#just stand in front a green screen and speak your lines to no one

[mattsundaes]

the look on suna’s face is anything but surprised when the door to his apartment swings open.

his gaze briefly flicks downward to take in the miserable state of your rain-soaked dress and the heels clutched in your right hand. everything about your current state is a sad, waterlogged, neon billboard advertising just how spectacularly bad your date was.

casting a glance at the rapidly flickering fluorescent light on the ceiling up above, you sigh when your best friend’s lips begin to part. “don’t even say it, rin.”

his mouth obediently snaps shut, but he can’t hide the faint hint of amusement that curves its way into the line between his lips anyway.

suna takes up so much goddamn space as he stands there in front of you, his body leaning against one side of the doorframe as his fingertips casually grasp the other. rolling your eyes, you duck beneath his outstretched arm and hip check him as you pass, unceremoniously dropping your shoes in the entryway beside his messy pile of sneakers and boots.

no words pass between the two of you as suna briefly disappears down the hall, tossing a pile of dry clothes at your head when he emerges from the depths of his bedroom a moment later. he doesn’t even bother looking at you once you make your way back into the living room in a matching ejp raijin t-shirt and sweatpants, just lifts his arm and waits for you to settle down against him on the couch.

it’s only once the movie playing on the television—a rom com that you’re well aware he only put on for your sake alone—is nearly twenty minutes in that he finally speaks.

“told you that guy was a loser.”

sighing heavily, you pinch the bridge of your nose, burrowing yourself even further sideways into the warmth of his body heat despite your annoyance.

“you said that about the last guy.”

he huffs, and you can feel his chin brush over the top of your head as he turns toward you. “no, i said that guy was a dork.”

fingertips skirting beneath the edge of his sweatshirt, you pinch the skin just above his hip, and he lets out an undignified yelp as he grasps your hand and moves it to his thigh instead.

“regardless, shouldn’t you be supportive? i seem to remember you griping about me being a—“ you pause, making finger quotes with your free hand for emphasis, “‘freeloader’ who steals your netflix account and food every night.”

suna’s quiet beside you, eyes on the television screen like this sordid love confession in the rain is suddenly the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen.

“think of how many shitty eighties movies you’ll be able to watch when i’m too busy with my new boyfriend to come bother you every day,” you continue cheerfully.

at that, suna shifts your positions, yawning as he slides his head into your lap. the odd golden green shade of his eyes glints in the dim light of the living room as he stares up at you expectantly, unblinking.

“then who's gonna play with my hair till i fall asleep when the movie is boring?” he asks with a lazy smile, tilting his neck just enough to brush his head against the hand currently resting on your kneecap.

you let out a huff that’s equal parts exasperated and fond, rolling your eyes as you watch his slide shut the moment you begin carding your fingers through his soft, dark locks.

(it’s always like this with rintarou, this effortless intimacy. this strange, liminal space where your friendship exists.)

and as his breathing slowly starts to even out, as the movie plays on forgotten in the background, you wonder—not for the first time—what it would be like to kiss him.

[raghaziel]

William Beeman was the worst boss imaginable.

He didn’t just work—he consumed. Numbers, charts, deadlines. Profit margins. Share values. Closing quarter projections. It was like his humanity had been amputated the day of his divorce and replaced with spreadsheets and scotch.

And unfortunately, he took his entire team down with him.

Four months. That’s how long you had been working under one of the most powerful men on Wall Street. William Beeman didn’t speak so much as bark. He didn’t request—he demanded. And when he turned that sharp, clipped tone on you in front of the entire executive board? Everyone nodded, apologized, and tried not to cry until the elevator doors closed.

But God help you, you noticed him.

The first time it happened, he was rolling his wedding ring between his fingers like he was grinding down the memory. You should’ve looked away, but you didn’t. Your eyes lingered—on the veins running along his forearms, the way his large hands flexed with repressed frustration.

He wore tailored three-piece suits like armor. Always dark. Always immaculate. Always so stiff it should’ve made him inhuman.

And yet...

