#i think it's a slow collection but eventually she just has the last name of everyone who's ever been a parental figure to her

[picklesinabottle]

thinking about that really long post about adaine and last names and I would like to propose that she takes everyone's last name

[jolalibrary]

take my picture

francisco "frankie" morales x ofc!reader | collection masterlist

summary: you find a polaroid camera, and offer to let frankie take photos.

chapter kink: photo exhibitionism. warnings: smut. frankie takes polaroids of you (consenting). oral (m!receiving). bit of cock praise. fingering. lots of sexy photos. underwear to the side. fuck bud things aka two fools who won't talk. frankie is a sleepy boy (not a warning, just stating facts now). blue has a name and job/likes/dislikes. no physical descriptions. wordcount: 3.9k. an: thanks to @pedgito for beta'ing. dedicated to @luxurychristmaspudding because i haunted her with this, she told me to write it, and i told her only if i could gift it to her. i love you bby. one day we hug, yes?

You’ve only been awake for an hour when he lets you know he’s here.

The clock on your kitchen wall tells you it’s midday, though the light outside seems to have forgotten. Everything is muted, as if the sun has forgotten to rise fully, the sky from your kitchen a blanket of dull grey, casting shadows over everything. You can sense the hum of activity—the muffled clatter of life moving above you, or people in the hallway.

Then, in a hundred and forty-six seconds—that’s all it takes—his knuckles tap softly on your door before he’s twisting the handle.

The coffee you’d only half-finished is swirling down the sink, and you’d just manage to fluff the cushions on your two-piece sofa when your eyes meet his. You worry, briefly, that the signs of your night shifts are as obvious on your face, as they are in your home. Little traces of exhaustion are scattered around—the shoes kicked off near the basket of unworn pairs, your jacket draped over the armchair, and your bag lying on its side, carelessly dropped and forgotten.

When he steps through, it appears as though he’s blind to it all. The usual duffel swings down from his shoulder, but this time he’s an accompanying pair of bags under his eyes—a tiredness that doesn’t filter away even when he smiles. There’s a tightness in his face, a 4 o’clock shadow you trace with your eyes that’s beginning to darken his jawline.

The greeting is gentler this time. Softer kisses, his fingers skating along your jaw, thumb resting on your chin, as his mouth slants over yours. Your lashes flutter closed as you tug him closer, pulling him in, melting into him before his face finds the curve of your neck. The duffel drops with a thump as both his arms cage you.

He breathes in, right against your neck, before he grazes unspoken words against your skin as your fingers massage the top of his neck, feeling the tightness, hearing how he lowly groans into your skin.

“You slept, captain?”

“Hmm,” he hums as his mouth presses slow, open-mouthed kisses to your neck.

Ones you almost bow towards, lean into, let happen.

“Frankie.” Fingers sliding around his cheeks, lifting him, forcing his eyes to wander over yours. “Have you slept since you’ve been back? Preferably in the last day or two?”

Scratching the back of his head, temporarily averting his eyes as his nostrils flare, he eventually spits out, “Here and there.”

Tilting your head, sighing. Something there, unspoken. An explanation, one that would weave a thread between the two of you, a deepness you’re not sure either of you is willing to surrender to.

You’d sensed something was simmering beneath the surface when he told you he was back. The timing of his return and your string of night shifts had become an enemy to you both, keeping you apart, forcing him to go home and make excuses instead of—what you suspected was his usual—lying and saying he was back later than he was. The benefit of this was that the two of you rarely had the chance to converse as much as you have in the past few days—conversations broken up by your erratic sleep schedule and shifting time zones. Still, it had felt strange to find him keeping you company as you tried to eat leftover lasagne at three in the morning.

Thinking you like texting me too much.

What makes you say that?

You’ve responded within seconds, Morales.

You don’t admit you like texting him. That it’s nice, almost normal in the grand schemes of whatever this thing is. This thing where you text him and wait for a response, giddy when you see his name flash up; this thing where you count down, in your head only, to the day you think he’ll be home.

For sex, you remind yourself. Just sex—and food.

“Here or there less than three hours a day or…”

He glares, but smothers it quickly, jaw tightening as he keeps his hands in place.

“Bed, now.” His brow arches at your words, lips rolling as he stares. “Alone.”

“Blue… c’mon.”

“The plans we have require you to be awake for the duration, not somewhere between snoozing and existing. Just go, I don’t know, sleep for an hour or two in my bed.”

His brow raises again, remaining there, hovering over his brown eye. “In your bed.”

“Yeah, my bed.” Folding your arms, letting your lips slide into your cheek. “Don’t be difficult and argue with me. I’ve done four back-to-back night shifts.”

He snorts, eyes slightly wider than usual—as though acknowledging it, how you’ve overshared, how there���s a bit of you amongst the other parts.

“Look, I can study—I’ve got another nursing exam thing coming up and you can sleep, and then when you wake up, we can…”

Dragging his eyes up and down you, you try to remain tall, strong. Not giving in as you feel your skin warm under his gaze; not crack under the way he lingers on your legs, on your arms crossed just under your chest.

“Nurse, huh.”

“Go.”

“Fuck, alright.”

Smiling, watching him move to grab his bag, you begin biting the inside of your cheek, gnawing at it. “Hey,” you say, watching his eyes flick up, staring through his brows as he remains hinged, “Am I eating for one tomorrow night or?”

Softly, he begins to smile. Likely remembering the texts—the odd few the two of you have managed to send between whatever he does and your work.

It rises, the smirk kissing his eyes at the same time as the dimple appears on his cheek when he straightens up, sweats in hand as he takes a step closer. “Was thinking about you not eating alone for another night after that, if you still wanted?”

Swaying on the spot, you mirror his smirk. “You’re buying.”

Then he’s kissing you, fingers sliding around the back of your head, cupping it, as he smothers a reply to your mouth, a murmur of being back soon as he swats at your ass.

You don’t stop smiling for several minutes after your bedroom door closes.

Frankie wakes around the time you’ve grown sick of diagrams, words and note-making.

When your pastel highlighters are suddenly not as cute and the clear post-its are not as innovative as you first thought. When you’re distracting yourself with making a coffee, struggling to adjust to the fact it’s almost evening when in fact for you it’s more midday.

You’re barely three sips into your drink when he takes it, dwarfing your cup with his paw as his sip is larger than yours.

“Oh, help yourself, Morales.”

Smirking, he takes another small sip before handing it back. “Fuck, somehow forgot how pretty you are.”

You hum, placing the cup down, it clinking against the counter before he slides his arms around you. Instinctive, that’s how you’d describe it, your nails scraping against the base of his neck, the edge of your counter digging in as he presses his body flush against yours.

“Been thinking about you.”

“Memories of me serving you well, Morales.”

He groans as you kiss him, as you pull his mouth to yours—feeling how warm his mouth is, how there’s the slightest taste of mint.

“Poor Frankie, having to use his mind to jerk off in the desert or forest or… wherever you get sent to.”

Snorting, he grabs a handful of your ass, making your mouth open in a gasp before he smothers it with his lips. Kneading it, making your hips meet his. Your hand reaches for the side, knocking into it—the unboxed surprise that just catches his eyes.

“What’s that?”

“Well,” you say, picking it up, and turning it over in your hand. “It's a Polaroid camera.”

“I can see that.”

“Thought you might have grown tired of your imagination. Thought maybe I could give you a gift—especially when you left me with one of your shirts.”

“No, I didn’t.”

Smirking, you press the button—a flash illuminating, making him hiss a swear under his breath as the machine conjures and spits out the image.

“We can call it even then—what I’ve thought up.”

Fingers rubbing his eyes, one trying to crack open. “What’s that then?”

“You can say no.”

“Something I’ve yet to do with you but go on.”

Smiling, a flutter of nerves rumbling through you as you swallow. “Thought you could… take some souvenirs with you. For you. Your eyes only kinda thing.”

His brows furrow, flicking his gaze to the camera and back again before he’s biting his cheek. It dawns slowly, slipping over his face as his eyes darken, as he catches on to the nature of your suggestion.

Continuing, you meet his gaze. “You can pick how you want me, can shoot as many as you like—but you only get to take three with you.”

“Just three?”

Nodding, biting your lip. “I almost said one, but thought you’d like a mix—especially since you were gone longer this time.”

“You want me to have dirty photos of you, Blue.”

Smiling, nose brushing against the tip of his, “I’m just doing my bit, captain.”

The last word is punctuated by the way you hook a finger in your shorts and let them slide down to your ankles. Empowered, confident, even as a chill rushes over you and your skin goosebumps.

The way he stares, makes you wonder how you’ve ever settled for anything less than the lust in his eyes. An easy explanation for why you wait, because there can’t be anything better, right? The way he tilts his head slightly and runs his hand against his jaw as your clothes fall in soft thuds to your floor until you’re stood in nothing but a pair of panties.

Ones chosen, all intentionally picked. Selected.

All set to remove them when his hands stop you. When his rough hands slide over them and press your palms to the counter, mouth slanting over yours, softly but hungrily. The kind of kiss that would make your knees go if not for his frame pressing on you, his grip on your hands tightening as you bite at his lower lip.

“How do you want me?”

The tip of his nose brushes yours, eyes closed, before he breathlessly whispers, “On your knees.”

You smile, ghosting it over his. “Help me down then, baby.”

It slips out, slithers. The name he calls you, that you now call him.

His fingers slot between yours, gripping them tight as he helps you lower yourself to the ground—to the cold tiles of your kitchen as you stare up at him. Left only in a pair of lace panties you’re grateful you’d thrown on before.

“Can I taste you, captain?”

“Fuck—yeah. Sure.”

He’s already hard when you’re pulling him free—thick, twitching. The tip already glistening as you glide the fabric down, teasingly, watching the head of his cock meet the base of his stomach.

“Your cock is so perfect.”

Your hand wraps around it, smearing the bead of precum, smirking at the hiss you make him emit, lifting onto your knees as you begin to work him, his soft stomach shifting as he breathes deeply.

“Can’t wait to taste you, Frankie—”

“—Li—”

You make him choke on your name when your mouth wraps around him. The tip at first, tongue swirling around, savouring the tangy taste of him—until you take more of him. And more. Doing so until your eyes prick with tears and you feel annoyed that you’re not at the base.

But, it’s fleeting, passing. His moan makes it worth it.

From the weight of him on your tongue to the taste of him, it’s all worth it. You lick around the head and flick your eyes up to see his stare already trained on you, the muscles in his legs twitching under your palms, gliding your tongue—all flat—on the underside of him, smearing the tip along your lips as though its gloss.

If you didn’t know what he did for a job, you’d tell him with that glare he’d be good at it.

Especially when you take him deeper, hearing the reward of a hiss, of your name—all elongated and breathy. Tears prick and spill over as your nose meets the thick curls at the base of him, feeling him twitch, pulse—all thick and fucking divine in your throat before you’re forced to slide back up. Your cheeks hollowed, eyes flicking up to see his mouth parted in surprise, chest heaving.

You smirk, with difficulty. The thickness of him makes it challenging as you swirl your tongue around the tip and feel his fingers sliding under your chin.

And you want to touch yourself.

Smudge the mess between your thighs around your aching clit, dip two fingers into your heat—

“Too good to me, Blue.”

His praise and the sight of him in the low light, the evening bathing your room, making the perspiration on his chest glitter. It’s then you notice the camera in hand—dwarfed almost, by the size of his palm.

He’s holding it like a gesture, like a silent ask of permission. One you give. A nod, a slow blink, and you spot the surprise sewn into his brows. A look vanished a moment later as you take him to the base, nails digging into the back of his thighs as you plead for yourself not to choke again.

You don’t.

Not even when he gently rolls his hips to your movements,

“Need to take a picture, Blue. Need it.”

You hum, nose against the curls at the base of him, almost feverish with how much you want him. Desperate, agitated with it.

So you flick your eyes up, swallowing—a flurry of curses leaving his lips.

Click, flash—

—Click, flash.

It illuminates you. The bright light makes your eyes widen, forcing them to, filling them with surprise. It’s barely a second, but he steals what the glare provides in the thickening darkness as the clock ticks on.

He doesn’t need the photo to develop, he’s sure the image will be burned into his brain for a lifetime. You with your mouth full of him, cheeks hollowed around his spit-soaked cock as it dribbles down your chin and wets his palm.

There are stains on your cheeks—tears. One's from taking him so deep earlier, when he’d felt the need to remind you to be slow. He caught a glimpse of your glare then, but there’s no sign of it now. Your eyes are all glassy, completely fucked out. Knelt before him in nothing but the thinnest pair of panties, likely soaked, ruined. All for him.

All. For. Him.

Then the room dims again, the photo ejecting out of the camera as it begins to bloom and paint the scene, forever immortalised, and he has to stop himself from clicking the button again just to see you in that light.

You hum as though thinking it. So he snaps another, and another. Each flash creates a different scene, one with your eyes closed—your wet lashes against your cheek. The next you smirking, fingers around the base and your tongue licking at his slit—eyes burning into the camera lens.

You loosen up the more he takes, performing, kneeling up as your hand moves to cup his balls, to gently, ever so carefully roll them as you lick another stripe up the underside of his cock.

He hisses in curses, ones barely bitten back.

It takes all of his restraint not to come down your pretty little throat the next time you take him down it. Because you’re beautiful, but this is something else. An enigma, a gift, a heavenly being that is here for him, taking as much of him as you can.

Bobbing and sucking, little moans and mews around him as you do so. It’s all too much, his eyes clenching shut, feeling, just feeling, and feeling—

It feels like something should have ripped, as though the universe has pulled apart, but he knows it’s in his head. It rushes through him so quickly, splintering and knocking him off base as his elbow awkwardly collides with the dresser before he’s gripping it with all he has, panting through his nose, hips meeting your movements.

And then his hips buck, cock twitching on your tongue.

Then, he’s coming hard down your throat. From the top of his head to his toes, his muscles clench, tighten. Body roaring, licked with flames, his cock twitching as you lick up every drop, as he begins to tingle all over from it.

Whether it’s an intention, just for the camera in his hand or him alone, when your mouth slides from him, it hinges open. Waiting, hands falling to your lap. And he knows before he brightens you with the flash what he’s going to see. But, nothing compares when he glimpses it. Your pretty, perfect fucking mouth full of him.

It stirs in him. Hunger, agonising covetous to have you—to taste himself on your lips, tongue.

“Swallow, baby.”

And he hears it, in the thick silence that you do.

The photo hangs from the device as he plants it down, as he rests it and descends to his knees to meet you. Hand cupping the back of your head as he brings your mouth to his, as he licks into your mouth, as he groans at the way you open up to him and the suppleness of your skin.

Perfect, perfect, so fuckin’ perfect.

He whispers it to your lips, groans it against your jaw as he slides a hand between your legs, underwear moved to the side as the two of you moan in unison at first contact. You shifting, adjusting, knees spread as your ass meets your floor, palms pressed to the ground behind you, head tipping back, letting it escape—

“Please. Please, baby.”

It’s delicately said, all smooth, but encased and embroiled in damned desperation. Baby—he likes it when you say it, a thing he so rarely hears.

He rewards you for it by pressing two fingers inside you, finding you soak him to the knuckles. You tighten around him, the lewd sound of your pussy filling the air, and he swallows, transfixed—a slither of light is all he has. His attention fixed, thumb pressing to your clit as you arch into his hand, bearing down against it.

“Take it,” you moan, hips beginning to rock against him. “Take a picture, Frankie.”

He smirks, almost grins. Almost full of delirium that you exist, that you’ve chosen him, let him in, let him—

You whine his name, already so close. His free hand reaching, patting for it, knocking things over to the point you laugh—

“Break it all, Frankie. I don’t care, just need—”

“Shh,” he soothes, rubbing circles with his thumb, the other hand grasping the camera, pulling it with him as he adjusts his knees on the floor. “Got you, Blue. Always got you.”

I know, I know, I know.

A chant, a soundtrack to the way he curls his fingers until you’re pleading, sobbing.

Click, flash—

Fuck, you’re a mess. Wrecked, ruined. Underwear pulled to the side, black, maybe even ripped a little, with your back bowed and your face contorted—twisted in pleasure. He sees tear tracks on your cheeks from earlier, slick spread in the crease of your spread thighs. Your hips meet his movements, pressing his fingers down on the spongy spot that has you babbling—whining; thumb pressing against your swollen, puffy clit.

Let go, he thinks. Readying to say it, to plead. But then your hips jolt, your chin raising as your head falls back.

The sound of you when you come is one he’ll never grow tired of.

Least of all the taste of you when he slowly removes his fingers and licks them clean, his other thumb massaging your knee when you wince at the loss of him.

“Go get on your bed, Blue.”

You breathe, pant. “You bringing the camera?”

“If you want?”

He hears you exhale and almost feels your smirk even in the darkness.

By the time the two of you are done, there’s a sea of them—the Polaroids.

The sheets under the two of you are a mess, with little photographic evidence of the two of you scattered all around. A play-by-play of the last forty-five minutes.

His breath is caught, as is yours. The soft hue of your bedroom illuminated by the late afternoon filters in, shades of purple and deep oranges.

You’re resting against him, fitting under his arm—heart still beating, even through him as you try to catch your breath. It’s not like the last time, when you’d looked half-awake and rode him until he had to roll you over, it’s not like the time before when he’d watched soap suds slide down your spine, pussy swallowing his cock over and over as your cries echoed around the tiles. It’s soft, sweet, the moment the two of you are sharing. Fingers, splayed out, soft with nails trimmed, skate up and down his side, and it shouldn’t be a thing he thinks, never mind confessed.

But fuck is this perfect, you’re perfect.

Frankie fumbles for the camera, for the device forgotten amongst the sheets, leaving it there, resting. Waiting.

“So how many bedpans do you have—”

You swat at him first, the lightest laugh following, spreading out. So, he continues. Asking more oddities with a shake of your head, not breaking you, not earning more than a light giggle, until:

“You got a pair of scrubs around? I do like a woman in uniform.”

It bursts out of you then, a laugh—a real one—and he lifts the camera as your head rests on him. The click comes, the flash brighter than he remembers.

It’s snapped, taken—a laugh, yours, all but frozen in time.

Later, when the photo is developed and mixed in with a stack of others waiting to be chosen, he sees his own smile. It’s light, almost unfamiliar, given how long it’s been since he’s seen it.

That photo might be his favourite, but it isn’t one he keeps. He thinks it’s too soon for things like that.

[wizzdot]

The Patron Saint of One Way Trips

Ch6

Description: another slow burn chapter. I did warn y’all. Don’t think Y/N /Laika can quite grasp that she isn’t a monster. She might realise eventually!! Progress with Soap and Gaz - think they might have a soft spot for her already!!

Laika's (Y/N's) POV*

I eventually recover from Soap's - well - whatever the hell that was.

"Thirty minutes till we load the car and go to the Heli. Let's not keep Kate waiting" the Captain rumbles from the kitchen. I must have put him in a bad mood..

"I have nothing to pack.. should I just" - "you can help me pack, the room is a mess. Need to leave it clean and ready to be used in emergencies again" Gaz interrupts. I nod and follow him back upstairs. I seem to be doing this a lot. Just following Gaz around like a stray mutt. God, they must find me so annoying.

Gaz strides into the large room to the right hand side of the upper landing. I stop at the door. The strong scent of Alpha phermones almost knocks me back a step. I'm not usually overly bothered by scents however I put it down to the fact I've been in the facility for so long, the guards were probably taking blockers anyway. That's what I settle on to explain my new found ability.. if you can even call it that. It's because I've not been exposed to any scents.

"Just come in, we don't do the traditional 'permission to enter the nest' bullshit. We ain't exactly a traditional pack as it is" Gaz says, motioning me further into the Alpha's nest. I try not to look at the worn clothes scattered around the room. It looks so.. lived in. There are reading glasses on the bedside table. I wonder who wears reading glasses..? Two books stacked, one bookmarked, the other dog eared. I bet the dogeared one is Soap's. There is a journal on the floor with a pen resting in the central valley between pages. There is a beautiful drawing on one page, the next page is filled with messy disorganised writing which is, in a strange backwards sense, very pretty. Intruder! Intruder! Get out of their space! You don't belong here! My brain starts to shout at me.

"C'mere" Gaz stops my inner thoughts from running rampage. I obediently move towards Gaz and await instruction. Obedient little mutt, indeed. SHUT UP! I wish I could turn my brain off for a few minutes. Or longer..

"We can start with my stuff. Just check labels for names.. Are you warm enough? You'll probably want a hoodie for the ride home, right?" - "Oh uhm, are you sure you want me rooting through your belongings...?" - "You're not rooting through anything, you're helping, I asked, didn't I?" he reassures "ok, yeah.. ok.. sorry.." - "here, that's my bag" he places his bag on the large bed. The bed they all share. The pack bed.. You shouldn't be in here... QUIET! My damned brain and its self sabotaging tendencies.

I start by collecting the things that Gaz has piled in a seperate stack of all of his things. Fold, place in the bag. Fold, place in the bag, Fold, place in the bag.. it becomes quite relaxing. I enjoy the scent of his clothes wafting past my nose as I fold them. I shouldn't be enjoying it, should I.. Snap out of it.. They are literally taking me to be interrigated later today, why am I acting as if I'm welcome? Stop it, stupid girl!

I make it to the end of the pile and he claps his hands together once as the last piece of clothing gets zipped inside the bag. "Done and dusted! Here, I kept this out for you to wear on the ride back to base." He presents a navy hoodie, a Union flag on the upper sleeve, 'Sgt. K Garrick' embroidered over the chest, below a larger fonted 'SAS - TF141'. I take it from his hold. "Thank you..." I say softly. He smiles brightly at me as I pull it over my head. I must look ridiculous wearing all these clothes that are far too big for me..

*Gaz's POV*

She pulls my hoodie over her head. YES! Mission accomplished.. She will be warm *and* be covered in my scent. I shouldn't care but seeing her in my clothes again wakes something up in me. Like when she wore my jacket.. and how Johnny must have felt when she walked down this morning in his clothes. I knew he'd enjoy the sight.. led her down the stairs trying to wipe the smirk from my fuckin' face. I could see how effected Cap was from the showergel scent too. That fuckin' tobacco smell drives him mad. Could tell it caught him off guard when she turned the corner dressed in his pack Alpha's clothes and scented up to high heavens.

*Laika's (Y/N's) POV*

Gaz is looking me up and down, I shrink under his gaze, embarrassed. He definetly thinks I look ridiculous. "C'mon, love, downstairs.. looks like we are ready to. You got your hanky bandana thing?" He asks. I pat my pocket for the shape of it, before nodding, confirming that I haven't lost it. "Good, let's go then. The others will only be five minutes".

I trail after him towards the front door of the house. He holds his hand out, stopping me in my tracks. "You wait here, I'll go and check the perimeter and bring the car round to the door. You'll be alright waiting, won't you?" God he thinks I'm useless, such a burden. The floor is suddenly all too interesting. "I'll be ok" I confirm. He nods and pats my arm before turning and leaving through the door. I get a brief blast of cold air. I'm thankful that I'm no longer in my cell - the snow fell heavily last night. I'm thankful for the hoodie Gaz had let me borrow.

I flinch when two big hands suddenly grab my shoulders from behind. "What's the matter, lass? Planning your escape?" - "No - no Ky-Gaz went to get the car... I was told to stay.." - "Awkt, I'm sure he didnae mean stand and stare at the door. C'mere, come sit with me" - "I..I -"

Soap practically herds me to the sofa and directs me, by my shoulders, to sit. He sits right next to me. "Nice hoodie, you smell like one of us, eh?" he inhales, obnoxiosly loudly and groans. I resist the need to roll my eyes at his light-hearted joking, still not quite ready to leave the sad, anxious corner of the depths of my brain but the fact I was even considering must be progress though, right. It just upsets me, that every single time I feel like I could feel a tiny better, I am reminded that I don't belong here - or anywhere for that matter - and that I am following along with these deadly Alphas, like a stupid mouse right into a trap. It was inevitable.

"Where've you gone.. hey! Laika..?" I feel him tapping on my knee, trying to snap me out of it. Looking at him, with watery eyes, he practically engulfs me. "What's the matter? Tell me.." he pleads, with the softest voice I'd heard from him, right next to my ear. I just sniffle into his chest, still frozen, not reciprocating his embrace , instead, finding warmth and seclusion in his arms. I finally feel like I have some privacy, which is strange, isn't it?

