#i attempted drawing it but it didn't work out too well so i did this instead :P

[fridayyy-13th]

happy phanniversary/No But Seriously Imagine It day everyone, i come bearing a slight pfp edit for the occasion :]

ID in alt, as always; i'll be keeping this pfp until the end of the month. (when i switch back, i'm gonna start posting DAPTIT spoilers!! appropriately tagged for filtering, of course.)

[a-scary-lack-of-common-sense]

More of Stanley's sketchbook because he makes me sick /pos

(Just imagine he was looking in a mirror at the subway to draw this anshfhwj. The london bus ticket is unrelated, it's just a random knick knack he had lying around<3)

People weren't the only ones Stan met on the streets.

------

+ this is an absolute fucking batshit WILD oneshot I initially wrote for these drawings that got WAY out of hand, if you feel like reading that.

The oneshot below is a stand-alone now, and in no way is related to the drawings above, but I just wanted to show you guys because Jesus Christ

------

Winter of 1981, at a subway station Stan doesn't remember the name of-

The sorry excuse of a transport system that this hellhole of a city called a functioning subway was hardly anyone's first choice of a warm place to stay the night. And yet, here Stanley was; standing like an idiot in the middle of a small bustling stairwell that led down to the full screeching chaos of a train stop on a Tuesday evening. A rowdy crowd of exhausted office workers streamed out like a tidal wave from the entrance of the station, the bustle of their footsteps all too eager to go home and relax after a long day of work.

The faint, stuffy stench of old piss and sweat followed the crowd to the surface from the deep depths of a less than sanitary and overcrowded train station. The pungent smell intermingled with the crisp stinging winter air in a cocktail of shitty city gloom often associated with this time of the year; when the holidays were too far away and the sun seemed to come and go with practically the same 9 to 5 schedule as the workers had, leaving them going to work in the pitch dark and coming back out in the inky black as well.

He might have looked like he belonged there, depending on how one would want to look at it. He stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the sea of prim, pressed suits and neart uniforms. His ratty old jacket and generally unwashed appearance certainly didn’t help his case, but he also knew that stations like these also tended to shelter quite a number of homeless wanderers like him, especially during the winter. So, it wasn't exactly uncommon to see other sore thumbs seeking reprieve from the biting cold and the dangerous likelihood of frostbite from within the enclosed walls of the subway station.

Heck, if most of these underground kingdoms didn't also happen to be a breeding ground for several illicit activities, he might even have followed their lead. But, believe it or not, Stanley's already had enough experience with illegal activities to last him a last time, and he isn't looking for a new fill. He was satisfied with what meager shelter his trusty car offered him, as little a difference it might make in terms of safety.

Stanley's obstruction of the already narrow stairs with his loitering went unappreciated, as shoulders roughly shoved past him and swinging briefcases repeatedly bumped into his sides, usually coupled with a nasty glare and a snide comment or two. He paid them no mind, however. He wasn't here to start a fight with some random bum with a dead end job, as much as he thought it would probably do them both some good to duke their stresses out on one another.

The hours ticked by with wave after wave of new crowds being dropped off by a train and left to pour out of the station into the streets. By the time the streetlights turned on and the pale pink in the sky slowly faded to make way for the stark glittery black of the night sky, the tide of people had slowed to a trickle and rush hour was long since over. He was now the stairs’ sole occupier, with a few occasional stragglers stumbling up the steps and hurrying past him without a second glance.

Stanley did not move from his spot, however. He stood resolutely in the middle of the stairway, fervently rubbing his arms and stamping his feet in a futile attempt to try and regain feeling in his extremities as he waited. Rocking on his heels, he titled his head backwards to let his eyes roam the constellations that carpeted the endless expanse of the sky stretched out above his head, almost losing himself in the scintillating canvas of stars.

It reminded him of old times; of the sparkling beach sand twinkling in the dim moonlight, and the soft sound of lilting waves hovering in the background as he lay back on the cold wooden deck of his ship and watched the stars dance.

He still remembered every name his brother had once recited to him time and time again as he pointed out each star and galaxy from the night sky.

Then, like clockwork, he was broken out of his reveries by a telltale meow coming from below. The sound was a familiar blanket that immediately melted away the tension that had begun to build in his chest as he practically sagged with relief.

His body moved almost automatically as he leaned down to detach the frail tabby cat that was attempting to literally fuse with his legs, purring up a storm and rubbing her head against his pants as though her life depended on it. The cat gave a soft chirrup of dissatisfaction at being manhandled, which Stanley absentmindedly replied with a chiding click of his tongue as he lifted her up his chest and gently tucked her into his jacket in a practiced motion.

She thankfully remained blissfully limp in his grasp as he shifted around some more so that she was nestled comfortably inside the dark pocket of warmth inside his ratty jacket. The tiny warm lump that rumbled contently against his front radiated with heat, and his fingers finally began to feel like actual fingers rather than useless stiff frigid lumps of meat and bone attached to his palms.

A pointed cough startled him from his clumsy wriggling to get the cat to settle down. An oddly familiar security guard stood at the entrance of the station at the bottom of the stairs, leveling Stanley an unimpressed look with the metal gate in his grip already halfway closed, ready to seal the subway for the night. He must have been a comical sight; caught awkwardly bent over while trying to get his newly acquired cat to stop kneading biscuits on his stomach, with said cat peeking out from the gap between his collars.

Stanley faintly recognized the guard. He was a much older man, with a shock of thinning white hair neatly tucked underneath a dark blue cap and a strange depth in his eyes that reminded Stanley of the sea; with countless unspoken truths lurking far beneath the surface, but no less grand and knowing of all that the universe had to offer, as though he had already lived a thousand lives before this one.

He had seen the man around before, at another station, doing the opposite of his job by ushering stray buskers and homeless stragglers from the streets and into the (relatively) safe walls of the subway, instead of doing what any other law-abiding security guard would do and kick them out into the elements. He wasn't sure what the older man was doing here, of all places, since all the previous stations he'd seen the man at had been several states over, practically on the other side of the country.

A brief spark of panic shot through his spine at the thought that this man could be following him, but he quickly discarded the ridiculous notion as soon as it entered his mind. He had never even seen him before, and hardly ever even interacted with him; there was no reason for there to be any sort of bad blood between them. Unless he happened to be related to one of Stanley's many, many enemies, then perhaps his fear was a little warranted.

However, the old guard made no move to attack or do anything other than stare judgmentally, almost expectantly. For the first time in a long time, Stanley felt like a child being caught doing something he wasn't supposed to do. He tried his best to keep his uncomfortable squirming to a minimum under the unrelenting gaze, stubbornly returning the man's gaze with his own wary glare. His cat’s muffled whining came from inside his jacket. The traitor, she was leaving him to deal with the old man on his own.

With an exasperated jerk of his head, the security guard gestured towards the inside of the station. For a moment, Stanley stared dumbly, uncomprehending of what the old man could possibly want from him. Rolling his eyes, this time the man gestured more insistently at the small gap that still remained between the metal gate and the entrance, his arm sweeping the air in a low arc as he dramatically urged Stanley inside. Suddenly, it clicked, and Stanley shook his head.

“I have a car,” he said plainly, his voice echoing loudly in the desolate silence of the winter night that surrounded the unlikely pair.

He wasn't sure why he was so nervous, it wasn't as though he was lying. He did have a car, his trusty Stanley-mobile was parked safely away in the corner of an unassuming alley that wasn't often frequented by anyone. There was no way he was reaching it tonight, though; it was practically on the other side of the city, much too far away for him to arrive at a reasonable time. His nightly excursions to meet his small friend unfortunately left him with no other choice than to leave his car behind, the hunk of metal far too unwieldy and noticeable to drive around openly on the streets. He never knew who could be watching, after all.

He had simply been hoping to find himself a dark corner to tuck himself into with his cat, just for the night, but it seemed as though the universe had other plans. Or rather, this strange old man had other plans.

Although, if Stanley thought about it, the subway wasn't such a bad suggestion. This was one of the safer stations in the city; and with the rich neighborhoods being so close by, no rogue criminal or dealers dared to come near this area unless they wanted to be slapped with a hefty fine or face a higher potential to be arrested. And of course, there was the obvious shelter from the unrelenting cold that now seemed to permeate his bones, even with the purring warmth that was nestled inside his jacket.

So, that was how he found himself hunkering down for the night inside a shabby old subway station, with a satisfied cat still rumbling away against his chest and a strange old security guard locking down the gates behind him. The man said nothing as he hooked his keys back onto his belt and gave a firm pat on Stanley's shoulders as he walked past him, pausing to scratch his cat behind her ears before moving away. His footsteps bounced off of the grimy tiled walls with an odd reverb as he turned a corner.

“You'll be safe in here,” the man said, voice sage and gravelly. The words had a weight to them, and seemed to hang in the air with such a presence it was as though the old man had never even left his side.

The subway was empty, quiet. It was such a stark contrast to the loud rowdiness of the rush hour crowd these halls once held. Stanley hadn't yet registered the utter silence of the station as he aimlessly made his way down the winding, deserted halls of the ancient station. He mindlessly walked past the aged and peeling advertising posters plastered on the walls, his nose becoming accustomed to the stinging stench of the subway. The quiet seemed to swallow the sound of his steps as he explored the branching paths and endless tunnels. They were almost kaleidoscopic, dizzying, nonsensical. There were doors where there shouldn't be, and deadends where it didn't make sense.

The silence only began to truly settle in his bones the more he walked. He suddenly wished that he would head the telltale footsteps of the old security guard again, just to hear another sign of life in this underground hellscape other than himself. The ghostly memories of screeching trains and bustling crowds haunted the halls; now, only nothingness reigned supreme. He glanced down at his small feline companion, who slumbered away against his chest, blissfully unaware of his jackrabbiting heartbeat threatening to burst out of his ribs. The silence seemed to permeate every inch of space and crush the air out of his lungs. He couldn't breathe.

Stanley’s steps grew faster, more frantic as the walls and ceilings seemed to close in on him. They grew smaller, tighter; squeezing, trapping. He hardly even registered his cat's complaints as she was jostled around in his grasp, breaking into a full out run. His breathing sounded loud, too loud, and the world was collapsing around him.

When he finally broke out into a large, open platform, he could finally breathe again. He had arrived at the tracks, the empty tunnel where the trains would pass an empty, gaping maw in the wall that seemed to swallow all light around it and beckon him closer. He felt his cat wriggle out from within his jacket and hop out with a displeasured yowl, scampering away and disappearing behind a corner much like the old man had. True silence pierced his ears and thrummed like a deafening pressure in his temples. He was alone.

Stanley was stuck in that subway station for years.

[villainousauthor]

"We can't keep meeting like this." Villain tsks, thoughtfully as they eyed Hero. It's was just their luck that Hero had not once, but twice, been in a building taken hostage by Villain while in their civilian getup.

Last time was in one of the larger banks downtown two weeks ago. Hero had made the choice to not reveal their heroic persona, wanting to protect their personal identity, and the civilians in case a fought broke out.

Villain didn't look at them twice and did not recognize their nemesis. No casualties occurred, thankfully. Hero was able to walk away with their secret intact, and with Villain likely forgetting their face entirely.

Or so they thought. Villain eyed them now with light amusement. Did they know who Hero was? Or did Villain simply remember their face from the crowd of quivering hostages.

Hero gulped as they kneeled on the cool floor of the vital records office. They tried their best to blend in with the other civilians currently cowering low, but they couldn't ignore when Villain's attention was so directly on them. Curse their life. They only came here for a copy of their birth certificate.

"Um." They swallowed, licked their lips, and tried again to speak. Hopefully Villain wouldn't recognize their voice. "Yes I was -"

"At the bank." Villain finishes. "Do you have a habit of finding yourself in hostage situations?" They smirk wide, obviously enjoying toying with whom they believe to be an innocent bystander while waiting for the clerk to get the records they demanded.

"I...have had a string of bad luck lately." Hero chokes out. Villain laughs, voice echoing through the atrium. The other hostages flinch at the sound.

Villain rakes their eyes over Hero as they kneel. A bit of humor can be found in their expression.

"A bad luck streak, huh?" They look over to where the clerk is still scrambling to gather the documents and printing out more information. Undoubtedly, information that'll be used against Villain's enemies somehow. "Well, if we're all not too unlucky, I'll have what I want soon, and you won't be here too long."

Unable to stop the quip from falling from their lips, Hero responds in a tone unbefitting their nervous civilian persona. "Knowing the work efficency of this place, I'll still be here to nightfall even after you leave."

Villain laughs yet again. Not the same usual villainous laugh they have when tormenting someone, but a real laugh. Hero mentally chastises themselves, knowing they need to stop drawing attention themselves. Villain takes another look at the clerk before turning back to Hero and crouching down low, their eyes level now.

"What's your name?" Villain asks with an amused tilt of their lips. Their gaze holds Hero still, burning them in place. Hero's heart hammers in their chest.

They hesitate before finding a way out of answering. "Why do you need to know? Do you think my luck is so bad that I'll end up in a third hostage situation?" They retort, expecting many different reactions to this refusal. Irritation, anger, dismissal.

Hero has no way to predict what Villain actually says next.

"Maybe your luck isn't that bad, but maybe my luck is that good." Their smile widens. "Maybe I just want to put a name to a pretty face."

Oh God. Villain is flirting with them. Hero feels themselves blink in rapid succession as they try and process what is going on right now. Villain, their nemesis, is flirting with them. While holding them hostage. While not realizing who Hero is, to top it off. This is going to make their next fight very awkward on Hero's end.

Hero can feel the incredulous stares of the other civilians as their own face heats up.

"I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours?" Hero attempts. They try to ignore the heat in their gut at the way Villain's eyes hold them in place, their gaze almost hungry.

With a snort, Villain shakes their head. "Nice try. Maybe after a few dinners, I'll tell you my real name. Cute try, though." They say in a voice that doesn't sound sarcastic enough. Hero can't believe what their life is right now.

As if sensing Hero's continued hesitancy, Villain stands back to their full height. "Maybe our paths will cross again, and I can get you to agree later. To dinner or to giving me your name." They all but purr, before turning back to where the clerk is waiting fearfully with a thick looking folder. All the while, Hero's mind is reeling as they try and steady their heart.

The other civilians continue to look at them as if they've grown a second head.

Villain strides to the desk, taking the documents and giving them a once over. Whatever it is, they find it satisfactory, apparently, snapping the folder shut with a wicked grin after a moment.

"Your participation made this as bloodless as possible. Thanks for the cooperation." Villain's tone is full of mirth as they speak to the clerk one last time. Hero can only be thankful that, again, no casualties occurred. Small victories, they suppose.

Villain makes to walk towards the exit, but before they do, they kneel down in front of Hero, closer than before. Hero can smell the rich smokey smell of their cologne, as Villain grabs their chin gingerly.

They lean in close, speaking quietly enough that only Hero's ears can pick up the soft, almost affectionate words as their breath fans across their neck.

"It was nice to see you outside of costume again, Hero."

[alchemistc]

Technically a continuation of the make them communicate series I keep getting more inspo for.

two-way contract

"I need some advice," he says, the moment they're settled, and Tommy stares forlornly at the slab of salmon that is definitely not going to be the right temperature in however many minutes. It takes him a moment to register what he's being asked, and it takes a concerted effort to keep his cool once he draws a conclusion.

Evan has a roster, Tommy knows. A specific set of people he reaches out to for specific areas of expertise, and Tommy, for all that they've been working on things, has never been a part of that.

He thinks of hearing that Evan admired him, once upon a time, and wonders if the Tommy hearing that had ever considered he might one day shift into the roster. It's not a promotion he's entirely prepared for. He hasn't trained for this.

"Okay," Tommy says.

"So there's... this guy," Evan says, and the irritation hits Tommy's spine before he can stop it. Not a call-up, after all.

He's trying to work through this stupid urge to be Everything All The Time for Evan, but it's work. It's still work.

"Is this guy ...handsome?" Strike two for the both of them. Straight to the flirt. Or, if Evan's feeling snippy, a direct line to the jealousy and accusations.

Evans brow furrows in confusion. "Tommy, what does his attractiveness have to do with -?" He veers. "I have to start again or I'm gonna lose my train of thought."

Strike three before Tommy's even learned This Guys name.

"There's a guy, from 137," Evan starts again. "You can eat, this is gonna take a minute."

Christ, add a 3-6-4 double-play by the opposition to the list.

The warmth hits his spine as Evan lays out the absolute stupidest turf war known to man, and the fellow firefighter who keeps flirting with him at scenes they both show up at.

"Like I'm free game, Tommy. Like every civil servant in the city isn't well aware I'm dating that crazy pilot from 217?"

"That's what they call me now?"

"So not the point, Tommy."

Evan drops Tommy's name like an endearment, like a sacrament, like an expletive. Tommy's never appreciated his name before he heard Evan Buckley use it like a prayer.

Crazy Pilot isn't the worst thing he's ever been called. He doesn't see anyone else out here attempting to get closer to Those Batshit Freaks At The 118. They might have a point.

"What... do you need my advice for?"

Evan rolls his eyes. "Tommy." A plea, this time. "I don't know how to let a dude down gently. Not on purpose, anyway."

("Oh, TK thought I was asking him out," on a random Tuesday morning while Tommy was doing his best work right around Evan's belly button.

"Can you please stop bringing up all the men you didn't know you wanted to fuck while there's a perfectly serviceable one right here?"

"You're more than serviceable, Tommy.")

He's been trying to stop seeing everything as a test, too, and that little nugget is rearing it's ugly head at the moment.

It takes him a long moment to realize Evan's framed this whole thing in a way that blazed right fucking past Tommy's jealousy issues.

"What did Maddie say?"

Evan's brow creases. "I haven't talked to her about it."

Oh.

Fuck.

He's gotta get past the giddy feeling bubbling up before he blows this. They can talk about that later.

"Is gentle the right move, here?" Evan blinks. "If you're sure he knows about me, maybe tossing the code of conduct with a highlighted sexual harassment section through his window one night is a better move."

"I know you're being facetious but the only reason I'm not doing that is because he'd find something flattering about me knowing where he lives."

The surge of protectiveness isn't new, but it feels like a new branch has grown off that tree. Not the point. Not the issue. But it's there all the same. "So he's been aggressive about it."

"He sent me flowers at work."

Better than home.

"C shift thought they were from you until I threw them in the trash."

Worse than home, actually.

Tommy doesn't have a solution. Tommy has the reminder of a man who'd clocked him in his late twenties before he'd figured himself out and scared Tommy into dating women for half a decade.

"I don't know if gentle is the right move," Evan says, and Tommy knows they aren't getting to dinner for a while. "I just know if the rumor mill gets hold of this they're gonna start calling you Crazy Cuck instead and then I'm gonna break my hand on their face."

