into a laboratory. Any of the more equipped labs, those working on secretive (and likely illegal) projects, would lie behind layers and layers of security Lena has neither the time nor the tools at present to even try to break.

To their luck, Lena doesn’t actually need to try to sneak into any high-clearance labs--all she needs is a solid thirty minutes with a mass spectrometer of her own design; a handy not-so-little piece of machinery that had become standard in all L-Corp labs in their previous Earth, and, because Lex cannot resist stealing a good idea, LuthorCorp.

Still, even to access a simple, run-of-the-mill lab at LuthorCorp, Lena needs to go through biometric sensors--retina scanners, to be precise.

And maybe, just maybe, Lena had neglected to mention that little detail to Kara when they discussed the plan for the umpteenth time that morning while she methodically took a sample of Kara’s blood, but that’s neither here nor there.

Once she’s through the main doors-- Kryptonian blood sample packed into a Thermos full of ice in her purse (I am amazed and disturbed at how easily you were able to get medical supplies like these, Lena, seriously), it’s easy enough to make her way through the  elevators, carrying a stack of papers to look the part of an intern--no one even bats an eye.

The cameras on the third floor are exactly where Lena had expected them to be, so she walks down the corridor to where she knows is a supply closet, and swipes in with no problem. The layout of the building really had not changed at all since she last worked there, even if that had happened on a literal other reality.

Once she’s in, Lena only has to wait. She counts the seconds in her head in French, both to keep track of time, but also to calm her racing heartbeat, because this--this is the biggest gamble of her plan.

Since she obviously does not have a way to bypass the biometric scanners, Lena’s only option is to get someone to do it for her.

She lies in wait in the supply closet for about two and a half minutes, and then she hears it: the sound of footsteps, two sets of them, and idle conversation, coming down the corridor directly her way. Lena takes a deep breath, counts the steps as they approach--she only has one chance to do this right.

When the steps are right in front of the closet, she swings open the door with force.

“Ow!”

The hit is a good one--whoever’s on the other side blocks her from opening the door all the way with dull impact, and her papers go scattering all over the place.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry! Are--are you OK, did the door hit you?”

Lena’s holding a hand over her right eye, moaning and doubled-over in mock pain as two young men--both looking to be interns-- look her over with concern. One of them is already on the floor, gathering her papers.

“Ow, no, it’s my fault, I shouldn’t have opened the door like that--oww” she cries, maybe a little too dramatically. One of the interns, tall and lanky, steadies her as she fake-wobbles on her feet.

“Ouch, did you hit your head? Let me take a look at your eye, take your hand---yikes!”

Lena removes her palm, previously dusted with the finest blush powder she could find at the drugstore yesterday, and makes a big show of blinking away her tears. The make-up gives her an instant shiner, and the fine powder has the added benefit of irritating the shit out of her eye--so the swelling and the tears are 100% real.

“I’m fine, really, thank you,” she says, waving them off and taking the sheets the other intern dutifully picked up. “I’m so sorry, I was in such a hurry--are you guys OK?”

“Better than you,” the first one, laughs, though he still looks concerned. “Are you sure you’re OK? Your eye looks pretty bad, do you want to go to the infirmary or something?”

“No, no, it’s fine -- I just got to run some stuff, then I’ll get some ice. I’m fine, really,” Lena waves them off politely, touching the skin around her supposedly injured eye.

The two men exchanged a worried glance, but the first shrugs his shoulders. “OK then, take care. Sorry again.”

“No worries,” she laughs, a little too high, but she’s so close, so so close... “I’m just a klutz--my fault, totally.”

She’s already walking away towards a lab, one she had checked during her walk from the elevator to the supply closet. The interns linger by the closet door for a moment, before slowly making their way to the elevator, still sending worried glances her way.

Lena swipes the stolen card, and immediately the panel by the side opens up, revealing the retina scanner and prompting her to scan her credentials. She leans towards the scanner, and the red light makes her blink; the machine buzzes and flashes red, and a robotic voice filters through the side-speakers.

Unable to scan. Please try again.

Lena huffs, audibly--she hears the interns’ steps pause someway down the corridor. She stomps her foot, and leans over the scanner again. It buzzes.

Unable to scan. Please try again.

“Shoot! You’ve gotta be kidding me right now!”

The steps grow closer, and for a moment Lena’s a bit worried she may be overselling her frustration, but before she can try scanning her retinas again, the tall and lanky intern is by her side.