"Whatever it is, it willnae go away if you bottle it up, lass. Tell me, we might be able to help.." - I lean away from him, wiping my face messily with the too-long sleeves of my - I mean Gaz's - hoodie. "I just - I am going to be interrogated.. and I've done so much, so many lives.. so much blood on my hands, all my doing.. I deserve whatever I get, but - but - I'm scared.."

"Lass, this isn't how it's going to happen. We just want to find out more about you. You've been drugged right? You've been forced into submission.. like a puppet on a string. Laswell - she's understanding of circumstances. Hell - L.T's got a few skeletons in his closet - pardon the pun" he laughs. "S'not funny" I whisper, "Look, we dinnae even know what you are going to present as when the drugs leave your system, it's illegal to alter presentations and designations without consent, so you've already got that on your side" he tries to reassure me. "I'm probably Beta.. my parents.. they were Beta's".

"The Cap said you were in there for, what, six years? fuckin' hell. So .. you're twenty six-ish then? That's awful late to be undesignated, lass. Those bastards." he rants on, I just sit quietly and listen. "What other tests and bullshit did you have done to you?" - "lost track, it'll be on my file somewhere. They recorded everything.. They changed it up when I did'nt cooperate to a satisfactory level.." - "what the fuck does that mean?" he scoffs, angrily "well, there was one mission, where I was sent to kill two cartel members.. they were a bonded pair..." my voice breaks and my eyes start to water again. "C'mon lass, you're doing so well telling me all about it.. keep going for me" he rubs my knee reassuringly.

I continue "They were a bonded pair.. I-I had lost my drugs that I was ordered to take three times a day to keep me complient. They must have been fading from my system, because I started to-to question the information I had been given. My own conciousness sort of kept fading in and out at that point. It's sort of blurry.. I- I had the shot lined up on the leader - an Alpha - and just as I was about to pull the trigger.." I stop suddenly and turn away.

"Shhh, lass, shhhh, it's ok.." - C'mon, tell him - "the trigger, a kid pulled my leg.. he needed help, he'd been caught in the fire and was all hurt and scared.. I don't know why.. I shouldn't have done it.. it was stupid of me.. I shouldn't have.." I wipe my tears again, reliving the trauma. My heart hurt. "Shouldn't have what, Lass, what did you do to the wee boy?" he asks, I swear I can hear suspicion or tentative anger in his voice.

"I got him killed. Walked him straight to his execution. Delivered him to his death.." I weep.

"whoa, whoa - what d'ya mean? You've lost me, lass. Slow down, take deep breaths, aye?"

"I - I took him and hid him under my elbow, I lined up the shot again, trying to keep the boy quiet.. but he was scared. He was so scared.. Something got in the way of the shot.. it was - was one of the guards from the facility. They'd come to finish the job, probably thought I was dead because I was late returning or something like that, but when I saw him in my scope I took the shot.."

"Good lass, you were fighting the drugs! You clever girl!" - "no- no not clever.. I tried to run back to the spot they said they'd pick me up from.. I don't know why but my brain wasn't - wasn't completely cleared from the drugs. I don't know why I thought they'd be pleased. Pleased that I'd saved the kid. All they cared about was the success of the mission. The cartel leader. And his mate, a male omega. I think he was killed.. because they were never apart but when I had my shot, it was just the Alpha.. I think - I think he saw me, when I took the shot at the guard, I swear he caught my eye as I ran.."

"Did you make it back to where you were supposed to meet?"

"Yeah, they shot the boy. Right between the eyes. It was like slowmotion. I don't remember what happened, but I woke up attached to machines and my brain went back into the controlled state again.. they developed a new drug that lasted longer, so it didn't risk running out on missions.."

"Bastards.. fucking BASTARDS" Soap rages. I look at my lap, shaking and weeping. "Pieces of shit, I'll fucking kill the lot of them slowly and" - "Johnny, that's enough!" he is interupted by a gruff voive.

I look up from my, lap my eyes widening. I obviously didn't notice the arrival of the rest of the pack. The Captain was leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed and a reserved anger soured his face and crinkled his brow. Slightly behind him was Gaz. How hadn't I noticed Gaz come back from outside..? Then behind both of them, I see the masked Ghost, sitting on the bottom of the stairs, his elbows resting on his knees, while he cracked his knuckles.

I had just signed my death sentence. They'd heard everything. How I killed the boy.. Fuck.

FUCK!

[cyberneticfallout]

Chapter Five: Super Duper Mart

Ch 1 - Ch 2 - Ch 3 - Ch 4 - Ch 5 - Ch 6 - Ch 7 - Ch 8 - Ch 9 - Ch 10 - More Coming Soon

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Fem!Reader Summary: At the Super Duper Mart, The Ghoul goes on a chem bender after the vault dweller gives him anti-feral meds. You begin to piece together his true identity which leads to a briefly romantic moment between the two of you. Tags: Slow burn (and I mean SLOWWW), angst, eventual smut, language, canon-typical violence, chem/alcohol use, more tags will be added Posted on AO3: Smoothie and The Ghoul Word Count: 1.6k

As you approach the Super Duper Mart, you see the ghoul and vault dweller standing outside. His words are indiscernible, but the vault dweller eventually limps through the front doors. Shortly after, he collapses to the ground. He must’ve ran out of vials, you think.

Casually, you approach the collapsed ghoul, squatting down to meet his gaze with a friendly smile. "Hey there," you greet him. His eyes meet yours, and he emits a faint, incomprehensible noise. There are no signs of him turning feral but it's clear he's not in great shape either.

"Seems like you're having a rough time," you frown. "I'd lend a hand but a big ass gulper swallowed me whole - along with the vials I had. It would've been nice if you had helped me. There might have been a slim chance that sweet anti-feral juice would've been okay." You tilt your head and fix him with a stern gaze.

"You..." he strains to speak, "still blabberin’?"

"Of course. I’m not just gonna leave you here to rot," you declare, raising his chin to meet your gaze. The vulnerability reflected in his eyes, combined with the rough texture of his skin, sends a ripple of goosebumps across your body. Despite his harsh exterior, there's an unexpected allure in his eyes that kindles a warm feeling within you. As you gently trace your thumb across his lower lip, a blush begins to creep upon your cheeks. This growing feeling makes you withdraw your hand abruptly, causing his head to slump back onto the ground. "But I’m not gonna help you either. Consider it payback for leaving me to be someone’s dinner. Maybe next time you’ll think twice before running off without me."

With a final smirk, you rise to your feet and give the ghoul one last look before heading towards the nearby wall of the mart. You take a seat on the ground, curious about how the vault dweller will fare inside there. Rumor has it this particular mart is notorious for trading people for chems - organ harvesting business.

Hours ticked by in eerie silence, leaving you to wonder if the vault dweller’s organs have been collected yet. As you glance over at the motionless ghoul on the ground, you can’t help but approach and kneel down for a closer look. Surprisingly, he is still breathing, although utterly useless.

"Tell me your name and I’ll go in to check the status of your trade," you propose.

"Fuck you," he croaks.

"Fine then. I suppose we'll be known in the wasteland as… Smoothie and The Ghoul.” You outstretch your hands as if you were revealing a movie title. “Get it? Like a bizarre twist on that book Beauty and the Beast. But I ain’t the wasteland beauty and you, my friend, are more of a… dehydrated, hairless beast - being a ghoul and all."

“The hell do you know about Beau-“

Just then, a small group of ghouls emerge from the building, causing both of you to shift your focus towards them. Among the chaos, one of them proclaim that a woman rescued them, followed by the ominous sound of gunfire. Looks like that little vault dweller has some guts after all.

Stepping out of the mart, the weary vault dweller emerges, now adorned in armor she didn't have before, with a weapon gripped firmly in her hand. Her gaze falls upon you, a faint look of surprise on her blood covered face, considering the last time she saw you, you were being devoured by a gulper.

"Hey, little vault dweller," you wave. "Good job in there."

"The name's Lucy," she responds. “You made it out of that creature?”

“Eh, ain’t a normal day in the wasteland if you don’t get gulped up by some sort of monster.”

“Props to you, ma’am. I was certain he’d help you but he decided these drugs are more important.” Lucy breathlessly replies, turning her attention to the ghoul still lying on the ground. With a couple of vials in her hand, she places them in front of him. “You don’t get these, you turn into one of those? That how it works? I may end up looking like you... but I'll never be like you. Golden Rule, motherfucker.”

“Golden Rule, eh? What the hell did you do to her?” You inquire The Ghoul as Lucy sets off on her own into the wasteland. Presumably to find the head you knew those Brotherhood idiots have.

The Ghoul's gaze hardens as he reaches for the vials in front of him, a sinister glint in his eyes. “She’s too soft… and I taught her a lesson,” he responds with a low voice.

“Seems like she might have taught you a lesson,” you retort, a sharp edge to your words as you observe him downing one of the vials.

He groans in satisfaction as the chem hits his system, prompting him to stand up and walk into the mart. You follow closely behind, collecting any valuable provisions and hastily stuffing them into your bag. Out of the corner of your eye, you see him having a field day with a massive pile of vials on a table, filling his cowboy hat full of them. It’s the first time you’ve seen him without his hat and you're struck by the sight of his bald head. Not everyone can carry off the hairless look with ease, but he manages to pull it off effortlessly and there’s a rugged charm to his appearance.

Without hesitation, he starts consuming every chem and liquor bottle in sight, a reckless abandon in his actions. The breaking of glass and the sharp smell of alcohol fill the air as you slowly make your way towards his self-destructive behavior. The Ghoul seems to stumble upon an old holotape in front of a working television set and begins playing it as he settles down on a dilapidated pair of seats nearby. You take a seat beside him, pop a couple of mentats found on the table in front of you, and grab the bottle of liquor from him, chugging it down in one go.

An old western film begins to play, featuring an actor named Cooper Howard. You can't help but notice that the severely worn shirt under The Ghoul’s duster closely resembles what the actor is wearing in the film. Subtly, you shift your gaze back and forth between the man on screen and the one next to you. Could it be him?

As you study The Ghoul’s features, you notice a remarkable similarity in his bone structure to that of the actor. The contours of his face, the shape of his jawline, and even the way his cheekbones are structured all seem to echo those of the Cooper Howard. Despite the weariness evident in his eyes, there is a subtle glint that mirrors the spark found in the eyes of this actor in the old western films.

Realization dawns on you that this ghoul is none other than Cooper Howard. After over 200 years in the wasteland presumably as a ghoul, it's no surprise he's become the pessimistic asshole he is now. No wonder he refuses to tell you his name or anything about himself. "That man is quite handsome,” the words slip from your lips, revealing a hint of admiration and perhaps even a touch of flirtation.

The Ghoul chuckles, unaware that you have connected the dots and learned his true identity. His laughter fades as he turns his head towards you, the distance between you suddenly shrinking. His eyes lock onto yours, then flicker down to your lips. A sense of anticipation fills the air as you feel the warmth of his breath on your face, tainted with the unmistakable scent of alcohol.

A moment of tense silence hangs between you, the only sound being the faint hum of the flickering overhead lights. Unsure of what to do or say, you hesitate, opening your mouth to speak but closing it without a word. In the dimly lit surroundings of the rundown mart, he leans in closer, his face mere inches from yours, his lips almost brushing against yours.

In an instant, the effects of all the chems and alcohol he consumed hit him like a ton of bricks. His movements slow to a crawl, his eyelids droop heavily, and before you can even process what's happening, he slumps over, unconscious. You sit there in disbelief, watching as The Ghoul soundly sleeps before you, wondering what could have happened if he hadn't passed out.

The gentle rise and fall of his chest, the soft snores escaping his lips, all evoke a sense of warmth and familiarity. A wave of nostalgia washes over you, reminding you of the love you once shared with a ghoul in the past. You recall the tender moments, the deep connection, and the unspoken understanding that bounded you together. Despite the challenges and prejudices you faced, your love blossomed into something truly special. You can't help but feel a hint of longing for that lost love.

Lost in a whirlwind of thoughts, you seek distraction by glancing down at his hand resting near your thigh and you notice that one of his fingers is missing. What the fuck happened while I was gone? Turning your attention to the half-empty bottle of whiskey on the table, you take a final swig, the burning liquid warming your insides. Feeling a mix of emotions swirling within you, you lean in and rest your head on his shoulder. The scent of his unique musk mingles with the lingering aroma of whiskey. Eyes drifting shut, you welcome the embrace of sleep, letting the darkness envelop you alongside The Ghoul.

Tag List: @fallout-girl219 @ellabellabunny123 @sunnexaltation @coolrobloxkid28

[notiddygothgf]

6. 佐藤 (sato)

★ pairings: rindou haitani x f!reader

★ synopsis: rindou haitani is drawn to your purity, and he's determined to be the one who takes it from you.

★ c.w.: smut, slow burn, corruption kink, obsession, slightly toxic relationship, princess complex, rindou is a huge simp for reader lmao, but he would never admit it, reader is an innocent lil virgin child, ran is the supportive older brother we all need. tw: use of the name y/n (im sorry I had no other choice).

★ a/n: good afternoon people of whoville. I may or may not have downed a Buzzball my roommate got me as a gift on an empty stomach at 10 AM today because I thought my mom would be coming. Idk why I keep underestimating white girl liquor, that shit has me fucked up every time. ANYWAY!! that being said, this chap is obv beta, unedited, virgin. I hope u all enjoy!

★ w.c.; 4k-ish

chapter index

THE GIRL HAD SOMETHING CLUTCHED tightly in her small hand. It was a crinkled brown baggie. Rindou eyed it up rather dubiously.

“Good morning,” he said, though it sounded rather uncertain.

The two of you were standing beneath the tree where he had met you the last time, the one in front of your apartment. Rindou was wearing a baggy sweater and jeans. You were wearing a similar sweater over your uniform, oddly enough, but it looked a lot cuter on you.

She dropped the little baggie into the palm of his hand. 

“I made it for you,” She said.

He tilted his head. A quick scan down the side of the bag revealed that her statement was true. His name was written in girly lettering on the bottom of it.

The corner of his lip twitched. “What’s this?” He asked.

“Lunch for you!” She answered rather cutely, putting her hand over his and closing his fingers around the bag. 

Rindou paused, glancing down at the bag and then back up at her. Back down at the bag, and back up at her. He felt himself begin to smile.

I want her to fall in love with me .

“I got your text,” she fiddled with the strings of her bag. “Figured I’d make you one more sandwich to eat. It’s not the best, but–”

“Thanks, angel,” He grinned. “Wanna eat together today?”

It became something of a ritual. Every morning, Rindou would wake up an hour and a half earlier than one normally would for school. He would make the trek to her apartment – yes, trek, he had a bike but he didn’t want to use it. Not because he wanted to save gas or anything, he just wanted to stall. He would wait for her beneath the tree outside of her place – usually only for about a few minutes. You were very punctual.

And every morning while you walked down the sidewalk to him, he would make note of the accessories you wore with your uniform. Yesterday, a headband. Today, who knows. It seemed incredibly mundane, but he enjoyed doing it. 

She would hand him his lunch – usually a grilled cheese sandwich, sometimes something else, but always some sort of sandwich – and he would walk her to school. The little baggie almost always had a note of some sort inside of it. 

She didn’t know he had been collecting them at home, of course, but that wasn’t the point.

He liked to think he did a good job of making you feel safe. The people at school parted like the red sea when you strode through the halls. That was because he usually wasn’t too far behind you, but still.

Eventually, word of mouth spread. She began to be known as “Rindou’s Girl”.

Rindou, shockingly enough, did nothing to stop these rumors. He didn’t care if it made people steer clear of her. No, in fact, much of what he did spurred the rumors onward. It was almost too perfect.

He would meet up with her between classes, walking her here and there whenever it aligned with his own schedule. Even if he had gang duties to attend to, he would make sure to be back in time to see his ‘girl’. 

Rindou would have his arm thrown over her shoulder while the two of them bickered down the hall. Nine out of ten times, she would punch him in the side. He didn’t care. It was well worth the (nearly nonexistent) pain.

Again, it was almost too perfect.

Almost.

“I think you like her,” Ran noted. He stabbed the straw a little deeper into his milkshake, breaking up a few chunks somewhere near the bottom of it. He sucked harshly on the other end of the straw, and when nothing came up, he furrowed his brows.

“I think you might be fuckin’ stupid,” Rindou offered back. He hadn’t bothered to order a milkshake of his own, sticking to a plate of steamed veggies and beef. He had broken his diet for her, and now his stomach pudge was paying the price. “I told you what my intentions were with her.”

“Mmh,” Ran popped one of Rindou’s beef chunks into his mouth. “Your intentions can mean one thing. Don’t matter if what happens is unintentional.”

Rindou took a brief moment to ponder his older brother’s wise words, and very quickly came to the realization that they didn’t make a lick of sense. “Ran, what the fuck does that mean?”

“Means… you can say whatever you want, in theory. Don’t mean that’s what’s actually goin’ on,” Ran picked up his chopsticks and tapped them gently against the side of his ceramic plate. “I could believe I’m, fuckin’... Queen Elizabeth. Don’t mean I actually am. Don’t lie to yourself.”

Rindou leaned back against the leather covering on his booth seat, crossing his arms with a stubborn scowl. “I’m not lyin’ to no one, Ran, It really is not that deep.”

Ran quirked a brow at that, a mischievous glint flashing briefly through his eyes. “Really? So, you’re just casually leaving an hour early every day to walk her to school? Just Buddies? Just casually obsessing over her personal life? Just casually–”

“We are buddies,” Rindou cut his brother short. Technically, that wasn’t a lie. No label, no problem. 

Ran took another sip from his stubborn milkshake and actually succeeded this time. “Sure, yeah,” he teased. “Buddies that just casually make out from time to time, right?”

“Exactly,” Rindou accepted it. At least it was something. “Kinda like the 13 girls you keep on rotation in your phone. Just buddies.”

“Those are fuckbuddies,” Ran rolled his eyes. “Not the same. Unless you’re pipin’ her, in which case–”

Rindou’s frustration seemed to be growing by the second, as seemed to be the trend with Ran. “I’m surprised you’re so invested in my love life – or lack thereof.”

“Woah,” Ran whistled. “ Thereof . That’s a big word for you.”

“You should invest the energy you put towards that into getting a fuckin’ degree,” Rindou snapped back.  

“I’m just saying, for someone who claims to have no emotions attached to this chick, it seems uncharacteristically emotional to go threaten her bullies after school,” The older of the two noted with a pleased hum. “Or how you claim to only wanna use ‘er, but judgin’ by the way you described your little…” Here he paused to wave his hands around, like he was trying to find the words to express his thoughts. “Session… yesterday, I think you’re totally into her.”

The booth the two brothers sat in was small, crammed into a corner in the back of the restaurant. It seemed even smaller now that Rindou was being faced with the daunting possibility of catching feelings for his prey.

“That’s literally not even true,” Rindou tried to defend himself.

Ran raised a brow. “You went through her diary.”

“I was curious,” Rindou replied.

“Why the hell would you be curious if you didn’t give a shit about her?” Ran offered in response, and Rindou hated that he was actually right about something for once. “I think it’s a little more than just a game.”

Rindou knitted his brows together, “I’m just ‘tryna get inside her head.”

“You can barely even get in ‘ya own head half the time, dumbass,” Ran leaned in conspiratorially, his tone dropping to a mock whisper. “You should ask her to the festival if you’re just buddies. I hear the whole town’s goin’.”

Rindou groaned, though his cheeks turned slightly pink. “I’m not goin’ to no fuckin’ fair, bro.”

“Girls love that shit,” Ran pulled his straw out of the shake to point it towards his brother – who tried in vain to ignore the droplet of shake that was flung into his face. “Wanna win her over? Make her feel special.”

Rindou’s chin jutted out defiantly. “I’m gonna win her over. ‘Jus… trying to figure it all out.”

Ran set his milkshake to the side. “Right,” He hummed, sucking the leftover shake off the straw and popping it into the glass. “Well, when you figure things out, extend your girl an invite. Give her a night to remember.”

Rindou sighed, feeling the resistance melt away from his shoulders. “How about I extend my foot up that ass?”

Ran grinned, ruffling his brother’s hair in what would have regularly been considered an affectionate gesture if Rindou weren’t already at his wit’s end with him. 

“Just lookin’ out for you, bro,” he remarked. “Careful playin’ with fire like that. Too close and you can get burnt.”

“Look out for AIDs,” Rindou huffed. “I hear that’s an epidemic these days. You might be in danger.”

“I’ll keep an eye out for you,” Ran’s grin didn’t even falter. “You should go to that fair anyway. ‘M havin’ my girl over that night.”

“Which one?” The blond rolled his eyes.

Ran sat back in his seat, folding his arms over his chest and releasing a content sigh. “Dunno,” he answered. “I’ll find out when she shows up.”

.

Rindou had decided that he was going to do it today. He was going to walk up to her and ask if she would attend the festival with him tonight. Inevitably, of course, she would say yes. She would say yes, and she would thank Rindou for offering to go with her in the first place.

“I can’t,” The girl lowered her eyes with a frown. “I’m sorry, Rindou.”

His smile dropped. He shook his head. “What?” He asked.

He didn’t think he heard that correctly.

“I already have a date to the festival,” She added, like he was supposed to know that.

He raised a brow at her as she shut her locker behind her. “Who?”

She looked him up and down, gaze climbing over his shirt that most definitely violated the dress code. “Um, a kid who sits behind me in history class… why?”

“You never told me about that,” Rindou pursed his lips, suddenly very angry at this faceless man. 

She shrugged. You know, like it was casual. “Never came up in conversation. I felt bad saying no… so I told him okay.”

On the outside, he was the image of composure. On the inside, he was clawing at the fucking floor. He looked down the now empty hallway, and then back at her. 

“Cancel on him,” He said.

“What?” Her eyes widened at the proposition. “No, why would I do that?”

“What’s his name?” Rindou asked her, leaning down to get a better look at her face. 

Rather than answering his question directly, the girl looked away, tugging on the sleeves of her sweater. “He wants to walk me home today… if that’s okay.”

His eyes shot wide open. In his gut, a deep, rancid feeling began to bubble. It felt as if a hole had opened up somewhere deep within, boiling his blood and making him squirm. 

Is this jealousy?

He thought about the kid walking her home instead of him. He didn’t like it. Not one bit. That was his thing. 

Still, attempting to keep his cool because that’s what Rindou Haitani did in the face of uncertainty, he licked his lips and nodded, “That’s fine, ‘jus figured I’d ask you. My date bailed.”

That was a lie, of course. There was never a date. He was only trying to soften the blow.

Her words were like a knife into his ego. He thought about her showing up with this… this kid, holding his hand. Would he try any funny business with her? Not like he cared, of course, he just didn’t like someone toying around with something he had very clearly called dibs on.

His comment must have missed its mark on her, as she looked at him with all the sorrow of a child that had just been caught stealing a cookie from the jar. 

“I’m really sorry, Rindou. I can’t just flake on him, that’s not right,” She sighed. “But the ladies love you. I’m sure you’ll figure something out!”

I don’t want them, briefly flashed through his mind. I want you.

“Yeah,” He replied, sucking his teeth. His eyes had already wandered down the hallway. “I’ll figure it out.”

.

The rush in the hallway had died down a bit after the dismissal bell had rung. There were faint echos of chatter and laughter somewhere down the hall, maybe even in a different wing. Rindou leaned casually against the wall, attempting to blend in with the flow. 

The wounds on his ego were still fresh, the sting of jealousy gnawing at him on the inside. So, when the coast was mostly clear, he seized his chance. He slipped through the classroom door that had been left slightly ajar, steps silent as he made his way to the teacher’s desk.

She was an older woman with grey hair and a colorful sweater on. He recognized her as his brother’s old history teacher… and also from the picture he had snapped of the girl from apartment 12A’s schedule.

That’s all she was. Just some chick from apartment 12A. It hurt a little less when he thought about it that way, though it made it a little difficult to justify his actions.

Her back was turned, but she spun around when Rindou knocked twice on the cool surface of her desk. Her eyes went wide as they locked onto his figure. 