There was something captivating about how real he was beneath the polish. Something raw. Physical. Overpowering. When he stayed in the office past midnight, sleeves rolled to his elbows, tie loosened and scotch in hand, it was hard not to stare.

It started as curiosity. A glance here, a second too long there. But quickly—too quickly—it became a problem. A fixation. Even when he tore into you in meetings, all you could think about was the stretch of his shirt across his shoulders, the way his voice dropped when he was angry.

You knew it was wrong.

So one night—pathetic, tired, and feeling invisible—you wrote about him. A quick, messy Tumblr post. Fiction, of course. Just words. Just fantasy.

Except that’s where everything began to unravel.

At first, it was a day like the others. The building vibrated with post-pandemic fatigue as the staff returned from lunch, coffee in hand, eyes glued to their screens. You were typing up the minutes of a meeting when the air around her changed.

Heavy footsteps. In attendance. Then…

"Y/N"

The name cracked like a whip across the open space.

Everyone stopped.

He had just stepped out of the elevator, his black coat billowing behind him like a storm. His pace didn't falter. He didn't even look at you, anger radiating from him in waves so strong it took one's breath away.

And something else.

The entire office pretended they hadn't noticed William Beeman striding across the floor like a loaded weapon, his muscles tense, his green gaze unreadable. By the time he reached his glass-walled office, he opened the door without touching the handle—just a firm push of his palm—and turned around.

A single line. No subject. No signature. Just two words:

"My office."

No context. No intensity. And that was the worst part. Beeman never explained. He didn't ask. He called out.

The whole office held its breath as you walked past—the poor little secretary in her fluffy cardigan and her shaky steps—straight into the lion's den. Her heart pounded with every step on the cold marble floor. What had she done?

Then, you pushed open the heavy oak door.

He was already standing. Leaning against his desk, arms crossed over his chest, dark suit impeccable, emerald eyes unreadable.

"Close the door."

His voice was low. Flat. Deadly. You obeyed, barely breathing.

William Beeman tilted his head, his eyes fixed on you as if you were a file he'd already memorized. Slowly, cruelly, he lifted a tablet from his desk. Your stomach tightened as soon as you saw the screen.

Your words. Your fanfiction. His name.

He smirked, cold, knowing, and completely unamused.

"You've been busy, haven't you?" he drawled. "All that time taking notes during meetings, fetching my coffee... and writing about what you'd rather be doing on your knees under my desk."

He moved forward, slow as a predator, and she froze.

"You have an imagination, I'll grant you that. The story about my belt?" » He bent down, his thumb brushing the edge, almost lazily. "Inspired. Precise, too."

You were about to respond, refute, defend yourself as best you could, with arguments you hadn't even come up with yet. However, he stopped you cold. He stopped in front of you, his voice low enough to escape him.

"Don't insult me by lying. Next time you want to write about your fantasies about your boss, be sure to use a VPN."

His smile widened, as if he sensed the power of your panic.

"You wanted the beast in the meeting room, didn't you? Let's see if you're cut out to survive it."

*

Ok, guys, This was my first initial writing and I'm sharing it now. Well, I hesitated between William and Clayton Beresford but I already wrote something with Clayton so..

[kurikive]

MINECRAFT — 23. 1 MILLY LIVESTREAM SHOW!!!

The countdown got closer and closer. 3… 2… 1…

Most of Y/N’s viewers were probably expecting to see the owner of the channel herself. For some, what they were met with was much better. For Anton, much worse.

The screen faded from black to Anton in green clothes, green cardboard cutouts of cat ears on his head, and a full face of green face paint.

Behind the scenes, Y/N gave a thumbs up, indicating the voice changer filter was turned on, and it was his time to speak.

“Hello, viewers. I’m Widdung, Y/N’s alien companion. I’ve come to Earth to celebrate the milestone of 1 million people being subscribed to “isatellite”. “ Anton does his best to sound enthusiastic, and tries to stop his face from cringing.