“Did you try your left eye? Seems to be in better condition,” he jokes--his smile is genuine and friendly, but Lena puts on an impressive grimace of alarm.

“I never registered it,” she bemoans, feigning panic. “God, I meant to, but then it was just one of those things--oh my god, my boss is going to kill me--”

“Hey, relax,” he quips, raising a hand to stop what was going to be a rather dramatic tirade. He smiles, and swipes his card at the door, leaning over the panel and scanning his own eye.

Scan complete. The voice drones. Access granted; Montgomery, Jason.

The panel lights up in green, and the door unlocks with an audible hiss. Lena lets out a little squeak of delight that is barely faked--she can’t believe it worked.

“Oh my god, thank you, you’re a saint!”

She pushes the door open, but is barely a foot inside when an arm blocks her entry--she almost screams, body frozen in sheer terror as she turns to look at the intern the door panel just identified as Jason.

He’s smiling broadly. “Say, I’m sorry about your eye. Can I make it up to you over some coffee, later?”

Lena can barely contain her sigh of relief, but she puts on her sweetest smile and bats her eyelashes (though she’s not sure how good the effect is with the eye that is actually stinging quite painfully--what the hell was in that powder??). “I think you just did, Jason.”

His blush would have been cute, if Lena had not been on a very tight schedule. “Oh, I insist. When does your shift end...?”

It takes Lena a second to register he’s waiting for her name; she slowly maneuvers under his arm, dragging her fingers over the sleeve of his labcoat--she can practically feel the poor guy’s shiver as she leans in closer.

“Liz,” she whispers, close to his year. “And my shift ends at seven. The café across the street alright with you?”

He visibly swallows. “Yes, ma’am. See you there, Liz.”

Lena gives him a wink--with her good eye-- as he steps away. As soon as the door clicks shut again, she exhales with relief, leaning against it so she doesn’t just fall to the floor. Her knees are trembling.

She knew she could pull it off, but she also cannot believe she did.

With no time to waste, Lena practically bolts to the nearest spectrometer, quickly uncapping the Thermos with Kara’s blood sample and getting to work. It’s almost refreshing to be in a lab again, even under these circumstances, after weeks on the road. There is an innate sense of calm that falls over her when she’s working like this, like this is her element.

Like this is where she is meant to be.

The spectrometer whirs to life with Kara’s sample--Lena only needs twenty, maybe twenty-five minutes with it. She is tempted to stay for as long as she possibly can--there is so much equipment here that would be helpful... if only she brought a bigger purse, maybe she could have stolen some without detection, since there are no cameras in the labs.

The screen begins to break down the analysis, and Lena’s barely seeing it; she’s copying everything by hand onto a notebook--once the machine is done, she will make its history unrecoverable, and she doesn’t want to print anything through LuthorCorp printers.

Lena works quickly, annotating in her shorthand and trying to work as fast as the machine gives her results. She is barely processing what she sees; there will be time to read and figure everything out later, but now, she needs all the information she can cram into this little notebook.

She can feel her own eyes widening at some of the results, has to check them twice before writing them down--her pen furiously scratches across the paper, but her brain is already elsewhere, trying to reverse engineer the method of synthesizing what she’s seeing in Kara’s blood, trying to figure out ways to get it out of her system, trying to...

The spectrometer slows down and stops--the bar on the screen reads analysis complete. Lena releases a sigh of relief, hand cramping as she writes.

And then there’s the click of a gun right behind her.

“Fancy seeing you here, Lena.”

Lena shuts her eyes--the right one still throbbing, and raises her hands, still clutching the notebook as she slowly and deliberately turns around. She never even heard the door hissing open. She opens her eyes to meet a flinty, furious glare.

“Hello, Alex.”

Parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7

<< Previous || Next >>

[leejungchans]

— dance with me?

word count: 1.7k

pairing: dino (svt) x ateez oc (juliet)

warning(s): none!!

genre: an overwhelming amount of fluff bc i love lee chan

set on february 11, 2021

summary: during a late-night date on dino’s birthday, he asks juliet a special question.

juliet’s masterlist

minnie 🐭❤️ [22:16] i’m heading down now!! (◕‿◕) don’t drive off without me please ur so sexc 😩😩

From where he is, parked a street down from the building where ATEEZ’s dorm is in, Chan shakes his head fondly, looking out the window from the driver’s seat for any sign of his girlfriend.

Sure enough, just a few minutes later, Juliet emerges from the building’s entrance, glancing down the mostly empty street before spotting the familiar car.