Tommy snorts a sip of wine through his nose when he fails to hold back a laugh

[citruslullabies]

OMG. I SAW UR CURLY HEADCANONS AND I TOUGHT THEY WERE AMAZING!! COULD U MAYBE DO THE SAME THING BUT WITH DAISUKE?? :O

Coming right up hon!

Daisuke Mouthwashing headcannons

Romantic

Pre-crash Daisuke:

He's a silly guy

Constantly cracking jokes, trying to make you laugh

People wouldn't know if you two were dating or just best friends if it weren't for the fact he's a puppy dog with you

Following you around whenever he can, looking at you for praise whenever he can

It's kind of like the meme "no, I'm not calling you good boy. That mission was shit."

..other than he is a good boy so call him such

And boy does he love PDA

Well, not really

He just loves affection, public or private

I like to think he's just a bit more silly in public

Kisses your cheek and makes an over exaggerated pop whenever he pulls away

Daisuke was hanging out with Swansea, goofing off as usual. But he saw you in the corner of his eye and without a second thought, ran to you and practically pounced. Before you could get anything but a giggle in, he pressed his lips to your cheek and kissed you with a loud pop!

He's not really a petname sort of person either

It's mostly funny nicknames for him

He will call you his grumpasaur when you're grumpy first thing in the morning. I don't make the rules.

Post-crash Daisuke:

For awhile, he still acts the same. But his personality is a little watered down, y'know?

He's stressed and scared after what happened

But he tries not to let that get him down!

Although he is more clingy, more scared of letting go of you. One accident already happened and almost wiped their captain out, what if you were next?

He didn't want to think about that

It made him nauseated to think about

And eventually well.. he crawled through that vent to get to Anya

And he got severely injured. You couldn't bear to see him like that

You most likely died soon before, trying to keep Swansea from killing Daisuke

Begging and pleading that there had to be some other way

But it didn't work out in anyone's favor

Platonic

Pre-crash Daisuke:

You guys are super duper close!!

Lots of jokes and pranks on the other crew members

Constantly goofing off whenever you can

Not too affectionate.. the occasional hug here and there. But besides that it's all fun and games

He has definitely drawn on your face before while you slept

I'm sorry. I don't make the rules. He would definitely make an attempt at drawing a flower on your cheek and it look like a penis

He'd still giggle about it though.. maybe it wasn't an accident

He has definitely (jokingly and lovingly) made fun of Swansea

Just standing up and trying to mimic his mannerisms while you're laughing

..yeah, too bad Swansea was in at that very moment

"look at me, I'm Swansea! I'm a big smelly engineer!" Daisuke said in a forcefully deeper voice, making you laugh as he held his arms out in front of him as if to mimic toting a stomach around. Swansea in question could only look unamused as he cleared his throat, making you both stop in your tracks. Oh if looks could kill.

But yeah you guys have a purely goofy relationship

Post-crash Daisuke:

It's the exact same as the romantic, but the difference is, he tries to convince you to go into the vent with him. He wants to get Anya and doesn't want to be alone

But you of course refused, stating it wasn't safe but did he listen?

No

In fact he continued on to the vent and got himself injured

You gave him the 'i told you so' look but.. you felt really bad when looking at your friend. He was in bad shape.

And so you died a similar way

The only big difference is, you died after discovering him

Thanks for requesting!

[killishin]

— ♡ right person at the right time.

PART 01.

pairing: jason todd x reader

category: lots of fluff, angst, he fell first she fell harder kinda trope, sfw

content warning: afab, mention of death (reader's mother), violence here and there.

summary: reader's just a normal citizen of Gotham, scrambling to making ends meet. after a fateful encounter, when he saw the reader kick ass and save a life- he can't get them off his mind. and fate just keeps pulling them together forcing him to do something about it.

a/n: wanted to write for him when i was drawing him last night. the drawing turned to shit so i hope the fic doesn't. I've just recently started reading the comics so if he goes a bit ooc i apologise. happy reading.

wc: 3k

dividers by @cafekitsune

masterlist. fic masterlist. next

"god fucking dammit!"

you pick up your phone from the pavement, which by the way, was wet with puddles. so now your phone might not just have a cracked screen but also stops working for good. your brows furrow in concern as you scrutinize the rather horrible crack in the screen making you groan quietly in frustration.

"why now— ugh-" your attempts in starting the phone become rapid and restless before you shove it in your bag with a sigh.

the week had been a rollercoaster, to say the least. freelancing, internship and part time only pays so much, it was getting harder and harder to make ends meet. you were thankful that your father and step mother had moved out and given you the apartment to yourself, though you still had to pay mortgage.

living in gotham is already tough enough, with criminals and vigilantes crawling left and right. your father had begged you to move elsewhere but you really could not afford that. Alyssa, the step mother, had been pestering your dad to move out of gotham. and so they did, bought a good house on the countryside. you were happy for them, even though you didn't exactly like alyssa, you wouldn't want them to say in gotham.

your dad had offered to help you out, in paying bills and mortgage until you found a decent job that wouldn't make you die from stress. but he was old enough, you wanted him to relax now. live a little.

and you did land a job, not exactly decent in this economy but its enough. you were still scrambling with almost no savings but its okay.

only it doesn't feel so okay right now. adjusting to a new workplace is harder than you thought and its a long distance from your apartment. and its way too dark for a single women in gotham to be walking back home because you trust the metro far less.

there are people still there, of course, but its as if by each passing minute that dread in your stomach increases, as if any one of them might whip out some guns or gut someone with a knife. while you loved the moody clouds, it always made gotham too grim. an extra layer of sinister doom.

you increased your pace, your apartment was still a fifteen minutes walk and it wasn't exactly in a secure neighborhood. not like any neighborhood is secure in gotham. well maybe except those one percent of rich elites , like the wayne who lives in his pretty castle. okay you were a teensy bit petty against rich.

your hands were tightly clutched around your bag on instinct while your eyes were alert as they continously scanned the neighborhood, and you notice a few walking exactly like you. scared. hurried.

"almost there almost there—"

"– wait please help!— wait WAIT GOD PLEASE—"

your feet came to an abrupt stop, grimacing as you didn't dare turn your head to look into that dark alley. of course it had to happen in front of you.

of course you were no selfish, heartless bastard. but you were no vigilante either and you've seen enough news to know that its often the helpers who end up dead with a bullet through their head.

your mother was one of them.

"— please don't‐" RIPPP! "— please no!"

you winced at the scream, the unmistakable sound of clothes ripping had your head taking a sharp turn towards that darkened alley.

whatever. if you die you die.

you took a long shaky breath before hurriedly following that sound and despite the lack of light, you could clearly make out the rather disgusting man holding a pistol over the women's head. her sleeve was torn and you guessed he was manhandling her roughly, assumption true from the way he was gripping her arm.

but the man didn't notice, neither the women. it was understandable for her not to but the man should have, you weren't exactly in his blind spot or even quiet in your steps. but you took that as a blessing as you slowly inched forward, slowly yet steadily.

one thing you were the most grateful to your dad was that he put you in self defense classes since a kid. after your mom's death, he had made it absolutely sure that if, god forbid, you ever found yourself in such a situation, you'd at least have a fair chance of escaping. you believed every damn kid in gotham should know it, but sadly, its a privilege not many can afford.

taking a deep breath you spring into action, not giving your brain a moment to freak out.

your hand tackled his hand with the gun and shoved it upwards, muzzle up, before slamming the side of your palm on his throat. he choked, his eyes widening in surprise as he stumbled back and in that moment you could see his eyes were red and crazed. the fucking asshole was high. not good. not good at all.

even in that pain he pulled the fucking trigger, making your ears ring out. the girl screamed as she fell to the ground, cowering and sobbing as she covered her ears. if you weren't already high on adrenaline you would have done the same— shit maybe your heart did stop for a second.

you land a harsh kick straight to his groin before disarming him, snatching the gun and throwing it far. the man groaned loudly, holding his now broken jewels as he dropped to the ground. so for good measures, you swivel and land a roundhouse kick on his head.

....

for a second its just dead silence as you stand, huffing and puffing as you look down at the man before your eyes dart to the girl, who has quieted down a bit. she was looking at the body with the same expression as you, scared and apprehensive.

...did i kill him? why isn't he moving? please tell me he's just knocked out oh god oh god—

before you could take a shaky step forward, a huge body landed right beside you out of nowhere making you and the girl both shriek like a pterodactyl.

"— shit my ears! hey— calm down." you removed your hands that had wrapped around your head as you peaked through, finally registering the rather robotic voice.

red helmet. leather. 6 foot pure muscle and strength.

"oh thank fuck its you." you whispered as you dropped to your knees, your palm rubbing your face as you sighed in relief. red hood, a vigilante. you're safe. man's late but— shit you're safe. thats all that fucking matters.

the vigilante though, looked between you, the knocked out man and the other women, not really sure what to do. he had seen enough to see how fast you handled the mugger. the sound of a scream pulled his attention quickly in time to see you literally kicking his ass. not many people can handle themselves that good in situations like this. you were fast, quick and calm—

"oh my god oh my god is he dead?! did i kick his neck— did i break it— oh my god oh my god–" you cried out in pure panic as you literally poke the man, as if that would get it to suddenly get up like undertaker.

okay so maybe not calm.

"—look i didn't kill him okay?! i just— why are you so late?!" you rambled on, looking at him as if he's the mugger.

he had a pretty shitty day, this might have annoyed him but instead his lips tugged up in an amused smile, his hands resting on his hip as he simply stared at you for a moment.

"what if something happened?! to me or—" your eyes widened even more as if you just remembered about the girl. unlike you, the girl had calmed down a bit, sniffling as she was picking up her scattered things from the ground.

"oh god are you okay?" you scrambled up to your feet, your legs felt like jelly just like the mess in your head and you almost fell down, if not for his hand steadily holding your arm to stabilise you. his hand felt huge on your arm, you thought the hands that must be calloused from fighting and delivering judgement to criminals might have a harsh grip but it was gentle, careful even.

you flinched upon contact and averted your eyes from that tin helmet, as if those glowing slits were really his eyes. he let go of your arm as you walked to the other girl, brows furrowed in concern despite your panic.

"are you okay? d-did he hurt you?" you asked the girl frantically but she shook her head, smiling gratefully.

"no. thank you so much— for saving me. really—" she took a shaky breath as she held your hand, "i don't know what would have happened to me if you didn't come."

she held on for her own support but it calm the storm inside you too. you smiled back and nodded, "im just glad you're okay." you bit back the guilt that was forming in your heart, you had almost walked away.

the girl thanked you again before walking away hurriedly, shooting an apprehensive glance towards red hood. who wouldn't be intimidated by that?

your eyes stared at the wall for a couple of moments before you sighed, your eyes blinking slowly as your mind processed everything.

"you... were good. you handled that perfectly." the vigilante spoke after an awkward moment of just standing there. he knew first hand how terrifying the streets of gotham are, and how even more terrifying it is to fight back as a mere citizen.

"yeah well thank the adrenalin rush." you retorted as you turned back, and suddenly you were much aware of your surroundings. of him, to be exact. your eyes almost travelled down, checking him out but you averted it to the body lying down, pretending to look at him.

seriously you almost got shot and now you're ogling? is this the red hood effect?

"i get that." he chuckled before crouching down, pressing his fingers against his pulse and registering its there. "and to answer your previous question, yes he's alive. no you didn't kill him."

despite that modulated voice you could hear the amusement in his voice, and for some reason it got on your nerves. the fear and shock was now taking a backseat as your eyes narrowed at him slightly.

"also, apologies for not making it in time. forgot my teleportation powers back home." now that definitely sarcasm. you bet he's— whoever he is— is smirking behind that damn helmet.

you scowled at him, your cheeks heating up in embarrassment. "not accepted. you know i almost got shot?" you scoffed out, no of course you knew he can't be everywhere at all times. vigilantes are humans too but that sarcasm is itching your nerves.

"that body could have been mine."

"i would have made it till then."

you scoffed out a laugh as you rolled your eyes, irked at how sure he sounds, "yeah right. you came a whole minute later after that asshole's ass hit the floor."

you were panicking not a minute ago and now you're sassing him? his lips pulled into a full on grin as he stood up, not missing how you pause and jump back like a cat.

"a second." he corrected.

"like it matters."

"it does."

you released a breath in annoyance before pulling on your bag, you didn't need to do that but you really didn't know what the fuck to do with your hands. "point is, you were late."

"i slowed deliberately because you had it in control." he smoothly countered making your eyes narrowed, you were beginning to distort the rather handsome image of him in your mind to a rotten tomato.

"oh? and what if i didn't?"

"he would be on the ground faster than it took him to pull the trigger."

"are you showing off?"

"hey you asked!"

jason wasn't exactly the most social person, all snark and bite both in the suit and off. yet the few people who genuinly catch his eye, bold enough to challenge him despite the intimidating physique he has— who does pique his interest a bit, he lessens the blows.

and this person right here, had his interest. he didn't even know you, yet there was something about you— maybe the way you slammed your hand on his throat perfectly to choke him— or the way you pull your shit together enough to sass him back.

he'll forget about you in a day or two eventually but he's damn sure you'd hold a place in his memories.

"whatever." you muttered as you looked at the body before shaking your head. its done, in past. you whip out your phone to see the time before remembering it doesn't work anymore. with a curse you shove it back in your pocket.

"i uh— i suppose we just leave that there?" you asked awkwardly as you pointed at it and he almost laughed how cute you looked eyeing the man like he's some horrid smelling garbage.

"don't worry. you should go home." he said as he tipped his head to point out of the alley.

"yeah... yeah— i should." you said quietly as you shoved your hands in your jacket before slowly beginning to walk away. "please don't tell the police i did that. i don't want cops on my door for some shitty routine investigation." you requested, and he had to suppress a snort.

"i promise." he said sarcastically as he crossed his fingers and you nodded, not having the energy to retort a reply. the adrenaline was wearing off.

he noticed the sudden weariness and as if he suddenly remembered the dangers surrounding a women in gotham, he stepped forward.

"hey— you heading home?" he questioned and it came out awfully soft that even his modulated voice couldn't hide.

you paused as you turned back slightly, "uh yeah— its a ten minute walk from here."

"should i walk you home?" why the hell would he say that now?

that warmed your heart, a quiet chuckle spilling out of you. you were bickering like little kids just now but seeing his concern for you made you remember what he is. a vigilante. someone who protects and cares for the people.

"wouldn't people stare if they see a normal women walking around with the red hood?" you asked pointedly, slightly amused by the way his head tilted as if he just realised it. it was tough gauging his expressions due to the helmet but somehow you could guess it right.

he felt like an amateur for suggesting that. seriously what the fuck? "shit— i mean I'll keep an eye till you get home." he corrected, his voice taking a rather grumpy turn now that he sees you taking joy at his stupid mistake.

"isn't that what stalkers do?"

he scoffed, almost smiling at her audacity. but she had a point, he can't even deny. "i doubt I'd even remember your address. saving the city and all." he waves his hand around sarcastically, resting a hand on his hip.

"right, of course." you hummed before waving at him as you begin walking away. "thank you— for uh- protecting me!" you called out as you smiled and walked out the alley.

you had speed walked home, since the moment you left his presence paranoia had almost crippled you. you breathed in relief after you stepped in your apartment, switching on the lights and plopping down on the sofa.

another secret to hide from dad, of course he can't know. he'll drop everything and come back.

you removed your palm from your face as you looked out your balcony, your mind wandering to the vigilante who didn't save you exactly but saved you emotionally from spiralling. right person at the right time.

your cheeks heated up as you remembered him, he was easy on the eyes for sure. even more without the helmet but that mystery would stay a mystery for you. you were a bit giddy from meeting a vigilante— that too red hood. you would have probably danced the fuck out if you weren't so shaken up.

you wonder how he kept an eye on you though, and to seek answers you stood up, walking to the balcony.

jason stood there as he stared at your apartment from the rooftop of the opposite building, a clear view of your apartment from your balcony, something settling in his chest. he shouldn't have stayed for so long, much less stare at you for so long. shit its starting to get creepy. but more than that, what weirds him out is what pull he's feeling in his chest. his mind replays the image of your face, the slant of your nose, the flutter of your lashes, the curve of your lips— how your brows furrowed as you scolded him, how your lips looked extra sweet when smiling.

a short encounter, entertaining at its best yet its sticking to him like a leech.

just as you step out into your balcony he disappears. its nothing he convinces himself, give it a day or two and you'll simply be a distant memory. a blip, insignificant. sure you were cute and dangerously hot when fighting but that was it.

just a really pretty thing.

nothing more.

he's pretty sure he won't even see you again.

.....

won't see you again his ass— what the fuck?

he thinks as he stares at you, standing in the line for a coffee while you scramble in your bag to find your purse, embarrassed because your card declined.

it seems like fate is doing some nasty work pulling him to you.

and with the way his heart is racing, he knows he can't pull away.

reblogs are appreciated :D

[kiame-sama]

Humans Are Extinct (Yandere!TWST x Fem!Reader) Monster AU pt 47

(Grim is an honorary member of every dorm and is treated rather well by most students. Most students believe that the best way to make the Human like them is by winning over Grim. Rook and Vil made his outfit and both worked to make a proper head accessory for him that ties the look together. His headdress is made out of actual gems, fabric, and one of Vil's tail feathers.)