“Boo,” Rindou grinned.

“Haitani, what are you doing here?” The woman’s hand fluttered to her chest. Her breath had already gone ragged. “I already told your brother that there was nothing I could have done about him failing– It was administrative, I swea–”

“I’m not here for him,” Rindou sighed, folding his arms and stepping forward. His eyes scanned the room. “You got a ‘[Y/N] [L/N]’ in here during final period, yeah?”

The teacher’s expression shifted from panic to confusion. Slowly, she nodded, still looking at him like a deer in headlights. 

He tried to play it cool. Like he didn’t already know that after practically memorizing her schedule.

“Where does she sit?” Rindou asked, tone hardly veiling his true intentions.

With a trembling hand, she pointed towards a seat by the window. It was empty, of course, but Rindou still nodded, making a mental location of the seat. He could almost picture her there, the sunlight playing in her hair while she absentmindedly twirled a strand around her finger.

His interest shifted, and he inquired further, “Who’s the kid who sits behind ‘er?”

The teacher seemed a little more at ease with this question, but she was still nervous. Poor thing.

“Behind her?” She trailed off. “That would be that quiet kid… what’s his name… Sato, I think. Black hair, big glasses.”

Her vague description painted a vivid image of Sato in Rindou’s mind, glasses perched on his nose, absorbed in his own little world behind her. He probably fantasized about her, little pervert…

He was the only one who was allowed to do that.

“Thanks,” Rindou nodded his gratitude to her. Before he turned to leave, he hesitated. Slowly, he pivoted back towards the teacher, a glint of mischief dancing in his eyes. “Oh, by the by,” He hummed. “I start this class soon. Figured I should stop by and get to know my teacher-to-be.”

The old woman’s brows shot up in surprise. “Tomorrow?” She thought aloud. “But… you’re not on the roster.”

Rindou’s lips curled up at that. “You should have that fixed,” he replied.

Then he was out the door like nothing had happened.

.

Rindou’s patience had reached a breaking point. Standing behind the tree he knew far too well – the one he stood before every morning at the same time, his heart pounded. He gazed dutifully at the apartment complex where he knew his target would be around this time.

The school was a 20-30 minute walk. He had left the school around 15 minutes later than the other two had so that he might get there in time to catch the kid coming back.

And there he was, standing no higher than 5’3, exchanging goodbyes with the girl from 12A. His girl from 12A. 

Wait. No, that’s not what he meant.

The door closed. Sato smoothed his hands over the front of his uniform, then stepped away. As the boy returned from her doorstep, an unsuspecting prey. He treaded down the concrete path, turned onto the sidewalk where Rindou was hidden, and approached the tree unknowingly.

Rindou stuck his foot out.

Sato tripped over it, falling to the ground rather unceremoniously, undoubtedly scraping the pale, unblemished skin on his arms and palms. Kid probably never had to defend himself a day in his life.

Today would be a great day for him to start.

Sato’s head jerked to the side, visibly disoriented. Before he could comprehend what had happened to him, Rindou landed his second blow, a kick to his gut that left him gasping for air. 

He was glad he had decided to wear his Doc Martens today.

“The hell are you ‘doin with her, huh?” Rindou’s voice was a low growl, edged with danger. His eyes bored into Sato, aflame with an emotion that bordered on madness.

Once Sato recognized his attacker – and, really, Rindou could see the gears turning in his pretty little head – his eyes went wide. 

“Hait… Haitani?” Sato’s voice was shaky, breathless, words barely forming while he tried to catch his breath. Rindou’s boot struck again, silencing any further attempts at speech.

“How do you know her?” He demanded.

Sato’s glasses now lay a short distance away from him, and he fumbled blindly to retrieve them. Rindou sidestepped, placing his heel on Sato’s wrist and pinning it to the pavement below with a brutality that elicited a yelp from the boy.

“You gone deaf or somethin’?” Rindou tilted his head down at him. “How do you know her?”

He knew exactly how Sato knew her. He would never admit that aloud, though.

“Who?” Sato’s voice quivered with confusion, pain etched over his face.

“The girl whose door you just came from, dumbass,” Rindou’s impatience began to seep through his facade, punctuated by another kick to Sato’s side after he took it off of his wrist. “ How do you know her?”

Sato hurled, arm pressed protectively against the area Rindou had struck. 

“She’s… She’s in my class,” He finally admitted, trembling beneath Rindou in a way that made him feel a lot better about chasing him down. This was always his favorite part. “I thought she was cute, so I…”

Rindou stepped on his back, knocking him back down to earth after he had just gotten onto his hands and knees. “So you asked her out?”

Sato nodded hurriedly.

Rindou’s lips curled up in disbelief. “That was my date, asshole,” He seethed, putting a bit of pressure on his back to keep him down.

He was a squirmy one.

“I’m sorryyyy ,” The kid whined, voice cracking with desperation. “I had no idea, I swear! If I knew I never would have–”

Rindou rolled his eyes at Sato’s excuses. He hated whiners. So much, in fact, that he decided to kick him again. Reaching down, he tugged the boy’s arm up harshly, pressing it against the back of his leg.

One wrong move, and his arm would be broken.

“ Ah –” The nerd grunted, teeth gritted. 

“You’re not going to that festival with her,” Rindou warned him. “You know that, right?”

Sato nodded, peering back at Rindou through pained, teary eyes. “I was stupid, I’m sorry,” he pleaded. “I didn’t know she was your girl– girlfriend.”

Rindou pulled on his arm like a warning. “It’s complicated,” he bit out, control slipping a bit while he gave way to the emotions he felt at the prospect of being claimed as someone’s… boyfriend.

Sato’s breath came in ragged bursts. “I’ll never talk to her again, I swear,” He said.

Rindou’s grip on his arm relented, but only slightly. “You’re gonna stay away from her too. Let me hear you got even three feet close to her–”

“We’re in the same… history class,” Sato noted with a grunt.

Rindou stepped harder on his back in response. 

“Switch classes,” he hissed.

“Okay, Okay!” He cried. “I will! I’ll switch, I swear, please don’t hurt me.”

Finally he dropped Sato’s  shaking arm. “Not a word about this to anyone, got it?” he warned him. “I’ll put you on the side of a milk carton.”

Sato’s head bobbed in frantic compliance. 

The younger Haitani stepped back, and the Sato boy immediately scrambled to his feet. Then, without another word, he fled the scene. Ran as fast as his short legs would take him.

In his absence, Rindou sighed, dusting imaginary residue off of his hands and onto his black zip-up hoodie before going the other way.

.

Rindou watched the water turn pink as it ran over his battered knuckles. They were a little sore, but it was nothing he wasn’t used to.

Must have hit his glasses, he thought.

He rubbed some soap into the reddened skin and over his palms, rinsing the grime of his sins away beneath the faucet. He turned the current off, shaking his hands dry. Then, after a brief struggle, reached blindly for his glasses and cologne – popping the cap off and spraying a bit on each of his pulse points.

And on his navel. You know, just for good luck.

The sound of Beyonce’s ‘Naughty Girl’ got louder as he walked towards Ran’s bedroom, carelessly leaving the bathroom door open behind him.

He smoothed his hands over his traditional garb – which he had a particular distaste for, although he knew a traditional festival would require traditional attire. It clashed with his usual style, but he was willing to endure it for the sake of his commitment to a cause. 

It flattered the waist he had been working so hard to thin out, though, so that was nice. 

Flexing his arms downward, Rindou hit a pose in the mirror-desk-thing. 

Ran was sprawled out on his stomach behind Rindou, flipping through a glossy magazine from the comfort of his bed. His hair was done up into a messy bun, a few stragglers cascading down the back of his neck and over his plush Walmart robe. He glanced up at the sight of his younger brother’s choice in attire for the evening.

“Is that my Yukata?” He inquired, sucking his teeth and then turning another page.

“Yeah,” Rindou answered. “You said you weren’t going to the festival. Figured you wouldn’t need it.”

Rindou saw his brother’s brow quirk, though he made no effort to tear his eyes away from the page. “You said you weren’t going either,” Ran remarked.

Rather than glorifying him with a response, Rindou pulled out the chair beneath Ran’s… beauty desk? He didn’t really know what those things were called. Anyway, he made himself comfortable on the seat.

“You’re goin’ all out tonight, huh?” Ran teased, rolling onto his back.

Rindou shook his head. Reaching for Ran’s signature eyeshadow pan – the one that he would never, ever admit to using, but for the sake of this story it should be known that he uses a Covergirl single in the shade Onyx  – he popped the case open. He dabbed the little sponge-brush thing into the pan, applying the deep shade to the outer corners of his eyes. He shaped it into a subtle, smokey point, one that added depth to his gaze.

“Don’t get used to it,” he offered, clicking the single shut and setting it off to the side. 

His attention then turned to his damp hair. He reached for a hair tie he had found on the desk and carefully gathered his blond locks into a fistful. With practiced ease, he tied it up and away from the back of his neck. With the side of his pinky finger, he pulled a few strands out to frame his face. 

The Haitani Slut-Strands were making a comeback.

“She say yes to you when you asked ‘er?” Ran asked somewhere behind him.

Rindou smoothed his hands over the semi-slickback ponytail he’d done. “Nah. Some kid beat me to it.”

He could hear Ran turning the page slowly. “You beat his ass?”

“Maybe,” Rindou grinned.

“I feel, like… so proud,” Ran continued anyway. “Like, this is a proud big brother moment for me. ‘Lil bro, going on his first date with his crush… at 17 years old.”

“Not my first date,” Rindou said, even if it technically was. He wasn’t so sure that the random hookups he’d taken on walks to the park counted. 

“Let me have this,” Ran sighed. “What are you waiting on?”

“Her text,” He answered. He knew it was coming. The festival had started an hour and a half ago. It was only a matter of time before she came crying to him about how this kid she had given a chance decided to stand her up and embarrass her in front of the whole town. Only a matter of time before Rindou would swoop in like Superman and save her night.

On cue, his phone buzzed. He took it out of his pocket, turning it on to read the message he had received.

Just now

Pretty Thing: he stood me up :( can u come get me pls

He glanced at it a second time, his smirk deepening. “Looks like I’m needed,” he said, lifting his phone to show his brother the message.

Ran whistled. “This plan seems awfully well-thought for someone who don’t care about this girl.”

Rindou couldn’t help but reply with a hint of amusement, thumbs already working up a text back, “Worry about the girls in your phone first.”

ME: b there in 15 angel

a/n: Trying not to think about the fact that bc Rindou wants to be a dj he probably listens to like, dubstep or some shit....... also I used the word Yukata here which is Japanese traditional attire to wear to festivals, I looked into it, but like I said im off a Buzzball so if I misused it or was culturally insensitive in any way shape or form it is purely accidental, please let me know and I'll correct! AS always, comment, inbox, let me know how yall feel! I love u bunches <3

I obviously do not own tokyo revengers or anything related to it. please do not reproduce, copy, or translate my works anywhere. dont fk w me im a bruja.

@midtwenties-angst, @sleepysnk, @enneadec, @noaabean, @galactict3a, @em1e, @drakensdarling, @wakashawty, @satanlovesusall666, @sin-and-punishment, @mztoman, @sanzuicide, @bontensbabygirl, @strawberrychrome, @scaraphobia, @bertholdts--butt, @xiedoll, @missgab, @keiskyutie, @slvdsjjk , @ilyrmsha , @novacrystalli , @hanmastattoos , @kodzuksn, @mikeys-bike-slut, @kzuyii, @menrami, @darlettie, @simpfully-heartbroken

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[nothingtoseeherebyeexx]

Delicate, Chapter One: Mary

next chapter >

ok so. here it is. i’m so fucking terrified hahahaha

i’d like to specify that 1) this is an experiment 2) i’m not 100% sure where i’m going w it and i don’t even know what title to put but i’ll think about it (eventually) 3) i’ll post it here on tumblr first and *maybe* one day i’ll publish it on ao3. for now, however, i want this to stay here where i can change/delete whenever i want :)

and, 4) english isn’t my first language, so bear with me. Enjoy!

CW: drinking, mentions of drug abuse, mommy issues™️

It was very fucking hot.

Too fucking hot, in Narcissa’s opinion.

The windows of her car were rolled down, her sweaty forehead rested against the wheel, hair sticking to the melting plastic. There were many things to be annoyed at, really, but all Narcissa could think about were those suitcases in the back seats behind her, and the realisation she had run away from home.

“He followed in his brother’s footsteps, surely. Poor Walburga, she must be destroyed now that even her spare star has abandoned her.”

Regulus was only 18, and arguably Narcissa’s favourite cousin: he cared about their family’s reputation in the acting and music industry, just like her, and he was willing to do everything to become famous, for his name’s sake.

Oh, he had also been left behind and forgotten by an older sibling, which was another thing they had bonded over.

Narcissa thought that out of everyone in that deranged family, Regulus was the one she could really, fully understand.

Except maybe Narcissa didn’t know him that well after all, because he had left. As soon as he had legally become an adult, he had hopped off that derailing train that was the Black family, and had continued to pursue his acting career independently from his mother.

And Narcissa was still there.

24 years old, still following her parents’ orders like a puppet, her strings attached to her Father’s label. It had probably fucked her up a bit: it would’ve broken her Mother’s heart to know, but she had been running on drugs and alcohol for years now.

And drugs and alcohol were in her system while she was standing in her room, the news about Regulus still floating in her head.

She had been here before.

When Sirius had left.

When Andy-

She had thrown all the clothes she could fit into two suitcases, filled a couple of bags with few personal belongings (papers, essential equipment for singing) and she had gotten into her Mercedes, and started the engine.

But now the high had worn off, and she was slowly boiling to death in the cabin of her car, parked in front of a building she couldn’t even look at.

“If you ever change your mind, Narcissa, this is the address. My brother and I would be delighted to work with you.”

The Bones Records building was towering over her, glorious. Presumptuous, even, like Amelia Bones herself. Daring her to enter with a shine of its windows, a sparkle of her eyes.

In the end, she had stepped out of the car.

And Narcissa Black stepped into a new life.

~

Mary was pacing back and forth in the cold November air, an impossibly heavy usb drive in her pocket, trying to slow down her own heartbeat.

And, possibly, ring the doorbell of the mansion standing in front of her.

That day, Mary had taken a detour after work, her mind set on a plan. But right at the last step, she had discovered that the possibility of changing her future with a simple touch terrified her, and so she hesitated.

She had done scarier things in her past: babysitting her younger, reckless brothers, eating the suspicious meals her high school had to offer, doing her homework while the teacher was collecting it.

Pushing a button should sound like an incredibly simple task.

With herculean effort, she rang the doorbell.

No answer.

She rang again.

“Coming, coming!” chanted a slightly irritated woman, stomping towards the door.

Mary knew that voice, of course.

She’d listened to it for years.

Leaning against the doorframe, with an inquisitive look, was Narcissa Black.

However, with her long, blonde hair precariously pinned up, sporting old pyjamas and bags under her eyes, the singer was very different from how Mary was used to seeing her in magazines and interviews.

Wait, what time was it? It had gotten dark, how long had Mary been walking up and down the street like an idiot?

“Hello? Anything i can do for you?” asked Narcissa, with a raised brow.

“Uhm, yes, actually,” replied Mary, now intent on getting this whole conversation over with. “I’m Mary Macdonald. I’ve been your fan since your debut under the Black Studios-“

“Sorry, girl, but if you want an autograph, showing up at my door isn’t exactly the best way to get it.” interrupted Narcissa, now clearly annoyed by the whole situation.

But Mary had come prepared.

“It’s not an autograph i’m after, really. I wanted you to listen to these songs-“

“You’re brave, I’ll admit, knocking at my door in the middle of the night. But i’m no talent scout, so I suggest you take your songs, that i bet are very promising, and take them to someone that will know what to do with them. Maybe try contacting them a bit earlier.” sniffed Narcissa, already closing the door. Her movements were a bit slow, careful, like her hand could slip from the handle if she didn’t focus on it.

“Wait!” Mary stopped the door with her foot, fully catching Narcissa’s attention. She smelled of alcohol, but Mary guessed that famous people could afford getting wasted whenever they wanted, even on a random Tuesday night.

“Please. I want to become a singer, and I need you to listen to this. If you don’t like it, or think it’s not good enough, I won’t bother you, but i need someone to give me a chance. Please.” Mary pleaded, trying her best to convey her desperation through her eyes. Never once in her life had she ever begged for something, but God did she hate it. She was willing to make this sacrifice, for once.

Narcissa regarded her carefully, considering how big of a threat (or annoyance) the young woman in front of her could be. She sighed.

“Fine, come inside. And close the door.”

Mary followed the woman (who was muttering about how bravery, audacity and stupidity all go hand in hand) into her home. Honestly, she didn’t think she would’ve gotten this far with the plan, and when realized she was stepping into Narcissa Black’s residence, she tried to memorize every single detail.

The white walls were decorated with various paintings in different styles, and there were magazines everywhere, left open on the articles about members of the Black family: Bellatrix’s imminent marriage, Regulus’ Oscar nomination, Sirius’ new dog…

Mary wondered if, one day, her mother would be reading news about her from magazines, too. If she was ever going to swallow her pride, accepting that she had been wrong all along.

But first, she needed someone to get her into the Bones Studios.

She had heard Amelia and Edgar Bones weren’t afraid of working with new, young artists. They took risks in their investments, and Narcissa was a clear example of that: working with a fleeting, already successful singer and changing her whole image was a dangerous move, but it had made the label famous: the twins undoubtedly owed part of their success to Narcissa, and Mary hoped she could sneakily make her way under the singer’s wing and work her way up from there.

So. she had to get Narcissa’s approval.

“Ignore the mess, you chose a bad night to come knocking at my door.” said the woman, plopping herself onto a red velvet sofa and picking a half-full glass of wine from the round coffee table in front of her. She took a sip, opened her expensive laptop (one day Mary, one day), but then she gulped and started clicking the keys agitatedly, like she had seen something disturbing on the screen and desperately wanted to delete it.

Mary stood awkwardly in front of her, the usb drive in her hand and a mess in her head.

“So? Are you going to stand there and do nothing? Take seat, give me that drive, and have a glass of wine, honey, you look horrified.” prompted Narcissa, pointing to the couch and the bottle in front of her with her chin.

“Oh I…I don’t drink,” replied Mary, giving the other woman her drive and sitting down. The couch was surprisingly comfortable, the material soft. The whole house, although a bit messy and smelling of alcohol, felt expensive. One day, one day.

“Mh, I should’ve guessed,” smiled Narcissa, looking up from the screen for an instant.

“You should’ve seen your face when you came in! Nose scrunched like a child. Are you doing it for religious reasons?”

“Not really,” Mary watched Narcissa getting up and searching for something around her, inside a bag, under the table. It was a long story, and surely not one enjoyable enough to be a conversation starter, so she just kept quiet.

“Well, it’s not like you have to get blacked-out drunk every time you drink. I hope one day you’ll find it in yourself to enjoy some tasteful liquor again.” Narcissa replied, pulling out a set of headphones from the sofa’s pillows.

“Now, I’ll listen to your…15 songs?!” Narcissa gave her an incredulous look. “That’s a whole-ass album! Did you write it yourself?”

“I wrote the music, the lyrics, arranged everything together, and sang. But it’s just…something i’ve been working on as practice, since i couldn’t get into a conservatory. I ended up liking it, though”

For Mary, her lack of professional musical knowledge was a sore subject: she had tried to make up for it on her own, but most talent scouts lost interest in her after guessing her family’s financial situation, so she’d had to compensate her lack of money with an abundance of nerve.

And there she was. Sitting on Narcissa Black’s couch, waiting for her opinion on her work like a sinner’s soul on Judgement Day.

Mary, upon telling Narcissa (born rich and famous) about her self-studying, had expected disdain, but surprisingly, Narcissa was looking at her with something uncannily resembling respect.

Mary watched her wine-stained lips curl with fondness. “‘No one cares about artists unless they’re not penniless’, right?”

“You can say that, yeah”

“Then I’ll be the one to start. I’ll be back in…63 minutes. Don’t wander around the house. The bathroom is the first room on the right, next to the painting of the girl with her tits out.”

Mary nodded, but stayed on the couch. Her leg kept bouncing, her palms were sweaty, and Narcissa was looking right at her, which was really not helping. She couldn’t even let her mind drift somewhere more calming, since that pair of blue, wide-opened eyes were fixed on hers.

Just as Mary had started to worry the eye contact would last all 63 minutes, Narcissa inhaled sharply and conjoined her hands in front of her face, like a prayer, closing her eyes.

Were all artists this…strange?

Narcissa stayed like that for about 37 minutes, and now Mary suspected she had fallen asleep.

Mary went to the bathroom, appreciated the painting’s tits, came back. The scene hadn’t changed.

After a while, Narcissa lowered her headset, deep in thought, eyes still closed.

Then she got up swiftly, removed the drive from the computer, and led Mary to the door. “I’ll talk to Amelia. Give me your phone number and I’ll let you know in a few days. Can you send me a copy of the tracks? I want her to listen to your work.”

“…Just like this? You don’t have any…criticism, comments, questions, anything? I made you listen to my songs and-“

“Mary,” Narcissa interrupted, taking the girl’s face in her hands in an unexpected display of affection. “I like your style. You have an amazing voice, the songs are surprisingly good for a beginner. You lack a bit of technique and some aspects need to be refined, but it’s nothing a bit of practice can’t solve.” She patted her cheek. “Plus, you have the guts, and they’re always useful in the music industry. Let me talk to Amelia. I’ll get back to you.”

“I-Woah. Thank you. Woah. Okay, uhm, this is my number…” After Narcissa had typed and double-checked the digits (double-checked! Was she really going to call her back?), she gave her her email address, wished her goodnight, and Mary was left standing in the porch, still shocked.

It was happening. It was really, actually happening. Oh, Mary wanted to scream, to walk up and down the street like she had done just two hours before: she caught Narcissa Black’s attention! Her dreams had a chance of finally coming true, the life she had always wanted was getting closer and-

“Wait,” Narcissa’s head reappeared, temporarily knocking Mary out of her hysterical state. “Before you go…how did you find my address?”

“Y-You’re a famous singer. It wasn’t that hard.”

“Ugh. What a bother. Whatever, goodnight.”

~

Mary was lightly strumming her guitar, humming lyrics quietly on her bed, window open despite the cold. She loved those early-winter afternoons, when the sun sunk earlier and the air was crisp, the smell of rain a constant reminder of the clouds in the sky.

Narcissa hadn’t called her yet, but it had only been a couple of days, so Mary still held hope and spent most of her free time in her room practising and recording.

Then her mother entered her bedroom. She had just come back from work, still had the shoes and jacket on. Mary hadn’t noticed her at first, but she immediately stopped playing when she did, feeling guilty and then hating herself for it.

To be completely honest, Mary wasn’t sure her mum liked her.

She loved Mary, of course, but because she happened to be her mother. Not because she chose to. Affection born from blood, something a mother is expected to give.

“Mum, I didn’t hear you come in, do you need me to lay the table for dinner?” Mary asked, watching her mother sitting down on the bed in front of her.

She was eyeing her guitar, her notebook and her computer like she didn’t know what to do with them. What to do with Mary.

“No, no, it’s okay. Your brother can do it, he’s old enough now,” she answered with a weak smile, still not meeting Mary’s gaze. She knew the two of them looked quite similar: same dark skin, curly hair, the same dimples that appeared when they smiled. However, Mary also noticed her mother’s wrinkles, proof of a life spent worrying and worrying, the way her shoulders seemed to be carrying the weight of the world, the way she sighed instead of exhaling when she breathed.

“Are you playing something?”

“Yes, actually,” Mary knew this was an attempt. It wouldn’t get them anywhere, but she was thankful for it regardless. “Do you want to listen?”

“…it would be a waste of time, darling, you know I don’t really get these…things,” her mother replied, still smiling sadly with her hands on her lap.

One step forward, two steps back, always retreating. Mary didn’t know what was she expecting, really. Her mother never got it, and had never showed any interest in trying.

“Did you want to talk about something specific?” Mary asked, curtly.

Her mum stayed silent for a moment.