Under the light of the street lamps, he can see that she’s wearing a huge puffer jacket with a scarf wrapped around her neck, purple hair stuffed under her beanie to avoid catching the attention of prying eyes. With all the layers she has on, she reminds him of a waddling penguin as she speed-walks towards the car.

Cute.

Chan unlocks the door as Juliet approaches, her eyes smiling while she settles into the passenger’s seat before leaning over the console to hug him. “Happy birthday, Channie,” she beams, taking off her mask to nuzzle the bottom half of her face into the thick material of her scarf.

“You already said that,” Chan teases, also smiling as he watches her fumble with the seatbelt for a bit.

“That was from almost twelve hours ago at 12 am! I think it’s illegal if I didn’t wish you a happy birthday again,” Juliet protests. “Sorry for being late, by the way. Have you been waiting long?”

“It’s only a few minutes, don’t sweat it.”

“Okay, but there’s actually a good reason! I was about to leave the building when Mingi-oppa called me because I left your present on the table, and I had to go back up to grab it! So you have him to thank that you have a birthday present.”

Juliet takes out a small gift bag, its handles tied together with ribbon so he can’t look into it, and hands it to him with a sweet grin. “Don’t open it now, though,” she warns half-jokingly.

“What? Why?” Chan whines. “I can’t even open my own present on my birthday?”

“No, because if you open it now then I’ll have to explain the meaning behind your gift, and if I do that I might actually cry. There’s a card inside explaining it.”

“What if I want to hear it from you?”

“Then you can call me when you get home,” she responds cheekily.

Chan relents. “Fine, you win. But you didn’t have to get me anything, I hope you know that,” he adds the last part seriously.

Juliet smiles reassuringly. “I know, but I wanted to. I hope you’ll like it, though.”

“I know I will.” It’s at that moment when he finally gets a good look at her face, the light from the street lamps hitting it just enough for him to note the dark circles under her eyes. “You look tired, baby. Don’t get me wrong, you’re beautiful no matter what, but is everything okay?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah.” As though on cue, Juliet brings a hand up to cover her mouth as she yawns. “Just a little tired from comeback preparations and practising for Kingdom. I’ll be fine, though, don’t worry.”

“I’ll always worry about you,” Chan admits. “You shouldn’t have come so you can rest.”

Juliet frowns. “No, I wanted to see you. Plus, it’s your birthday.”

“Okay, but you have to promise that you’ll take care of yourself.”

“I always do!” A pause. “Okay, sometimes I don’t, but I’ll try,” she promises genuinely.

Chan smiles. “Good. Let’s go, then. Seatbelt on?”

“Mhm!”

“Um, where exactly are you taking me?” Juliet asks suspiciously, noting that they’re currently driving up a hill away from central Seoul.

“Patience, Minnie. You’ll find out soon,” Chan says with a mischievous smirk. “We’re almost there.”

She feigns an offended gasp. “I am always patient! I’m just asking because I’m too pretty to meet my end now.”

“If something happens, I’ll protect you.”

“Nice try, but don’t think I haven’t watched that episode of GOING SEVENTEEN with you guys in the haunted house,” Juliet teases with a raised brow. “If anything, we probably need to call Wonwoo-ssi or Minghao-ssi.”

Chan groans. “Can we not talk about my members when we’re on a date?”

This only earns a laugh from Juliet. “You’re cute when you’re jealous.”

“You’re going to tease me even on my birthday?”

“It’s how I show affection!” she defends while the car comes to a stop at the side of a dimly lit road. “Are we here?”

Upon his nod, she unbuckles her seatbelt to hop out the car, snow crunching under her boots. Immediately, harsh winds whip at her face and she shivers, the temperature even lower due to the higher elevation.

She hears a lighthearted tsk from behind her before feeling her jacket being draped over her shoulders. “You left it in the backseat, silly,” Chan says softly while he helps her into it, referring to when she took it off during the car ride. “You’re going to catch a cold.”

“No, I won’t. I have you to remind me,” Juliet says cheekily, earning herself a light flick on the forehead. She follows Chan to a clearing a few paces away from where they parked and immediately realises why he took her here.

Seoul, with its sparkling lights, is captivating at night when you’re in the heart of the city, but perhaps even more so when you’re looking at it from afar. She can’t help but admire the stark contrast between the tranquil hillside they’re at that compared to the vibrant city centre it overlooks.

“I sometimes come here with the members when we want to be away from... the loudness of it all,” Chan explains quietly as they move closer to the railing. “To think. Or just to take our mind off certain things.”