Warnings: Multiple yanderes, platonic and romantic yanderes, temporary panic, games of mental strategy, clarity in the seemingly unclear, arguing, moments of stress, Dragon, Shinigami, mention of Hellcat, mention of Harpies

~~~~~~~~

You frowned, looking in yet another empty room for your wayward ward. The adored Hellcat had been away from your side for an extended period of time and it was quickly making you nervous. He was usually attached to your side like he had been glued there, but since that morning you had not seen hide nor hair of the young feline.

Your worry was that he had been taken by Poachers.

Once again, you began looking through the various rooms in an attempt to find your kit. Every room he was not in was yet another addition to your mounting concern as you quickly became frantic. Searching through the dorm was quickly becoming a sport as you searched high and low for your kit.

"Grim? Grim! GRIM?!"

Your frantic search was drawing the attention of those staying in the dorm. It was more than obvious who you were looking for and that you were becoming upset very quickly. The first to approach you in your anxious state was the ever watchful Dragon.

"(Y/n), my Treasure, what are you doing?"

"Grim! My boy! He's just gone! I can't find him."

You checked again in one of the empty rooms, your stress visible in the way your shoulders tensed and your eyes wheeled around to try and find your kit. The Dragon was also concerned, but more so for you as you continued your hurried search.

"I'm sure Grim is fine-"

"You can't possibly know that! What if Poachers got him? What if one of those bears got him? You can't know he is safe!"

"(Y/n)-"

"If you aren't going to help me look, you can walk away!"

The Dragon let out a long sigh before physically moving in front of you, making you almost growl in frustration. Why couldn't he understand the gravity of the situation? Grim was your only true friend among these obsessed beasts and you were terrified of losing him.

"Grim is fine. He is with Eric and Vil."

"You couldn't have told me this earlier!? Where are they?"

"I can't tell you where they are."

"Why the hell not?!"

"Because Grim asked us not to. He is trying to learn how to fly because he wants to impress you when he manages to actually fly. His wings are still tender, and his idea of 'flying' was more gliding than actual flight. Odds are he was never taught to fly and considered his gliding to be flight. I wanted to keep this secret for him, but it is clearly distressing you too much to keep this concealed."

You went quiet at this, brows pulled together in concern as you stared at the Dragon. As far as you were aware, Grim shouldn't be using his wings yet because they were not fully healed yet. This new information from Malleus made sense but you were still upset that no one bothered to tell you.

Perhaps Grim truly did want to surprise you with his flying ability and that was why he asked the Harpies for help. It wasn't like you could teach the Kit as you had no wings and no understanding of the effort it took to actually fly. He had lost use of his wings before you met him- and judging from Malleus' words, he didn't actually know how to fly beyond gliding- so he was now trying to get the use of his wings back.

Your worry was still rather intense even though you now knew where the kit was. Everything that could possibly go wrong was making your stomach writhe and ache in worry. Though you mostly trusted Vil and his father, you were still concerned for the kit and his wellbeing.

He was as much your son as he was your friend. Though you did not birth the kit, he was still your boy and you would be damned before you let him get hurt by anything.

"Where are they?"

"Nearby."

"Tsuno, that is not an answer. Where is my boy?"

The Dragon sighed, trying to stay honest with you, yet also attempting to honor Grim's wishes. It was not an easy thing to do by any stretch and he was going to have to try and calm you down. Clearly you were not overly trusting when it came to others around Grim.

"He is safe and is in the nearby field with Eric and Vil. They are making sure he stays protected and has somewhere to practice flying. (Y/n), he is very excited about showing you what he has accomplished when he is ready. He isn't ready right now. I believe it will mean the world to him to get to show you his learned skills. It may break his heart if you show up while he is practicing."

Malleus' last sentence made your heart ache as you imagined how crestfallen the kit would be to have this little victory taken away from him. You adored the Kit that saw you as his mother and you truly just wanted him to be safe. Thinking of the Kit being upset with you for ruining his surprise genuinely made it feel as if there were a pit in your stomach.

He just wanted you to be proud of him and feel like he earned that pride fairly.

You knew you would one day have to let the Kit spread his wings and take flight to build his own life, but you didn't want that day to be any time soon. Perhaps a talk with Papa Hades would help calm your frantic and aching heart. He was the main fount of knowledge when it came to Hellcats like Grim, so he would certainly know the general timeline for Grim's growth.

"... Where is Papa Hades?"

"Lord Hades is with the other Shrouds in the kitchen. They have been fiercely debating something in a dead tongue and refuse to explain what it is that has them so heated."

"I should talk to him about Grim."

"Why? He is safe."

"I need to know his growth timeline. I would rather know how best to support him while he ages instead of just assuming I know what I'm doing."

Your words seemed to placate Malleus as he nodded, keen to stay around you now that you had mostly recovered from your illness. The Elder Shinigami wasn't keeping him away, at least. This meant the Dragon was free to obsess over you and ensure you did not stray too far from his side, despite how you could never fully escape his sight.

As you made your way down the steps, you heard a low and hushed murmur. Many voices were speaking quickly and not wholly without heavy tones souring the sound of chatter. You could hardly discern if they were speaking a language you knew, or simply humming in quiet consort.

When you entered the kitchen, all humming stopped and the oddly alert group of Shinigami turned to regard you silently. Each one seemed so off to you, as if they had simply been behaving docile around you and the true nature was showing through. Even Ortho- who was usually affable and smiling- seemed unusually animalistic.

From the way they moved and regarded you like a flock of Crows, to the overwhelming silent dread of facing a large predator. Your placid view of each one of these beings very suddenly sharpened into clarity in how abnormal they actually were to your base senses. Most acted stunningly Human around you and it only now occurred to you that they were nothing like Humans to begin with.

The sudden weight of being surrounded by predators slammed into you all at once. You could feel your body tense in the sudden wave of adrenaline as your own instincts finally registered the extreme danger.

Ortho's visor read out your vitals to the younger Shinigami at all times when he looked at you. That sensor and tracker you wore telling him that your body was responding the same way a prey animal would when faced with a predator. The change was sudden enough that several errors flashed rapidly on his visor and alerted the others to your sudden change. It was enough to snap them back into the oddly practiced Human behavior again.

The sudden return of normalcy left you feeling like you had been jump-scared by the group you had once fully trusted. Then again, you shouldn't ever truly let your guard down around any of them. They were addicts and you were their fix.

You would surely fall ill again if you kept on constant guard though, and that would leave you at the complete mercy of these creatures. Not to say you weren't already at their mercy, but having the ability to push them away if you wanted was not a bad thing either. It wouldn't do you any good to push them too far now.

"Little One, I thought you were resting."

The elder of the group stood, his cloak of woven shadows and starlight shimmered as he moved. He seemed more than aware of you sudden skittish behavior simply by the unblinking way you stared at him. You were studying him the same way he so often studied you. Though he would never admit it, there was something oddly off-putting and predatorial about your stare.

Humans were almost all docile when they finally got to him, but even he had seen the way a Human could fight when they feel there is something of great value to lose. Often, the elder wondered what exactly it was that kept you marching on your seemingly endless path of determination. You had already surpassed the level headedness and even temper of many Humans he had known and quickly claimed a place among the most adept of them. There had to be something that drove you to soothe tempers so readily and use yourself as a bargaining chip to the ones that craved you.

Something in the elder told him you were more aware of your situation than you should be. Perhaps it was merely conjecture on his part. Perhaps there was still a deeper truth you refused to reveal. Whatever the case may be, he was keen to keep you content with your surroundings and mostly at peace if possible.

You were a limited commodity that he was not keen to lose.

"I'm tired of resting."

"That is likely a good sign. Was there something you needed to discuss?"

"Not any more."

Your clipped responses and lack of enthusiasm was jarring to the elder and he quickly realized that lapse in their behavior was the likely cause. He wasn't about to let his efforts and the efforts of his kin be uprooted for something so simple. He would just have to explain to you what they had been doing and hope that you would relax around them again.

"Little One, I'm going to guess you happened to hear part of our little enclave discussion and it was rather unsettling for you. The language of the dead often unsettles others, as it is a tongue rarely spoken among the living."

"..."

"We were actually discussing you and Young Grim."

"What about us?"

"The fact that the both of you have unique and unusual qualities others do not. Young Grim can speak and walk upright. This is not common in Hellcats, nor has it been seen in any Hellcats prior. He is young, yet he is already capable of more than others of his kind. This..." he seemed to be searching for the right words, "sentience that he has shown is far above the baseline behavior of Hellcats. We wonder if it is a natural occurrence or if something altered him to make him this way."

"Meaning..?"

"Meaning he is much like yourself; an anomaly."

You frowned at this, narrowing your eyes and crossing your arms. It was more than apparent that you took some level of offence to the use of the word 'anomaly' in reference to yourself and your kit.

"And what makes me such an 'anomaly' in your eyes?"

"I don't mean it offensively. I mean it simply as you are different from the Humans I lived among. The Humans that lived on the Isle of Woe showed some blot absorption, but nowhere near the same level as your own abilities. Even beyond just the interactions with blot, your recent walking dream with Mor'du has brought up many a question for all of us. You have seen a beast others can scarcely imagine, all without never actually seeing him, only his offspring. Young Anastasi believes that you have a connection to the Ursus Major and that it should be explored. I do not think the vague possibility of a connection warrants putting you in dangerous situations, let alone putting you anywhere near the beast."

"... What if I want to see him?"

This question caused an immediate reaction from the elder Shinigami and the Dragon hovering over your shoulder. Even Malleus knew of the beast you discussed, having been warned against bothering the dangerous creature by his own grandmother and ancestor. It was not a creature to idly pay a visit or even consider approaching.

"No, (Y/n). That beast will kill you. Any of the Ursus- Minor or Major- would kill you in moments."

"Odd, I wasn't asking your thoughts on the matter."

"I don't care if you were asking me or not, I know for a fact such a creature only craves destruction and violence. Whatever this newfound connection you have with the beast may be, I refuse to let you enter the den of such a danger on a simple whim. If you died-"

Malleus actually cut off with a hitched sound to his tone. There was a raw agony that overtook the Dragon from even considering the possibility of you dying. It was incomprehensible to him, and it hurt his heart more than he believed possible just to consider.

"I can't let that happen."

"I'm not asking you to let it happen. I'm telling you I want to know more. I want to see the beast with my own eyes. I want to see what memories come forth when I absorb his blot."

This caught the attention of the others more than your prior words had. You had been rather reserved when talking about your experiences when you absorbed the blot of Alistair and Vil. They were not your memories to share and you had been hesitant to tell anyone about your experience because these memories belonged to someone else.

"You mentioned the memories you saw of Young Vil and Young Alistair... Do you truly think those memories were tied to blot?"

"The memories I saw were not happy memories. They were all traumatic and upsetting. Vil and his mother, Alistair finding his father dead in the gardens... All of them were memories of pain that likely influenced the amount of accumulated blot inside of them. Blot seems to be an overwhelming outpouring of pain and trauma. Things that leave lasting scars on the hearts and minds of those affected. That bear- Mor'du- was covered in blot. I want to know what painful memories caused it."

"That... makes quite a lot of sense. If you absorbed the blot, it could be the key to understanding how he came to be, and how to undo his reign of terror. But getting that blot and the inherent danger blot presents involves its own issues and potential danger to you and others nearby. If he wakes, Sage Island needs to be evacuated. He last awoke forty years ago and he only wakes ever century or so, but that doesn't mean outside influence will not wake him again."

The elder sighed, clearly taking in this interest of yours and the potential for new information into mind. He may be strong, but strength alone was not what allowed him to survive so long where many of his descendants and kin had died. Information and knowledge was power, especially when you were more than several millennia old.

"Something to consider later. For now, please do what you can to avoid the beast, Little One. There are too many variables at play and risking your wellbeing is not worth whatever information that stands to be gained."

You let out a soft noise of discontent, akin to a snorting sound in the back of your throat. For now, you would hold yourself back from seeking out the beast. Though it hurt to admit, there was little chance you would be able to put up much of a fight if the bear woke while you were nearby. That didn't mean you had to like it.

"... Fine. But I won't sit idly by forever."

[rogueddie]

It takes Steve an embarassingly long moment to realise that the spray isn't doing anything. He tries shaking it… nothing. He even checks by spraying it on his hand, shaking it again. Nothing.

He tries listening as he shakes it again and, though he's sure there's some product still left inside, nothing will come out.

He reluctantly throws it in the little trash can, just next to the toilet door. He doesn't bother rooting through the draws or cabinets either; he'd used the last of his emergency powder kit yesterday. There's nothing left.

He huffs, folding his arms, glaring at his reflection. Specifically at the very overgrown, bright blond roots of his hair.

It brings up the same anxiety he's been having for the past month. It's taken him a long time to save up for his usual hairdressers. He hadn't thought it would take so long but, with the kids and now Robin and Eddie, it shouldn't be that surprising.

Robin often pays a good chunk for things too, often paying him gas money, but it's usually him paying for everything. And now that he's paying rent in his own little appartment? He's not often left with that much at the end of the month.

He's starting to think it's not worth the trip. But he isn't going to start using box dye or anything cheap. He's spent a long time taking care of his hair, spent just as long struggling to find the right products too.

He doesn't even care that the kids and Robin mock him for it, he has great hair and, screw it, he's proud. He's not going to damage it by getting bad hair dye.

He's already booked his next hairdresser appointment for the next day, already saved up gas money too. He might as well ask for bleach instead, go back to his natural color and save himself from anymore days with overgrown roots.

He almost regrets the idea when he gets to work.

"Holy shit, you're a natural blond?" Robins grin looks almost painful with how wide it is. She's a little too excited for his comfort. "I don't know how I didn't guess before. This explains so much. How have you kept this hidden for so long? It's so light!"

"Don't you have work to do?" He bats her hand away when she, again, reaches for his hair.

"Not anymore. Why do you dye it? How did it grow out so much? When did you start hiding it? Did someone pressure you into it? They didn't make fun of you, did they? Because I will hunt them down and-"

"No one made me dye it or bullied me into it," he huffs. He can feel his attempt at a cool demeaner soften with how quickly she jumps to his defense. "I just... I never liked it. I don't think it suits me. Brunettes are cute."

"Are you dyeing it again?"

"Probably not. The hairdresser I go to isn't exactly cheap."

"You can get box dye at-"

"I'm not using box dye."

"It's not that bad, and if you really hate the blond-"

Steve swats at her when she reaches for his hair again. With a heavy sigh, he braces himself for the shift full of questions and jokes of 'betrayal'.

Like he suspected, they don't get much work done.

When Eddie comes in, towards the end of their shift, Steve is almost relieved.

"Stop bullying him without me," Eddie complains.

"Thank you," Steve says, whilst Robin boos. "What is it tonight? Movie night with Wayne or some of the kids?"

But Eddie is frozen, staring at his hair.

"I think he's broken," Robin says after a pause.

"You're blond?" Eddie blinks. "When did you go blond?"

"Always have been," Steve shrugs. "Just... not dyeing it anymore."

"Oh."

Steve and Robin stare at him. They share a glance after a moment.

"You here for a movie?" Steve asks.

"What? Me? No, I- just stopping by. And you're... yeah. I'm gonna- I've got to go. Wayne is waiting and... you know. Bye."

He turns around and practically runs out the store. His wheels squeal a little as he drives out, most likely breaking the speed limit.

"Did he just..." Robin starts, trailing off with a frown.

"Unbelievable," Steve shakes his head. "Just when I give up, he realizes that he likes me too! What the hell, Bob. Is he only into blonds or something?"

[brattyspence]

you say dad!spencer and i come running like the wind. with the time change this weekend i’ve been thinking about spencer with a little one whose sleep schedule does NOT adjust well with the time change and does the whole “the sun is out so i should be awake” debate and then chaos ensues because spencer thinks blackout curtains but then it’s too dark even with the nightlight

a/n: dad!spencer requests always open. always. not proofread bc i dont wanna ❤️

tags: girl dad!spencer, no mention of reader bc ???, fluff fluff fluffy

word count: ~ 600

masterlist

Spencer thinks he has it all figured out.

The morning begins smooth enough. Charlotte is coaxed out of bed with the promise of Nutella on toast and five extra minutes of story time before school. She's sleepy, full of yawns and grumpy toddler expressions, but she's up and cooperating.

“Why did we get up early?” She asks, socked feet wiggling off the edge of the sink as Spencer attempts to mix her mess of hair into a more presentable look.

“We didn't,” he replies. “We got up at the same time we always do.”

“No,” she huffs. “It's dark outside.”

Spencer sighs, nudging one loose curl back behind her ear. “Yeah. We lost an hour last night.”

“We lost an hour?”

He senses his mistake immediately.

“No. Not exactly. We didn't lose the hour-”

“Where did it go?”

“It didn't go anywhere. We just turned the clocks back an hour.”

“But why?”

It's futile, he knows. There's almost no point in explaining to to her. He knows she could understand, but she's a toddler. She will choose to fight and poke and prod, especially if it means making bedtime more complicated for him.

That night, the conversation picks right back up where it left off.

“But the sun is out,” Charlotte says, voice full of conviction. “When the sun is awake, I’m awake.”

“The sun is always awake,” Spencer replies. “It never goes to sleep. It's just visiting another part of the world.”

“But-”

“Honey.”

Charlotte frowns, watching him draw her curtains closed, leaving her room darker than it's ever been.

“Is the moon gone?” She asks, voice noticeably smaller.

Spencer sighs. He knows she's not not pushing his buttons anymore. The usual bite has left her tone, and instead he's reminded that shes three. She's actually asking a question this time.

“No. The moon is on its way. It's just… running late today.”

Even in the dark room, he can just barely see the reflection of her wide eyes staring back at him.

“You're sure?”

He nods, although she can't see. “I’m sure."

She's quiet now. He knows she's thinking, trying to work it all out in her own way, and she won't be sleeping if she's worried.

“Scooch over.”

Bedsheets ruffle and shift as Charlotte repositions herself, making room for him on the edge of her bed. She tucks herself up against him, wiggling around for a moment until she's content.

“I'll tell you all about the moon and the sun and how they work if you close your eyes and try to sleep,” he says.

Charlotte nods, squeezing her eyes shut.

As he begins to explain the time change, starting from the tilt of the earth and how it rotates, he knows she's listening. Her eyebrows furrow slightly, and she fidgets every so often.

“-and we orbit the sun. Orbit means that we rotate around it. And it takes us one whole year to orbit the sun.”

“I've been around the sun three times?” She asks, peeking one eye open.

“Mhm. So if you think about it, on your birthday, the earth is right back where it was on the day you were born.”

In a few more minutes, her grip on his shirt softens, and soon she's asleep.

Spencer knows he should leave her be– putting her to bed like this is only creating bad habits–but he doesn't. Instead, he makes sure she's tucked in, and then settles himself in against her pillows. Really, you only get a few trips around the sun before your kids grow up and stop asking hard questions.