“…Let me read a verse or two, love,” she complied. Mary offered her the notebook, carefully watching her read her songs, her soul.

“Do you like them?”

Mary was met with unreadable dark eyes. And a sad smile. Mary was so tired of sad smiles.

Narcissa said they were good. She just wants you to give up.

She closed her stinging eyes, and felt the warmth of a calloused hand on her face.

“You’re a beautiful girl, Mary,”

“…So?”

“You could get a good job easily-“

“I do have a job” Mary glared at her mother, swatting her hand away.

“A part-time job-“ she replied, slightly frustrated.

“Did you want to talk about anything specific?” Mary could hear her voice break and feel a tear run down her cheek. Fuck.

The two just stared at each other.

Mary wished she didn’t have to choose between her mother’s approval and herself.

“It’s nothing, really. I’ll go make dinner.”

Another step back.

And Mary was alone in her room.

~

narcissa black here, i need you to come to my place asap.

if this isn’t mary macdonald, i was joking. this isn’t narcissa black, it was a prank.

Mary had just come back from her morning shift at the cafe (Madame Puddifoot, serving the best food!), when Narcissa texted her. She had almost tripped on the doorway.

this is mary macdonald

sorry, do you mind sending the address?

Narcissa replied shortly after.

…you funny bitch.

Mary was at Narcissa’s place in thirty minutes, and before she could even lift her hand, Narcissa had opened the door, leaning against it. She was dressed casually, hair down and eyes bright with trouble.

“Hello sweetie, thanks for coming,” Narcissa greeted, but she kept standing there, a bit awkwardly.

“…Hi, has something happened? Did Amelia call you?”

Narcissa’s eyes widened.

“Oh no, love, I would’ve told you if I had heard from her. But something did happen, yes, and I wanted to show you,” she said with a smile, moving towards the middle of the doorway. Mary jumped back in horror, but she managed to not scream: Narcissa had a fucking snake, with black and blue scales, wrapped around her forearm. And it looked terribly real and alive.

“Narcissa what the hell??”

But the woman was still smiling, delighted by Mary’s reaction and the creature slithering up her arm. “I bought a snake!”

“I can fucking see it! But why?”

“If you’re going to be so loud about it, it’s better if we go inside,” and Narcissa led Mary to the living room. Everything looked tidier than last time, even Narcissa herself seemed more put together, although she was playing with a potentially poisonous reptile while walking towards the red sofa.

“…You’d better put it in its tank, Narcissa,” Mary suggested sitting as far from her as possible. The other woman just looked at her in confusion.

“Tank?”

Mary blinked slowly. “Where do you keep it, Narcissa?”

“I don’t have a dedicated place for her yet, but I was thinking of keeping her in my room.” Narcissa answered, offering a finger to the dark snake.

“Didn’t they give you a tank at the pet shop? And why are you putting you fingers near her?” Mary was staring at Narcissa, appalled. How did this woman survive for so long?

“She’s not poisonous, she kills by strangling her preys,” Narcissa said like a proud mother, “And they did give me a tank, but I didn’t like it so I threw it away. I was thinking of letting her sleep next to me.”

“That’s-I’m-“ Mary stuttered, “God. We’re getting a tank, before she kills you in your sleep. Let’s go, I’ll drive.” She got up and took her car keys.

“Can I bring her with me? I don’t want her to feel lonely,” Narcissa explained as the snake made its way around her neck. Mary was progressively getting more and more afraid of Narcissa getting strangled under her very own eyes.

“Just…sit in the backseat and don’t get killed?”

“She would never. I’m her Ma,” Narcissa smiled grabbing a coat, a hat and sunglasses, probably to avoid being recognised in public. The downside of being a celebrity, Mary assumed, although her showy and very much alive necklace probably wasn’t of much help keeping a low profile.

When Mary had mustered up the courage to knock at Narcissa’s door, she hadn’t expected this: walking down the aisle of a pet store pushing a rusty cart, looking for a tank for Narcissa Black’s latest (and murderous) purchase.

She had been enthusiastic to find out she could decorate the tank, so she was looking for the rocks that would fit best with the rest of the furniture in her bedroom.

Because she wanted to keep the snake in her room, the freak.

“Just a question, Narcissa…How long have you had her?”

She turned around and checked her shiny watch. “About six hours. Why?”

“Was just wondering if you had actually slept with the thing. It sounds pretty dangerous.”

“Oh no, but we did take a nap together. I couldn’t find her when I woke up,” she turned back to the rocks. The black ones seemed to have piqued her interest.

“I still don’t know what to call her. Any suggestions?”

“Narcissa junior?” suggested Mary.

“That’s lazy. I want something…meaningful. Think about snakes. What do they do?”

Oh, so she was serious about it.

“I don’t know, they crawl around, lay eggs, eat rabbits…”

“Rabbits! I can work with that…White Rabbit?” Narcissa offered.

“It’s a bit long. Is it an Alice in Wonderland reference?” Mary answered.

“…Yeah, never-mind. What about Bunny?” Narcissa looked at Mary from above her heart-shaped sunglasses.

“You want to call your snake Bunny, because she eats rabbits.”

“Yes. It’s ironic, it’s cute, it’s perfect. Bunny.”

“Bunny it is, then.” Mary sighed with a soft smile, as Narcissa put the black rocks in the cart. “Why did you even buy a pet snake?”

“I have many reasons. But I won’t explain myself, and you’ll have to deal with it.”

“Fair. Why did you text me, though?” Mary asked. She was just a random fan, after all, and although she wasn’t complaining, she was a bit disoriented.

Narcissa simply shrugged. “Because Amelia would’ve ripped me to pieces, Edgar would’ve acted like a disappointed father, and I’ve listened to your songs, so we’re basically best friends now.”

“You see, it’s the last passage that I don’t get,” Mary replied while Narcissa put the rocks in the shopping cart. “Do you consider friends all the singers you listen to?”

Narcissa walked next to her as they were approaching the register. “Only the ones that make me feel like I know them. Mary, I don’t think you understand the power music holds.”

The cashier, a poor teenage girl, was too worried about the snake wrapped around Narcissa’s neck to question her suspicious outfit.

“Is-is that a real snake?”

“Yes, darling. Why are you surprised, we’re in a pet shop, after all,” Narcissa answered, lowering her sunglasses. The cashier’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Are-are you Narcissa Black?”

“Yes, sweetie. I’d like to pay for my little girl’s needs, please.”

“S-sure.”

Mary watched the girl, and wondered if her hands were trembling because of the reptile or Narcissa.

As I was saying, Mary,” the woman continued once they were out of the shop, marching towards the car.

“Music is powerful. One of the best things about being a songwriter is that you can reveal the world all the thoughts you keep in your mind, the memories you hold close, your regrets or hopes. I liked your songs, Mary, because when I listened to them I got to know you. Music is clearly very important to you, you’re a voice screaming to be heard, love.”

“Narcissa,” Mary called, voice a bit hoarse. She had to shut her up in some way or she’d start crying in the car park and then die of embarrassment.

“Mary,” She replied.

“Should Amelia refuse to sign a contract with me, I want you to know that I’m glad you gave me a chance. It’s more than anyone has ever done, so thank you.” Mary smiled, grateful.

Narcissa looked at her, layers and layers of emotions Mary couldn’t quite decipher in her eyes.

“It’s nothing, really,” she nodded towards the car, not too far from them. “Now get in, before you start crying in the middle of a car park.”

“No offense, but fuck you.” Mary replied pulling out the keys, while Narcissa laughed, Bunny resting around her shoulders.

~

come to my place

there’s a surprise for you

For the third time that week, Mary knocked at Narcissa’s door. She was getting used to the singer’s cryptic texts, and had learnt to expect the unexpected: she was now wondering if Narcissa had bought a snake for her, too, or if she had found some top-quality tree branches for Bunny’s tank and needed an opinion.

However, when Amelia Bones opened the front door, Mary was admittedly caught by surprise.

“Amelia Bones,” she offered her hand, straight to the point. Mary held it, but she was interrupted before she could even introduce herself.

“So here’s the Mary Macdonald I’ve heard so much about. Come inside, you have a contract to sign,” she lead her to Narcissa’s kitchen, like it was her own house. Narcissa was sitting on a tall seat and leaning on the marble counter, placid like a cat.

Amelia and Narcissa looked quite similar, next to each other. The blonde, straight hair, the attentive eyes, the relaxed demeanor of someone who doesn’t get fucked with.

Overall, really intimidating.

“A few days ago, I happened to receive an email by our dearest Narcissa, with 15 songs and just two words, ‘Mary Macdonald’” began Amelia, in a calm tone. “Of course, I’m used to Narcissa’s enigmatic shit, so I wasn’t at all surprised by her temporary loss of words,” the other woman smiled at that.

“What did surprise me, though, were the tracks. I really liked them, Mary. So, I called Narcissa to explain the situation to me.”

Mary just nodded: most of her attention was focused on trying to read Amelia, the way she talked, her movements, her expressions. The rest was consumed by stopping herself from fidgeting.

“You are a brave one, girl. I appreciate that in an artist,” Amelia’s smile dropped. “But I need more. I’m not asking for a musical genius, of course. I need the promise of a star, something we can work with to create a legend. The substance is there, but we need to shape it to make you survive the industry, and it will take some time. You following me?”

“Yes,” replied Mary, because it seemed like an obvious question that still required an explicit, confident answer. Amelia seemed to appreciate it.

“Then this is where Narcissa comes in. She’s offered to become your guide, and help you in this process.”

“I won’t try to change you, Mary,” Narcissa chimed in, “I would help you on the technical preparation and with getting used to this type of life, and once we’re sure you can stand on your feet, we’ll let you go. In this way, I’ll lift some weight off of Amelia’s shoulders,” she smiled, patting her friend’s back, “who will only have to work on the production of the album. After all, the Bones Studios are still relatively small, all in the hands of the Bones twins alone. Are you in? You’re still in time to chicken out.”

Narcissa’s smile was challenging.

Amelia’s was unreadable.

Maybe they weren’t that similar, after all.

“I don’t see why I would refuse,” Mary replied. “Where do I sign?”

Amelia took out the contract, Mary read every single word carefully (and missed the impressed glance that passed between the other two women), and then signed it.

“Welcome to the family, Macdonald. Got any questions?”

“Please, Amelia, you’re itching to get out of here. I can play the evil manager for tonight.” Narcissa intervened, with raised eyebrows.

“It’s work, private matters come second. Mary, do you have any doubts about the contract? Or questions?”

“Not really, everything was pretty clear, and now Narcissa is legally obliged to answer all of my questions, so…”

“You heard her!” laughed Narcissa, “Now go or you’ll be late to your date.”

Amelia grabbed her coat from a chair, heading towards the door but still talking business. “Narcissa will tell me when she considers you ready to work on your debut album.”

“Yeah we know! Hurry, your Hestia is waiting!” Narcissa mocked as Amelia, who was flipping her off, closed the door behind herself.

“Hello,” Narcissa greeted, once it was just the two of them. “We’re coworkers now.”

“It seems so, yeah. That was…fast.” Mary answered, still a bit shaken.

She had just signed a contract with a label.

A real label.

And Narcissa Black was going to teach her to become a proper singer.

The Narcissa Black.

Mary was euphoric.

“Listen, I know you don’t drink, but I think we deserve to celebrate. Do you want a sip?” Narcissa said, pulling out an expensive-looking wine bottle and two fancy glasses.

“No pressure. If you don’t drink, I won’t either.”

Mary considered the offer. She was ecstatic, and she had grown to trust Narcissa, so maybe a glass wouldn’t be so harmful.

“Okay.” she answered, aware she didn’t sound too sure.

“Okay?” Narcissa repeated.

“I’ll take a glass. It’s the beginning of a new era, Narcissa.” Mary assured, sounding more certain. She felt like she could fight God, she wasn’t letting a glass of wine scare her anymore.

“That’s what I like to hear, sweetie,” Narcissa smiled, filling the two glasses. “Oh, and you can call me Cissa. You’re my student now!”

“Having you as a teacher will truly be an experience.” Mary grinned, lifting the glass to her lips.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

When Mary left Narcissa’s house, she did so with a newfound hope, and the taste of wine strong but harmless on her lips.

shoutout to @prongsxsluv for being the first to hear abt this <3

@imintothemaraudersera @jpg-of-dorian-slay (i’ve always loved your user no joke)

[yuki-shipnoda]

Happy spooky season everyone! Here's a quick Lawsunoda drabble based on Lafcadio Hearn's adaptation of the yuki-onna

A long time ago, somewhere in the middle of Tokyo, there was an old woodcutter named Helmut, and his young apprentice named Liam.

One frosty evening, while they were on their way home, a huge snowstorm overtook the forest where they worked, so they sought refuge in a ferryman's empty hut and called it a day then and there and went to sleep.

In the middle of the night, while Helmut was fast asleep, Liam was stuck wide awake, the violent winds shaking the hut and him shivering from the cold.

All of a sudden, the door violently opened, letting in a huge gust of frigid winter winds as the silhouette of someone entered the hut. Liam saw that figure at the door was a very attractive young man was black hair, fair skin, and in a white kimono, the sight of it attracting Liam.

This figure walked up to Helmut, bending down and blowing cold winds into his face, freezing him to death. Liam, still shivering, feared for his life. As the snowy figure approached him, Liam tried to wriggle his way out and scream for help, but to no avail, was frozen in place. The figure stared at him, locking eyes with one another, making Liam blush profusely, revealing he has affections for him. The figure kept staring at him and tilting his head, silently studying Liam's face until he spoke a few words.

'You know, I was going to make you die like your master there... But I think you're such a handsome young man. Tell you what, I'll let you go, but you must never tell anyone, and I mean anyone about our encounter. Understood?'

In fear, Liam nodded as response. The snowy figure stood up straight and walked out of the door and into the snow, leaving no footprints as he disappeared into the snowy forest.

In the morning, as Liam woke up, Christian, the ferryman opened the door to the hut, finding him and Helmut taking shelter there. Christian, taking pity helps Liam transport him and Helmut's frozen corpse back to the other side.