Juliet leans closer to his side to link their arms, her head coming to rest on his shoulder. “It’s beautiful. Thank you for bringing me here.”

“Don’t come to places like here often?”

She snorts. “I don’t just let anyone drive me to a dark hill in the middle of the night.”

Chan laughs, gently resting his head on hers. “You have a point. Does this mean I’m the only person allowed to take you here?”

“I’d like that. I also have a horrible sense of direction, so I don’t think I can remember the way here even if I tried.” Despite her quip, something in Juliet feels fuzzy and warm at the thought of this place being one only they know of.

It brings a sense of giddiness, the same one she felt when she was much, much younger; when she and her friends first decided on a secret hideout at their school back home in Sydney. Only this time, there’s more to it than just childhood innocence.

Juliet doesn’t know much about love. She’s had crushes here and there throughout her life, but none of them ever developed into something further. Of course, until she met Chan.

She doesn’t know much about love. But this feels like it.

And that’s more than enough for her.

His voice cuts through her thoughts. “I actually have something to ask you.”

At her hum, he continues.

“I was wondering if you’d want to be on Danceology. You know, like for a collaboration. We can choreograph and dance it together... anything you want, really.”

Juliet looks up at the boy with wide eyes, not knowing if she heard him correctly. “You’re sure?”

“You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to. Or you don’t have to decide now, I know you’re really busy these days. No pressure at all.”

“No, no,” she clarifies. “I meant if you’re sure you want to do one with me?”

The look in his eyes is so tender that she feels like crying. “I wouldn’t want anyone else.”

Something tells her he’s not only referring to Danceology.

Juliet leans her forehead on Chan’s shoulder to hide her face from him. “You’re going to make me cry on your own birthday,” she mutters.

“Is that a yes?”

She nods against him while blinking away the hot tears prickling at her eyes, feeling his lips press against her temple.

“That’s the best present you could’ve given me.”

“Yah, you can’t say that!” Juliet says, somehow finding it in her to crack a joke. What can she say? Humour is one of her many coping mechanisms. “You’re only supposed to say that if I didn’t give you anything! What does that make the gift I got you?”

“Best of the best?” At her laugh, Chan presses again, “am I still not allowed to open it?”

“No, you’re not.”

[00:05—Outside ATEEZ’s dorm]

“Okay, fine, you can open it.”

“What made you change your mind?” Chan grins, already reaching for the small bag in the backseat.

“Honestly, I don’t know,” Juliet admits, smiling as she uses the dimmest setting of her phone’s flashlight to illuminate the dark interior, the overhead light being too risky to turn on at this hour lest they want to draw unwanted attention to themselves. “I guess I want to see your reaction.”

She stares quietly as he undos the ribbon tying the handles together before looking into the bag and taking out a small box. Despite her shyness and the sudden urge to jump out of the car and run back up to the dorm, Juliet continues to hold up her phone as he takes out the silver band within it.

It’s simple, minimalist, inconspicuous enough to wear during the day but at the same time uniquely his due to the custom engraving on the outside of the band. A snowflake.

She bites the inside of her cheek from nervousness as Chan silently reads the small card that came along in the bag, subconsciously tracing over her neat handwriting with his finger.

“Like a snowflake, I fell for you hahahaha (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) You asked me to be yours during the first snow of the year. I hope that is only the start of many more years to come. Happy Birthday, always be happy and healthy ❤️ And don’t forget to take care of yourself!! (♡`Д´) If you forget I’ll come over and nag you, but maybe you’d like that more than not ㅋㅋㅋ — 🐭❤️”

Chan’s eyes are glossy when he finally meets her curious and worried gaze, trying to gauge his reaction. He beams brightly.

“Told you I’d like it.”

find their collaboration here!! 😼

a/n: blessing you guys with this gif bc look at him go!! ;-; stream dino’s dancelogy to be sexcie 😼 pls don’t let juno flop </3 also i thought it’d be too mean if i didn’t tell you what the present was bc i definitely considered not saying anything about it 👀👀 anyways let me know what you think about this chapter 🥺 personally i am <///3 bc bwhehwhs i want what they have but also i’m not very good at writing fluff whjehdhw i cringe at myself sm when writing it 🤡

thank you so much for reading 💕 please do consider leaving feedback whether it’s a reblog, a reply or an ask, it would mean the absolute world to me as feedback really motivates and supports creators 🥺 and feel free to chat with me about juliet or anything else through my asks!! as always, take care and have a good day!!