[bump1nthen1ght]

The Family Jewels (Pt. 3/4)

Pairing: M!Vampire!Father-In-Law x F!Reader x M!Vampire!Husband

Genre: Regency, Gothic, Dark, Yandere, Pining

Chapter Summary: You didn't think your new home could become any stranger. Shadows have started to follow you, the night no longer the safe haven it once was. It leads you to the one person who may be able to help.

Series Warnings: Obsessive + Controlling Behavior, Fucked up Family Dynamics, Confinement, Misogyny, Future Non-Con, Degradation, Angst, Jealousy

Chapter Warnings: Stalking, Isolation, Slight Infantilization of Reader

A/N: The penultimate chapter 👀. Had a lot of fun with this series and I hope y'all have too! Last Chapter should be coming out sometime later this week/early this week. It's gonna be quite a doozy 😈

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4

You think someone is watching you.

You didn’t think the eeriness of your home could be more uncomfortable, but the unmistakable feeling of attention has made it so. Only worsened by the fact you have no understanding of whose attention it is. Your first thought was perhaps the staff, but you can’t imagine months of your droll day-to-day life would suddenly gain their attention. Not when they skirt around you, ignoring all attempts to make conversations or eye contact, just as they’ve always done.

You’d learned to enjoy the solitude of your home, to be content with your own company. Reading, wandering the grounds, pondering the sky was now your beloved routine, not a prison of listlessness. But now you whip your head around at the slightest shadow. Something prickles on the back of your neck at odd moments, uneasy shivers coming down your spine when you turn the corner, your fight-or-flight instincts expecting something there.

The only other two options would be your father-in-law and your husband. The prior is an obvious no, well aware he confines himself to his study during the day so he may work in peace. The latter is absent during the daytime, supposedly sticking to his habit of sleeping with the sun, so you’re left with no clues.

To make it all worse is the fact that your husband has been present for dinner lately; Every night for the past week, to be precise. It seems to be the one meal he deems worthy of being awake for. But you figured that this was another kink to get used too, surely a momentary lapse before he returned to the routine.

But then he started talking to you.

—

“Was your day enjoyable?”

Your husband opened with, as if this was a normal dinner and you were in a normal marriage.

You hesitate to respond, convincing yourself that you had misheard one of the servants. Caleb isn’t even looking you in the eye, focused instead on cutting his steak.

“Well?” He juts in, right before taking a large bite. It's only then you realize it was in fact him speaking and in fact you who he was speaking to.

“I suppose so.” You finally deign as a well enough response. A suitably polite answer. “It was nothing remarkable.”

“Hmm.” He says, chewing on his wad of meat as he takes a sip of that curious wine of his. You return to your food, figuring that is the end of that. One of your husband's many irregularities, that was all. “What did you partake in?”

That brings you pause, halting your fork, currently being used to awkwardly move around fingerling potatoes. Your appetite starts to leave you.

“...Some of the books from the library.” Your stab at a potato, wishing you could dissent from proprietary like he could and eat through this conversation. “The estate has quite a robust collection. Especially the astronomy section.”

The sound of cutlery scraping against porcelain makes you wince, draws your full attention to your husband. For a second, you swear his eyebrow twitches.

“I see.” He stabs his steak like it’s a vicious enemy, and rips away another piece. “Anything else?”

Why are you doing this?

You desperately want to ask. You swallow that urge down.

“I began a new cross stitch today.” You swallow. “My skills are unfortunately unrefined, but I found some beautiful thread I forgot my sister had packed away when-” I was shipped off “-when I first moved in. I’m planning to embroider a Mourning Dove.”

It had been more comforting than you expected, cross-stitching. Forever it had been a habit your mother forced upon you, imploring that good embroidery was only right for a proper lady to know. Now, all alone and homesick, it felt nice to create something that could fly away.

“Hmm.” Caleb says, and that is the end of it. What follows is uncomfortable minutes of silence. Too uncomfortable to eat, you gently push your plate away and stand up, another informal curtsy and a “good night”, hoping that would be the end.

It unfortunately was not.

Edric had let you know the night prior that he’d be busier these upcoming weeks, several meetings with important men or something of that matter keeping him away for the nights as well as the days. You told him it was no issue, even though your heart had tugged at the idea of spending those dark hours alone.

To your great shock, upon arriving at your favorite spot in the garden, your husband is there. Not lounging as he did before, but sitting on the bench. Your bench.

“I did not know you had finished dinner.” You remark, trying to act less flustered than you were. Months ago you would have rejoiced at this change of pace, so bored and listless. But now it left you feeling more than a little aggravated.

“I did shortly after you.” He says, actually acknowledging you with a look over his shoulder. Weirdly, a bottle does not accompany his side. “Thought I’d go for a walk. It is quite a big garden.”

I’m not here for you. He seemed to scream with every word, his very soul. You don’t why know he’s being so insistent, he’s made that opinion very clear in every other interaction so far.

“I see.” You parrot, a surge of obstinance making you bolder than normal, sitting down next to him. This was your favorite spot, you refuse to give it up to him on a whim.

It brings great satisfaction when he scoots away, his body jerking, clearly surprised by you being so close. You’re sure he thought you all figured out, some girl he could walk over whenever he pleased.

You don’t bother speaking first, figuring his stint during dinner was a temporary lapse in judgement. His sheer disinterest made it clear it was from a source of boredom, not genuine curiosity, which spurred this change. Surely, that was the end-

“That’s Cassiopeia.” Caleb says, his long hand, usually adorned with a bottle, points at the night sky. When you don’t respond immediately, he goes to lengths of drawing the ‘W’ shape with his finger.

“..Ah, yes it is.” You say, surprised that he has continued talking to you and that he knows any constellation. “She is quite beautiful. Though, I suppose that is part of why she is in the sky in the first place.” You chuckle at the joke, the mood quickly souring when Caleb doesn’t, looking at you like a strange sort of insect.

Edric would’ve laughed.

“And from her,” Caleb traces his hands away from Cassiopeia to another, “-You can find her daughter, Andromache.”

“Andromeda.” The words whip out immediately, before you can think better of it, although your tone is gentle. Caleb turns to look at you, wordlessly once more. For a second, you wonder if he’ll snap at your correction. “Her daughter is Andromeda, not Andromache. Andromache was Hector’s wife.”

Caleb pauses for a moment, retracting his hand.

“Hm.” He hums and turns away.

The awkward atmosphere lingers afterwards, and you almost feel bad for correcting him. You hadn't meant it as a criticism, just as a reminder.

But that just makes you more upset. Why should you care how Caleb feels about your words, unintentional or not? He has made no such consideration for your feelings during your time here, nor does he seem to intend to anytime in the future. He’s a cad, a rake, he could stand to be knocked down a peg or too.

Luckily, the rest of the night is blissfully quiet. You try your best to bat away any lingering feelings of anxiety or awkwardness, simply savoring what you could.

—

Caleb isn’t sure what he is doing.

It was bad enough foregoing his rest and haunting you like a phantom, chasing this incessant new urge of his. Like picking at a scab you know would be healed if left alone, he can’t seem to resist. His body follows you naturally now, using his more inhuman qualities to blend in the shadows, avoiding the poisonous daylight and lingering on your every move. You make it too easy with your rhythmic movements, keeping regular in your entertainment about the house. If not in the library, you were in the garden having tea. If not in the garden having tea, you were embroidering on the lounge. What should be so dreadfully boring is now enrapturing, although it is wounding it feels too good to stop.

Look at him now, bumbling around like a fool, words falling out his mouth like hail against your soft skin. Even when he does catch your attention and get a genuine response, he loses himself in the memories of said moments, reimagining it as vividly as he saw it from the shadows. He remembers the jump of excitement when you found a new book on Greek Mythology on the shelf, having thought you had already read them all. He remembers the look you made when you had made a mistake in your embroidery, your brow furrowed as you undid your stitches. When focused on your work, a tiny sliver of your tongue would sit out at your mouth, something he’s sure your mother scolded you for time and time again. By the time his mind got back to him you were leaving, the same curt response and rigid curtsy as before.

Desperate for a fix, he even ambushed you at your stargazing spot. He could barely look you in the eye, too nervous you would see through his ruse, point and laugh at his boyishness. It was made even worse when you sat near him, tantalizing him with your blood and the beating of your heart, which sang to his very ears.

“That’s Cassiopeia.” Caleb attempts, wondering if this will have greater success. Given your silence, he wondered if perhaps his maker hadn’t pointed it out to you yet. Pride fills his chest as he traces out her shape, wondering what look you have in your eyes.

“..Ah, yes it is.” You reply, and Caleb’s monstrous heart skips a beat. “She is quite beautiful. Though, I suppose that is part of why she is in the sky in the first place.”

Caleb freezes, caught off his rhythm, you giggle making him realize that he isn’t understanding something. The disappointed look on your face feels like a blade in his stomach.

He should be angry, furious even. It had been years since anyone had made him feel this way, this inferiority. He had outgrown that, had ripped it out with his own bleeding heart and tossed it outside.

“And from her,” Caleb pivots, hoping the skills of aloofness can work in favor “-You can find her daughter, Andromache.”

“Andromeda.” Caleb’s stomach turns. Frozen in his best laid plans, this windstorm of his wife has blown them away. “Her daughter is Andromeda, not Andromache. Andromache was Hector’s wife.”

It’s all he can do to not scream at that moment. But he fears that too will be as awkward and foolish as the rest of his words, choosing instead to say nothing. To his consternation and relief, you follow suit and do not speak as well, returning to your own stargazing.

When you eventually retire, Caleb should go out. He should find the nearest beast and rip their throat, soak in their blood and be reminded that he was the fearsome beast. He was not the stupid farm boy, he was an unholy abomination built to feast and terrorize.

Instead he paces around his room, wondering what he should say. He looks in the mirror at his facade self, the beautiful face that makes ladies of all classes swoon, and wonders what would catch your eye.

You were smart, clearly, smarter than he anticipated. He thinks you might be catching onto his voyeur-tendencies, once or twice hiding around a corner and popping out, as if to confront your own shadow. Once, when he had left your book an inch or two over from where you had left it, you returned to the room with a quirk in your eyebrow. You had searched the room up and down, even flagged down a servant to ask if anyone had cleaned the library recently.

He had assumed your quietness came from a dull demeanor, just as boring as one would expect from the “wife.” But you had good humor. He saw you joking around with his creator, possibly the stodgiest vampire to ever roam the world, and even make jests of your own. You had tried with him tonight, although it seemed to fly over his head. And you seemed to enjoy dancing, like most ladies, if the way you hummed and swayed down the halls when you thought you were alone was enough indication. These were all things he was used to; Wining and dining ladies with his good charm and superb dancing skills, yet he found himself at a standstill.

His head falls into his hands, a frustrated hunger stirring in his gut. He needs to feed. At least that was an aching he could satisfy.

—

A whole fortnight of this. No peace, no privacy, no respite from the dreadfulness of the estate. During the day you tremored, aware that someone followed in your footsteps but not who it was. During the night all sense of comfort was robbed by him, your husband who, after several months of blissful avoidance, could not leave your side.

The conversations had not gotten better since the first. Mostly one sided, your husband seemed to force himself through every word, barely listening when it was your turn to speak. You don’t know why he bothers with the painful effort, his head off in the clouds, clearly wishing he was somewhere else. It's worse than the silence by a landslide, and you find yourself begging for your husband to start ignoring you again.

But like every one before it, your wishes go unanswered. The pain of it all forces you to focus, to try and find the source of this newfound vigor for this falsehood of a marriage.

All your hypotheses lead you back to one person. One person whom, unlike your husband, could hopefully be reasoned with.

—

You make quick work to scurry out of the dining hall after another painful dinner, hoping the distraction of his meal will keep your husband from noticing your divergence from routine.

Striding deeper into the bowels of the estate reminds you of just how unsettling the rest of the house feels. Each hallway is cleaned too perfectly, each decoration too precisely placed. You never knew furniture could feel so cold, that the sterility of a cleanliness would be so unnerving. It felt as if no one had ever really walked these halls, not for a long, long time.

But you push on, too determined in your mission. You had finally been able to corner a maid during the day, making up a vague excuse for returning a book to have her point the way to the Earl’s office. You’re happy you had the forethought to write it down, sure the enticing darkness around each corner and the amount of turns would’ve befuddled you. But with your trusty papers, you're able to navigate yourself to a beautiful mahogany door, befit with a golden knob and intimidating presence.

Why must everything in this place feel so hostile?

You ponder, wondering if the architect of this place had a hatred of joy and fresh air. But you digress, rapping your knuckles onto the thick door frame. Through the wood you can faintly hear the scribbles of an ink pen and the focused voice of The Earl.

“You may enter.”

His tone lacks the familiarity you’ve grown used to. For a discomforting second it reminds you of Caleb, not of these past two weeks but the months before. You banish that thought away. They are father and son, it is only natural.

“Sir?” You default to polite terms, peaking your head past the grand entrance. Even now the study feels untouchable, makes you hesitant to walk inside so boldly.

The Earl quickly leans his head up, shoulders falling down and a smile gracing his lips. You smother your fluttering heart, reminding yourself of your mission.

“My dear, I was not expecting you.” Edric stands with a dramatic push of his chair, setting his ink pen into its pot. “I apologize, but I fear I cannot join you again tonight. There is still much work to be done.” Edric taps his fingers against his desk.

“Oh it is no issue, Si-Edric. I understand completely.” Finally comfortable enough, you enter the room completely and shut the door behind you. Though this does little to calm your nerves, both for the conversation you must have and the idea of being alone in a room with him. As silly as it is, the hesitance of being alone with a man who is not your husband lingers, even if it is someone proper like your father-in-law. “I actually wish-” You words catch, but you will the butterflies in your stomach away, “-I wish to talk to you about something else. If you are available to it.”

Edric’s brow quirks, a minor change in his usually flawless face. For the very first time, he looks caught off guard.

“Of course, my dear.” Edric pulls out a chair for you to sit, moving his own so the desk won’t block you from each other. You nod in thanks, knees knocking together. You were never great at confrontation, and after finally finding peace in your new home, you fear disturbing and ruining what you have.

But Caleb is doing a fine job of that all on his own.

Your hands fiddle with each other in your lap, forcefully distracting you from making eye contact with Edric. He sits now with his ankles crossed, his arms resting on the sides, looking all like a king receiving his subject. Given his authority and your desperation, he might as well be.

“Now, what would you like to speak about?”

“I-” You swallow the lump in your throat, “I would like to start with my appreciation for your kind intentions, as I know it is what most likely drove you to act in such a way.” Your finger bones ache with how tightly you clench them. “That I appreciate you taking the effort to…encourage Caleb to spend more time with me.” Encourage is probably the incorrect word. If you knew anything about your husband ‘bribed’ was most definitely more accurate. It is the only thing that would make sense given recent circumstances. “But while I understand why you would think such a move was for the best, I’d like to implore that it is not necessary.”

You can hear a pin drop, your father-in-law quiet as the dead. It urges you to keep speaking, to fill the uncomfortable silence with something. At the least to release the issues from your mind, to get them off your chest.

“I know you are a good and honorable man, and that from the outside I must look so pitiful to you. That my lonesome nature most likely urged you to aid in my companionship, but I have found much happiness in this place in these past months. I see it as my home, and I do not mind the quiet.” You’ve released the fabric of your dress, moving instead to the fascinating shapes of your palm lines. Still, you proceed. “As…uncouth as my husbands, they seem to make him happy. He does not seem to enjoy the quiet nights like you and I do.”

A heat decorates the apples of your cheeks, spreading all the way down your neck and up to the tips of your ears. It seems silly looking back on it, having more in common with a man no doubt twice your age than your own husband.

“So, if you could speak to him and let him know that he is free to live as he likes, that he should not feel responsible for me, I would most appreciate it. Please tell him that I am quite happy with the way things were before.”

With you.

Your twisting heart does not know if it wants Edric to understand that unspoken sentiment.

The tapping of Edric’s fingernails on the chair arm finally pulls you attention, sounding cacophonous in the void created. It draws your eyes to finally look Edric head on, to gauge his reaction. Unfortunately, his reserved face leaves it difficult for you to do so.

“I see.” Edric finally breaks it, his fingers speeding up in their rapping. Something squeezes in your chest, wondering if perhaps you’ve offended him with your presumptions.

“I did not-” You bluster, trying to explain before he assumes anything. But a wave of Edric hands stops you in your tracks.

“I am not offended, dear.” The Early gives a gentle smile, a nod to show the truth of his word. Relief washes over you. “I am simply…surprised.”

You swallow your response. As attentive and understanding as Edric is, he is still a man, still subject to misunderstandings of a woman’s true heart. While Caleb is quite handsome, it takes much more good looks and the bare minimum to curry your favor.

“I shall speak to him.” Edric finally commands, standing up from his seat and sending you scurrying to do so on your own. A bubbling feeling fills your chest, the relief of knowing things will finally return to normal. At least the nights.

“Thank you, Edric.”

“It is no problem.” Edric says with a wave of his hand. “I commend you for bringing it up with me promptly. I understand that can be a difficult feat, especially when I am such a recluse.”

That lightens your mood even more, giving you a gentle giggle.

“I think you presume too much of your intimidation, good sir.” You lie, as if you were not petrified of facing him not 10 minutes ago. That fear seems silly now. Of course Edric would listen, when hasn’t he?

You don’t notice the way Edric’s tongue flicks out to wet his lips, the way his eyes for only a second dip down to your collarbone.

“Perhaps I do.” Edric pats the back of his seat. “Well, while I do enjoy your company, I'm afraid I must get back to work. Shall I escort you to your room?”

“Oh that won’t be necessary. I wouldn’t want to disturb and I am quite confident I can find my way.” You weren’t really, but you also were not ready to admit that to him.

“Then I bid you goodnight, my dear.” Edric nods his head, quickly moving his chair back behind his desk, no doubt to resume his business. You drop into a small curtsy yourself, a new energy in your steps as you leave. Even with the labyrinthine task of returning to your room ahead of you, you can’t be despondent.

You have a feeling things are taking a change for the better.

—

It takes everything in Edric’s immortal power to not burst into laughter the second the door closes behind you. Even with the thick wood as a barrier and your inferior human hearing, Edric is sure his cackling could be heard from miles away.

He had planned to court you slowly. Push the boundaries of his affection with every visit, subtly make you dependent on his touch and his closeness. Then, he would pull away, make you truly long for him. It would make his return all the more dramatic, hopefully swell your emotions to such a size that you would not turn away more uncouth behavior. A hug, a kiss to the cheek, maybe even a peck to your soft lips.

But now his son had revealed his hand, clumsily so. Scrambling to hold on to the toy now that it was being swept away, every bit the petulant child. He had made his own desperate move for your affections and was failing miserably.