Soon, Liam fell ill and caught a cold after the freezing weathers that night, his mother nursing him back to health. Liam, still shaken after the shocking death of his master and the encounter with the snowy young man that night, made a slow but eventual full recovery, allowing him to help his mother out by collecting firewood for her to sell.

~~~

One evening, as he's bringing home the last batch of firewood collected for the day, Liam gets called by a random voice coming from the forest.

'Excuse me! Can you help me out please?'

Liam turned around and saw a short young man, about the same age as him and looking rather familiar, waving at him, calling to his attention.

'Hello there, I'm Liam. What seems to be the problem?'

'Hi, my name is Yuki. I'm heading to Amagasaki to go live with my uncle as I've already lost my whole family just recently. Could you show me the way to get there?'

'Oh, sure thing!' Liam was enamoured by this young man in his presence. The more he looked at him, the more smitten he became. 'Say, uh, no offense, but are you taken?'

'No, I'm still single...'

'I'm still single as well, it's only me and my mum at home, my dad died years ago. No young soul like you should be going out this late and this kind of weather. Why don't you come over to our place and rest for the night? I'll even introduce you to my mum.'

'Oh, sure thing. I'd love that.'

Thus, Liam brought Yuki along with him back to his village and as they made their way back, they couldn't stop looking at each other without giggling and blushing. Once they arrived, Liam introduced Yuki to his mother, and he was greeted with a nice warm homecooked meal by her. Liam's mother was so smitten by Yuki's manners and disposition, that she asked Yuki to postpone the trip to Amagasaki, and so he did, but soon ths trip was postponed for so long, it never happened in the end and Yuki and Liam were wed.

Five years later, Liam's mother soon passed away, but in turn Liam and Yuki had 10 children, 5 boys and 5 girls with dark hair and fair skin. Everyone in the village loved Yuki and thought of him as made of magic being that he's maintained his figure after having that many children.

One night when the children are all asleep, Yuki was patching up the holes in the clothes in the light of a lantern, and Liam noticed how familiar he looked to him.

'You know Yuki, you remind me of this thing that happened to me once.'

Yuki turned to look and him and went back to his sewing.

'Oh? Tell me about it.'

'Ok well so one evening as I was walking back home with my master after collecting wood, we were both stuck in this huge snowstorm so we took shelter in a ferryman's hut. That night, as the snowstorm got worse, there was this snowy figure who entered the hut and froze my master to death but set me free out of mercy. It felt so much like a bad dream...'

Yuki, realising what that recollection was, stormed towards Liam and picked him up by the lapels.

'That snowy figure was me, dumbass! I thought I told you not to tell anyone about that night! We had a deal!'

Yuki stomped towards the other end of the room, sliding open the shoji, leading to the other room where he saw all of their children still fast asleep and tucked in their futons. He promptly closed the shoji and went back to Liam, staring at him straight in the face in anger.

'You're lucky because the children are asleep, otherwise I would've ripped your ass to shreds! This is my final warning, if you harm any of our children, I'll come back to finish what I started! Understood?'

In fear, Liam answered with a nod once again.

'You better be, or else!'

A large gust of snowy wind entered the house, as Liam watched Yuki disappear into thin air along with the wind, never to be seen again.

[causeilikelix]

During The Rainstorm - Chapter Three

↳ Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin x Yoon Seol (OC)

↳ Genre: Romance, comedy, smut (eventual), slow burn, enemies (idiots) to lovers, non!idol au, angst

↳ Series warnings: See Chapter One

↳ Chapter Warnings: Seol has a panic attack :(, terrible ending, language, other than that it's pretty tame. I guess terrible poetry should be a warning too lol

↳ Read on my A03: Here

↳ Masterlist & Summery: Here

↳ Notes: This is a repost of this series and I think a re-upload of the first chapter. I also am taking the liberty of making a name change of one of the characters. Woojin and Minho are switching names/characters. Also, before the Tag Police come for me, this story is going to be both smutty and angsty so my tags are appropriate.

<- Chapter Two - Chapter Four ->

SEOL TRIED TO listen to Minho’s uncle as he rambled on and on about the order of the wedding ceremony.  Dayeon and Minho listened intently, but waves crashed in Seol’s ears rendering her deaf.  His sharp gaze burned holes into her back and Seol cursed the world for being so damn small.  Of all places, of all people, of all friends, how did Hwang Hyunjin end up here at this wedding as one of Minho’s friends?  

The weekend they spent together was a whirlwind of emotions and Seol bared her soul to him with the understanding that she’d likely never see him again.  It wasn’t that she didn’t like him.  In fact, it had been quite the opposite.  Seol thought that she might have liked him too much.  As the weekend progressed, things between them began to feel too easy and comfortable.  After the ordeal she’d just had, however, the idea of going through something like that again scared her more than the idea of a future with Hyunjin.  After six whole months of easily and successfully avoiding him, how had he shown up here?  Of all places, Hwang Hyunjin had to be here.  

Minho’s uncle explained that Seol would be sitting off to the side but would have a place at a front table to retreat to after her poem.  Seol nodded and headed to the chair obediently to wait her turn.  Dayeon and Minho set off down the aisle to wait for their cue to walk back down.  Apparently, this was not Minho's uncle’s first wedding so he knew exactly how things should pan out.  Despite being a judge who spent most of his time in the courtroom, Judge Kim had a romantic side and performed many of the weddings in his family.  Dayeon explained earlier that, even though this was common for him, he cried when Minho asked him to do their wedding.  Judge Kim found his spot at the speaker's podium set up to the left of the altar for this purpose and spoke into the microphone.  His commanding voice echoed in the large room as he read off his opening remarks. 

Seol stared at Judge Kim, willing her brain to pay even the slightest bit of attention.  She couldn’t hear a word he said, despite his voice being the loudest in the room.  Minho made his way back down the aisle first and his friends cheered him on, despite it being only the practice.  Seol didn’t look to see if Hyunjin joined in with the cheers.  She wondered if the weight on her shoulders was due to the gaze he held her in.  Next, Dayeon made her way down the aisle and Seol tried to smile as she watched her cousin practically glow with happiness.  Against her will, tears pricked at Seol’s eyes and she had a feeling that she’d be crying tomorrow during the ceremony proper.  Something about weddings always made her cry, but now to be part of one was an honor in of itself. 

Judge Kim rambled off of his notes for a few minutes, going over a short version of the ceremony.   He paraphrased some of the things he planned to say at the actual ceremony, before placing the attention on Seol.  He explained that Dayeon’s cousin wrote for a living and that she agreed to let her first public event be the wedding of her best friend, reading one of Dayeon’s favorite poems from the last collection.  Nausea bubbled up in Seol’s throat when Judge Kim invited her to the podium.  She gripped the hem of her skirt as she rose to her feet and made her way to the podium.  Judge Kim stepped aside and gestured for Seol to take his spot.  Seol cleared her throat and stepped up to the microphone. 

“Hi, my name is Yoon Seol and I am Dayeon’s cousin.”  Seol began, trying desperately to remember what she wrote on the page she had pressed between the pages of her book.  “I can’t remember everything I was going to say, so I guess we can just pretend that I read the poem and move on?”

“Are you sure?”  Judge Kim offered her a kind smile.  Seol’s hands shook and she gripped the podium for dear life.  Her face flushed red but her body shivered with cold.  

Looking over the large room filled with seats was even more daunting from this angle.  When her voice boomed through the room, all of Seol’s muscles tensed.  Her knuckles slowly began turning snow white from her grip on the podium.  Her breathing shook and she wasn’t confident in her ability to say anything coherently.  Slowly, she nodded and Judge Kim gestured for her to go sit back down.  Seol whirled around and headed back towards her chair.  Her footsteps echoed through the room and she winced at the noise, wishing more than anything that she would simply cease to exist.  Her hand reached up to wipe the back of her neck, finding it damp with sweat and she winced.  

Judge Kim continued with the ceremony and Dayeon and Minho listened intently.  Dayeon shot a worried glance at Seol but had to focus on the task at hand.  Seol reached for her bag and dug around in it desperately.  Her throat began to close and she couldn’t remember how to breathe.  She took heaving breaths as her fingers fumbled for the small pill bottle that rattled around in her purse.  Despite her bag being relatively small, it somehow evaded her well.  Seol glanced around her on either side of the chair, wincing when she found no water.  The closest glass would be on the table with the girls, but she had neither the desire or the strength to cross the stage to reach it.  

Finally, Seol’s fingers grasped the small pill bottle and she made quick work of getting it open and pouring one into her hand.  She sucked on her teeth to allow her saliva to pool on her tongue, a poor substitute for water.  Once she was confident she had enough where the small rectangular pill wouldn’t get stuck in her throat, she tossed her head back and dropped the pill onto her tongue.  The dry edges scraped her throat as she swallowed and she winced.  Seol cursed under her breath, wishing that she hadn’t needed to take her panic medicine and she wondered if she would need to take some before the ceremony tomorrow.   

Seol closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths, just like her therapist told her to do when it got bad.  Her hands clenched into fists and tried to think of anything else except for the massive room that would be filled with friends and family in less than twenty four hours.  There was a reason why Seol didn’t do public events.  She thought that, for Dayeons sake, she could power through it and get through one measly reading.  However, the more she thought about it the less sure she became.  Slowly, she lifted her hands to cover her ears, the only way she knew how to fight the oncoming attack. 

The lightning flashed and the thunder crashed and Seol leapt up from her place on the floor to retreat.  Her heart hammered in her chest, drowning out the outside world as she retreated into the bathroom.  Hyunjin called after her, but she couldn’t hear him.  Seol swung the door shut, but the latch didn’t click behind her.  She fell to the floor and leaned against the edge of the tub.  She dropped her head into her hands as her body shook uncontrollably. 

Panic rose in her throat when another crash of thunder rolled through the building and she let out a choked sob.  She couldn’t help the fear that bubbled up within her at the thought of lightning or the loud crack of thunder.  Seol wished she could attribute her fear to childhood trauma, or a single event that messed everything up but she couldn’t.  Despite knowing that her fear was irrational, it didn’t make it any better.  She could hear Hyunjin’s voice calling for her outside the door but she couldn’t understand what he was saying.  

Another roll of thunder shook the building and Seol let out a pathetic yelp and hid her head between her knees.  At this, Hyunjin slowly pushed the door of the bathroom open and peered in experimentally.  When he saw her on the floor, he immediately hurried over and fell to his knees in front of her.  He reached out and ran his hands through her hair and gently patted her shoulder, trying to coax him to look at him.

“Seol-ah, are you okay?”  Hyunjin whispered.  Seol couldn’t say anything.  He hesitated for a moment before venturing forward with his assumption.  “Are you afraid of storms?”

“Yes.”  She squeaked.  “You must think I’m a child, being afraid of the weather.”

“No, not at all.”  Hyunjin’s warm voice filled her and his soft laugh made her finally look at him. 

Hyunjin smiled at her softly, laughter playing in his eyes.  Despite his smile, Seol knew he wasn’t laughing at her.  He caressed her softly, carefully moving her hair away from her face and cupping her cheeks softly as if to pull her back to the real world.  Her body shook beyond her control and he rubbed one of his hands up and down her back and along her arm.  

Another crash of thunder. 

Seol let out a sob against her will and dropped her head between her knees once more.  Hyunjin kept rubbing soothing circles into his skin, but his touch didn’t help her shivers and shakes when a flash of lightning outside made the lights flicker inside.  Hyunjin moved away from her suddenly and Seol gasped from the lack of his warm touch, immediately reaching for him as he moved away.  Her fingers grasped the sleeve of his white button down and he stopped moving immediately.  Hyunjin turned back to her with wide eyes before he relaxed back into his easy smile.  He reached out to gently caress her jaw.  He touched her like they’d known each other for years rather than just a few hours.  

“Don’t worry, I’m just closing the door so you don’t have to see the lightning.”  Hyunjin whispered.  At this, Seol released him.

Hyunjin leaned over and pushed the bathroom door shut, muffling the rumbling storm outside.  The hum of the rain softened and the crashing thunder quieted.  Hyunjin moved to kneel in front of her, sinking his knees into the plush bathroom rug.  He titled his head as he took in Seol’s trembling form.  It was as if she was trying to fold into herself and become as small as possible.  Seol’s hands sought him out once more, her fingers curling into the fabric covering his broad shoulders. 

“I-I’m sorry.  We were having such a good time and-”  Seol choked, squeezing her eyes shut when a particularly loud crack of thunder permeated the door. 

“It’s okay.  Hey, look at me.”  Hyunjin whispered.

Slowly, Seol looked up at him and let out a breathless sigh when she met his eyes.  His hands moved up until his palms covered her ears.  Instead of thunder, she suddenly heard the ocean crashing in her ears.  As blood pumped through his veins, it reminded her of the calm waves they’d seen just earlier that night.  Hyunjin’s elf-like features were morphed into a calm smile.  His eyes twinkled with stars, despite the harsh lighting in the bathroom.  His plush lips were tinted red from the strawberries they’d been eating and were switching between being pressed together and parted in a small ‘o’ as he blew out his lungful of air.  It took a moment for Seol to realize that he was breathing seven seconds in, holding for five seconds, and breathing out for eight seconds.  It took a little longer to realize that after a few rounds, she’d begun to follow him.

Her eyes took him in from his luscious eyebrows, to his sharp cheekbones, to his lips which she knew would taste like dessert.  Seol’s tongue darted out to wet her lips, surprising herself that even in the midst of a panic attack, she could only think about the beautiful man in front of her.  Every so often, the press of his hands on her ears tightened and she knew that meant that thunder crashed outside.  Despite knowing, her heart rate slowed and her breathing evened out.  Hyunjin watched her carefully as her body normalized.  He smiled softly and Seol didn’t have it in her to deny what her body suddenly wanted so desperately. 

Seol’s grip on him tightened.  His smile faltered, but he seemed to understand.  Seol pulled him half an inch closer, her eyes dropping from his eyes to his lips.  Hyunjin waited, hovering inches above her.  Seol waited for her confidence to grow. 

And grow it did. 

“Seol-ah!”  Dayeon grasped her cousin’s hands tightly, pulling them away from her ears and pulling Seol back into the present.  Seol’s heart hammered in her ears and her chest ached.  “Are you okay?”

“Here, drink this.”  Minho knelt before her with a glass of ice water in his hand.  Dayeon released one of Seol’s hands so she could grasp the cold glass.  Instantly, the cold snapped her from the warmth of the hotel bathroom floor to the wedding hall. 

“You scared me!  I’m sorry, I should have never asked this of you.”  Dayeon frowned, gripping her hand tighter.  “I know you hate public speaking.”

“No...”  Seol managed through her burning throat.  She paused to drink down the water, sighing as the frigid water soothed her hot skin.  “No, I agreed to this.  I want to do it.  I guess I didn’t realize how big the room would be.”

“You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to.  We can always have my uncle read the poem instead.”  Minho assured her, taking the water glass when she was done with it.

“No, please.  I can do it.  I promise.”  Seol shook her head.  “God, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“It’s okay.  There wasn’t much left in the ceremony anyway.  I didn’t realize how bad you were until after the ring exchange.  Do you want to lay down?”  Dayeon offered. 

“No, I’ll be fine.  I swear, let’s just eat and get on with it, okay?”  

Dayeon and Minho exchanged a worried glance that didn’t go unnoticed by Seol, but she had her reasons.  If, perhaps, today wasn’t the eve of the most important day of Dayeon’s life, or if Hyunjin wasn’t sitting over at the table watching her then maybe Seol would go back up to her room and lay down.  However, Seol didn’t like that Hyunjin had witnessed not one but two panic attacks.  She didn’t want him to see her weak.  Not again.  

Seol slowly rose to her feet, trying to ignore her shaky knees.  Minho slowly rose to his feet with her, hands extended as if to catch her if she fell.  Seol, determined to not rely on anyone, took the water glass from him and asked where her seat was for brunch.  She pretended not to notice the two tables of the wedding party watching her as she crossed the stage towards them.  Seol didn’t think her attack was that intense and she hoped that it was the attention she was getting from the couple that brought the attention onto her.  The last thing she wanted was to be observed by another human, much less Hyunjin, but for one weekend she could suffer through it.  Dayeon caught up to Seol and linked their arms to walk to the table together.  Despite Seol’s outward declaration of independence, she was glad for the morsel of support.   

“You’re sure you’re okay?”  Dayeon whispered in Seol’s ear.

“Yes, I’m fine.  I promise.  I was going to try and do it tomorrow without my medicine, but I don’t think I’ll be able to.”  Seol admitted with a wince. 

“That’s okay.  I want you to be comfortable above all else.”  Dayeon smiled warmly.  “I really hope you like my friends.”

“I’m sure I will!”  Seol exclaimed.  “I mean, I already see Minju and we always got along in school.”

“I know, I know.  It just feels weird because several parts of my life are all combining and it feels weird, you know?  Hopefully you’ll combine with one of Minho’s friends.”  Dayeon wiggled her eyebrows suggestively and Seol lightly smacked her cousin’s arm. 

“Shut up.  I don’t think that will ever happen, especially not after that little display.”  Seol scoffed, the urge to look over at Hyunjin finally washing over her.  She couldn’t ignore him any longer.

Hyunjin, thankfully, wasn’t looking at her.  Instead, he talked and laughed with the other guys sitting around his table and Seol was grateful to see that his anger with her wasn’t obvious on his face.  His eyes, normally as dark as night, sparkled in the light from the chandeliers.  He had strong bone structure in his jaw and cheeks and Seol was certain that he could cut paper with the angles of his face.  When he smiled, his eyes creased into small crescent moons and his cheeks reminded her of a chipmunk.  His teeth were perfectly straight and blindingly white.  His laugh was clear as a bell and Seol didn’t know if she could keep her eyes off of him after this.  As he laughed, he ran a hand through his jet black hair that currently fell to about jaw length.

She remembered when she first saw it like this.  Seol told him just how much she liked it down and he’d laughed so beautifully and an endearing blush graced his skin.  She wished that he would smile at her like that again, but she wasn’t sure she deserved a second chance.  Seol could almost feel the ghost of his long slender fingers on her skin and in her hair as his other hand fumbled with the zipper of her dress.  

He must have sensed her gaze on him, because during a lull in the conversation, Hyunjin glanced up and locked eyes with her.  Instantly, the warmth in them froze over completely the moment he realized she was looking.  Seol swallowed thickly, watching the sweet man who she’d spent the warmest weekend of her life with turn into someone who wanted nothing to do with her.  She could only imagine what he thought of her.  

“Girls!”  Dayeon’s voice cut through Seol’s train of thought and forced her to turn her attention away from the beautiful man.  “Are you hungry?”

“Starving!”  One of them responded and the others murmured in agreement.

“Good, me too.  They’ll be bringing our plates out any second.  Seol-ah, sit next to me.”  Dayeon beamed brightly, gesturing to the two open seats together.  Seol sat obediently, setting her glass of water down and waiting. 

“Are you okay, Seol-ah?”  Minju, arguably Dayeon’s best friend all through college, leaned over the table to talk to her.  “Public speaking still makes you nervous, huh?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.  I’ve gotten a lot better since college, at least.”  Seol assured her.

“I’m so looking forward to the ceremony tomorrow!  It’s going to be so beautiful.”  Minju sighed dreamily.  

“Me too, I can’t wait.”  Seol tried to smile enthusiastically, but her heavy eyelids made it difficult to fake.  

Thankfully, the attention moved away from Seol and onto Dayeon.  The others fawned over the beautiful venue and their excitement for the ceremony.  Dayeon indulged them, just as excited about it.  She took it upon herself to introduce everyone to each other and Seol’s brain rejected the new information, still too tired from her anxiety attack.  With any luck, brunch would help her body remember to exist properly.  Seol couldn’t afford to be anxious any longer. 

Waiters dressed in proper uniforms made their way into the hall with plates of food in their hands and Seol’s stomach growled instinctively.  One by one, both tables were served a gorgeous plate of brunch.  Some people had salads or eggs and toast while others, like Seol, opted for a stack of pancakes.  After waking up early and being on a plane all morning, plus knowing that she had a long night ahead, Seol figured that some carbs would help her get through.  Most of the other girls went for the healthier options, seeing as they all had dresses to fit in the next night.  By that logic, so did Seol, but she had a feeling she wouldn’t be able to eat much between now and then anyway due to her nerves.  She had to take it where she could get it. 

Curious, Seol glanced over at the table where the boys sat to see if she could catch a glimpse of what Hyunjin was eating.  She recalled him liking pancakes just like her, which surprised her because his tall and lithe form gave her the impression that he drank kale smoothies for breakfast.  Not that it was particularly a bad thing, but the first morning they spent together he’d surprised her by offering to make breakfast.  They went grocery shopping and spent the morning in her hotel room cooking together and laughing about this and that.  Something about the way he’d looked at her, with warm affection in his eyes that she’d never seen from anyone else, scared the shit out of her.  Seol wanted to bask in that warm morning forever, but the sun rose higher into the sky and she’d made a decision that she regretted even now. 

Much to Seol’s dismay, the floral centerpiece hid Hyunjin’s plate.  Hyunjin, on the other hand, was not so obstructed.  His plump lips were curved into a smile as he listened to the conversation at his table.  Once the others all had their plates, he pulled a white hair tie from his wrist.  Seol’s mouth watered when Hyunjin ran his  long, slender fingers through his black locks to secure them in a small ponytail so it wouldn’t get in the way as he ate.  If Seol imagined it hard enough, she could remember how he ran them through her hair.  

“First,

They catch me as I tumble from grace.  They hold my body close to his and protect me from the cold.  The harsh outside world has no place between us.  Not when his hands hold me so warmly.

Second,

They caress my frigid skin when he pushes my hair behind my ear.  The places where they touch  lights my skin on fire and make my skin forget the ice.  His fingers linger there on my cheek a second too long”

Seol recalled the verses she’d written about his hands.  Like most poetry she wrote about Hyunjin, she’d written them in bed with tears staining her face and the page.  When she’d attempted to translate the words on the paper into her document, the words were so smudged by teats she almost couldn’t read it.  The one about his hands ended up being an embarrassing eight stanzas long, but it was nothing compared to the ode she wrote to him next.  

Before she could linger on it, the girls at the table struck up a conversation.  Seol’s ears perked up when Dayeon mentioned her name and before she knew it, the girls were staring at her with polite smiles.  She glanced at Dayeon waiting for a clue but nothing came for a few long seconds.  It took her cousin a moment to get it, but Dayeon quickly caught on. 

“Seol-ah, what do you do for a living?”  Dayeon spoke slowly. 

“Ah...”  Seol cleared her throat,  “I write for a living.  I'm actually a poet, but I’m trying to write a novel.”

“Oh, interesting!  I tried to be a writer in school, but I never had a way with words.”  One of Dayeon’s friends spoke up.  Seol glanced at her cousin who mouthed the person’s name. 

“What did you end up doing instead, Sana-ssi?”  Seol responded casually as she started to cut into her pancakes.  

“I went into nursing.  I’ve been thinking about going back to medical school to become a doctor, but I have no idea what I’d specialize in.”  Sana twirled her fork around in her salad, simultaneously twirling a strand of her dyed silver hair around her finger. 

“My brother is in medical school right now!”  Minju spoke up.  “He’s studying to be... oh I forget the fancy name for it, but he’s going to be a lung doctor.  Apparently there’s a lot to know about the lungs.”

“Yeah we spent like a month on them in nursing school.  If anything, I’d want to go into neurology or something but I haven’t made up my mind yet.”  Sana shrugged.  “Oh yeah, Yeji-yah, did you ever go through with your master’s degree?  I know you wanted one in undergrad.”

“I did!  It took a few years though, but I had to take a year off when my dad got sick.”  Yeji, another friend that Seol vaguely remembered Dayeon talking about a lot, responded.  “I got it in robotics engineering and now I work at Samsung doing product testing.  It’s pretty nice.”

“You guys are all doing so well!”  Dayeon exclaimed.  “I’m so happy to see you all successful.”

“I love my job and all but I wish I was marrying Prince Charming.”  Sana giggled and the other girls agreed hurriedly.  

“Come on, Jaebeom isn’t that bad!”  

“Oh please, we broke up months ago!  He was getting uncomfortably clingy.  I’ve been riding the single train since last summer and, let me tell you, I’ve never been happier to be single.  Minho’s friends are all gorgeous.  Did he make friends with a bunch of models in college?”  Sana glanced over at the table of guys who were laughing and eating without a care in the world.

“Seriously, they’re all hot.”  Minju agreed.  “Who are all of his friends?”

“Hm, it looks like...”  Dayeon peered over at the table, “Changbin, Seungmin, Chan, and Hyunjin.  He’s got a couple more friends coming in tomorrow.”

“Damn... Do you know Seungmin’s type?”  Yeji asked offhandedly.

“Yeji-yah, aren’t you still with Jaehyung?”  

“Yeah, but I think he’s sleeping with his secretary.  Besides, I’m allowed to look if he isn’t here.”

“Dayeon-ah, you have to introduce me to whoever’s got his hair up.”  Sana’s voice dropped into a sultry tone and Seol swallowed thickly, following the other girl’s gaze to where Hyunjin sat. 

“Ah, Hyunjin?”  Dayeon mused,  “He is hot but...”

“But?  Does he have something wrong with him?”

“Kind of?  I don’t know the full details or anything, but he doesn’t really date.”  

“He doesn’t?  God, he’s gorgeous.  The world would be sad if he didn’t procreate.”  Sana sighed wistfully, glancing at him once more before turning back to her food.  Seol’s face flushed a deep red and she tried to hide it by taking a long drink of water. 

He certainly likes to try. 

“Girl, don’t I know it.”  Dayeon giggled.  “But a few months ago he told Minho that he wasn’t sure he had it in him to date anymore.”

“Maybe he’s just taking a break.  There’s no shame in that.”  Yeji suggested, but Dayeon shook her head at the suggestion. 

“That’s part of it, but I could tell there was more to it.  I think... he wants someone unattainable, so he’s hiding in his shell like a turtle so he doesn’t get hurt.  Minho has tried to set him up a couple of times, but nothing ever took.  Hyunjin has been particularly resistant in the last few months.”

“It’s nice of Minho to try and help him!  Maybe I should ask him to help me find someone.”  Sana mused.  “It’s a shame we can’t just clone Minho so we can each get one for ourselves.”

“Please, they’d all just be obsessed with Dayeon!”  Minju laughed and Seol let out an unflattering snort as she tried to suppress her laughter.  “And I mean, who can blame him?”

“Oh, you spoil me!”  Dayeon lightly slapped Minju’s shoulder across the table before turning to Seol and wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.  “What do you think?  Do you think any of Minho’s friend are cute?”   

“Uh...”  Seol glanced over at the table, her eyes really only focusing on Hyunjin and no one else in the group.  She could barely see past him.  “No... Not really?  I mean, they’re cute but no one... ahem... stands out.”

“You seriously don’t like any of them?” 

“I don’t know, you know I prefer talking to people before I judge them on their looks.”  Seol knew she sounded boring, but with Hyunjin sitting only a few feet away, she could barely imagine seeing anyone else. 

The time she’d spent with Hyunjin, all in all, had been brief.  No more than a couple of days.  However, it was enough to make her see the world just a little differently.  Seol initially worried that her relations with Hyunjin were a mere rebound from her ex-boyfriend.  Her ex, Woojin, screwed her over and Hyunjin helped her to see the light when she thought that there may never be any again.  Seol didn’t date much and she hoped that Woojin would be different.  He wasn’t.  Hyunjin was.  He was there to catch her as she fell through the dark abyss of betrayal and he was the hand that kept her tethered to the mortal plain of existence where her consciousness-