“Widdung! Oh my gosh!” Hyewon enters the scene, “How did you get here?” She’s having too much fun with her acting lines, revoking the seriousness from everything that’s happened before the countdown ended.

The voice filter turns on again, “My spaceship brought me here, but it crashed right outs-”

The focus moves to a limping Jiwoo with fake blood on the side of her head and a fresh scratch on her cheek (done by Hyewon), “You!” She points at the bright green Anton.

The boy puts his green hands in the air and Jiwoo angrily speaks, “Your UFO crashed into my lawn!”

“Woah! Woah!” Y/N finally enters the screen with a colorful birthday hat on her head, tilted slightly to the right. “It’s not the fight to time, guys!” The other three try their best to stay on character and not laugh.

“...Time to fight.” Y/N corrects herself in a mumble. “Anyways! It’s time to celebrate!”

“Celebrate what?” Jiwoo asks.

“Hitting one million subscribers!” Y/N turns to the camera while her friends take out party poppers from behind them. The sounds of party poppers cracking and party horns fill out the audio of the livestream.

After the group finishes making noise and cheering, the screen is supposed to fade to black before the actual stream starts, but there’s no one behind the camera, so they’re left awkwardly looking at each other, then back at the camera.

“I’ll go.” Anton says, now without the voice filter. His green self quickly steps out of frame to control the stream. The screen fades to black, and a short video of the behind the scenes of the teaser photoshoot plays while the kids prepare for the next scene.

“Y/N, don’t go in there!” The sounds of the video camera tittering play before the actual footage plays. Y/N and Sooyoung, who’s filming, stand in the grass of an empty field close to the city.

When the younger starts walking towards the enormous puddle hidden in the grass, the shutter of a phone camera sounds shortly. The viewers can’t see, but it’s evident Sooyoung just took a picture of Y/N.

“Y/N your pants are gonna get-” Sooyoung is cut off by a raspy, cracking screech, “-wet…”

“Unnie!” The girl whines. The camera zooms into the wet seams of Y/N’s jeans, then pans to her pained expression. “I told you not to!” Sooyoung says from behind the screen.

The video is suddenly interrupted by gray static and noise, like the one of a shut down channel.

The screen fades back to the background of the first scene, zoomed in where you could only see the top of the couch and a fraction of the wall behind.

The camera slowly zooms out and Y/N appears in the center of the couch, birthday hat still on her head. Her cheeks had 1 and M written on each side. She looks directly at the camera with a sheepish smile on her face.

“Hey guys…” Y/N says in a cheeky tone. “Welcome to my party.”

Jiwoo snorts behind the camera, and Y/N sends her a quick piercing look.

“So… did you guys like my surprise?” The girl rubs on her thigh nervously with her palm, “I planned this whole thing in like three days.”

Y/N reads the comments from the phone sitting on the table in front of her. The chat was going way too fast for her to read, so she picks it up and chooses a random comment to read.

“You’re crazy and insa- okay. Well. Thanks!” A sarcastic smile shows up on Y/N’s face before she goes back to read another comment.

“Since when are you friends with Yves? Um…” Y/N looks up to remember the date her and Sooyoung started talking, “Well, we met, like, about three or four weeks ago. But we started talking like, four days ago?”

An awkward laugh escapes the young girls lips, “She’s a very trustworthy person. Anyways!”

Y/N claps her hands together and they make a loud noise. “We’re not at the Q&A section yet. That’s later.” 

There’s a few mumbles but they’re inaudible due to not being picked up by the microphone. “Is he done?” Y/N mutters, then nods.

“So! A party isn’t a party without what?”

“Cake!” Y/N’s friends yell behind the camera.

“Anton, what’s on the menu?” Y/N puts her hand behind her ear and waits for the boy’s response.

“This pussy!”

Her smile drops at the unexpected answer, but anything she was about to say gets disrupted by the lights turning off. A very low budget rendition of the happy birthday song sung by the three of Y/N’s friends plays in the background. The lyrics are changed from 생일 축하 합니다 (Happy birthday) to 백만 축하 합니다 (Happy one million)

The flames atop the candles burn and light up Y/N’s eyes, a childish shimmer accompanied by her shy smile. This wasn’t discussed in the call, but she won’t complain about it.