It's cruel how much glee that gives him, Edric thinks, chuckling into his hands. He needs to remind his son that such obvious peacocking is hardly a foolproof strategy, teach him subtler ways of luring and ensnaring prey, nonetheless a partner. The boy had been riding on his good looks and inhuman charm for too long.

Ahh yes, and you. Who came to him, who chose him. Who ran into his arms and pleaded for safety. How could he not give it to you? His sweet dearest, his darling future. Edric’s nails dig into his palms and he’s sure if his heart still beated, it’d be racing a mile a minute. A palpable thirst burns in the back of his throat, one Edric knows won't be satisfied by any half-thought meal.

This has all but confirmed it: plans are changing. It seems the timeline for his machinations are moving up, given your clear displeasure. Who is he to deny you?

[mysticworks]

One day too late ~ LN4 x Reader

Lando x Pregnant! Reader; Coworker! Reader; Very Angsty; mentions of intimacy but nothing explicit; Borderline Forbidden love; Reader & Lando are friends with feelings

S Y N O P S I S:

Carried away at the party, you and Lando share a beautiful night. Lando, worried about the implications on his career, urges you to pretend it never happened, ignoring your feelings for each other...until 6 weeks later you find out you're carrying his child. Word count: 1.5k

[ Drop a comment to be tagged in part 2 ]

A beam of sun in your eyes pulled you out of your slumber.

Sore. Head pounding. A deep ache in your lower stomach.  

It took you a few seconds to realise that this wasn't your room. The unfamiliar sheets, the duvet much thicker and heavier. There seemed to be so much room across the mattress, stretching out in its emptiness. 

Then every memory from last night came tumbling through. 

After a launch party of the new 2024 season, you’d found yourself a little too lost in the celebrations, Lando right beside you in fits of giggles and dances. 

You'd always had feelings for Lando, ever since you joined the PR team during his rookie days - the working time together bonding into a quickly growing friendship. Yet something had always stopped you from taking it further.

And so when Lando placed his hands on your waist last night, his face inches away from yours before your lips finally collided - every rational thought was thrown out the window. 

The heat of the party. The excitement and psychedelic blood rush. Climbing into Lando’s car. Your legs, entangled. His whisper of sudden hot, breathless confession. Your heart pounding in reciprocated emotions. Your hands in his curl, his... 

You shot up in bed, last night now a vivid image.

Lando was sitting across the room, on his computer, headphones flung around his neck. His eyes flick away from the computer screen at your sudden movement, coming to rest on you, and he draws in a long breath.

You felt the air leave your lungs. How did he manage to look so gorgeous even in the mornings? 

“How are you feeling?” You blinked at his break of silence, words not quite making it out of your mouth. 

“Yeah, I’m…” Raking your fingers through your curtain of bangs in an attempt to collect your thoughts, “I’m fine.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got the pounding headache too.” Lando shrugged, sighing, before powering down the screen and in a swift motion making his way across the room, over to you. 

Awkwardness suddenly overcame you and you did everything to avert your gaze from his. 

This proved pointless as he sat himself in front of you, the mattress dipping under his weight. You could feel the warmth radiate off his body, his finger coming to rest under your chin as he forced your eyes to meet.

“Are you okay?” There was a sadness in Lando’s eyes, one that didn’t quite match the gentleness of his voice. You mumbled a reply, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks - his face was so close - forcing your heart to respond with a quickened beat.

“Listen, I’m sorry for last night.” Your brows found themselves furrowing at his words.

“Sorry?” 

“We shouldn’t have…” He raked his curls, shutting his eyes tight for a brief moment, as if pained to say the words. 

His voice was quieter when he spoke again, “We shouldn’t have done what we did y/n.”

You felt something stab at your chest. “I don’t understand, Lando, I like you, you like me, we’ve known each other for years…what’s…what’s the - ” 

He didn't give you a chance to finish. “I can’t risk having…I just can’t risk a relationship right now. We can’t - ”

He pauses, gaze softening as you feel your eyes well up, but you’re determined to keep a stoic expression on your face.   

It didn't help that Lando was looking at you with such an intense look in his eye, his hand cupping your cheek before tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. 

“Are you saying we can't date?”

You felt your voice betray you, a single tear spilling down your cheek. Lando used his thumb to wipe it away, taking in a shaky breath. 

He looked away. “Please. I’m sorry.” His eyes were almost telling you to stay, now also welled with redness, but his words said differently. 

You felt the world collapse. Your breath hitched. A tremor shot through your limbs as you scrambled out from Lando’s bed. He got up too from his seat, standing limply in the centre of his room.

It was then you realised you were in his clothes, his loose tee reaching your knees, a pair of his joggers clumsily worn over your legs. You paid no heed, now eager to just leave. To run away and hide. 

Never had rejection been so cold. It was almost like he’d used you. A part of you wanted to scream at him, throw things and ask him “why,” yet you felt as if life had been sucked out of you. 

One of the best days of your life had been merely hours ago, before turning into a nightmare. 

“Y/n…” You’d only just reached the door, but his call made you stop in your tracks. There was a shameless hope he’d changed his mind. 

“Here. It’s cold out.” 

He held out one of his hoodies, passing it to you in a gesture to take it. 

You did. Curt and refusing to meet his gaze, before turning around stiffly.

And without another word, you left his apartment, refusing to look back.

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

You weren’t sure when you got home, drenched from the rain that came gushing down along the way. 

You weren’t sure of much…only that your relationship with Lando was over. 

Over before it had even begun.

Climbing out of bed the next day was the worst feeling. With no energy in your limbs, you called in sick to work, refusing to face anyone at the McLaren office, but more importantly, avoiding Lando. 

You stayed in bed, too exhausted from crying to move. 

It wasn’t until a week later that you finally showed up at work. The pain seemed to have subdued; now replaced with forever changing moods. At times you were down in the dumps, exhausted and tired - your head slightly foggy - other times, irritable and angry. Yet you ploughed on at work, ignoring the sleepless nights and restless evenings. 

Avoiding Lando at work was near impossible, and yet you managed. Only speaking to him when absolutely unavoidable through email, or putting on your best corporate voice. 

Eye contact was avoided altogether, even when he craned his head to catch your gaze, you turned away. 

That was a satisfaction you refused to give him.

At 2 weeks it seemed the restless nights had been replaced with exhausted ones, a full night's sleep still leaving you fatigued and nauseous in the mornings. You blamed the sickness on heartbreak. 

Lando watched you more often now, sitting in the lobby of your office during lunch breaks. You turned down the blinds and shut him out.

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

The realisation came, 6 weeks post heartbreak. A quick glance at your calendar told you you’d missed your cycle. The nausea, tiredness, mood swings all made sense now - each jigsaw piece coming together to fit the puzzle. 

Although the fear of raising a baby alone rose in your throat, you were determined to do it. You knew Lando had a right to know. Yet somewhere, deep down in your heart, you refused to give him that.

Perhaps you were running away.

Perhaps this was your revenge.

Your resignation made sure he’d never know. 

L A N D O 'S P O V:

They say you don’t know the value of something until it’s gone. I've learnt this truth the hard way.

I’ve watched her everyday since that night; desperately trying to catch her eye at work; take her aside and apologise. Tell her we can make this happen... start over, uncaring of the world and it's concerns.

I've watched her everyday, slowly starting to shrivel. The bags under her eyes, the tiredness in her smile. I’ve watched her at lunch, nibbling at almost nothing at her plate before silently excusing herself away. 

It devastates me to know that this pain is from me. I have caused it and she didn't deserve it. How I wish I could tell her that I was wrong. I was so, so wrong. 

I miss her smile. Her company; once a comfort. I miss having her by my side; encouraging; so full of energy.

And so this is my chance. My chance to finally set things right.

Clutching the bouquet - glitter roses I spent the last night making - I head over to the PR query desk, determined to start again, if she can give me the chance. 

There’s a new member of staff at the desk; someone I’ve never seen before and he tilts his head up at me, hearing my approach, flashing me a smile. 

He thinks I’m here for a project meeting and begins to rise from his seat, holding up a clipboard as if ready to pass it over. 

“I’m looking for y/n, l/n.” A moment passes.

Legs jittering. Heart tight and constricted; there’s a sense of urgency swelling in me as if telling me to hurry, rushing me to make things right. My fingers tap at the desk, impatient. 

He gives a sigh, furrowing his brows and lowering the clipboard back into place. 

“I'm afraid she's not here. She gave in her resignation yesterday.”

The words hit me like a boulder to the chest.

My legs feel heavy, a tornado whirling in the pit of my stomach. My fingers unclench from the bouquet and with a soft thud, the flowers thud to the ground; petals ripping apart from impact.

They've crumbled. Glitter littering the floor.

It was over.

I was one day too late.

Taglist: @hc-dutch @racinggirl @aileeincomplexity @kravitzwhore @eringaitskill @adoreyou-ido @landoslutmeout @queenofmanydreams

[nick-writes-stuff]

Safety Measure

Hwang In-ho x gn!reader

summary: You have been living with In-ho in his apartment for a year, still haunted by the experience you had in these very halls. When a breach of security happens, your life relies on the safety measures put in place to protect you as well as the fury of the Front Man himself.

!warnings: canon-typical violence, reader is manhandled and held at gunpoint, home invasion, description of a panic attack, hurt/comfort fic

a/n: YIPPEE! I love this one, guys. This is kind of a follow-up to One-sided Reunion, but it can be read totally standalone. (also yeah i'm implying the games work like the olympics, it made sense for the narrative lmao)

Things between you and In-ho had been going great. You had been living with him in his suite on the island for about a year now. That meant the annual game cycle had just begun. You were still hesitant about them continuing. You weren't entirely sold on the societal benefits of them, but you weren't going to actively try to stop them.

You weren't going to deal with the games this time. You basically wanted to forget they were happening. It felt wrong for you to do that, ignoring the fact that people were going through the experience that left you wishing to avoid them. You should feel vindicated to end their suffering, but you just couldn't. The idea of being involved in them, either as an aid or a hindrance, was terrifying to you. In-ho had tried to give you a tour of the compound once, and you got panicky the second you saw the pink, yellow, and blue stairs.

However, that didn't mean you were locked away in the suite all day. He showed you a way to get outside that didn't involve wandering through the familiar settings that haunted your mind. There was a beautiful garden area that you had taken up maintaining while In-ho was busy with the games.

He felt so much better now that there was something he cared for. The suite no longer felt suffocating and lonely. There was someone to return to. Usually the nights had been long and quiet and filled with a little too much whiskey at times, but now he had you. He could come back to the suite and let the mask go and just be himself.

And you were more than willing to be there waiting for him. Even if he had other responsibilities, he always made you feel like you were a priority because you were a priority to him. His devotion to you was greater than his devotion to the games by tenfold at least.

He was always thoughtful. He would take every opportunity to give you things. Not always something expensive or showy, either. Sometimes he would give you an origami crane he made while he was bored in a meeting or a snack he knew you loved that had arrived in the latest shipment that he definitely didn't go out of his way to arrange.

His thoughtfulness extended into anxiety about your safety. Since Gi-hun's attempted uprising, fear had been eating at him. They had been so close to finding their way into the management area. And also after his brother's stunt when he ended up in the suite. He was a bit hypervigilant at times, something you liked to tease him about occasionally.

So when the research and development team brought updated microchips to his attention, he was all ears. Everyone who worked on the compound had one of the chips implanted behind their ear, just like the players did. The new version of these chips included the ability to send a distress signal via pressure sensitivity. Rubbing your fingers over the chip with moderate pressure would be able to send an alert. They had proposed the idea because it would be a way to ensure protection without having an outside device. A phone or a button would draw attention. The person in danger would have a harder time hiding a handheld device and using it covertly. If they were able to use the chip, there was no evidence of the device for the perpetrators to see.

He rolled out the new chips for everyone involved in the compound. You received one as well, obviously. You didn't mind much seeing as you had already had one before. In-ho felt more at ease knowing that the key to your safety was behind your right ear.

He just wished he never had to see its usefulness. But what can go wrong will go wrong.

You had finished your work in the garden and had come back to the suite to start fixing dinner. It was a Tuesday, which was typically the day In-ho had a majority of the evening free. He liked having the time to be away from the games, having the time to take off the mask. You had quickly changed out of your clothes and headed into the kitchen. You washed your hands and heard the door to the suite open behind you.

You glanced at your watch. “You're here early.” You called out in a questioning tone. You dried off your hands and turned around, but it wasn't who you expected. It wasn't him at all.

You were looking down a barrel of a rifle, a man in black holding it toward you. You dropped the towel, lifting your hands into the air. “Who the hell are you?” You asked. You tried not to tremble. This was the first time you had seen a weapon since you were escorted to the suite after your time in the games.

The man glared at you. “I could ask you the same question.” He shot back. He took a step toward you.

You wanted to say something to him, but you couldn't get the words out.

“Here's how this is going to go,” He said. He closed the distance between you. You backed yourself against the counter. “You're going to tell me where my sister is, and I won't put a bullet between your pretty eyes.” He said through gritted teeth.

You flinched as he aimed the gun at your head. You couldn't look at him, too scared to look at the metal he was holding.

He was impatient and angry and holding a gun. “I'm not gonna ask you again.” He yelled. You let out a whimper, as if you couldn't look any more pathetic.

“I don't know who your sister is. I don't know anything, okay?” You said. Your voice was shaking as much as your hands were.

“Is she in one of these rooms?” He asked.

You shook your head. “I don't know where she is. I just live here.” You said.

He scoffed at you. “Bullshit.” He spat, "I know she's here. You did something to her." He was getting more irate, practically screaming.

You shook your head frantically. "I don't know, okay?!" You cried out. He rolled his eyes at you. "I'm not the one in charge here. I just live here."

He slung the rifle over his shoulder and pulled a pistol from the holster on his hip. He pointed it at you. “Get over here.” He ordered. You froze. “Get the fuck over here.” He yelled. Your mind was still frozen, but your legs followed his order.

He grabbed you roughly, holding you in front of him and pushing the cold metal into your back. “If you aren't the one in charge, you're going to lead me to who is.” He said. You were glad he couldn't see your face as you smirked slightly despite the circumstances. In-ho was the last person he wanted to encounter right now.

“I don't know this place well, but I can try.” You said.

He scoffed at you. "I thought you lived here?" He yelled.

"I live in the apartment. I don't go out there." You said.

He tightened his grip on your shoulder, leaving you wincing from the jolt of pain. "Awfully convenient." He muttered.

He shoved you forward toward the exit of the suite. “What are these rooms?” He asked, his loud voice ringing in your ears.

“They are just rooms in the apartment. One is a bedroom and one is a storage room.” You said shakily. He looked at you skeptically. He didn't believe you. He turned to open the door of the storage room. He was tearing the room apart. You didn't even know what was in there. You never bothered to ask.

You took that as your moment. You raised your trembling hand and dug your fingers into the skin behind your ear. You definitely did it with more force than necessary, but you just wanted to make sure you got it to work. When you see him start to turn around, you let your hands return to your sides.

He stepped out and grabbed your shoulder again and jabbed you in the back with the barrel of the gun. His fingers dug into your skin. You knew he would probably leave bruises. “Let's go.” He urged, pushing you forward. You were leading him blindly, but you hoped you would make it convincing enough for him.

–

In-ho was watching over the voting process after the first game. It was a rather tedious task, as he was really just watching a few hundred people getting in line to push a button. That was until he heard the alarm start to sound off. He turned to one of the managers, the blank eyes of the mask staring into the square outline. “What is that?” He asked, but he already knew. His blood ran cold, and he had a sinking feeling in his stomach.

“It's, uh-" the manager paused to think of the way to phrase it, "It's their alarm, Sir" You didn't have a title in the compound since you hadn't been involved in the operation yet. Most people didn't even know you were still on the island. Only a very select few of the managers knew that you were here.

“Where are they?” He said. The filter in his mask helped to mask the growing anxiety.

“They are just leaving the suite now.”

In-ho didn't waste time. “Start investigating the breach. You two,” He ordered, gesturing to the two triangle soldiers posted at the door, “with me.” He said. He rushed out of the control room. He had the upper hand of knowing the layout of the building.

You were trying not to lead the intruder in circles, but you literally had no idea where you were going. “Are you sure you're going the right way?” He snapped.

“I don't know the layout here, I told you that.” You said. You didn't want him to realize it, but you were crying now.

“You're fucking useless.” He hissed, digging the barrel into your spine again. You whimpered, scared of what he would do.

In-ho was able to hear that exchange, and he was seething. He pulled out his own revolver, keeping it low at his side, before turning the corner, and his eyes landed on you and the man.

The man quickly moved the gun from your back to your temple. You tried to flinch away from it, but he tightened his grip on your arm. He was using you as a shield, but he was looking over your shoulder.

You looked at In-ho with wide eyes. Your breathing was shallow as you panicked. Any source of comfort you could gain from his presence was hidden behind the mask, literally and metaphorically. You couldn't see his face, and he couldn't say anything comforting to you because he knew showing an attachment could create problems later on.

You understood his reasoning, but it wasn't enough at the moment. You could very well die here, and the last thing you see of him is the black polygonal mask. You were also scared that he would have to watch you die if something went wrong here. He would have to watch it and hold in his grief because the others couldn't know. You didn't want to become one of the ghosts of people from his past that still haunted his mind.

“I take it that you're looking for me.” In-ho said coldly. The mask was hiding it, but he was scared right now. He couldn't even remember the last time he was scared. But seeing you treated like this terrified him.

The man laughed angrily, “Looks like you weren't as stupid as I thought.” He snapped, punctuating his statement by digging the barrel of the gun into your skin. He looked over your shoulder toward In-ho. “Now, you're gonna show me where my sister is, or I'm gonna put a bullet in-”

The man was cut off by a gunshot, the bullet going straight through his skull. You screamed, scrambling away from the man. For a second, you thought the man shot you. You put your hand up to your temple, pulling it away to see blood. But it wasn't yours.

In-ho froze for a moment, taking a deep breath. He was still holding out his revolver, finger on the trigger after he took the man out. Once it registered in his brain that you were safe, he turned to the soldiers.

“Deal with this.” He said shortly to them. He took a step forward and grabbed your hand. He led you back toward the suite. He didn't do or say anything to you at first. He didn't need any of the soldiers realizing that you were a vulnerability of his.

Once the door shut behind you both, he pulled the mask off, letting it clatter to the ground as he pulled you into his arms. You cried into his chest, hands clenching around the fabric of his jacket.

He tried to calm you down, but it was obvious that he was shaken up by it as well. He gently ran his fingers through your hair. “Hey, it's okay now. You're safe now. He's gone. It's okay.” He whispered repeatedly.

You tried to calm down, but you couldn't manage it. You could feel the man's blood drying on your face and hand. You could still feel the dull ache where he grabbed you. You were shaking in his arms, breathing ragged and shallow.

He pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head. "I'm right here, okay? We're safe in here." He murmured. You nodded slightly. After a few minutes, your grip on his jacket loosened slightly. Your breathing slowed somewhat, but you still weren't calm.

“Do you want to go sit down?” He asked. You looked up at him. Your eyes were still wide and were now glassy and red from crying. You nodded. You couldn't even think about forming words right now.

He led you over toward the couch with a gentle hand on your elbow. He avoided touching your shoulders as he didn't know if you were hurt, and he certainly didn't want to remind you of the man's touch. After you sat down, he looked down at you. “I'll be right back, okay? I'm just going over to the kitchen.” He said. He waited for you to nod slightly before walking away.

He returned with a wet towel and a glass of water. You haven't moved since he left, still staring at the same spot on the floor with a faraway gaze. He got on his knees in front of you, setting the glass on the hardwood floor for a moment.

“I'm just going to wipe off your face, okay?” He asked. He placed his hand gingerly on your jaw, using the other to wipe the blood off. He tried to steady his own hands to no avail. He gently grabbed your hand and wiped it as well. “Do you want a drink?” He asked. You shook your head. He nodded. He walked over and placed it and the towel on an end table.

He sat down next to you. You turned so you were sitting perpendicular to him. You laid your legs across his and leaned into him. Your head rested against his chest. You could hear his heartbeat, which served to ground you. One of his arms wrapped around you while his other hand found its way into your hair.

You were still crying, but you had definitely calmed down somewhat. “Deep breaths, okay? Can you do that for me?” He murmured. You nodded slightly. You instinctively matched his breathing as he rubbed your arm. His anxiety was definitely lessening, but he still felt an intense anger in the back of his mind. Part of him wished he left the man alive so he could make him suffer.

After a few minutes of sitting like that, he moved his hands. One cupped your cheek gently, guiding your gaze to him. “If you don't want to, you don't have to, but could you tell me what happened?” He asked gently. It would be helpful to know so he could properly investigate the incident, but he also knew it wouldn't be a pleasant thing to discuss.

You sat quietly for a moment, moving back to your original position. “I was starting to make dinner, and I heard the door open and..." You said, trailing off as your breathing started to quicken again.

"Hey, hey, it's okay." He said, hushing you quietly. His embrace tightened slightly, resting his chin on the top of your head. "We don't have to talk about it now. Don't worry about it, okay?" You nodded slightly.

You both sat there for a moment. You started to shakily take deeper breaths. In-ho started humming softly. You didn't recognize the song, but you knew it had to be one of the pretentious classical songs that he held in high regard but you had never heard of. It definitely helped to soothe you, however

He took a deep breath. “He didn't hurt you, did he?” He asked. His tone was gentle, but you could tell there was an anger behind it.

“Not really.” You said. You felt him tense up, so you elaborated. “I mean, he grabbed my shoulder pretty hard and dug the barrel into my skin, but I'm fine.” You mumbled.

“Are you sure?” He asked.

You nodded.

You both sat like that for a moment before you spoke. “I'm sorry for scaring you.”

He looked down at you, puzzled. “That's not your fault.”

You shrugged. “I just feel bad because I know you had to hide it until we were alone.” You said.

He held you a bit tighter. “I'll admit, I was really worried. But it's not your fault at all. You have nothing to apologize for.” He said somewhat sternly.

In his mind, the anxiety he feels is just a manifestation of his love for you and his desire to keep you safe. It wasn't your fault that he was worried, and he didn't mind that he was. It was a good thing in his eyes.

You looked up at him, a slight smirk on your face. “At least we know the chips work.” You said with a giggle.

He smiled. There is nothing like some ill-timed humor to lighten the mood. “Maybe next time, we'll leave product testing up to the manufacturer.” He said. He gave you a soft kiss on your forehead.

You returned to listen to his heartbeat. “Can we just sit here for a second like this?” You still felt a bit nervous and shaky, likely from the adrenaline leaving your system.

He nodded. “Of course. Whatever you need.” He said gently. He rubbed your arm slowly. “What were you doing in the garden today?” He asked. He knew you both could use a distraction right now.

You jumped at the chance to talk to him about it, hoping it changes the topic and mood of the conversation. You told him about what you planted in the new planter and how the weeds around the rhododendron bush were stubborn. You updated him on your recent attempts to hand-feed some of the birds that nested in the area. He chuckled and picked on you for your insistence, but your determination and stubbornness were a bit inspiring, honestly.

When you had stopped talking, you had calmed down significantly. You were no longer shaking, and you felt like you could breathe again. And In-ho had calmed down too, seeing as he was considerably less tense. “Do you want to start on dinner? I'm going to make a call to the control room, and I'll be in to help.” He asked.

You looked up at him, giving a skeptical look. You've heard this one before.

He sighed. “It'll be quick, I promise.” He said.

“Sure…” you said, drawing out the vowel.

He rolled his eyes. “You are insufferable sometimes.” He said without malice.

You gave a look of mock surprise. “Rude.”

You got up to the kitchen while In-ho walked over to the rotary phone on the desk. You tried not to eavesdrop on the conversation, but most of it was just him ordering them to investigate the breach. He also ensured he could be with you the rest of the evening, something that brought a smile to your face. He was down bad, wasn't he?

The evening went smoothly for the two of you. He didn't need to be called into the control room at all.

You both got into bed for the night. You looked over at him. “Thank you.” You said softly.

He looked confused. “For what?” He asked.

“For staying with me tonight.” You murmured. “I know the games are important, and they need you. So this means a lot to me.”

He chuckled softly. “Of course I would. You're important to me too, you know?” He said. You could tell from his tone that he was tired. You pressed a kiss to his lips, and you felt him smile into the kiss.

You pulled away slowly. “I love you.” You mumbled.

“I love you too.” He said. He wrapped an arm around you, and it wasn't long until you were able to drift off.

It also wasn't long until In-ho woke up with a start. He jerked awake, breathing quickly. He jerked his gaze over to find you, making sure you didn't have the gunshot wound he had just watched you get in his nightmare.

He thought he hadn't woken you, but you eventually sat up with a yawn. “Hey, what's going on?” You asked sleepily.

He looked down at you. “Nothing, it's fine.” He said softly.

You caught on to what was happening, but you didn't say anything. You rolled over, resting your head on his chest and wrapping your arm around him. “Love you.” You murmured before dozing back off.

He looked at you and smiled with a lovesick grin. What did he do to deserve you? He thought about it until he drifted off to sleep himself.

[thesilmarillionblog]

A Sweet Distraction

Volume 2

➳ Click here to read the first part!

Summary: When you're in a club, you have to make sure Soldier Boy stays out of trouble and doesn't draw attention of other people while Butcher and the boys look for Payback members. Whatever it takes, you have to keep him busy and distracted.

Pairing: Soldier Boy / Reader

Warnings: +18! (MINORS DNI), Language, some fluff

Word Count: 3025

A/N: English is not my first language.

Ben's lips curled as your tongues connected, and you felt your heart speed up as you gave him a gentle kiss, not knowing if it would calm his rage. You were shocked when, in spite of his rough nature, he gave you an affectionate kiss in return, as if he didn't want to frighten you away.

When his kisses got deeper and his tongue took over your mouth, leaving you gasping, you drew away. Seeing that his chest had gotten back to normal, you relaxed and exhaled deeply.

He winked at you and said, “You did a good job here, sweetheart, huh? You certainly know how to surprise me.”

You found yourself laughing uncontrollably as you observed his flirtatious behavior toward you. 

Your eyes wandered around the club as you muttered, “I just hoped surprising you would work,” blushing beneath his focused stare. Everyone continued dancing madly to the loud music, seemingly unaware that Soldier Boy was going to kill them all if you didn't stop him.

He led you to a quieter area of the club and said, “Well, it definitely worked,” when you bought him another drink. He was not getting drunken in any way.

Because he was a man with PTSD and was unpredictable, you were still terrified of him and wanted the night over as quickly as possible. However, you felt safer and more at ease with him because you didn't feel pressured to kiss him against your will. He was becoming even nicer to you. 

“So, why are you working for Butcher?” he inquired, setting his empty glass down on the closest table. 

You mumbled, “I'm not working for him,” as your nails gently traveled across the wall behind you. “His wife, who I was really close to, is hurt by Homelander really badly. She was the most kind human being I've ever encountered. So actually, I work with him let’s say.” 

He nodded to you despite the fact that the fact that he didn't clearly understand the situation or the dynamics amongst you all. 

“Butcher told me you're going to kill Homelander,” you muttered, as if you could be heard by someone else. “Are you truly capable of that? Killing him?” 

Soldier Boy laughed at your questioning and your clumsy attempt to find out if he was truly passionate about killing Homelander. “Of course I can, and I will,” he declared with pride. “He's just a foolish son of a bitch with a weird cape, and he's a cheap fucking knockoff. Just another worthless item to be used by his masters.”

You chuckled at his word choice and self-confidence, which fit him absolutely well. 

You said, "Honestly, I was very scared of you; well, maybe I still am, but I'm starting to think you're not that bad," feeling a little brave after his kind behavior toward you.

“I'm a tough bad supe,” he was whispering to you, raising your chin with two fingers and gently massaging your jawline with his fingertips. You shuddered, knowing that he might easily hurt you if he briefly loosened control. “But you know, just for you, I can show you how much I can be a gentleman.”

Even though you were still terrified of him and his abilities, your face flushed at his daring behavior right away. However, you were too weak to control your excitement. Being a supe or whatever was something you had never considered, so you muttered, “To be honest, I'm not that interested in getting intimate with a supe.”

As he drew nearer to you and prepared to press you to reconsider, he questioned, “Why not?”

Just a little while ago, Soldier Boy considered finding a simple supe woman to give his seed to and have a quick, hard fuck with, but now that he thought about it, he found you to be more interesting than those simple supe women who were boring and way too confident for his tastes—or perhaps he just liked your shyness at that particular moment. 

You said, your face flushed, “I heard there are supes who hurt people when they got close,” allowing him to touch your face with his massive hands. 

“There are no other men like me,” he remarked, with a grin brushing your lips with his thumb. 

You whispered, “No doubt. However, it's risky, don't you think? Considering the imbalance in power and everything.” 

“Believe me,” he added, continuing to playfully stroke your lips with firm hands. “I've fucked a lot of regular women just like you before; I can guarantee that none of them experienced any injury. People find themselves drawn to fucking supes for a reason.”

Your pulse raced with excitement and a hint of fright as you allowed him to touch you, unsure of whether or not to believe him. It felt like just the two of you, in between the din and the background noise. Soldier Boy was undeniably attractive, and his extraordinary strength only served to heighten the thrill you felt. 

“You want to distract me, right?” He heard your rapid heartbeat and sensed that you were putting your legs together, so he smiled and muttered something in your ear. “If you allow me to get into your tiny, aching pussy, we can both get pleasantly distracted. I would be happy to provide for your every need. Actually, I'm giving you a chance, so count yourself fortunate.” 

Telling him you didn't want to be touched would be a big lie. So, as he continued gently brushing your cheek with one of his powerful hands, you placed yours on his hand and gave him a forceful but delicate kiss to find out if he was being truthful about being a gentleman or not. 

Unexpectedly, he gave you the same tender kiss in return, and you could feel a little smile creep across his lips. After a while, his gentle kisses became more intense as he pulled you toward his powerful chest with his large hands behind your neck. Under his powerful hands, you felt secure. After a while, his powerful and seductive kisses left your lips red and ruined, and you pulled away to catch your breath.

He asked in a harsh voice against your lips, “So, what do you say?” as he continued to give you short kisses that increased your desire for him.

You gave it a little consideration, letting your hunger and physical desires gradually take the place of your fear of him, and then you nodded to him, “Uhm, yes.”

Soldier Boy's lips met yours with a smile as his hands hovered over your hips, slowly squeezing you until you left speechless and made to bite your lip to keep yourself quiet.

With a harsh voice, he asked, “Yes for what?” knowing that tonight, when he

finally got in your panties, you would make his dick warm with your tightness. He could feel his large cock getting harder by each second.

As he attempted to get you to talk when you were consumed with his exquisite little touches, Soldier Boy chuckled at your shyness. 

You said, “Yes for,” stumbling for words. “A small distraction, let's say?” 

Soldier Boy chuckled in a low voice at your description of the issue. He almost said something filthy about your naive demeanor, but he chose to refrain from putting you through more discomfort than was necessary. 

While guiding you to the second floor's darker corners and the rooms there, he teased, “Fine, baby, it doesn't sound that miserable anymore for you, huh?”

Then, just as a man was ready to crush you with his clumsy walk, Soldier Boy pushed the somewhat drunk man to the other side of the wall, and you found yourself inside a small, dark room that smelled strongly of drugs and alcohol. He stated, “It's all safe in here,” as you hurriedly scanned the room before he wildly began kissing you. 

He was taken aback when you kissed him tenderly on the lips, and you hoped he would be as kind as possible. You stroked his long beard and smiled at him. 

His tongue in your lips made you shiver and as he gave you a passionate kiss, your fingers danced over his long beard. He drew back and shoved you against the wall, making you gasp. He lifted your dress confidently and met your eyes with his darkened ones to check whether you were still afraid of him.

He gently assured you, “I won't hurt you,” right before his big fingers began to stroke your clit through your underwear. “Just relax.”

As he felt himself becoming more and more difficult for him to control, but he made his choice to make you feel comfortable and wet by giving you pleasure you needed. Soldier Boy gently inserted one of his fingers inside of yours, causing you to sigh a little louder this time after rubbing your clit some more and eliciting small noises from your mouth.

He answered, “You can take it,” and then carefully inserted his entire meaty finger inside of yours. “You're so good for me.”

You pushed yourself to take his entire finger in between his compliments and begged him to lift you up so you could be in a more comfortable position. Thankfully, he got the message right away and effortlessly raised you up with one hand. He then proceeded to gently touch you while whispering compliments against your lips.

You pressed your lips to his as he began to touch you more roughly, kissing him wildly as your fingertips played with his long and thick beard.

When Soldier Boy felt that you were close and that you were moist all over his hand, he added another finger. He bit your bottom lip gently, then whispered, “Cum on my fingers, sweetheart,” as he increased his strokes and found your most sensitive area with skill.

As you neared your climax, your legs trembled and you began to clench around his thick fingers between his praise while you moaned loudly against his mouth. When he took back his fingers, which were coated with your slick, you whimpered in protest. You were rather touch-starved, and you knew your body needed more.

He shoved his fingers in your mouth before you could even respond, growling, “Taste yourself,” as you held him tightly since your legs felt like a jelly. “Taste your sweetness.”

Your body became consumed with a desire to please him, so you hesitantly opened your mouth to let him to use it whatever he pleased. When he saw that you were ready to follow his instructions, he smiled mischievously and gave you the finger, saying, “Suck it, baby.”

When he put his hardness between your legs and ordered you to suck his finger so you could taste your own wetness, your heart began to race. As he carefully slid his fingers back and forth in your mouth, your tongue curled around his finger, giving you the sensation of a salty slick, and he pretended that you were sucking his cock instead. 

His lips twisted in enjoyment as he observed your submissive demeanor, and he growled, “You're a little dirty cocksucker, aren't you? However, I'll give you another chance to suck me off with your adorable little mouth later.”

With a swift motion, he removed his finger from your mouth and guided you both to the bed behind you. When Soldier Boy removed his hardness from his pants while holding your neck and pulling up your dress. The moment you felt the tip of his cock at your wet entrance, you shivered with anxiety, your cheek facing the sheets as you waited nervously for him to take you. You moved under Soldier Boy and forced him to release his grip on your hip, causing him stare at you perplexed before he inserted his cock into your pussy.

“What now?” he questioned while you were looking at his enormous dick in fear as he gave himself quick, forceful strokes.

“I’d like to do it in that position,” you murmered shyly, trying not to look at his enormous cock.

Soldier Boy noticed your anxious expression and your naive tone as you expressed wanting to be fucked in a missionary position. Without even realizing it, his heart began to soften, and he leaned over you on the bed, forcing you to lock your legs behind him as he began to kiss you again to help you relax. 

“Do you want to watch me fucking you?” He removed your tiny panties from your pussy and raised your dress so he could see your nude lower body. “Watching my cock slide inside your pussy,” he questioned. 

“Yes,” you moaned as you felt his thick cock on your stomach and mumbled against his mouth. 

After pulling the hanger off your dress and exposing your tits to his view, Soldier Boy spit on his own fingers and began to caress your sensitive clit some more. When he quickly sucked on both of your hard nipples, you let out a deep moan. Then, with a daring gaze into your eyes, he spat on his own fingers more and said, “Your adorable little hairy pussy looks so delicious. I'm fucking tired of shaved little bitches. You're really appealing to me, sweetie. A real woman.”

His fingers and his compliments made you feel close as his hand continued to play with your clit. You attempted to control your moans but were unsuccessful when he abruptly inserted two fingers back into you, forcing you to clench around his fingers once again.

He said, “I can make you come as much as you want, sweetheart,” as you whimpered loudly and opened your legs wider. Your eyes welled up with tears as you realized how empty you felt and how much you needed him to fill you.

“Beg me to fuck you.”

You quietly said, “Please,” running your fingers through his long beard.

“That's not how you beg,” he muttered aggressively.

You clamped your legs around his hips and moaned, “Fuck me, please,” as you attempted to get him to move on you.

As you continued pleading with him to get inside you, your eyes clouded with desire to be fucked by him, Soldier Boy grinned satisfiedly against your lips. He held his firm cock in his hand and moved it back and forth against your clit, forcing you to continue begging.

You both groaned when he finally pressed it against your entrance, and he moved very carefully to avoid hurting you with his strength. But you were so wet that he didn't even have to push, and he effortlessly glided inside you, which made him smile proudly. 

He encouraged you, saying, “You're taking me so good,” and attempted, very carefully, to insert his entire shaft inside your pussy. “Just a little bit more.” 

When he gave you a firm hip squeeze and thrust his entire hardness inside of you, you felt a little uncomfortable at first, but you quickly grew accustomed to the length of his dick and forced yourself to suppress your groan of discomfort.

He waited inside of you, and you murmured softly, “Can you be gentle?”

“You want to be fucked slowly?”

You nodded to him, and he surprised you by kissing your forehead tenderly and smiling a little. He said, “I'll fuck you as you like it tonight.”

You both gasped with ecstasy as he began to slowly move his cock inside of you. He looked into your eyes, his muscular hands holding you in place as he slowly smashed his dick within your pussy.

With every stroke, he snarled and praised you, saying, “You're so fucking tight and nice. I should have fucked you sooner.”

He was fucking you slowly but with powerful strokes that made you sigh with pleasure. He was also extremely mindful of every facial expression you made. When Soldier Boy sensed your hips frantically striving to match his thrusts, he began to move a little quicker and harder. He was aware that your body was capable of more. You felt yourself moving closer to him again as you groaned louder and gripped his face as he began to fuck you harder. 

“Cum on my cock, sweetheart,” he commanded, wrapping his hands around your neck and shifting slightly on top of you. It got harder to keep himself from spilling inside of you as he fucked you carefully, seeing as your tits bounced with each stroke. 