Seol cleared her throat and shook her head, forcing all poetic thoughts down with another cold drink of water.  She’d already written half a book of poetry about the few hours she spent with Hyunjin, she didn’t need to write any more.  Seol had no desire to write more poetry about a man she barely knew.  He seemed to be her only source of material and she had no desire to only write about him.  

“Seol-ah, I’ve been meaning to ask...”  Dahyun spoke up.  “What is the poem about?”

“I think you’re going to have to be a little more specific.”  Minju grinned. 

“I mean... ‘The One Time I Was Not Afraid of Storms’.  What is it about?”

“I... um... it’s a long story, don’t worry about it.”  Seol waved it off, hoping to focus on her breakfast.  Dayeon, however, was notoriously persistent.

“I don’t want to push you, but I do want to know.”

“Dayeon-ah, I’m not going to pull the attention off of you.  It’s a really long story and I don’t want to bore the others with it.”  Seol shook her head.

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to hear everything.  I could use a break from being the center of attention.  I’ve got a big day tomorrow and I need a reprieve.”

“Come on, tell us!”  Minju encouraged with a warm smile. 

“Yes, please!”  Yeji leaned forward. 

“I... okay, I guess.  Well.  About six months ago, I was dating this complete tool, Woojin, and I...”

~!~!~!~!~!~

<- Chapter Two - Chapter Four ->

[kathxsoupp]

In Love With a Fever: Chapter 5

William Afton x law enforcement ! reader (fem)

HELLO HI I'M BACK FROM THE DEAD!!!!

Summary: Reader is a detective who was put on the missing children incident case, her person of interest is William and is currently investigating him.

WARNINGS: very graphic violence throughout the whole fic, eventual smut, slow burn, age-gap between reader and Will, manipulation, mutilation, broken bones, use of pet names, Will is obsessive, mentions of death, death and murder, there will be smut, a lot probably, I think, dub-con at some point maybe, fluff and angst, idk if I missed something just read with caution

Notes: NOT ENTIRELY LORE ACCURATE!!! This fic is also posted on my AO3, linked in my pinned post, I'm updating this fic every Monday and it's the first thing I have ever posted, so I hope you like it!

--MINORS DNI--

Chapter 5

He stood before his office window, thoughts racing through his mind. The satisfaction of his perfect plan slowly but surely working out made him feel like he was on top of the world. The clueless girl like an angel sent from heavens above right there for him to use. He promised himself he wasn’t actually going to fall in love with her or anything. He didn’t perceive her as that special. She was just there to cover for him. She was there for him to manipulate and shape into what he needed her to be, ‘so don’t fall too hard sweetheart. I’ll get rid of you in the end anyway.’

The clock finally struck 2:30 pm. You looked into the mirror once more, fixing your appearance and taking a deep breath. You were a little bit too nervous for a work-related meeting. If you could always be so professional about your job, why couldn’t you do the same right now? Working in law enforcement was always your dream job. True crime, mystery and even horror and paranormal stuff always intrigued you so much. That’s why you were so excited about being on this case.

You’ve known about Freddy’s for a while and about the diner that came before it. To be honest, you were still hoping you could maybe somehow get Afton to show you the robots, since you didn’t get the chance earlier. You wanted to know more about them. How they work, how they were built if there’s any stories behind them, etc. The animatronics were interesting to you, but you also found them a little bit creepy. That didn’t discourage you from wanting to find out more though, quite the opposite. Now you needed to focus on the task at hand.

You grabbed your bag and left your office. You walked out of the building and headed to the appointed place. The café wasn’t too far from where you worked. It was about fifteen minutes away, so you decided to just walk instead of driving. You got there a little earlier than you meant to. At least you had the time to find some place to sit and collect your thoughts.

Ten minutes later, he arrived. You looked up from your notebook and your heart skipped a beat when you saw him.

Why were you this nervous?

Breathe, (y/n). Breathe.

You stood up from your chair with a small polite smile and held your hand out to him.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Afton. Thank you again for taking the time to speak with me.” You greeted him. He took your hand in a handshake. “The pleasure is all mine, agent.” He said, returning your smile.

You couldn’t believe how quickly he got so comfortable around you; however, you didn’t exactly mind that. It was your intention to get him to trust you as much as possible. They tend to be the most talkative then. You both sat back down, and you opened your notebook to write down anything he says.

“So, how have you been since we last spoke?” you asked him. “I’ve been alright, but I have to say I’m still very concerned about the recent events.” he replied with a serious look on his face. “It feels so surreal to me, and it has left me feeling quite numb I have to admit.”

Your heart ached at his words. You knew he was also a grieving father and couldn’t imagine what it must be like to go through the pain all over again.

“Again, I am so sorry for your loss. I can’t imagine what that must be like.” “What was it you needed to talk to me about?” he said to change the subject.

You were now a little nervous to ask about his family. You didn’t want to make the situation worse than it already was, but you didn’t have a choice, really.

“I just needed to ask you a few more personal questions. I promise you it’s just routine work, we need any lead we can get so we can finally put a stop to this madness. Would you be comfortable with that?”

He smiled to himself. He didn’t think his act would be so good you’d believe every single word he said.

“Of course, miss (l/n). Go ahead.” He said with that same smile, leaning forward, hands on the table fingers intertwined.

You asked him some questions you had written down in your notebook. Everything went well, until you mentioned the co-owner of the pizzeria, Henry.

“Henry, huh?” he said. “I have to say Henry Emily is the nicest man I know. Cheerful all the time, always happy to help, but he’s been acting strange lately. You know, I don’t want to point fingers at anyone, and I genuinely don’t believe he could be a suspect here I just figured you should know.”  “What about his behavior do you consider as strange?” you asked with a furrowed brow. “Well… he’s secretive and startled easily, I guess. Every time I speak to him, he seems nervous Fidgeting with his hands, not his usual calm and friendly self, but that might just be this whole situation getting to him.”

Interesting. You made sure to note down what he told you and then closed your notebook.

“Alright, well that would be all from me today. Thank you again for meeting up with me today, Mr. Afton. Is there anything else you’d like to talk about?” He leaned forward in his chair closer to you. “I saw you looking for the animatronics the last time you visited my restaurant. Tell me, do those fascinate you?” he said with a small smirk. Your face went red. “Oh you did? I didn’t mean to stare, but yeah, I have to say those are very interesting. It’s a shame I didn’t get to get a look at them.” “You know, if you want, I will gladly take you to see them sometime. I can show you around too. Show you how they work, I can even let you see the blueprints, if you’d like.”

His offer shocked you. You didn’t expect him to be so eager to show you his work. Especially when you were literally a cop, a possible threat to him. The fact that he would voluntarily like to spend time with you showing you his restaurant gave you the slight feeling he really had nothing to hide, but you couldn’t jump to conclusions yet. And as much as you hated to admit, you really wanted to accept. You wanted to see the animatronics and spending time with him would be the cherry on top. You knew it would be so unprofessional. You knew it wasn’t right, but there was no way you could say no.

“Really?” you exclaimed a little louder than you meant to. “You know, I’d love to, but I don’t think it’s right you know. And besides, I wouldn’t want to be a bother to you.” You answered with an apologetic smile, but you prayed he would insist on his offer. “It wouldn’t be a bother at all, love. I was the one with the idea, wasn’t I? And as for the professionality of it,” he lowered his voice, “if you can keep a secret so can I.”

The nickname gave you butterflies. His attractiveness was a little too much for you. You hated it, but you were melting on the inside. You did your best to not make a huge deal out of it. He was a brit after all, and it most likely didn’t mean anything. You pushed your thoughts to the back of your head and leaned forward to get closer to him.

“My lips are sealed, sir.” You replied with your voice lowered, mimicking his, and with a smug little smile. He grinned. “It’s a deal then, agent. Tomorrow, after work, at 9:00?” You kept your smile. “Sounds perfect.”

[ravenrose18]

My Personal Savior

Chapter 12- Prisoner

The silence of the room was broken as the sound of boots neared the cell. The pace was slow and casual, at times completely stopping before some rustling could be heard. This continued, accompanied by occasional sighs. It didn't seem like someone was in there for her. More like, someone was searching for something. Eventually, the person responsible showed themselves. It was none other than Rick's son, Carl. He hadn't noticed her yet, his bad eye facing her for the time being. His face scrunched up in annoyance before he walked over to a box sitting on the floor, and began to look through it. Suddenly, he stopped in place, his smile brightening as he finally found the thing he was looking for. He pulled a comic out that he had hidden inside so that he could read it later.

Raven looked over at the teenager coming into the room she wondered what he was looking for or why he was down there she didn't know if she should even interact with Rick's son knowing him he probably hurt her for speaking to his son She wondered what happened to his eye she saw people with wounds that are completely shocking for her to see questioning on how they lived through it. But he must have grown up in this world, maybe losing a parent or a sibling or just friends of his group in general she wasn't sure but maybe she could get a bit of background on his and or his group but she doesn't think he will be trusting her anytime soon.

As Carl turned to leave, still clutching the comic in his hand, he finally spotted her. He stopped dead in his tracks, staring at her as if he had just seen a ghost. He could have sworn that she had left with the others, but for some reason, she was down here. In a cell, nonetheless. Soon after being startled, he gained his composure, standing up straight once more. He continued staring at her as if she were something peculiar, his eyes momentarily trailing down to the fresh cuts before he looked back up at her face. "You're that girl from Negan's group. The one that tried to help.." He spoke finally.

Raven looks up at him and stands there and crosses her arms "Yeah name Raven, you must be Carl Rick's son. I did try to help as much as possible, but Negan told me everything that happened between your group and his. Look kid, I'm tired but now I'm here. I don't think I should tell you much just in case Daddy dearest gets mad and does something he will regret." She says as she glances over at the window wondering what she could tell this kid he's like 16 years old and she doesn't know what Rick allows him to know but if he asks questions she is not going to lie or keep something from him he deserves to know the truth on what's going on." She says

Carl continued looking at her, before taking a glance over to the direction of where he had come from. He knew he wasn't supposed to be down here. That's why he hid his stuff in here because that's where it would be last expected. If his dad ever found out that he had ventured down here and spoke with a prisoner, then he'd probably be berated for doing so. However, the temptation to know more was too much. Besides, this would be his only chance to speak to someone from the enemy side. "But why? Why try to help us and then take away our guns?"

Raven sighs and looks at him "Look kid if what you guys did to Negan men didn't happen you wouldn't be dealing with having your guns taken away I mean come on kid there have to be some decisions that your father has made and you didn't agree with them. I mean killing 50 men in their sleep just to collect the guns. Those men had girlfriends, wives, friends, and kids back home. I don't agree with what Negan's decisions are but he's trying to be a good leader and protect his people too. I shouldn't be here, but your dad had to know where to get more guns, and he had Rosita torture me. But I shouldn't tell you what your father has done." She says softly

Upon his father being insulted, Carl's curious expression turned into a scowl. Sure, he didn't agree with his father's decisions most of the time, her imprisonment being one of them, but he didn't want someone to insult his dad. He loved his dad. Rick had kept them alive and safe for so long. Not to mention, aside from Judith, he was the only family that Carl had left. After a moment, he spoke up. "And how many people has Negan killed? He's killed husbands, fathers, and friends. One of those men he killed in that lineup was going to be a father. His sick, pregnant wife had to watch him die right in front of her.."

Raven hears what he's saying and looks down and sighs "I get it kid some of me hates Negan for that especially having Daryl as a prisoner and torturing him just to get him to join his group but I know Daryl wouldn't break. I'm not agreeing with anything that happened, but I've killed too, and I'm sure I have as well. I mean shit I killed my parents and ex-boyfriend once all this started... and no, they weren't walkers. I made them turn into walkers and finish the job. This world can be cruel kid we have to do whatever it takes to survive and those choices aren't the best I mean I'm sure you would do anything to protect your loved one." She says as she leans against the wall, looking out the window up at the sky.

Carl nodded as he listened to her. He was still angry about her insulting his dad, but he was slowly starting to calm down. Carl was relieved by the fact that she wasn't completely brainwashed like most of Negan's followers. At least she could still see his flaws and expressed anger about them. When she spoke of her losses, he gave a nod before releasing a sigh. "I killed my mom three years ago. She was dying from childbirth. I couldn't stand the thought of her becoming a walker, so I put her out of her misery." He admitted, looking at the ground as he spoke. He still missed her so much. Her last words crossed his mind at least once every day. They were a reminder that he had to keep going. He had to keep moving forward to care for Judith and to help his dad.

Meanwhile, Negan was trudging through the forest, following close behind Dwight as he led the way. Dwight was by no means the best tracker in the world, but he was his only shot. Aside from Daryl, of course, but that was only a last resort. Dwight stopped abruptly along the path to inspect their surroundings, Negan having to quickly stop in his tracks as well as to not run into him. Negan was tempted to scold him, but he instead stayed silent. After all, you don't hook a gift horse in the mouth. A few moments later, Dwight was back on the move, and Negan once more followed behind, except he gave a little more distance this time.

Raven looks at the kid and frowns "I'm sorry Kid that you had to do that and I'm sorry for insulting your father I don't know him and he doesn't me but I don't accept how things started between Negan and your group I understand that communities need other communities to trade and help with protection but I did have guilt for doing what did when I here for the first when Negan came to collect supplies I know there kids here and their kids at the Sanctuary. I just hate how things started. I wish we could all just live in peace and work together to survive. We are no better than the walkers if we just kill each other and make the human race extinct. But Negan, that stubborn man I care for, wouldn't listen to me and I'm sure Rick wouldn't either.... you should get going kid I don't want you to get in trouble because of me." He says as she sits on the ground pulling out the photo of her and Negan she hopes keeping the photo will help her not go insane in this cell.

Carl lifted his head to look at her as she spoke, a small smile appearing on his lips as he continued to listen to her. He knew she was a good person underneath her act. Besides, if she was like Negan and his group, then she wouldn't have tried to help them with medicine. Sure, he was still a little sour about the guns, but he figured she had only done so to make it back up to Negan after speaking out to him. "It's fine. I've been trying to live up to her last words as much as I can. She made me promise her that I would keep doing the right thing. She told me that if it felt wrong, don't do it. If it feels easy, don't do it. It's so hard to live by. But I've been trying." He admitted.

Sometimes his anger got the best of him, but he was a teenager. Not to mention, one that grew up in an environment a kid shouldn't have to experience. Lashing out was bound to happen, but he was trying to be better. When she continued to apologize, he gave a nod, "It's okay, I get it. He does screw up sometimes, but he tries to help the group. I don't see how killing the outpost or this is helping though." Carl spoke, glancing over the cell. He was tempted to let her out, but he knew that it was probably a bad idea. If she ran home and Negan saw her injuries, then they'd all be as good as dead. Upon what she said about the communities living together in harmony, his eyes lightened up. He had been wanting the same thing for a long time, and it felt like the adults just brushed his idea aside because they felt it was impossible. So, to hear an adult propose the idea, brought him excitement. "I know. I wish we could have some kind of peace treaty and trade with each other. I just want this war to be over. I want us to work together, and build the world back better and stronger. Dad acts like he's on board, but I don't think he listens to me." He spoke, releasing a sigh. He felt a little hopeless about a goal like that, but he still wanted it to happen. More than anything else that he could want. When she said he should go, his face took on an expression of hesitancy. He didn't want to. He liked her. She was kind and had similar ideas to his own, but he knew it was probably for the best. He nodded, sighing. "Yeah, you're right.." He admitted. He had begun to walk away but he stopped in his tracks, looking back at her. "Wait, have you eaten yet?" He asked. He didn't want her to starve. Just because she was a prisoner didn't mean they had to treat her like she was less than human.

Raven looks down at her photo glances up at him and shakes her head "No I technically just woke up so I haven't eaten but I'll be fine kid if this is their way to torture me then it's fine they only want to hold me to know where a military base was that I saw years ago when this started and also... to get to Negan as well..." she says, frowning, looking down at the photo. "I miss him so much." She says softly. She felt like she could be honest with this kid and talk to him like he was an adult, not just some teenager. She can keep things from the kid who deserves to know what all is happening and not be left in the dark.

Carl turned around completely to face her once again as she spoke. He gave a small nod, sighing a little bit. "I'll get you some food. I don't care if I get in trouble, I don't want you to be hungry." He spoke. Even if she told him not to, he was going to do it anyway. Even if it was just a granola bar or something. In reality, Rick or someone else would bring her food later, but Carl still wanted to make sure that she had something to eat, just in case. He listened as she spoke of Negan, his face taking on a look of curiosity. If imprisoning and torturing her would hurt Negan, then she must have been someone close to him. He wasn't sure of what though. "Are you and Negan.. dating or something?" He wasn't trying to be nosy or use information against her, he just wanted to know.

Raven looks at him and smiles and blushes hearing his question and then frowns and shakes her head "No, unfortunately, he has a Harem of wives back at the Sanctuary but I mean I am in love with him I haven't told him my feelings I've fell in love with him when he saved me from my abusive ex-boyfriend who found me when I moved in with him and his wife my ex almost killed me and Negan saved me from him this was way before the apocalypse started. But I don't think he feels the same way as me. But I know it's probably disappointing to hear that I can be in love with him after what I know is what he's done, but I can't stop how I feel. I care a lot about him, and he cares about me." She says, looking down at the photo of her and Negan.

Carl's brows rose as he heard about Negan's wives. Wives are plural. He would have never thought that someone would be participating in polygamy in the apocalypse, but clearly, he was wrong. If anyone, he would have expected it from The Governor, but nope, it was Negan. Eventually, his thoughts were pushed aside as she continued speaking. He was a little taken aback that she was in love with Negan. After all of the people he's killed and the horror he put people through, she had feelings for him. However, after hearing about their history with one another from before the apocalypse, he finally understood why. He knew it must be hard on her to see someone she loved do the things he did, but he figured that she held onto her feelings because she thought the old Negan was still in there. After a moment, Carl walked over to the cell, taking a seat in a wooden chair that was nearby. "I'm sure he does. Sometimes guys just have a hard time showing how they feel. Especially if they feel like they have to hold up an image. I was in the crowd when you two were talking to Daryl. I saw the way you two looked at each other. We all did. If that wasn't love, then I don't know what it is." It was a little strange for a teenager to know so much. He spoke with a wisdom beyond his years because he was forced to grow up fast.

Raven looks up at him and smiles as she stands up and walks over to the cell bars sits against the wall next to the chair and looks up at him "You're a very smart and very good kid I know it may be hard to hear me being in love with a man like that when he's around me he acts like he was before the apocalypse. And that's all I see is him before the apocalypse but I doubt he loves me Carl like I said he has wives and he still loves and misses his wife whom he lost once this started I mean.... he named that bat of his after her. I was a bit taken aback when he told me about it, but that's his weird way of keeping her memories alive. I'm just glad I still have this photo of us together before the apocalypse. And the tattoos I have, me and Daryl, knew each other since we were kids. It was hard seeing him like that after all these years, and Negan had him as a prisoner. I'm just glad Negan let me talk to him... the tattoos I got on my wrist and the back of my neck, and the crossbow were the only thing I had to keep Daryl's memory alive. This photo and this raven rose tattoo I got with Negan. But it was hard for me to be alone for so long." She says softly, looking down frowning.

Carl smiled a little brighter at what she said. It wasn't that often that he got compliments, so he'd cherish what he could get. Especially when the comments made him feel like he was living up to his mom's expectations. "Thank you, and you're a very kind and caring woman." He responded, before sitting in silence as he listened to her speak. "If he's acting differently around you and making himself vulnerable, then he loves you, even if he hasn't accepted it yet. And the wives. That sounds like it's just a power thing like kings and dictators used to do. Besides, has he ever actually said that he loves them? .. Okay, I'm stumped about the bat thing.." He admitted, giving a small sigh of defeat. After a few moments of silence, his eyes lit up as an idea seemed to cross his mind. "Wait! Maybe that's the reason. If losing his wife was so hard on him, then maybe he's scared of getting into an actual relationship because he doesn't want to lose someone else. Maybe that's the reason he named the bat after her. A reminder of what he lost and could lose again, kinda.." He spoke. After she mentioned her tattoos, his eye took a glance at her arm out of curiosity, wanting to see the tattoo and the picture she spoke of. When she spoke of Daryl, his gaze went back onto her face. "And another thing, I thought he never let people talk to prisoners. So, if he bent the rules just for you, then that's just another example of why I'm right." He joked at the last bit, hoping he'd be able to cheer her up, even if it was just a little bit.

Raven smiles and giggles and shows him her tattoos ''Well I wouldn't believe he loves me until he admits it so I'm still going to believe he only. loves me as a friend but he doesn't show him being vulnerable because he doesn't want to show he's weak or show his weakness to himself or his group I don't blame him for how he is this world could kill you if you show any weakness whatsoever. And I know he doesn't want to lose me. I don't want to lose him but the nightmares I have make me think he could die, maybe even by your father's hand. But I shouldn't be too worried. Negan always says he's not dying until he's good and ready. I also say the same thing. Because we are all survivors we fight for our lives and protect our loved ones that we have left." She says softly

Carl leaned a little closer when she showed him her tattoos, owning a look of awe. It had been a while since he had seen someone with so many tattoos. Especially ones that were so detailed and pretty. He muttered out a "Wow," before, he looked at her face again as she spoke. "Whatever you say, but I think he loves you back. He might be afraid or something, but I think he does." He spoke with a smile. As she spoke of Negan's death, Carl frowned a little bit. At first, he wanted Negan to die, because he saw him as a monster, but if what she said was true, and there was good left in him, then maybe he didn't want him to die. He wanted them to work with one another, maybe combine their communities and rebuild. However, he doubted his dad would listen to him. "I hope not. I just wish we could go back. I wish we would have left those guys in the outpost alone. Now both sides are doing things they don't want to, instead of just not doing it. And after this goes down, and if Negan stays in control, it's only going to be a circle of mistrust and violence. The only way we're going to get out of this is by working together. But I know nobody is going to listen to me. Not until it's too late.." He spoke, looking down at the floor. His gaze didn't stay there for long as something caught his attention. He turned his gaze to the window of her cell, watching as someone's shadow went by. Carl tensed and jumped up from the chair. He didn't want to be caught in here. Especially by his dad, who he was almost certain was who the shadow belonged to. He took one last look at Raven as he whispered, "I'll be back soon." With that, he turned the corner, quickly and quietly fleeing upstairs to not get caught by whoever was approaching. Carl seemed to escape just in the nick of time, as Rick, Michonne, and Rosita walked in.

They made their way straight up to her cell, their gaze landing on her. "We're about to go to the base. Anything you want to tell us before we do?" Rick asked, tilting his head a little to the side as he stared at her, waiting to see if she had an answer.

Raven sees the shadow and sees Carl sneak off up the stairs and then looks down as she stands up and they come into the room where she is she turns towards them and sighs "Like I said there might be anything there knowing everyone is there dog mind ran to the nearest military base to collect supplies and weapons and the military tried to fight off the walkers but got overrun I saw dead body left and right so just be careful and watch your backs out there." She says as she walks to her cot puts her photo in her pocket and looks up at them hoping Negan will come to save her soon hopefully she can get someone's attention or something but she doubts that she will be allowed to do anything she wasn't trustworthy to any one of them so she just says what she needed to just so she can be alone.

Rick stared at her for a couple of minutes longer before giving a nod, accepting the information she gave. He still didn't trust her, but he didn't have a choice. "Alright. Rosita, stay here. I want your eyes on her while we're gone." He instructed, looking over to her. Rosita met eyes with Rick, before looking over to Raven once again. Rosita's gaze momentarily trailed over to Raven's arm where the tattoo was, a look of anger beginning to blaze in her eyes. She wanted to ruin that tattoo so badly. She wanted to do something that would make Raven regret what she said about Abraham. Rick seemed to notice where Rosita's eyes went, sighing. He turned his full attention on Rosita now, his hand resting upon the red handle of his machete that had taken the place of his pistol. "No more torturing her until I say so.. Do you understand me?" He grumbled. Rosita stood in silence for a little while before releasing a sigh. "Fine." She agreed, taking a glance over to Rick before looking at Raven again. Even though she had agreed to what he said, it was hard to say if she'd keep her word, because she still had that look in her eye. Rick seemed to believe her though, as he gave a nod and began to walk away. A couple of seconds later, Michonne followed behind him, leaving Rosita alone with Raven. She walked away from the cell for a second to fetch the knife she had left behind that night before she took a seat on the wooden chair that Carl sat on earlier. She reclined back a little, crossing one leg over the other as the wooden chair beneath her creaked with age. Rosita clutched her knife in her hands, playing around with it as she stared upon Raven, a silent threat of sorts.

Next Chapter

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[brooklynislandgirl]

Advent Day XIII ~ When Winter Comes Calling @goodlawman