The song finishes, and Hyewon exclaims “Make a wish, Y/N!”

I wish to be this happy for the rest of my life.

She blows out the flames and the screen goes pitch black, but the claps and cheers let the viewers know the room is far from empty.

The lights turn back on and after a few seconds Jiwoo returns to the frame with the others. “Happy one million, Y/Nie!” She says as she sits down next to Anton.

“Thanks so much guys.” Y/N looks around to convey her emotions to her friends with her eyes, she’s not very good with words anyway.

Her eyes land on Anton. Small remains of green body paint are left on his face and hands, but it’s not enough for it to bother him. She giggles at the sight. 

“I feel like- this feels like my birthday.” The others giggle with her. “Let’s we dig in?”

The girl immediately frowns at her own words, “What the hell did I say?” She and her friends burst into laughter, as well as the viewers in the chat. She hopes they don’t notice her embarrassment rising to her cheeks.

“Let’s eat.” She says, now calmed down. The cheers from the other three fill her ears. They had no plates, only spoons, a dream and a very excited audience.

“Dude, why are the comments going so fast? Oh my god.” Y/N said with a mouthful of cake. “I’ve never streamed before so I don’t know how it usually is.”

Anton deadpans at the girl, “Please remember you literally just hit one million a few hours ago.”

“...Right.”

“Dude this cake is so good.” Hyewon says, also with her mouth stuffed with cake.

The four have been eating cake for what seemed like hours, just talking amongst themselves. Y/N’s sure some clips would surface on her Twitter feed that same night.

“Guys, I don’t know about you, but I’m kinda sick of cake.” Y/N leans back on the couch, pushing her belly out with a groan.

“I don’t even like cake. I'm not sure why I kept eating it.” Jiwoo mentions, mirroring Y/N’s actions.

“You know what I think?” Hyewon puts her spoon down on the table and stands up suddenly.

“You think?” Anton teased, earning him a deadly look from the girl as she walked out of frame.

“I think it’s time for Q&A!” Hyewon exclaims loud enough from behind the camera so that the mic could pick up her voice clearly.

The screen fades to black, elevator music plays for around 7 minutes.

When the screen returns to its normal state, Y/N sits alone on the couch, phone in her hand. She wears the green kitty ears Anton was wearing at the start of the stream.

“Welcome to the Q&A section. We have compiled a few questions from the live chat as well as questions I get asked a lot.” The music gets lower when she starts talking and Y/N adjusts her cat ear headband before it falls from her head.

“Let’s shall start we?” Before anyone laughs again Y/N threatens, “If any of you laugh the live ends right here and now.” 

The girl clears her throat and gets back to reading the questions from her phone. “Ahem! Let’s start.”

Why is your name satellite?

“Ah… the OG question. I’ve gotten this one for years and never answered it for this exact moment.”

“We don’t even know!” Jiwoo says from the back and Y/N giggles.

“So basically, you know how my last name is Koo? So that means nine. And if you write the English word nine in Hangul it’s Na-in. And the Korean word for I is na and satellite is Ingongwiseong.”

It’s quiet for 10 seconds. If it weren’t for Y/N’s blinking and her goofy smile turning into an awkward one, you’d think the livestream froze.

“Y/N that barely makes sense.” Anton reasons. He’s kinda right.

“KOO? NINE! NA? I! INGONGWISEONG? SATELLITE! It’s simple!” Y/N doesn’t know if she’s yelling at Anton or her viewers, but they seem to have similar opinions about the channel name.

“I thought you just liked space a lot…” Hyewon says loud enough for everyone to hear and the chatroom and Jiwoo burst out laughing. 

“Let’s move on before you make fun of me more. I’ve had enough.” A cheeky pout invades

The Q&A goes smoothly for the most part. The majority of the questions have to do with the behind the scenes of Y/N’s gameplays or about the friend group’s dynamics.