Your legs trembled with incredible pleasure as soon as he gave you the order to cum and hit you with his powerful thrusts, dominating your body, and you screamed in intense pleasure. You had no idea that you needed to be fucked in that particular way. You forced him to fully press against your walls by raising your hips and clenching around his big cock. You were shaking under Soldier Boy wildly as he continued to fuck you in between orgasms. 

With a low growl, he shoved his entire cock within your pussy and grabbed your tits with one hand while spilling his thick, white ropes inside.

“Fuck,” he growled as you clenched around him one more time and he kept spilling inside you for minutes, filling your insides with his sperm.

As he filled up inside of you, you both snapped to reality, and he planted a gentle kiss on your forehead. 

He took his softened cock from your insides, and he chuckled when you smiled against his lips and while you were trying to catch your breath in bliss.

When he palmed your pussy and got back his sperm to your insides, which were leaking out of your thigh, you both moaned. 

“See,” he teased you. “No damage was done. I gave you an excellent attention.”

You boldly put your hands to his flushed lips, closed your eyes, and gave him a quick, hard kiss. 

“You're indeed a sweet little distraction to me.”

THE END.

A/N: Well, that was all. It was just a two chapters long fic, but you can check my Masterlist for long Soldier Boy / Reader fics.

Let me know what you think! Comments and reblogs are very appreciated and important to me. ♡

Taglist: @n-o-p-e-never @mostlymarvelgirl @libby99hb @arrowenchantress @aleemendoza2425-blog @anundyingfidelity

[edenesth]

TWTHH Spinoff: Written in the Stars [1]

Pairing: military strategist!Mingi x royal physician!reader

AU: historical au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 5.5k

Summary: Mingi had spent countless years searching for the angel who saved his life when he was on the verge of death. He believed god was on his side when she finally reappeared before him, but she was now so near yet so far, so unobtainable. No longer just a young medical trainee, she had become an esteemed royal physician—a woman working within the palace walls. And what did that mean? It meant she now belonged to His Majesty.

A/N: As stated in the title, this is a spinoff. If you have yet to check out the main story, it's probably better to read that before starting this.

Main Story | Spinoff Masterlist | Part 2

"Hey, hey, hey, look at me. Just focus on me, okay? You can hear me, right?" a sweet, gentle female voice called out, followed by a soft touch on his cheek. Mingi forced his eyes open in disbelief—how could a woman be in the war zone? As he cracked his eyes open, he was breathless at the sight of a beautiful angel before him.

You smiled in relief, cupping his face delicately. "That's right. Everything will be okay. I'll make all the pain go away. Just stay with me, soldier. Can you do that?"

He nodded weakly, his once weakening heartbeat now pounding in his chest. "A-anything for you, my lady…"

"Quite a flirt, aren't you?" you teased, reassured that he was still well enough to be playful. He was the most critical soldier on site, and you had been immediately assigned to him as soon as you and a team of medical experts arrived to treat the injured soldiers.

Your breath had hitched when you first saw him, your heart nearly stopping at the sight of the blood caking his body, a huge gash on his abdomen, and countless other cuts. Without wasting a second, you settled beside him and did everything you could to keep him conscious. He was losing too much blood, and if he remained unconscious any longer, you might lose him. For now, you had no choice but to multitask by treating him and keeping him distracted.

Anything to keep him awake.

"N-no, only for you…" he croaked, and you breathed out a laugh, your hands busy cleaning his wounds, unfazed by his bare upper body. Sure, he had a great physique, but so did most soldiers around here and many other patients you'd treated. His clichéd and sweet words were also nothing new to you. Patients delirious from blood loss often behaved this way.

He held onto your hand when the stinging pain became a little too unbearable as you cleaned the open wound that was still bleeding profusely. You placed your other hand gently over his, stroking his skin in an attempt to comfort him. "It's okay, soldier. I know it hurts, but it will be alright."

With care, you slowly moved his hand back to his side before continuing. You could feel his awed gaze fixed on you, but you didn't mind; it meant he was conscious, and that was all you needed. Through a sharp wince, he choked out, "W-when this is all over, will you please allow me the h-honour of courting you, my lady?"

You raised an eyebrow in amusement, shaking your head in disbelief at his bold question. No matter how flirty other soldiers could get, none had ever dared to ask to court you. This was a first. With a shrug, you decided perhaps a little white lie wouldn't hurt too much.

"We'll talk about it when you're fully recovered. How's that sound?"

Smiling weakly through his pain, he nodded. "Sounds wonderful."

You continued tending to his wounds, your touch gentle but efficient. Despite the gravity of his injuries, he kept his eyes on you, drawing strength from your presence. The battlefield around you faded as you focused entirely on keeping him alive.

Minutes felt like hours, but finally, the worst was over. You had cleaned and dressed his wounds, stopping the bleeding and stabilising him for now. You leaned back, wiping the sweat from your brow, and gave him a reassuring smile.

"There, all done. You just need to rest and let your body heal."

He nodded, exhaustion evident in his eyes, but there was a glimmer of hope as well. "Thank you… for everything."

You patted his shoulder. "Just doing my job. Now, get some rest."

As you stood up to move on to the next patient, you couldn't help but glance back at him. His eyes were closed, his breathing steady. Shaking your head, you reminded yourself that it was just his delirium speaking. No man would want to court a lady simply after taking a single glance at her. He didn't know you well enough to feel that way. He would probably forget all about you by the time he was healed.

The same way you would forget him.

Only you were completely wrong about that. The first thing Mingi thought about when he regained consciousness was you. He lay in bed for weeks afterwards, with different physicians checking on him regularly, but never the angel who had saved him from moving on to the afterlife, the one who had comforted him during the most excruciating pain he had ever experienced.

When he tried to ask for you, he realised he didn't even know your name or designation. He had no information about you other than that you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen—a description not very helpful for others to identify you.

Just like the wind, you were gone.

He never saw you again, but that was when his search for you began. He remained hopeful even as years passed. He didn't know why he was so fixated on one woman he knew nothing about. But you weren't just another woman. You were the one who saved his life, the first one he had the courage to ask out, and most importantly, you hadn't said no to him yet.

So that had to mean something. He must have a chance; he just needed to find you.

Even when all his friends, family, colleagues, and nearly the whole world called him a fool for being so hung up on someone he had only met once, someone he might never see again, he refused to give up. As a soldier and now a military strategist, he rarely interacted with women, and even when he did, they were often intimidated by his appearance and put off by his dangerous job. They rarely saw him as a marriage prospect.

That was why he couldn't move on from you. Your delicate treatment all those years ago had left an indelible mark on his heart. He could still remember every single touch of your fingertips on his skin, and he longed to have you close again.

His colleagues would laugh, calling him a fool. "You're chasing a ghost," they said. "She might not even be real." But Mingi knew better. He had felt your touch, heard your voice, and seen the kindness in your eyes. You were real, and you were out there somewhere. You had to be.

He devoted every spare moment to finding you, combing through records and speaking to anyone who might have known the medical trainees from that time. His friends often found him lost in thought, staring out into the distance, clearly fixated on a memory that had become his driving force, always looking for 'his one.'

When he finally found you again, he didn't expect it to be again in the war zone, where the conflict with Ruhon had just ended and the injured General Park was absent. He remembered hearing your delicate voice stand out amidst the sea of men blocking your way as you firmly tried to push through, unfazed by the soldiers surrounding you—a quality he greatly admired.

"Forgive us, ma'am. Women are not permitted here," one of the soldiers explained. Mingi recalled pushing through the crowd to hear your response: "Yes, I know that, but you don't understand. I'm here on His Majesty's orders. We received word that General Park has been poisoned, and I've been sent specifically to treat him."

I finally found you, my one.

At that moment, seeing you again was all that mattered. You were all he could see and hear. He was so fixated on the fact that you were right in front of him that he hadn't yet processed the implication of you being a royal female physician.

None of that was important as he cleared his throat, his deep voice booming across the space. "Let her through."

"But sir, the general isn't even here—"

The military strategist sighed. "I said let the lady through, soldier."

"Y-yes, sir."

He basked in your appreciative smile as the crowd finally dispersed, allowing you space to breathe and enter the camp after what felt like an eternity of being stranded outside. You had travelled far and long, and the last thing you needed was to be asked to return to the palace without a proper explanation. You had been sent to treat the poisoned military general—how could you explain to His Majesty if you returned empty-handed?

Following the tall man who politely introduced himself as General Officer Song, you immediately knew who he was. He was a renowned military strategist, the only one competent enough to be acknowledged by the great General Park Seonghwa.

"Thank you for intervening," you said, matching his brisk pace.

"Not a problem. It's an honour to have you here," he replied, his voice steady and respectful. "Royal Physician...?"

Your eyes widened in realisation at your lack of self-introduction. "Oh, how rude of me for not introducing myself. Please address me as Royal Physician Ahn."

"It's nice to meet you, Royal Physician Ahn," he said, pausing for a moment to take in your appearance, hoping you might recognise him. His heart sank slightly when you merely returned his smile courteously. "Pleasure to meet you as well, General Officer Song. Now, if you'll just take me to the general."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "He's not here, my lady."

You halted your steps. "Wh-what do you mean he's not here?"

He gestured to the main tent, beckoning for you to follow. "Please, I'll explain everything."

As you walked side by side, you couldn't help but feel a sense of familiarity and comfort around him, though you couldn't quite place it. Little did you know, the man beside you had been searching for you since that fateful day, driven by a memory that had never faded. And now, with you by his side, he was determined not to let you slip away again.

Except that might not be his choice to make.

"Don't you ever regret becoming a woman of the palace, unnie? I mean, look at that—it must be nice to be in love," Subin, your colleague and childhood friend, said as she nudged your shoulder, nodding toward the second prince and his wife. They were the only royal couple so far to marry out of love and not duty, and the two were taking a stroll in the nearby cherry blossom garden.

You shook your head with a small smile. "We've been over this, Subin-ah. Love is a luxury for people like us. Besides, we now belong to His Majesty, and nothing can change that. Watch your words and don't let anyone catch you saying things like that."

As much as you agreed with her and thought it would be nice to have someone to love and be loved in return, you knew there was no point in dwelling on the impossible. Any chance of that was taken away from the moment you both decided to pursue careers as royal physicians. Not that you had much of a choice—both you and Subin were orphaned at a young age, the only survivors of a plague-ridden village that had claimed your families.

Left with nothing, you had begged the exhausted medical practitioners, who were struggling to treat as many infected people as they could at that time, to take you both in, promising to work in any way you could as payment. Feeling sympathetic and touched by your determination, they agreed, and you grew up as apprentices to these struggling physicians, promising to repay them when you were older. And you did, by signing up to enter the palace. It was the most successful path for any medical practitioner, and with your income, the dingy clinic run by your saviours could finally survive steadily.

However, this success came at a price.

Palace rules dictated that any woman working within belonged to the King. In other words, you were his property. Once you held an official position within the palace, you could never marry or have children unless it was with His Majesty himself, if one was lucky—or unlucky enough—depending on how one viewed it. Most palace women would work until their death and be buried within the palace walls. Only in rare and special cases were some granted the privilege to retire and leave the palace to live out the rest of their lives as they pleased.

You sighed, looking at your friend. "As much as I understand what you're saying, we both know there's no point in dreaming about it. Our path was set the moment we chose this life. Love, marriage, children—those things are not for us."

She nodded slowly, her eyes reflecting a mixture of resignation and understanding. "I know, unnie. It's just... sometimes I wonder what it would be like, you know? To have someone who cares about you, who is willing to take care of you, who loves you."

You placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "We have each other, and we have our duty. That's enough. It has to be."

She smiled weakly. "You're right. We made a choice, and we've helped so many people because of it. We should be proud of that."

"We should," you agreed, squeezing her shoulder gently. "And who knows? Maybe one day, we'll be among the lucky few who get to retire and live out the rest of our lives outside these walls."

Subin chuckled softly, finally moving and continuing the trek back to the royal medical hall. "A girl can dream, right?"

"Indeed, my dearest," you said, returning her smile. "A girl can dream."

Meanwhile, Mingi couldn't stop replaying the events of that day—finally seeing you again. He had sat you down and reassured you that the war with Ruhon had ended and that the general was already home, being taken care of by his own family doctor. Once you calmed down, relieved, Mingi began asking you multiple questions under the guise of courtesy, secretly hoping to see if you recognised him.

"How long have you been a royal physician, my lady?" he asked, his eyes keenly observing your reaction.

"Quite a few years now," you replied, sinking into your seat and relaxing at the pleasant news about the nerve-wracking war and the general's safety. "It's been a challenging but rewarding journey."

He nodded and smiled warmly, happy to ease your worries. "I can imagine. You must have treated many patients over the years."

"Yes, many," you said, your gaze distant for a moment as you recalled the countless faces. "Each one leaves a mark, in a way."

His heart sank slightly at your words, realising that he was likely just one of those many faces. "You must have seen some incredible recoveries," he continued, trying to keep the conversation going.

"Indeed, I have," you agreed, your expression softening. "It's always a blessing to see someone recover, to know you've made a difference."

His disappointment was palpable, though he masked it well. You didn't show any signs of recognising him, but he figured it must be because he was only one of many patients you had treated. But you were here now, and that was all that mattered to him. He resolved to work hard to help you remember him, to gain your trust, and most importantly, to earn your affection.

"You know," he said, his tone light and conversational, "it's rare to find someone as dedicated as you. We're lucky to have you."

You smiled modestly. "Thank you, General Officer Song. It's an honour to serve His Majesty and the people."

He leaned in slightly, his eyes sincere. "The world certainly needs more people like you, Royal Physician Ahn."

"I'm glad you think so," you said, feeling a surprising sense of comfort in his presence.

Mingi couldn't wipe the smile off his face as he recalled how you had eventually allowed him to escort you from the war site back to the palace. You hadn't rejected him, and that must mean something. It must mean he had a chance. It must—

"Look, hyung, I know you're happy you finally found her, but you do realise she's off-limits, right?" said Junghoon, his apprentice and close friend. The younger man shook his head at the military strategist's dreamy expression that had persisted on his face ever since reuniting with his dream girl.

Mingi's smile faltered slightly, but he quickly recovered. "Off-limits...?"

His apprentice raised an eyebrow. "She's a royal physician. You know the rules as well as I do. Don't tell me you forgot palace women are the King's property. They're not allowed to marry or have relationships outside of what His Majesty permits."

Mingi's expression turned more serious, though the light in his eyes didn't diminish. "I know the rules, Junghoon-ah. But I also know that nothing is truly impossible. Exceptions have been made before."

Junghoon sighed, clearly concerned. "You're playing a dangerous game, hyung. I just don't want to see you get hurt."

The military strategist nodded, appreciating his friend's worry. "I understand your concern. But she means more to me than just a fleeting interest. I've been looking for her ever since that day, and now that I've found her, I can't just let her go again."

Junghoon studied his mentor's determined expression for a moment before nodding slowly. "If you say so. Just be careful. You know the palace can be a ruthless place."

Mingi smiled again, more determined than ever. "I will, Junghoon-ah. Thanks for looking out for me, my friend."

The younger man patted him on the shoulder. "Always, hyung. Always."

Officer Song's smile weakened as soon as his apprentice left. Truth be told, the realisation that you were now a royal physician weighed heavily on him. He understood exactly what that meant. Under the reign of any unreasonable king, Mingi would never have dared to continue his pursuit. But he knew His Majesty was one of the kindest rulers Joseon had ever seen. While he wasn't exactly confident that things would go his way, he would be damned if he gave up without giving it his all first.

The reality of you being a woman of the palace was disheartening, but it didn't deter his determination to fight for you. He knew it was foolish, but that was the thing about love—it made people do stupid things. He leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling, lost in thoughts of you.

His mind wandered back to the moment he first saw you again, the way you had smiled at him, the relief in your eyes when he reassured you. Those memories fueled his resolve. He had spent years searching for you, and now that he had found you, he couldn't let palace rules stand in his way.

As he sat there, the light from the setting sun casting long shadows in his room, he made a silent vow to himself. He would approach His Majesty, present his case with honesty and respect, and hope for the best. The King's kindness gave him a sliver of hope, and he clung to it with all his might.

Mingi knew the risks, knew the odds were against him, but he also knew that love was worth fighting for. He took a deep breath, his determination solidifying into a plan. No matter how impossible it seemed, he was ready to do whatever it took to be with you.

But the challenges were proving more difficult than he had imagined.

"General Officer Song, are you hearing yourself? Do you realise what you are asking of me? What would the people of this nation think if I were to give in to the whims of my men so easily? Rules are established for a reason," His Majesty said strictly.

Mingi lowered his head, sinking to his knees and bowing deeply to express his sincerity. He knew he could have gone to Seonghwa about this, and the general, being the King's favourite, would have easily helped him. But the military strategist didn't want to rely on or exploit his friend's connection. This was his love story, and it was something he needed to accomplish on his own.

He tried to keep his voice steady as he continued speaking. "I know this must be an incredibly outrageous request, Your Majesty. I wouldn't have taken the risk to come here and ask this if my feelings for Royal Physician Ahn were not genuine. I implore you, my King, I am serious about my intentions to court her."

The elderly ruler sighed, leaning back on his throne and rubbing his forehead. "Officer Song, if you think you are the first to come to me with such a request, I assure you, you are not. I'm aware I am considered one of the most benevolent rulers of Joseon, but my kindness is not to be taken advantage of."

Mingi's eyes widened, and he quickly shook his head. "No, Your Majesty! I would never—"

The King raised a hand to stop him. "Let me finish, Officer Song. I know you believe you are in love, but many others have thought the same. I have granted opportunities to pursue what they call love, only for them to turn out to be mistakes. You are young, and you will meet more women who are available and more well-suited for you. Don't let your temporary feelings misguide your actions. Trust me, you will move on and forget about her before you know it."

However, the elderly ruler was unsurprised to see his words only igniting greater determination in the young man's eyes. Mingi parted his lips, prepared to protest and prove His Majesty wrong, but the elderly man waved him off. "Stubborn as always. Fine, if you are so determined to pursue this, I will allow you the opportunity to realise I am correct. Love is a two-way street and cannot flourish with only one side invested. Go ahead and do your best then. Let's see if Royal Physician Ahn will even reciprocate your feelings. She is one of my most dedicated staff members; we'll see if you can sway her resolve."