When Raylan walks into the house, he is all but assaulted by the season. She has instrumental carols playing softly, though these hold more resemblance to her Irish roots than her Oceanic ones; after a moment it becomes apparent that they are genuine mountain music. The kitchen table is covered in trays of baked goods and one particularly lovely gingerbread house. The east corner of the roof has been picked at but otherwise it's rather lovely. There are some jars of shine, too. Food is in the oven, and there's gifts in a dozen stages of being wrapped or ready to be given all around the living room. All of them are marked from Santa, all of them destined for Harlan's less fortunate children. For the less fortunate adults, she's rented out three different motels from Solstice to Imbolc ~ December through February~ for those who have no homes, and she's done it under the names Frances and Helen McKinley. She wants to honour his family, the important women in his life, but she wants no credit to go to Arlo in any way. He's barely kicked the snow off his boots and his hat before she dashes toward him and leaps. Her legs wrap around his hips, her arms wind around his neck and her kisses are sweet and slow and welcoming. "You made it home." Beth wasn't expecting Raylan to be here til after the new year; such is the way of life when you're involved with a Marshal, but she knew what she'd been getting into and still had chosen him for her own. Maybe he's a gift from Art, maybe he's finally taking a little time for himself the way everyone's told him he should. Whatever the truth of it, he growls it low in his throat at her ear seconds before her back collides carefully with the door. There is a delicate dance to it all as they eventually spin away and get as far as the couch. Tender touches, soft sighs, all building until its claws and teeth and tangled limbs. Later, Beth sits in front of the fire place, wrapped in a throw blanket and wearing just his plaid over-shirt as he pulls on his Henley. "M' very proud of us…didn't even interrupt ches'nuts roastin'."

They'd collected those last time he'd spent the weekend here. "I do protect an' serve," he drawls with that sardonic smile of his and then draws her into his arms. They stay that way until the sky darkens. They talk about his latest case, and she catches him up with the things he's missed in town. Eventually she notes, "Is still snowin'. Guess we gonna have a white Christmas aftah-all." They both know what a rarity that is, and it gives them the excuse of tucking in close after she drops off the gifts tomorrow, with the help of a few families she's made friends with on the civic council. "Witch magick, or we just lucky, you think?" She smiles and shrugs her shoulders a little knowingly. "I s'pose I can live with that," he says and shakes his head. Then he gets to his feet, settles his jeans in place, an odd little gleam in his gaze. Tells her to wear something warmer than her skin, that he has a surprise for her. When she comes back down the stairs fully dressed but still in his shirt, Raylan has a large silver bowl in his hands. The shape of it and the patina on it suggests that it isn't a commercial item but something precious handed down the generations until it became his. One that will go on to become Willa's and so on. There's something sweetly charming about it though she can't say why. They make it out the door and now there's a half foot of snow untouched glistening in the porch light. He helps her pick her careful way down into the yard, and as he does he talks about his mysterious kin; a mamaw, a granny, his auntie Helen. He tells her that they ever reminded him that the first snow was poison and should never be taken. They stand buffeted by the frigid gusts while they wait til the bowl fills, though now and again he packs it down. She confesses she has no idea what he's talking about; snow is rare except for some of the tallest mountain peaks ~Mauna Loa, Mauna Kea, Haleakala~ and not exactly reasonable to get to. In New York the snow comes more often but also no matter how much of it falls, it will never be clean. They end up back inside while she sits at the counter, a hot water bottle wrapped in flannel to warm her hands and middle, Raylan offering a bit of mountain magic of his own. Into the bowl of pure snow he adds an entire can of sweetened condensed milk ~tells her she could do it with heavy cream and sugar in a pinch~ and a touch of vanilla. So very carefully he folds the mixture together until it forms a soft blended texture more like butter than a milk shake. She doesn't know how quite to describe it because it's neither shave ice nor anything else she knows. "Snow cream. A staple of old Appalachia," he tells her, holding a spoonful of her lips. "Honestly, I haven't thought about this in years."

[showfallsquigandiris]

/Video input received/

/Source: HS: IR-15/

/Starting transcript/

…

[The camera opens to an open area of the Mall, focused on a door a bit away. Static humming comes from Iris.]

[After a few seconds, a door opens. And out walks a small child with short brown hair, an eyepatch and one visible green eye, they also appear to be wearing a blue sweater. They have two broken ends of a shiny broomstick helping them walk.]

?: Hello?

[Voice identified: Sparrow.]

Iris: Over here!

[In the corner of frame, one of Iris’ hands can be seen waving.]

Sp: Hello. You must be. Iris?

Iris: That's me! You remember the details of this?

Sp: Which. Details in particular?

[Iris’ hands general gesture in the air as she talks.]

Iris: The conditions, and what I'll be doing. Just want to make sure you fully get what's going on.

Sp: Yes. I… Remember. Do you?

Iris: Of course, I promise to do no more and no less than what I said I'd do.

[The camera flicks back towards the door.]

Iris: And uh… should I bring you back here once done or like…?

Sp: I will ask. Once you are done. I uh. Do not know where. Rose even is currently.

[A frustrated beep comes from Iris.]

Iris: That's… less than ideal, but we'll deal with that when it comes. Anyways, it's a bit of a walk… would you uh, like me to carry you there or…?

Sp: No. I will be. Fine. I walked all the way up here. Last night so.

[A slight sigh comes from Iris before she starts to turn, hand seen motioning for Sparrow to follow.]

Iris: Then let's not waste anymore time, c'mon.

Sp: Fine.

[Sparrow starts moving towards Iris, eventually leaving the frame when they get close enough.]

[The camera flicks briefly down to the side at Sparrow who is only a head of short brown hair at this angle.]

Iris: Do you like… have anything you'd like to know beforehand or would you rather we just walk in silence?

Sp: Is… Cassidy ok? I am sorry. I refuse to use… Any name chosen by Mai.

[The camera flicks back forwards.]

Iris: Fair enough, I just use whatever name people ask me to.

Sp: But. Is she ok? Is she. Safe? She's my friend. I want to know.

Iris: ‘Course she is, I think she's still a bit… off from whatever that whole uh, thing that happened the other day. But otherwise she's good. I do wish I could let her and Stevie wander around a bit more…

[A longer sigh from Iris.]

Iris: But with the whole concussion thing, then uh, Rrrruby? Right, her name was Ruby?

Sp: Yes. That was her name.

Iris: Yeah, with her wandering around and uh, not seeming to have limits to who she attacks… don't really want Bee just… wandering around.

[A short static-y cough.]

Iris: Anyways yeah, she's safe. Something would have to go very wrong for her to come under harm under my watchful eye!

[Quiet metallic taps are heard as one of Iris’ fingers taps right beneath the camera.]

Sp: I see. Hm. I have a question.

Iris: Shoot.

Sp: If I am. What Showfall considers a rebel. What's stopping you. From killing or remasking me?

[The camera jerks as Iris stumbles for a second, before continuing walking.]

Iris: Technically… nothing, and if Boss Lady told me to, I would but… she agreed that the conditions we agreed on were good enough. Also I think Ophelia might be a bit mad at me. And Archivist. Just generally a lot of people, and I don't really feel like dealing with that right now.

Sp: I see. Well. I must thank you. not only for removing the wires in my limbs. But also. taking care of Cassidy.

Iris: It's no problem!

[Iris slows and turns to a door that has a paper with “OPEN THIS AND I KILL YOU - Iris （＾ω＾） “ written on it taped to the door.]

Iris: Here we are! And uh, if you have anyone you want to like… message first or something. Or just like, generally need to collect yourself, I'll give you some time out here.

[Iris opens the door, the room is clearly not usually a surgical room, but all things considered it looks cleaner than most rooms in the Mall. In the center is a table with a white sheet over it, and to its side is a larger table with all sorts of medical supplies laid out very precisely.]

[The camera turns and moves back to look down at Sparrow.]

Iris: Unless you'd rather just get right to it.

Sp: I would like. to not be rotting anymore.

[The camera shifts to the side and both of the arms on one side Iris can be seen motioning into the room.]

Iris: Then let's get started!

…

/Video input ended/

/Uploading transcript…/

/Upload successful!/

[wtfcookiejar]

I Promise Always (11)

Robin was worried sick. Y/N had been missing for 2 days now. She stared at the phone in the video store while stocking the shelves. She kept dropping everything she tried putting away so she eventually went behind the counter. Dustin was on the floor doing some kind of homework that was beyond her comprehension.

Steve started to stock what Robin dropped and sighed,"What do you think happening?"

"Isn't it weird that Eddie also disappears every time y/n does something?" Dustin called from the floor.

Robin looked back at Dustin's hair full of curls and her mouth made a singular O shape.

"She's not like that Dustin. She hardly looks at Eddie anyway."

"Bullshit," Robin retorts," She looks at him a lot."

"Eddie's always looking at her. " Dustin leans his head back and looks at Robin trying to fill in the blanks.

"Has anyone called?" Steve sounded reasonable though he was worried too.

"I forgot to get her number..." Robin murmurs sheepishly.

Steve flicks her forehead gently," You got my number and Dustin's. Even...." His fingers are quick as he picks up the desk phone and dials some numbers gently.

Robin and Dustin look at him confused.

"Hello Mr. Munson, Is Eddie avail- No. No. there's nothing wrong I was just wondering if he's Okay? Right. Okay, I'll let him know when I see him."

Robin and Dustin both straighten up trying to hear the other side of the phone.

"He's not at home," Steve says gently hanging the phone up and looking at his friends.

"That settles that." Dustin closes his book and gets up from the floor. He randomly starts shoving things in his bag.

"What are you doing?" Steve asks to cross his arms instinctively.

"Im going to go get Mike and Lucas and we're going to search for Eddie. We have a D&D session c coming up and I'm getting sick of our Dungeon Master Going missing." Dustin set his face in a hard line like he was angry.

"Can't you wait?" Robin asks quietly thinking perhaps that she should have Steve drive her to Y/N place.

"Nope. But I will Check Y/N place." Dustin reasoned and Steve put both hands on his shoulders.

"Do you know how to check on a girl?" Steve sounds so sincere.

"Dude I've kept a Girlfriend longer than you." Dustin hisses and pushes out the door.

"He does have-" Robin is smiling

"Do not Finish that sentence, Buckley." Steve interrupts and they both watch Dustin wheel away.

***

Eddie was sitting asleep against her bedroom wall. He had woken up late in the night to find her sleeping on his chest and he couldn't help but think of the last letter he had stowed away. He laid they're trying to imagine the hurt of her rejection when she woke up, but all he could think about was kissing her and holding her. That's when he got a boner, crawled out of bed, and sat on the wall looking at her as she slept. She'd murmured his name occasionally or Japanese he didn't understand.

So when sunlight streamed into the window and her dad came in to check on her and found him on the floor looking at his letter he smiled.

"She's not up?" he asked taking a seat beside him.

"No... That normal?" he asked tucking the letter into his jacket again. Not sure why he couldn't just read it.

"Sometimes it takes two days for her body to catch up and fully relax. " Her father reasoned offering Eddie a glass of bourbon.

This seemed like an honor taking a bourbon with her dad felt like he was the patient boyfriend. Eddie was confused but he still took it and sipped carefully watching her.

"You sell weed?" Her father asked nonchalantly like he knew.

"Don't tell Wayne please." He sputtered," I promise I won't let her near any of that." Eddie was suddenly feeling less worthy of the glass of bourbon in his hands

"Long as you don't tell her I smoke it, and you never let her touch it." There was a collected smile on his face,"you're the perfect guy for her."

"How do you know that?" Eddie's eyes grew wide and he took another slow swig of bourbon.

"I assume you read the letters? "

"Guilty as charged." Eddie swallowed hard.

"Then you know the last person she trusted died taking her to the hospital. He was in full drag, some assholes followed him from the hospital and beat him to death." Her father breathed setting his glass on top of his knee carefully.

"So she wouldn't tell anybody after that. She's scared. I get it but I don't get what that has to do with me being her perfect match." Eddie whispered looking at the bourbon as it swirled in his hands.

"Because you know what it's like not to trust people. You know what cruelty happens and you'd knock heads around if you had to keep her safe." Her dad chuckled

Eddie stared for a second at her father. He was the opposite of Wayne he was lean and muscular and he had resources Eddie didn't

"I don't have money like you do." Eddie reasoned softly," she deserves flowers and jewelry...."

" She doesn't want that. She wants someone to count on. Someone who isn't afraid of doing what's right when things go wrong. " Her father smiled as he finished his bourbon. "I believe you can do that."

The doorbell rang and her father got up ruffling Eddie's hair as he went.

A few quiet minutes passed as Eddie looked at the glass of bourbon and the ice cube. Then he heard a side sound and downed the rest of it in one gulp.

Dustin and Will walked into her doorway and Eddie stood quickly shuffling them out the door before they could really look.

"You idiots. What are you doing here? "Eddie pushed the door of her room closed and stood in the hall with the two boys half terrified they had seen her hooked up to the big printer.

" Im gunna radio Lucas and Mike. " Will smiled and went toward the stairs.

Eddie grabbed the boy and his walkie-talkie and pulled them in front of him.

"Neither of you is doing anything." Eddie's voice was harsh, and both the younger boys looked at him confused.

"Are you afraid we're gonna tell someone you got la-" Eddie popped the side of Dustin's head lightly.

"I am not getting laid you, weirdo." Eddie hissed.

"What are you doing here then?" Will asked the most potent question.

Eddie wanted to just scream but he also didn't want to wake or disturb the household so he hung his head and then looked up the two boys who seemed eager for his answer.

" I am just checking on her. "

Dustin scoffed," you are wearing the same clothes you wore 2 days ago. I'm not stupid."

Eddie wanted to throttle the kid but instead, he grimaced and shook his head." No, you're not. She ended up at my house and got a cold so I brought her home and figured I should explain how she ended up at home. "

" uh-Huh. " Dustin crossed his arms looking at him like he could just smell the lie

"Steve and Robin are looking for you guys. " Will stated calmly holding out the walkie-talkie

Eddie sighed and took it," You guys are brats."

"Eddie here.-over."

Steves's voice crackled to life on the tiny device.," Your uncle said You need to clean up the dishes in the sink. Where the hell are you and have you seen y/n?"

Eddie looked at the two boys and rolled his eyes," I'm coming to the video store -over"

"BRING DUSTIN AND WILL." Steve's voice was loud enough that he had to cover the incoming receiver.

Eddie looked at the two boys in front of him and asked," What do I need to do to keep you guys quiet?"

Will smiled and Dustin hooked his arm around Will," FINISH THE CAMPAIN." They said in tandom and Eddie nodded defeated.

"Alright. You guys put your stuff in the van I'll be down there in two minutes."

***

Y/n was laying in silence her eyes slits she could hear the printer but her head hurt. So did her muscles. When she heard the door open she didn't think a thing of it instead she closed her eyes and felt a gentle kiss on her forehead and someone making sure that the covers had her covered up just enough not to make her hot. She could smell the cigarettes but she couldn't place what else was hidden behind the smell. But a thought of Eddie crossed her mind and she smiled. Content to go back to sleep.

@whatareyouhidingpeter- Sorry it took so long I hope you keep reading and believing in me.

[dicmondskies]

☆ & * .   ♡   I N T R O D U C T I O N  …

[          ◟  KAY.◝           ]     ⸻     have  you  ever  heard  ghost! by  kid cudi ,  well  it  is  ONYX MARTINEZ to  a  tee  .  the twenty  seven year  old art teacher  at notting  hill  middle school and tattoo shop artist/owner of scorpio rising tattoo parlor  has  been  spotted  wandering  down  portobello  road  markets  just  last  sunday  ,  do  you  know  them  ?  would  you  say  he  are  more  penetrating  or  more  passionate  ?  anyway  ,  they  remind  me  of  veins of tattoo ink reaching every inch of skin on bare arms  ;  leather gucci jackets like it’s still the eighties  ;  a  vacant gas station lit by neon lights in the night  ;  piercing dark eyes that read between the lines and see inside of souls with ease ;  a  bong collection next to vintage records and guitars  ,  maybe  you'll  catch  them  around  yeah  ?     ⸻     [          ◟  ARON PIPER. ◝           ]      

trigger warning: child abuse, broken family, neglect

onyx martinez was no stranger to trauma from a young age. his mother had her run-ins with the law since she was a teenager, coming from a broken home herself, she was a wild card and a spit fire. leaving destruction behind wherever her path lead her, it was no surprise that she chose the worst of the worst to reproduce with. repeating her own mothers cycle of trauma, she married a man that was much like her father. onyx and his two younger siblings lived in a home that was hell to them, a place they wanted to escape from. onyx was always a sweet boy from the time he started showing his personality. he was sensitive, caring, and always protected his younger siblings from any harm or threat he perceived. his fathers cold withdrawn behavior crushed his little sweet spirit and he quickly learned there were no place or space for emotions in his home. he was ridiculed and criticized for almost everything and a slow burn started within him, he grew angrier and more avoidant as he aged.

to cope with the harsh reality of his home life, onyx would lock himself in his room and sketch, drawings filled his sketchbooks and paintings covered his walls. he spent every bit of free time he could in his bedroom, ignoring the rest of the world and staying out of everyone’s way. it was this skill that would soon help him escape the darkness of his parents and finally make something for himself in this life. onyx was mostly a loner, the mysterious sad boy in the back of the class that everyone wanted to pry open and know his story, why, why was he like this? they wondered. he was a puzzle to his peers, but it intrigued them, it made him popular even though he wanted nothing other than to blend in.

soon, when onyx was around eighteen, he started to do tattoos in a shop after charming the owner into teaching him as an apprentice type of deal. he started taking clients in the shop and saving up the money to move out and take his siblings with him. because of his incredible skill and talent, onyx quickly made a name for himself in town with his tattoo portfolio. his style is unique and edgy, people now come looking specifically to get tattooed by him. this popularity made it possible for him to earn a good enough living that he was able to finally afford to move out on his own. he rented a small two bedroom apartment, his siblings had to share a room but they were more than happy with that option over staying in the hell that was still playing out at home between their parents. as far as they were concerned, their mom and dad were as good as dead to them all. they were always caught up in themselves and never concerned with the wellbeing of their children. onyx was more of a parent to his siblings from the start, so moving together just seemed natural.

eventually, onyx continued to work hard at his craft, and even started teaching art classes at nottinghill middle school to occupy his free time so he doesn’t have time to think himself into depression. the kids keep his moods lighter and he loves teaching the youth through his passion of art. he’s much better with kids than he is with people his own age, and he talks way more when he’s teaching than when he’s out and about. onyx successfully opened up his own tattoo parlor, scorpio rising tattoo parlor two years ago and the profit from owning his own shop soon started rolling in and he was able to upgrade the apartment they lived in. they now live in a spacious three bedroom three bathroom apartment where they focus on healing their childhood trauma and living life to the fullest.

[theredhoodedcryptid]

D&D Shenanigans

Was drawing my first D&D character and felt like sharing some funny stories from my first campaign.

The first time I played D&D was the beginning of 2023, and let me tell you that was the most fun I ever had that year.

I joined a Library D&D group, which had separated into two smaller groups because it was rather large and there were a few new players like myself. I was apart of a smaller group, usually there were about 4 of us who came on a regular basis. Most of my group already knew each other from outside of the Library, but they welcomed me into their group with open arms, something our DM probably regrets lol.

I played as a Female Rogue Wood Elf named Revan, because I was super into Knights of the Old Republic at the time. Another player, who I became friends with, named their Female Human Rogue Raven. Now, we kinda liked to role play a bit, so Raven and Revan became fast friends and partners in crime. Both of our characters had children, so they bonded over being moms, and both were thieves.

The other player was Female Mage (I forget what specifically) High Elf named Elcerine (Sorry if I butchered the spelling friend). El was pretty much the only character with a brain cell, and basically was the tired mom friend who did most of the work...except for that time she triggered a boss fight in out first session and got my character killed...... I'm not bitter lol. That was a whole thing, but our DM decided to reset the timeline so we're gonna ignore that.

Now, the main thing I want to share is when our party made it to a town that had Vampire problem. The premise is that our group were Vampire Hunters, for varying reasons, and we had to find and kill the two vampires in this town.

You see, if there's one thing you should know its that Raven and Revan were known for being a chaos duo. Raven literally ate cobblestone and purposely threw it up on El, we were below nothing.

We were short on coin, and bored, so we asked if there was any type of talent show or competition going on. Our DM, quite used to if not irritated by our antics, said sure. So Raven entered in the competition while Raven did a little pick-pocketing. I don't remember exactly what we rolled, but each one was between 15-20. Raven one the competition while I stole a good chunk of money, which we then split evenly.

You might think, alright sure, normal D&D story, that's not that wild. Here's where it get fun.

So our party then decided to continue the plot and we split up to do a little stakeout on the Vampires. I was with another player, but I can't remember if it was El or Riordan, a half-elf rogue. Rio didn't come often but when he did he joined in on the antics. So the Vampire I'm hunting makes an appearance and we kill them. I get a note from Raven asking for the Vamps hand, I have no clue as to what she wanted it for, but who am I to say no to my buddy. So I cut it off and put it in my inventory and don't think about it.

We meet up again and go to get the money from the bounty's. Raven then decides to steal the body of the vamp and try to collect the money for herself and I join her. So here we are, two rather short women running across town with a dead body while our teammates are chasing us. El surpasses me in the chase, more focused on Raven, so I did the most logical thing I could think of to slow her down.

I throw the hand I had cut off the Vampire at her, rolled a 19, and bitch-slapped her hard enough to knock her out.

The chase continues for awhile throughout town, the guards are just watching, horrified. El and Rio eventually manage to stop us and knock us out, dragging all three bodies behind them and dumping the Vampire's body with town guards and taking us to the Tavern.

This was sadly the last session we played before our group broke up. Both me and the DM moved to different states, but I'm still in contact with Raven. We draw each others characters and show each other memes that relate to our chaos duo energy.

While this has been the only time I've played, I look forward to finding a new group to have adventures with, even though I'll miss my first group the most. D&D really brings people together, I wish I had been allowed to play it sooner.

[thearmyprof]

Endless Sea, but the water is warm here Ch. 4

Rating: E

Pairing: Yoongi/Original Character

Word count: 6380

Chapters: 4/?

Genre: Modern Fantasy!AU, Idol!AU, Canon Divergent,

Warnings: NSFW, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Explicit Sexual Content

Overview post: https://at.tumblr.com/thearmyprof/endless-sea-but-the-water-is-warm-here/h8ruhjcuzs62

Summary:

Sometimes Eunha imagines herself living by the sea. She imagines herself sinking in sunbaked sand and Mina happily jumping in playful waves. She thinks there might have been a time in her own childhood when she visited the ocean. A time before her first visit to the realm of death. A time when she let the pull of the sun-warmed waters pull suggestively at her ankles. When she collected seashells. A time when she could take a big inhale and smell the salt water mixed with the smell of tide, the smell of life.

But daydreams and memories of oceans and sand always morph and twist eventually. The grey waters that ebb and flow with their own mystical tide, the river as vast as an ocean, are what Eunha knows. That river has no smell. She is well versed in the tugs and pulls of the water, urging her to continue her journey onward, out into that vast expanse of monotone darkness. There are some days where it almost feels easier to give in and let the river’s tide do what it wills.

Life is hard and dark until an accidental meeting on a train and an encounter her vampire landlord's ghoul throws Eunha's world colliding with Min Yoongi's. Does this become a fleeting career opportunity or the chance at a better life?

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/45497923

Full Tags:

Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Vampires, Fae & Fairies, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Alternate Universe - Idols, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, World of Darkness, Necromancy, Blood and Violence, Death, None of the guys though, or our two original main characters, Angst with a Happy Ending, Heavy Angst, Fluff and Angst, Slow Burn, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Magic, fae bts, Soft Min Yoongi | Suga, Protective Min Yoongi | Suga, Protective Bangtan Boys | BTS, Explicit Sexual Content, Sex Work, Single parent original female character, Softness, Soulmate!AU kind of, Mafia AU

CHAPTER FOUR.

By the time Eunha is out of the bathroom from washing up from the workday, Mina is tucked into the bed, eyes already drifting shut.

“Did you have a good time with Uncle Yoongi, love?” Eunha asks, bending over the tiny girl to give her forehead a kiss. She can feel the soft buzz of Mina’s soul where her lips touch skin.

Mina nods once, so softly that if Eunha hadn’t been pressed up against her, she wouldn’t know it happened. Eunha smiles and says, “Good. Sleep well. I’ll come to bed after I have some dinner. Okay?”

This time she’s met with silence as Mina drifts further into sleep.

Yoongi is cleaning up the living room when Eunha tiptoes out of the guest bedroom. She rushes over to help him pick up the snacks and empty juice boxes.

“Thank you, again, Yoongi, for helping with Mina today,” Eunha says as she picks up the throw that’s fallen to the floor and folds it. “I hope she wasn’t too difficult. I hope this didn’t interrupt your night’s plans.”

“Eunha,” Yoongi sighs out her name and gives her a stern look. “If it were a problem, I would have told you. Mina is a great kid. She has epic tastes. She picked the best movie. She likes my music. And, more importantly, she likes my cooking. Either that or she’s the most polite child in the world for putting up with me.”

Yoongi laughs at his last statement. It’s a nice laugh, quiet and rumbling. Eunha just stares at him for a minute processing his words.

“She doesn’t lie. I don’t think she’s ever lied in her life,” is what Eunha chooses to say. She lays the folded throw carefully across the back of the couch.

Yoongi smiles widely at that, his lips pulling back in the most endearing gum-filled smile and his eyes crinkling in delight. He says, “Good. That’s good.”

Eunha pulls at her own sleeve for a moment in contemplation. Finally she asks, “Mina listened to your music?”

“Well,” Yoongi says, “I think she was lonely in the guest room by herself. She came and found me in my studio. So, I gave her my spare set of headphones and let her listen while I worked.”

Eunha is pretty sure she misheard. “She sat with you in your studio? Uninvited?”

Yoongi looks slightly alarmed at that, eyes going wide. He waves his hand dismissively and says, “No, I mean, she found me, but it’s okay. I didn’t mind. She didn’t bother me.”

“Oh,” Eunha feels the tiredness beginning to mess with her ability to fully process this conversation.

Yoongi still looks worried, brows pinched together. “That’s okay, right? I don’t want to overstep.”

Eunha tries to keep her focus, she knows she needs to reassure Yoongi. She needs him to know how very okay this is. The most okay thing that’s happened in a long time. She says, “It’s okay. I’ve- I- Mina doesn’t really have any relationships with anyone. Except for me. She���s-“

Eunha swallows. She is not going to start crying right now. That will for sure freak Yoongi out more.

“Hey, she’s a great kid. I’m glad to have met her,” Yoongi says warmly.

“Thank you,” Eunha says in a whisper.

Yoongi clicks his tongue in feigned annoyance. Instead of repeating his earlier request for her to stop thanking him, he chooses to instead say, “Come, let me heat up some dinner for you. It’s been a long day and you need to eat.”

Eunha nods slowly and follows him into the kitchen.

~

Everyone’s soul—their life essence—is unique. Much like personality or identity, a soul holds a person’s life experiences, their spark. A soul is a reflection of who a person is. That gentle buzz just under the skin sets a pattern of unique vibrations or colors or harmonies that some can feel, read, or sense.