At one point, the other three join the scene just like before. They talk and joke around while answering the questions directed at them. How does it feel to be a nepo baby? Have you successfully hexed someone? Are you actually a bottom? Jiwoo got really heated at the last one.

They finished answering the questions they had gathered beforehand, so they decided to read some questions in the live chatroom.

“How was filming with NewJeans?” Hyewon reads from her own phone. Her and Jiwoo’s heads turn to Y/N, but Anton’s response is faster.

“Great!” Y/N pushes him away in annoyance and the four of them laugh. 

“You’re such an idiot.” She lightly slaps the boy on the leg and he lets out a fake whine. “But it was really great. All the girls are so kind and funny and pretty. And surprisingly good at Minecraft.”

“Minji literally beat you, what are you talking about?” Jiwoo teases the girl, “And don’t say you let her because you know damn well you didn’t.”

Y/N sighs in defeat, her eyes landing on the leftover cake that got put away behind the camera. She gets the urge to slam her face into it and say nothing for the rest of the day. “Let’s move on!”

This was the last section of the show before some behind the scenes content played in the end, and Y/N was understandably getting quite tired.

Her energy decreased rapidly and she was getting dizzy from the comments moving too fast. Her phone was turned off and she just listened to the conversations her friends had, chiming in only when there was something to add or someone to tease.

Y/N’s notably surprised when her phone vibrates in her hand, so she turns it on to see- it’s Minji.

Y/N tries her best to respond to Minji’s text sneakily so that the viewers don’t notice. Hyewon does, however, and gives the girl a questioning look when she turns her phone and straightens herself up on the couch awkwardly.

Y/N looks at her and only a timid smile could be sent the other girl's way before she looks away and slowly takes the green kitty ears off of her head.

She knows Minji wouldn’t have stopped watching the stream even though she told her to, so she sticks her tongue out and tries to sneak a middle finger with it too. Hyewon laughs beside her.

“How long have we been up for?” Jiwoo asks all of a sudden. It’s 3 A.M, they started the live show at 12 A.M, Y/N hit one million at 7 P.M. Y/N didn’t sleep so she’s probably been up for-

“More than a day, I think. At least I have.”

“WHAT?!” The three of her friends yell at the same time. “Are you insane?!” Jiwoo yells the hardest.

“Wh- Well, I didn’t know Min-” Y/N cuts herself off when she realizes the public doesn’t know about her and Minji’s friendship. “I didn’t know I was gonna hit one million today.”

“We’ve been talking for like an hour, guys. I think it’s time to go.” Anton waves at the camera, the comments vary from shock to sadness.

“Oh my god, can I finish the cake?” Hyewon stands up when Jiwoo and Anton do, leaving a frozen Y/N on the couch.

“So, I guess it’s time for us to go. Thanks for being here, guys. I’m so grateful for all of you and how much love you’ve given not only me but the four of us. Thanks for one million. I’ll have another cake when it’s two.”

Y/N stands up from the couch and the camera follows her, “I’ll leave you with some behind the scenes footage. To show my love. Bye guys! I love you.”

The scene fades and after a few seconds, the footage starts playing.

Behind the camera, Jiwoo and Anton scold Y/N for not sleeping. Hyewon seems more interested in the computer.

“Dude. You have 30 thousand fucking viewers,”

“Tell me you’re joking.” Y/N rushes to Hyewon’s side.

“Is that good or bad?” Anton asks, confused at the sudden panic, “Don’t your videos usually get 500k views?”

“Yeah, but this is live viewers, Anton.” Hyewon answers, “This is what top tier streamers get on a normal day.”

“It’s probably because it’s my first one, right?” Y/N’s voice wavers slightly, still in shock at the amount of popularity that she’d gathered in such a short amount of time.