Although the King's words were intended to discourage him, Mingi was relieved it wasn't a flat-out rejection. This meant he still had hope, a chance to win your heart and make you his. Bowing deeply, he exclaimed, "Your grace is immeasurable, Your Majesty! I wish you ten thousand years of life and reign!"

In the days that followed his conversation with His Majesty, the military strategist became consumed with thoughts of getting closer to you without appearing too forward. Even during his daily training, his mind wandered, preoccupied with strategies for approaching you subtly. So, when a blunt practice sword collided with his arm, he let out a yelp of pain, jolting back to reality. Though the sword was dull, it still left a small wound and a bruise that was sure to darken over time from the impact.

Junghoon cursed and dropped his weapon, rushing to his mentor's side. "Why didn't you dodge?! You're such an idiot sometimes!"

Mingi winced, cradling his arm. "I was just... thinking of ways to approach her subtly."

Junghoon raised a sceptical eyebrow, shaking his head lightly. "Well, here's the perfect opportunity. You're injured, so go to the medical hall to be treated by her."

"Oh, that's an amazing idea!"

"Yeah, it's not exactly rocket science—"

"You're brilliant, Junghoon-ah! Thanks, dinner's on me!" Mingi exclaimed excitedly, dashing off towards the royal medical hall.

The younger man shrugged, watching his mentor run off with an amused grin. "Huh, I guess I am a genius."

Mingi struggled to calm his racing heart, his mind reeling with all sorts of scenarios that could unfold. He thought about what to say to start a conversation, to get to know you better, to make you remember him—

"Whoa there, watch your step!"

His breath hitched as you appeared right before him, your arms reaching out to steady him by the shoulders. He couldn’t utter a word from the shock and embarrassment. Meanwhile, you were focused on the area of his arm he was clutching, noticing the cloth slowly turning red from the blood seeping through. Your eyes widened.

"Oh my gosh, you're bleeding! Come inside, quickly!" you exclaimed.

The military strategist sighed in relief, realising you were too preoccupied with his injury to notice how foolish he felt. He couldn't take his eyes off you, his mouth hanging open like a fish out of water, suddenly forgetting how to speak.

Pull yourself together, you idiot!

All his plans for starting a conversation flew out the window as he fought to maintain his composure throughout his visit. Though he had shared conversations with you while escorting you back to the palace from the war zone, he hadn't been this close to you in a long time. The last time was during your first meeting, and he had been too numb from blood loss to properly register your touch. Now, he was acutely aware of your proximity as he sat on one of the many beds in the hall, with you settled by his side, checking the tray before you and ensuring you had everything you needed.

"Now, it would be great if you could just lift your arm a little," you murmured.

He nodded and complied, too afraid that his voice would tremble like a nervous schoolboy if he spoke. Carefully, you rolled his sleeve up to his shoulder and assessed the small wound already surrounded by a darkening bruise, your touch gentle.

"Don't worry, Officer Song. I'll make sure this doesn't leave a scar," you said reassuringly.

He smiled shyly, nodding appreciatively. If only you knew what your presence was doing to him and his poor little heart. The warmth of your hands on his skin and the soothing tone of your voice made his pulse quicken. He struggled to think of something to say, something that wouldn't reveal just how flustered he felt.

As you cleaned the wound and applied a salve, his thoughts raced. He wanted to find the right words, something that would spark a meaningful conversation. But the words seemed to stick in his throat whenever he opened his mouth. He watched you work, mesmerised by your concentration and the care you put into treating him.

"Thank you, Royal Physician Ahn," he finally managed to say, his voice steady but soft. "For everything."

You looked up and smiled warmly. "It's my duty, Officer Song. But you're welcome."

That smile, he thought, was worth all the awkwardness and nervousness he felt. It gave him hope and determination. He wasn't going to give up. Not now, not ever.

Determined to make up for his failed attempt to talk to you, Mingi returned to the medical hall nearly every day for the next week, each time presenting a minor cut or bruise. He knew he wasn't being very subtle, but it didn't matter. He needed you to understand his heart before seeing if you could feel the same, if he stood any chance at all. However, he slowly realised he was getting nowhere if he couldn't openly express his interest and sincerity in courting you.

Sensing his struggles, Royal Secretary Choi could no longer sit by and watch his friend flounder. Truthfully, San had learned about the military strategist's pursuit of one of the palace's most recognised female physicians from His Majesty himself, who had expressed his wish for Mingi to give up. But the royal secretary, being a man in love himself, understood the taller man's feelings better than anyone.

"You know, you can't keep going back to the medical hall, pretending to be sick or injured forever," San said, approaching and sitting down beside Mingi in one of the pavilions in the cherry blossom garden.

Officer Song's head shot up to see his friend before pressing his face into his palms. "How else can I approach her, San? There's only so much I can do. She's a palace woman, and I can't possibly make my intentions clear without His Majesty's permission."

San sighed and placed a hand on Mingi's shoulder. "Actually… you might have his permission, but you didn't hear it from me." The taller man's eyes widened, prompting his friend to elaborate.

The royal secretary continued, "His Majesty has a soft heart, as you know. While he discouraged you, deep down, he just doesn't want you to get hurt. He secretly hopes it all goes your way but wouldn't admit it. Listen, there's a banquet happening soon to celebrate our unity with Ruhon. Perhaps you could ask her to attend with you."

Mingi straightened up, eyes shining with hope. "I can do that...?"

San nodded slowly. "Technically, important figures like you and Royal Physician Ahn are encouraged to attend and show support. There's nothing wrong with a little networking, right? Besides, His Majesty is already aware of your intentions. If she agrees to go with you, this would be a huge step in your pursuit. Wouldn't you agree?"

Hell yeah, I do.

"You wanna bet he's gonna show up again soon?" Subin teased, smirking as you rolled your eyes and playfully smacked her on the arm. "Don't jinx it, just shut up and go on your lunch break already."

It had been a particularly hectic day with the arrival of envoys from Ruhon for the upcoming celebration. The influx of visitors sought remedies for their seasickness after enduring the boat journey, keeping all the royal physicians busy stocking up on medicine and treating the sudden rush of patients suffering from nausea. The last thing you needed was for Song Mingi to appear with another one of his tiny scratches, requesting attention.

You were silently hoping he wouldn't show up today, relishing in a moment of tranquillity as the lunch hour approached and most of the patients had been taken care of. The first batch of physicians, including Subin, would go to lunch while you and the second batch would stay back until they returned.

But alas, the peace was short-lived.

"Ooh, guess who's here again," your colleague remarked, nodding toward the entrance of the royal medical hall where a certain tall, handsome military strategist strode in for what felt like the thousandth time this week. You sighed, refusing to look up from your book. "Please tell me it's not him."

She gulped, watching him approach. "Hate to break it to you, but it is your not-so-secret admirer, General Officer Song."

"Good afternoon, ladies. I, uh… I'm here today because—" his familiar deep voice rang out as he paused at a respectful distance.

Clearing your throat, you finally closed your book and turned to face him with a courteous smile, finishing his sentence for him, "Good afternoon to you too, Officer Song. Let me guess, you're here because you got hurt during training again?"

Instead of the usual sheepish nod, he shook his head and nervously fiddled with his fingers. "No, actually… I came to ask if… i-if you would like to accompany me to the royal banquet celebrating Joseon's unity with Ruhon tonight, Royal Physician Ahn?"

You froze at his question, and your colleague mirrored your reaction. The two of you exchanged bewildered glances, trying to process the fact that this fool was openly pursuing you, a woman working in the palace, someone who belonged to the King.

Does he realise what he's doing?

« Preview of Part 2 »

"Is that her? Your 'one'?" the general teased, nudging Mingi on the shoulder as they observed the royal physician conversing with Lady Park, who was now about five months into her pregnancy.

The military strategist blushed furiously, nodding. "Yes, that's her."

"Has His Majesty granted you permission to court her?" Seonghwa asked, and the younger man winced, shaking his head. "No, he hasn't. In fact, he told me to give up on my pursuit, convinced me it was merely infatuation and that it would eventually pass."

General Park frowned. "That can't be right. You've been searching for her for years. How is it that you've found your soulmate years before me yet still haven't won her over, while I'm already expecting a child with mine, Mingi-yah? Do you want me to speak with the King? I'm sure he'll understand."

Officer Song's response caught Seonghwa off guard as he shook his head. "It's okay, hyung-nim. I appreciate your offer to speak to His Majesty, but I want to handle this on my own. I don't want her to feel pressured to accept me. I want her to see my sincerity and decide for herself if she shares the same feelings. Then, I can show the King that this is worth pursuing, that she's worth it."

"Are you sure, my friend?"

"I've never been more sure of anything."

You're probably shocked I'm posting on a Monday HAHA but it's another public holiday in Malaysia, yippee!

ASDFGHJKL 1.9k+ followers?! I'm not dreaming now, am I?😭 I love y'all so much, istg! Sorry, this first part took so long but I've been real busy the past week. I know a lot of y'all have been waiting for this, I sincerely hope this was decent!

As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

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[dragon-kazansky]

Bridgerton shade of blue

Benedict Bridgerton x Female Reader

Benedict bumps into you, quite literally, at a ball while trying to escape his mother's attempts to find him a partner. You decide to humour him with a dance, not realising just how entwined you would become with him. It seems the universe will find every excuse to push you and Benedict together, no matter how much you fight it.

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Season one

Chapter Ten - Duel at dawn

♡♡♡

Meanwhile, at the art studio, Benedict was still lingering around. Most of the artists had vacated the room by this point, but Benedict Bridgerton was still present.

"You have great potential." Henry said, coming up beside him.

"It's nothing," Benedict says sharply.

"Though, for such a staunch critic of others, you certainly lack a clear eye for your own work."

Benedict sighs. "It's the lines. Not what they're supposed to be."

"Take the compliment, Bridgerton. There is no expectation or judgement here. You left all of that back in Mayfair. You can feel free to be yourself here... if that's what you should like."

Benedict smiles.

"It's what works for me, at least. And I haven't been dissatisfied with my lines in... well, quite some time."

Benedict chuckles again. "Well, I've done worse, I suppose, really."

"Mm. Fair enough."

"I seem to have enjoyed myself too much this evening." Benedict looks around at the empty room. "I should be on my way."

"As you wish," Henry says nonchalantly. "But know you are welcome back any time for practice or even conversation."

They both chuckle.

♡♡♡

By the time Benedict gets home, Anthony and Daphne are talking very seriously in the hall. He stops and looks at his two siblings.

"What is it?"

Anthony marches over and grabs him by the arm. "You and I need to talk. Daphne, bed."

Anthony drags his brother to his study.

"I will need you to stand as my second," he says after explaining everything to Benedict.

"What if you get yourself killed?" Benedict asks. He wasn't exactly thrilled about what had apparently transpired, but even less so about the thought of losing his brother.

"Then the title and estates will pass to you," Anthony tells him.

Benedict didn't want that.

"And if you kill Hastings?"

"I shall have to leave the country, and you'll be head of the family in every way that matters."

Again, he didn't want that.

Chuckling I the hall draws their attention to the door.

You laugh with Colin as Violet hangs off the both of you. She's clearly been drinking a lot tonight. She can't even walk straight. You've never seen her so uncomposed before.

The door opens behind you, and Anthony and Benedict are standing there.

"You're clearly sover," Colin laughs with his mother.

"And I'm sober enough to know when you're being impertinent." She chuckles. "Good night, dear."

You giggle. Violet waves at you lazily, and you chuckle again at her inability to remain composed.

You turn to see the two brothers still standing there and nudge Colin. He looks at you and then at them. They wave him over.

"Good god. Did someone die?" Colin asks.

You look at Anthony, who glances at you, his sowlnt thank you for helping bring his mother home. Then your gaze shifts to Benedict, who looks at you with a strange expression. You wonder where he's been all evening.

Colin turns to you. "Get home safe, okay?"

You nod, knowing your maid was waiting outside. You watch him walk toward his brothers and then leave.

♡♡♡

You arrive early to the Bridgerton house the next morning. You had snuck out alone. You had hoped to be there early enough before Anthony left to duel the duke.

Unfortunately they had already left.

You had, however, arrived in time to see Daphne and Colin leaving. When Colin saw you he sighed.

"You cannot be serious."

"I am."

Daphne says your name as she looks at you. "You do not have to witness this."

"I want to. As your friend. I will not allow this stupid, and mind I remind you illegal, activity to take place."

Colin sighs and helps you up into his horse. "Hold on."

He spurs the horse on, leading Daphne to the agreed spot. You hold on tight to him as he rides.

All Daphne can think about is Simon.

"Anthont won't... kill him, right?" You ask, watching Daphne ride.

"No. Sound him, surely."

"Good..."

"Are you worried?" He asks.

"Yes. Are you not?"

Colin doesn't answer.

By the time you arrive within diat ne of seeing them, the two are already stood feet apart with their pistols aimed. It's Daphne who rides faster to get between them.

"Stop!"

Anthony fires his pistol as soon as she shouts, the horse his sister's on rears back and Daphne falls to the ground.

"Daphne!" Simon shouts.

"Sister!"

Both men run toward her.

Colin pulls his horse to a stop, and you both climb off, rushing to them. Benedict drops the pistol case and does the same. He doesn't have time to ask why you're here.

"Are you hurt? Tell me!" Simon demands.

"I am perfectly well, no thanks to you idiots," she says, standing up.

"What are you playing at?" Anthony asks.

"Says the man who just shot at me!"

"You just rode into the middle of a duel!"

"I require a moment with the duke," Daphne says softly.

Anthony tries to stop her, but she stops him in return. Benedict pulls Anthony back and says, "make it brief."

Daphne and Simon walk off to talk.

"What are you doing here?" Benedict asks once they're out of ear shot.

"I came to help stop this ridiculous display."

"You could have been hurt," he says.

"No one got hurt, luckily."

Benedict looks a little lost for words. You sigh and look at him and then at Anthony. The eldest looks at you and nods once, softly. His eyes then flick back over to his sister.

"We must resume before someone should find us," Anthony says to the pair.

Simon nods at him.

Daphne watches him walk and then says, "there will be no need to resume."

Everyone turns to look at her.

"The duke and I are to be married."

You look at her and then turn to the duke. You're not sure what they discussed. He stares at her.

The three brothers look between the duke and their sister.

Whatever they discussed, Daphne made up her mind.

When Simon does not speak against her statement, it becomes clear to everyone that the matter is settled.

Now you all just need to get home before someone sees you all.

♡♡♡

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[fumiscripts]

✦ DRAW ME LIKE ONE OF YOUR FRENCH GIRLS

✦ one shot ,, michael kaiser x gn!reader

✦ content:: you're an artist, michael is your muse. plot twist: you hate his guts, but he's still too pretty not to draw

crack/fluff, 936 words

additional:: reader and kaiser have confused feelings towards each other, very little swearing, reader threatens to draw kaiser pregnant, insulting and teasing as a love language, might be a little off character maybe, slight suggestive joke, this dialogue came to me in a vision

This is so unfair. Why did he have to be so insanely ethereal?

You hate Michael Kaiser. Everything about him ticks you off. From his egoistic personality to his cocky demeanor. You wanted to kick a ball to his unfortunately pretty face. The same face which you've been sketching in your book. Over and over again. You couldn't stop drawing him. It's becoming a problem for you, and him teasing you for it was not helping.

Well, in your mind, he didn't have the right to be drawn by you. Yeah, his hair frames his features perfectly, and each curve and slope of his face looks sculpted like some Greek statue, and his eyes are the most mesmerizing shade of blue— damn, you really loathe the way you think about him like this.

He doesn't even deserve each stroke and line that you put on paper. All that work could've been put into drawing something more interesting. Like a random apple. Anything but him.

You really disliked that he was your muse.

It was the nth time where you etched another portrait of the blond into your sketchbook. You've lost count of how many pieces you've drawn of him, at this point. Your eyes flicker between the paper and him, catching every detail and immortalizing it to paper, your other hand propped up on the table and holding your head. Kaiser, himself, was sitting on a seat across from you, reading another of those books you never bothered to learn the titles of.

He was staying still— much to your convenience— and, surprisingly, not being talkative, at the moment— also much to your convenience. You much prefer the peaceful quiet over the usual bantering that stems from him rilling you up with out-of-pocket remarks, and you retorting back despite being aware of this.

The while of being able to peacefully do your thing didn't last, like you hoped. Once he noticed what you were doing, he was back on your ass to be a mocking bitch about it.

“Drawing me again? How obsessed are you?” Kaiser mused, staring at where the lead of the pencil met paper. You stared at him, pausing with your sketch as you deadpan, internally planning how to hide the body within the lounge after you manifest a meteorite falling on him. You were definitely not looking at him for another reason. Gosh, he's so gorgeous, you can't stand breathing the same air as him.

You tear your gaze away, landing back on the textured parchment beneath your hand. “You're easy to draw,” you snarkily reply. And you mean that in an insulting way. “I bet I can sketch you with three lines— that's how plain you are,” you added, just to make sure he doesn't use some loophole and claim that you don't find it difficult because of memorizing every detail of his by heart.

This earned a sneer from Kaiser, who placed his head on his intertwined fingers in a display of boredom. “Wow, so cruel,” he trails off, making a show with obviously feigning hurt. The blond sighs for a cherry on top, before going on. “Aren't you supposed to be nice to your muse?” Kaiser taunted, grinning.

“Shut up, before I draw you pregnant,” you state, a weird threat, but it was effective enough to make him do a double take. Though, it also resulted in him looking at you as if there was something wrong with your brain chemistry— like you were some failed attempt at making an intelligent creature— so perhaps it wasn't that effective in terms of threatening him. Whatever. You weren't really serious about it… maybe.

Kaiser was quick to recover from that off-putting statement of yours. “You sure do have weird fantasies about me,” he remarked, leaning back on his chair like he did something amazing, because to him, he just said something worthy to be written down as a quote.

You looked at him with a straight, blank face. Unlike how you did while sketching intricate lines that detailed his face. All that non-expression just to prove a point that, no, you didn't fantasize about him. “You wish,” you turned that idea down.

Now that those azure eyes were on you, going back to drawing would be an awkward choice. So, you shift your full attention to him.

Only because he was entertaining. Not because you want him, or anything.

“Mhm, keep denying it,” he says, his tone a little cocky, like he believed you were really dreaming about him. Oh, how you'd love to wipe that smug look off his face. “You want me so bad.”

“Nuh uh,” you reply, before adding something in order to have more chances in one-upping him in this argument. “Are you sure it's not the other way around? You sure are persistent,” this led to him tilting his head, a bit amused as you continued. “Maybe you're the one who wants me.”

Kaiser chuckles, sighing softly. “Yeah, right. I'm not the one filling sketchbooks with drawings of the other,” he retorted, running a hand through his hair, like he always does whenever he has nothing to do. “What, you gonna draw me like one of your french girls next?” he joked, raising an eyebrow.

You stared at him as he jested, blinking once, twice, before cringing. “Hell, no,” you bluntly rejected. You knew what he meant, and you wished you weren't able to understand the reference— you regretted being able to comprehend words and sentences.

He laughed at your reaction, finding entertainment in it.

So you fished out your phone, searching up mpreg references.

(a/n):: I was giggling while writing this

taglist:: @shrii-kk, @tired-xyra-urstruly, @fishii28, @yui2aku,

© fumiscripts 2024. don't steal, repost, translate or modify my works without my permission.