There are people who can do true readings of someone’s soul, even at a distance, and get a sense of that person. For example, they might be able to get a read on someone’s intentions or perhaps sense their emotions. Some of the most effective speakers in history, the world’s most charismatic leaders for good or ill, have been those that can read the room and play to their audience.

Of course, some are better than others at this. The average person can’t read souls at all. The average person also doesn’t spend much time thinking about vampires, or magic, or maybe even fae. The average person spends their days in office buildings, commuting on the train, and having dinner with their families. The average person is going to bars and finding love and living life. The average person is not thinking about the darkness and magic infused in everything, but hidden from view. However, plenty of people now have fae blood in their lineage that the reading of souls is more commonplace than in years past. A lot of people don’t even realize their own capabilities, not knowing the fae origins from family history long past.

But Eunha knows. She’s spent years training and then avoiding training to shepherd souls to the grey river. Breaking away, escaping to Seoul, and trying to live her own dream has proved more challenging than she first imagined, it’s true. As much as she’s avoided her magic and all the complications that arise from it, she still has the magic. When she’s touching someone—an activity she, for the most part, works to avoid—she can feel the vibration of their life essence. She can feel the fragility of life.  She can feel other souls communicate with hers. She hates it.

~

Eunha finds herself in a field of small blue flowers that cover a rolling hill in an expanse of rolling hills as far as she can see. She sits atop the peak of the hill and looks out at the sea of blue flowers. It’s a sight so foreign that Eunha takes a moment to understand what she’s seeing. Not the grey of the river nor even the deep blue of the ocean, but the fleeting blue of a field of flowers.

Over the horizon the sun is rising steadily. Oranges, reds, and pinks vividly fill the blue of the sky, creating a sharp contrast with the blue of the hills. Eunha looks on in amazement. She knows this is a sight she has never seen before. And yet. The bright warm colors of the sunrise meeting the hopeful, sedate blue feels familiar. As she watches, she tries to place where she knows this place from. Her soul recognizes it.

She stares and tries to puzzle out where she knows this scene from while the sun eventually clears the horizon completely to continue its journey across the sky. Even as dusk creeps over the field of flowers, she can still feel the warmth of it like a hug around her. She can almost smell the warmth. Eunha, still stumped as to when she’s been here before, lays back into the grass of the hill and closes her eyes to sleep for just a moment.

The room is fully alight with sunshine when Eunha cracks her eyes open. She can feel the familiar pull along her scalp, but it’s faint enough to ignore. She pushes herself up and feels a moment of alarm when the bed beside her is empty. Glancing around the quiet room, she sees the door is slightly ajar.

She scrubs her hands across her face after she stands. She can’t remember the last time she slept so hard and for so long and her body doesn’t seem to want to relinquish the feeling. The images of the blue field linger in her mind, leaving her with the feeling as if she’s forgotten something. She steps out into the hall, ears straining for any sounds that might give away Mina’s location.

The living room and kitchen are equally quiet. Eunha feels a small stab of anxiety. The house is so quiet.

“Mina-yah?” Eunha calls out.

Silence.

The tension in her scalp pulls ominously.

Eunha starts walking again, heading towards the opposite hallway, with a hunch of where her daughter might be. Sure enough, she sees one door is cracked open. Pushing back against the door slowly, it swings quietly inward.

The room is cluttered with various electronic equipment and instruments. An old, dark brown upright piano is against one wall. Opposite the piano is a small loveseat. There’s a long desk on the wall opposite the door with two large monitors, an electric piano keyboard, and microphone. Yoongi is sitting in one rolling desk chair, clicking away at his music production software, large headphones on his ears. Next to him, in another rolling chair, looking tiny, especially with another large pair of headphones on her ears, is Mina. She’s sitting quietly, legs kicking in the air well above the ground, eyes glued to what Yoongi is doing.

Yoongi hits the space bar on his keyboard and turns to Mina with a raised eyebrow. Mina’s feet kick in a rhythm, presumably to whatever she’s listening to in her headphones.

Yoongi hits the space bar again and watches Mina. Mina gives him a small grin, which he returns with a million-watt smile.

Yoongi swings his feet and turns his chair, then startles when he sees Eunha standing awestruck in the doorway.

“Eunha!” Yoongi says, slipping off his headphones and setting them on the desk. “You’re awake. Did you sleep well?”

Eunha, mouth still hanging open, just nods dumbly. 

“I hope it’s alright we let you sleep in. You have been working hard,” Yoongi continues. He’s still smiling.

Eunha nods again. 

Meanwhile, Mina has taken off her headphones and put them down beside her on the seat of the chair. She shimmies down until her feet hit the ground. She jumps forward and gives Yoongi’s knee a hug before she steps up to her mother. She gives Eunha a tight hug around her legs, her soul vibrating happily through the hug, and then heads out of the room.

“Are you going to read now, dearest?” Eunha, voice cracking, calls after her after a moment of recovery from her surprise. Mina doesn’t respond, just keeps walking down the hall towards the living room.

Eunha turns back to see Yoongi watching her. She gives him a weak smile.

“She seems to have grown attached to you,” Eunha says. Her voice sounds calm, despite her slight alarm at this realization.

Yoongi shrugs and says, “She’s a great kid. And a good judge of music. She must get that from you.”

Eunha bows her head for a moment at the compliment, fighting the bigger grin trying to break out on her face. Anxiety and happiness fighting for priority in her chest.

“Come, I still want to hear more about your music,” Yoongi says. He grabs the chair Mina recently vacated and spins it so the seat is facing her.

“Sure,” Eunha says. She steps into the room and takes a seat, putting the headphones on the desk. “This is a beautiful studio.”

Yoongi nods and turns back to his computer. “I’ll show you what Mina and I have been working on.”

Eunha just nods again not knowing what else to do than just go along with this bizarre turn of events.

She’s surprised by the fun piece that Yoongi shows her. The music itself is a bit surprising, incorporating older folk music from a couple of decades ago. Yoongi shows her the changes Mina helped him make and Eunha sits in awe that her daughter would be so open with an almost-stranger. 

Before they get too deep into their work, Yoongi and Eunha take a break for lunch. Her headache, the tension along her scalp, has intensified as the day goes on. Eunha does everything in her power to ignore it.

After lunch, Eunha settles Mina to read on the loveseat in Yoongi’s studio and joins him at his desk. She brings her own laptop and hands him a thumb drive holding some of her work—not work-work, but the music she’s actually proud of.

“I’ve only shown this to a few people,” she says as Yoongi pulls up the folders. “Once I started working at Rancid House I wasn’t encouraged to work on non-work projects, so I’ve had to keep a lot of it to myself. And, well, I have had a hard time knowing who to trust, too.”

Yoongi makes a small noise in his throat that Eunha can only interpret as acknowledgement mixed with displeasure. She can’t say she blames him.

She leans over to point to a file and says, “Start with this one.”

As he clicks on the file and hits play, Eunha sits back in her chair and bites at the nail of her thumb. The sounds of traditional Korean instruments fill the air of the studio, mixed with synth and a growing electric beat. She lets her eyes flit over to Yoongi who is sitting back in his own chair, head back against the headrest, eyes aimed at the ceiling. Looking at his expressionless face makes her more nervous so she goes back to watching the second tick by on the track on screen.

When the music finally finishes, no one moves for a moment. Finally Yoongi lifts his head and squints at the screen. “What’s that melody? Is it yours?”

“Ah, I adapted it from an old folk tune,” Eunha says. “From the early 1900s. But I tweaked it to give it a more modern appeal.”

Yoongi nods slowly. After another pause, he says, “Can I hear some more?”

A couple hours pass like this, Eunha growing more confident in sharing her work, including some things that are still works-in-progress. Yoongi is not overly effusive in his praise, but he shows a deep interest in her choices and the history she’s learned while doing her work. His continued interest and clear yearning to hear more is far and away praise enough for Eunha.

There is no talk of magic or vampires or death. They just chat about music. Eunha can almost pretend, save for the reminder from the pulling in her skull, that this is a normal life. She’s just responsible for her daughter and her music. Yoongi makes her feel, at least for this moment, that it’s possible. That having this is possible. That life can be this. 

Soon, Mina is crawling into Eunha’s lap and holding out her book to her mother.

“Did you finish, Mina-yah?” Eunha asks with a smile, taking the book. She opens the text and flips through it, admiring the fact that her daughter is reading far and above the comprehension levels for a 9-year-old. “Why don’t you go put this one back and pick out another one? Is there one still you haven’t read yet?”

The small girl nods and takes the book back. She scampers out of the room in search of a new book to read.

“Maybe this is a good time to go make some dinner,” Yoongi suggests after Mina disappears down the hallway.

Eunha nods and pushes herself out of her chair. Tonight Yoongi lets her help with dinner making, giving her small tasks to do while he fries up meat and noodles. Eunha tries not to read into how comfortable she is, that this is. As they sit talking about some up and coming artists over their empty dinner plates, she doesn’t want to pop the bubble they have found themselves in. But, as she glances over at Mina, who is settled on the couch watching Finding Nemo, she knows she needs to push a little bit, lest this newfound comfort prove to truly be an illusion.

As the conversation winds down, Yoongi swirls the remaining contents of his glass of whiskey. He seems content as a small smile graces his lips as he watches the golden liquid. Eunha takes a deep breath, steeling herself, and says, “I need to explain myself.”

Yoongi’s eyes move up to meet hers. He gives the smallest tilt of his head, as if waiting for further elucidation. Eunha takes another breath.

“I need- I feel like I owe you some kind of explanation for Thursday night, for why we’re here,” she says with an open palm gesture at the apartment.

“You don’t have to explain anything you don’t want to,” Yoongi finally says. “I don’t need anything from you. But I will listen to anything you want to share with me.”

Eunha nods, a small wave of relief crashing over her. She says, “I want to tell you.”

Yoongi nods and leans back in his chair, clearly intent on listening, just as he said he would.

“I’m not a necromancer,” Eunha says after a moment. To be honest, she’s not really sure where to start with this story or how much she actually wants to tell tonight, but this feels like as good of a place to start as any. She glances at Yoongi to see if he’s following and then quickly focuses her eyes on the table in front of her.

“My magic,” Eunha says slowly, trying to find the right word, and waves her hand around her in the air. “My magic is not the same as a necromancer’s. Necromancers bring broken souls back from death. They reanimate the dead, if you will. And I’m not a grim reaper either. They- Grim reapers don’t use magic, per se. They work with a different kind of soul bond to help the dead along their journey. Theirs is a certain kind of calling.”

She glances at Yoongi again, to see his reaction. He looks interested, eyes watching her. He doesn’t look bored as if he knew all of this, but doesn’t look so bewildered that he’s never heard any of this before. She allows herself to find a little hope in that, that he won’t throw her out immediately after this—maybe.

“Grim reapers can’t take just anyone on their journey to death. They deal in human souls only. Untainted souls,” Eunha grimaces at her own words, but she can’t think of a better phrasing. “Souls touched by Darkness are somewhat impervious to grim reaper soul bonding. So, vampires, for example. That’s why vampires tolerate grim reapers in the city. In fact, they are important for maintaining boundaries between life and death. When humans die, they often need help on the journey. Many don’t really want to leave.”

Eunha sees Yoongi nod at this out of the corner of her eye as she studies the pattern in the wood grain of the table.

She pauses to decide what to say next, how much to say next. She glances up again as Yoongi takes a small sip of his whiskey, his eyes still trained on her. She bites her lip for a moment and then says, “I’m not a grim reaper.”

She watches as Yoongi sets the glass down on the table again with a small clink. Then she says, “I can use my magic to help souls along their journey into death. I don’t actually control the souls themselves. I control the river, the waters, in death.” 

“I know some symbols for helping a soul cross the border between life and death, in either direction, but I almost never use them,” Eunha continues. She squirms a bit in her chair. “Except on myself.”

The silence between the two is loud and only interrupted by the quiet inane chatter coming from the television in the other room.

“There aren’t many like me. The magic needed to control the waters, to call the river, is confined to my family. So, right now, we’re kind of…it,” as she speaks, Eunha’s eyes flicker for a moment to Mina curled up on the couch.

After a long moment, Yoongi clears his throat. He picks up his glass and throws back the last remaining swig of his whiskey before he says, “So, that vampire. You, uh, helped the river in death carry his soul along?”

Eunha nods, eyes trailing the glass in Yoongi’s hand as he replaces it on the table in slow motion.

“And when you were in my car, you had sent your soul into death, to do that?” he looks at Eunha for confirmation.

She nods again and bites her lip.

“Okay,” he says.

Eunha’s mouth falls open. “Okay?”

Yoongi shrugs in his characteristic carefree manner. “Okay.”

Eunha looks at him for a moment. Maybe, she thinks, she didn’t do a good enough job explaining the direness of the situation.

“I, uh, killed a vampire,” Eunha says tentatively. Adding, as if it needed reiterating, “From your car.”

“In self defense,” he clarifies. “I think it was pretty clear he had ill-intentions. I don’t see how we could have gotten out of there any other way.”

“Have you, uh, interacted much with vampires?” Eunha asks, grimacing a little. She can’t tell if he’s being dismissive about this because he’s naive or experienced.

“Not a lot, no,” he says, his bottom lip jutting out into a pout. “But some. Most of the entertainment industry is backed by vampires of one clan or another, as you probably know. So, I’ve had training. And some run-ins at music shows and other places.”

“Okay,” Eunha says slowly. “Well, they don’t really take kindly to unsanctioned murder.”

The word “murder” hangs in the air like some kind of charged electric current as Dory sings “just keep swimming” in the background.

“It was in self defense,” Yoongi says again after a beat. 

“Yes, and let’s hope we never have to try to prove that to anyone, ever,” Eunha replies. “I can’t be found by the coven, Yoongi.”

He studies her face then, making note of the tense lines around her eyes and mouth, the set in her jaw.

“I said that grim reapers are tolerated, maybe even supported, by vampires. The coven allows for them to exist in this city, to keep the balance between life and death,” Eunha says.

“But you aren’t a grim reaper,” Yoongi murmurs. Eunha can see the shift in his eyes as he pieces together what she is saying. “You can kill vampires.”

“Yes, and if the coven finds me, I will die,” Eunha whispers. Then her eyes flicker over to the living room before finding the dining table again. “Mina will die.”

She hears Yoongi’s breath catch.

“They can’t just murder you, even if they don’t like your magic,” Yoongi tries to reason.

“We are alone in this city,” Eunha says calmly. “We have no connections. We aren’t backed by anyone. I am barely making ends meet with my job. We-”

“Yah,” Yoongi interrupts with a quiet but firm voice. Eunha sees a furrow in his brow when she looks at him briefly. “You might have been alone before, but you aren’t now.”

“But why?” Eunha says softly. She continues with an earnest tension in her voice, “Why would you say that? I implicated you in a murder! I brought vampires into your life and the possibility of a lot of  bad press and legal ramifications. You should be wanting to get as far away from me as possible. I’m a danger to you in every respect.”

Eunha scoffs under her breath as Yoongi shrugs. He says, “Look, I realize my actions don’t make sense. But I guess- I get these- I’m good at reading people. I’ve wanted to know more about you since the first time we met on the train. Did I expect it to turn into a tense stand-off with a vampire? No. I’ll be honest, that was not my first thought. I like your music. I want to collaborate. I think we could work well together, especially after today. I like you. I think- no, I know, I want to be your friend.”

He finishes his monologue with another shrug of his shoulder. Eunha stares at him open-mouthed, speechless. They sit staring at each other for a long moment. When Eunha comes back to her senses, she realizes how quiet the apartment is. She glances toward the living and can see on the far wall that the movie has been paused. Mina is climbing off the couch and making her way over to the pair of adults.

“Everything okay, Mina love?” Eunha asks, her voice cracking a bit, but she’s happy for the distraction.

Mina pads over, but veers to Yoongi’s side of the table. She reaches out and grabs his hand, tugging at it.

“Mina?” Eunha tries again.

Mina is pulling at Yoongi, back toward the living room.

“Ah,” he says with a small smile, standing up to follow the insistent little girl. “I think I need to go earn my Movie Buddy title.”

“Oh,” Eunha says in shock, reeling from the whiplash of the conversation. “Right. I’ll, uh, I’ll wash up the dishes.”

Yoongi looks back over his shoulder as he’s pulled toward the couch and gives Eunha a big smile. He says, mischief clear in his voice, “Sounds good, friend.”

Eunha scoffs as she picks up the dirty plates and mutters to herself, “Right. Friend.”

~

Eunha wakes up Sunday morning to the jolt as she feels the wards she has placed at the rooftop flat last week blinking out of existence. The feeling surprised her because she had assumed they would have broken the wards Thursday night when she and Mina made their escape. She supposed she had just missed the feeling in all the other things going on that night. To be fair, a lot of other things have been going on to keep her distracted.

She’s not sure what it means that the wards disintegrated on their own. She imagined the ghoul landlord Lee perished soon after his vampire did. A comforting thought. So, maybe he knew they had run-away without having to go up to the apartment. She decides that means no one else went poking around after the vampire’s demise. Perhaps there was no sire or family wondering what happened to their childer. Perhaps they were in the clear.

Eunha pauses when she realizes the tension along her scalp is almost non-existent and she takes that as a small victory for the day. Maybe the necromancer or whoever is disrupting the balance of things is finally moving on.

“Do you mind if the members come over this afternoon? We have this standing ‘game night’ which is more of an afternoon of getting together and eating. And I, uh, forgot it is my week to host,” Yoongi asks after breakfast, rubbing the back of his neck with his palm anxiously.

“Members, as in members of BTS?” Eunha clarifies.

“Yeah, not all of them,” Yoongi says with a nod. “We have a shoot this morning and some will be staying longer. But Namjoon, Jin-hyung, and Taehyung are free.”

“I see,” Eunha nods. “How will you explain…”

Her voice trails off and she lifts her hand to wave between herself and the hallway Mina disappeared down when she had finished eating.

“Ah, well, I thought I’d be honest?” Yoongi lilts his tone into a question. “I mean, we can maybe leave the vampire stuff out, for now, but I thought I’d just say you’re a friend who was in a spot of trouble and so you’re staying with me?”

“And they’ll buy that?” Eunha asks.

Yoongi hums in affirmation. “They’re good people. They could be your friends, too. If you want.”

“What time? I need to prepare Mina for new people.”

“Oh, will she be okay? I didn’t think- should I go ask her first?” Yoongi is already standing to make his way towards the guest bedroom.

Eunha bites her lip, completely endeared. She follows Yoongi down the hall.

Stepping into the open door frame she sees Mina sitting cross-legged on the bed with the book she started yesterday. Yoongi is already moving to kneel next to the mattress, so that he’s eye-level with the girl.

“Mina-yah, I have a question to ask you,” Yoongi says.

The girl looks up from her book into Yoongi’s face. Eunha still can’t believe how open her daughter is to him. She watches the exchange in awe.

“Would it be alright if three of my friends came over this afternoon? You don’t have to meet them if you don’t want to. In fact, I can tell them not to come if you don’t want them here,” Yoongi says, sounding a little anxious..

Mina watches him carefully, but gives no other response. Yoongi glances back over his shoulder to meet Eunha’s eyes with a questioning look in his eyes.

“Mina dearest,” Eunha calls softly from the doorway. Mina turns her eyes to her mother. “Uncle RM, Uncle Jin, and Uncle V want to come over and watch a movie with Uncle Yoongi. Do you want to watch the movie with them?”

Yoongi whips his head back to watch Mina’s response. When the girl turns her calculating gaze back to Yoongi, he says, “We’ll let you pick the movie, Mina-yah.”

Eunha watches with continued amazement as Mina’s eyes light up and she nods her head. Yoongi breaks into a big smile.

He says, “That’s great, Mina-yah. I have to go to work for a little while, but I’ll come back with them, okay?”

Mina nods again before dropping her eyes back down to her book.

Yoongi slowly pushes himself to standing and leaves the room, looking a little dazed.

When he’s back in the hallway, Eunha says, “Sorry, I turned your game night into movie night.”

Yoongi shakes his head slowly. “No, no, that’s okay. Thank you.”

“I have never seen her like that with anyone,” Eunha says, still disbelieving.

“She’s a great kid, Eunha,” Yoongi replies.

Eunha nods at that.

“So, she knows BTS?” Yoongi asks as they enter the kitchen to clean up breakfast.

Eunha laughs out loud as she stacks dishes in the sink. “Of course she knows BTS, she’s living in Korea.”

“Here I thought maybe it was because her mom is a hot shot PD in the same field,” Yoongi jokes.

Yoongi’s shoulders bounce up and down with a laugh. He is scrubbing off the dishes Eunha is handing him before he puts them in the dishwasher. He leans into her, bumping her shoulder. She doesn’t know if it was intentional or an accident, but the result is the same. Time feels as if it slows as she feels the warm buzz of his soul. For Eunha, feeling a soul is like feeling sight—and the feeling Yoongi’s soul gives her is immediately familiar. Flashes of her dream of an ocean of blue flowers set against the brilliant oranges and reds of a sunrise surface in her mind's eye. She remembers his soul.

Before she can catch her breath, Yoongi has already moved away to deposit dishes into the dishwasher and Eunha deflates at the loss. Other than reassuring snuggles with Mina, she has never craved the touch of another soul like this. She can feel the itch in her arms to reach out and bring that feeling of comfort back. It takes all her willpower to stop her body from moving of its own volition. The feelings are too much. She knows she can’t be responsible for another person in this way. Her heart can’t take it. As she carefully watches Yoongi close the dishwasher, the predominant feeling screaming through her body is terror.

~

Eunha hears the boisterous chatter and laughter of four members of BTS taking off their shoes at the entryway from her hideaway in the guest bedroom. Mina is already out in the kitchen preparing snacks. Apparently, she is quite smitten with the idea of entertaining some of Uncle Yoongi’s friends. Eunha tried to help, but was quickly shooed away. So, here she sits in the guest room, trying to sort through the rollercoaster of emotions she’s been on this weekend.

The chattering gets quieter as the men clearly make their way into the living space. Eunha suddenly feels she needs to at least be there to help Mina through introductions. She’d been doing so well, but what if someone doesn’t like that she doesn’t talk. They might think her rude. Eunha’s protective mother instincts kick into high gear instantly at the thought.

Eunha leaps to her feet and sees spots for a moment from getting up too fast. Before she’s even recovered, she is heading towards the sound of the voices in the living room.

On the coffee table in front of the couch, there are all kinds of snacks carefully laid out. Yoongi comes into the room, arms full of drinks, which Eunha supposes were too heavy for Mina to carry. Sitting on the couch are the three guests, piled practically on top of one another despite the ample space on either side of them. Mina is sitting on the ground directly in front of the television using the remote to find a movie.

“Ah, Eunha, let me make introductions,” Yoongi says as he sets the drinks down among the snacks on the table. He points to each man sitting on the couch as he says their names, “Kim Namjoon, Kim Taehyung, and Kim Seokjin, please meet Choi Eunha PD, Mina-yah’s mother.”

Each of the men, criminally more handsome and tall in person than on screen, scramble over each other to stand and bow respectfully in Eunha’s diection.

“So nice to meet you,” Namjoon says. “Yoongi has told us a lot about you.”

Eunha raises an eyebrow toward Yoongi. “Good things, I hope.”

“The best things,” Taehyung says with a boxy smile.

“I hope we will get to hear some of your music soon,” Jin adds.

Mina chooses Finding Dory, as everyone settles onto the couch and grabs snacks. Yoongi, with Mina nestled into his side, sits next to Jin. Eunha decides to sit on the other side of Mina, leaning against the armrest. She finds herself feeling pretty calm, especially after the tumultuous emotions she was experiencing earlier.

“I’m surprised you aren’t pushing Studio Ghibli in your own home, hyung,” Namjoon says.

Yoongi shakes his head quickly, “I have to be more secure in my title of Movie Buddy before I’m allowed to make suggestions. Give me time, Joon-ah.”

Eunha tries to smile calmly at that while it feels like the sun has burst inside her chest.

As the movie plays, the guys occasionally try to talk, but quickly realize if they are too loud or distracting they will suffer Mina’s pointed glare.

An hour into the film, Taehyung whispers, “You know what would make this afternoon perfect? Fried chicken.”

Namjoon snorts a laugh and Eunha can feel the shake in the couch cushion as Yoongi also tries to suppress his laugh.

Mina grabs the remote and pauses the movie.

“Uh oh,” whispers Jin with a giggle.

Instead Mina stares at Yoongi.

“What did I do?” Yoongi says in mock distress.

This time it’s Eunha’s turn to laugh. “Do you want Uncle Yoongi to order fried chicken, Mina dear?”

Mina nods, still staring Yoongi down.

“Oh, noona, that’s a great idea,” Taehyung says with awe in his voice.

“It was your idea?” Eunha says.

Jin bursts into a high-pitched squeaky laugh.

“Is that alright?” Eunha murmurs more quietly, leaning over Mina so Yoongi knows the question is aimed at him.

However, Yoongi is already pulling out his phone to order the fried chicken. Mina leans over the screen with him to help him select the seasonings with a point of her finger. Eunha leans back again, deciding to let Mina and Yoongi work it out themselves without her interference. She files away resolving how they are paying Yoongi back for all his generosity later.

Soon, they pause the movie again to let Yoongi get the fried chicken from the door and they all happily eat away at the greasy comfort food. 

“Jimin is going to be so mad he missed this,” Taehyung says with satisfaction as he leans back into the couch, full.

“I already sent him pictures,” Jin laughs.

Yoongi chuckles under this breath.

“Everyone hush,” Namjoon says suddenly. “I’m trying to hear the movie. Dory is trying to find her parents.”

Eunha smiles to herself as she takes another bite of her chicken, turning her attention back to the adventure on screen.

~

Eunha arrives at work the next morning in the best mood she’s ever been in while also being at work. The good feelings don’t last long, however. Mr. Kim is waiting for her outside her studio.

“Mr. Kim, is there something I can help you with?” Eunha asks in her most professional tone.

“Ah, yes, I hope so,” he replies tersely. “There are two men asking for you. I do hope you’ve not got yourself into any trouble with the authorities. I don’t have to mention how upsetting that would be for the company.”

Eunha swallows hard. With a small bow, she says, “Of course, Mr. Kim. Where are they? I'll go take care of this right away.”

“They are in the small conference room. I hope this doesn’t detract from your work for today,” Mr. Kim says. There is a clear look of distaste twisting at his lips. Without another word he walks off, clearly washing his hands of the problem.

Eunha walks towards the conference room, not even bothering to drop her things off in her studio first. She feels a bit like she is walking to the gallows, sweat trickles down her spine. She contemplates texting Yoongi on the way, but decides not to worry him before knowing what this is all about.

When she opens the conference room door, she wishes deeply that she had texted Yoongi. The two men in the conference are in black suits and wearing dark shaded glasses. They are bulky with muscle and tall. No wonder Mr. Kim had seemed squirrely.

Eunha steps into the room and the door shuts automatically behind her with a loud click. She swallows at the sudden tense silence.

“Is there something I can help you with, gentlemen?” Eunha asks in the most neutral voice she can muster.

“Choi Eunha-ssi? We’re here in regards to your connection to an individual known as Taro.”

Well, Eunha thinks, fuck.