“Girl...” Jiwoo joins them, “You fucking made it…”

masterlist | next

taglist # @yumtooki @saysirhc @modanisgf @yerimbrit @sixflame438 @miinatozakiii @hotluvlet @mym1na @keiji-jin @wintersgff @wonyoungssi @kimminjiissosjdirbidnsjje @shozeu @nwjnsloona @kaypanaq @pandafuriosa60 @linnnsworld @hwabyul4wheesun @artrizzler19 @brocoliisscared @jeindall777 @haerinkisser

[ragingbookdragon]

A Vow To Keep

So'lek x Sarentu One-Shot

Word Count: 1.2K Warnings: Explicit Language, Violence

Author's Note: Man it's a hard line between So'lek x Sarentu and Eetu x Sarentu <3

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

“Trying to find someone?”

The voice startled her, and she looked up, seeing So’lek leaning against the wall of the command center, gazing intently at her.

She lowered her gaze back to the computer, tapping away at it. “Reading up on reports of Harding.” Her voice was sour, twinged with bitterness. “Easier to see what I’m looking for if I get a scope of the land from the satellite views.”

“It would be easier to see the land on the back of your ikran,” he said, walking over.

“Katir’s run ragged after our last fight with the Scorpions. She needs rest.” She reached a hand in her pouch, pulling out a few thumb drives. “Found some more rosters for you.”

So’lek took them, tucking them away safely. “You’ve been busy.” His eyes drifted to the pollution monitor; it favored higher into the green areas. “Very busy.”

She hummed in response, scanning the screen, and tapped a few more times. “Seems like there’s a few more bases to take down in the Plains. It’ll definitely put a dent in her operations. I’ll head back out tomorrow.”

As she stood straight, So’lek murmured, “You seem particularly intent to track Harding down.”

“No more than I am Mercer.” His gaze drifted to her back, and she turned, keeping it away. “I’ll leave in the morning. If I find more rosters, I’ll send them your way.”

She passed him, leaving him there; Nor and Ri’nela walked over. “She doesn’t like Harding.”

So’lek glanced at him. “That much I have gathered. Why?”

Nor opened his mouth, and Ri’nela hushed him. “She doesn’t like talking about it.”

“She isn’t here,” Nor shot back.

“It doesn’t matter. She always said it was a memory she didn’t like bringing up.”

The Na’vi frowned, glancing at So’lek. “Perhaps…you should ask her instead.”

***

So’lek stepped out into the night air, scanning the front of the base until his gaze landed on her at the far end of the water, quite a distance away. Quietly, he walked over, averting his gaze when he saw her nakedness from the water.

Before he could even speak, she said, “Mercer killed my sister. And Harding never let me forget it.” He drew his eyes back to her but kept them above her front; she turned around and his eyes widened at the sight of pale, jagged scars lining her back and shoulders. “Come,” she said softly, and he stepped into the water, watching as she held up her kuru for his.

So’lek drew his from his back and connected it to hers, chest heaving as the memories rushed through his mind.

***

“You’re getting sloppy,” Harding sneered, shoving her with her boot as she powered through the pushups. “That’s not proper form.”

She grit her teeth, sweat pouring from her brow as she pushed herself up and down on the sterile floor.

“Sloppy. You’d be eaten up in a second out there. Chewed up and spat out like waste of flesh you are.” Harding shoved her again. “Proper form!”

Her jaw clenched so tight; she could feel her teeth grinding with the strain.

“God, you’re so fucking pitiful, just like your sister. Stand up.”

She did as Harding said, standing up and looking down at her; suddenly, her face snapped to the side as Harding’s hand connected with it.

“Every failed pushup is another hit.”

“Do not hit me again,” she warned, and Harding’s eyes flashed.

“Excuse me? What did you just say?”

“I said, do not hit me again,” she repeated, and her face cracked to the other side.

“If I were you, I’d remember who the fuck you think you’re—”

Fast as lightning, her hand shot out, snatching Harding by the jaw in a steel grip, lifting her up; she pulled the human woman face to face and bared her fangs, snarling, “Hit me again, and it will be the last thing you ever do.”

For a moment, she saw the fear flash across the woman’s eyes before the hardened, and a stream of soldiers entered the gym, tackling her to the ground. The other Sarentu teens yelled, moving to them but stopped when guns were pointed their way.

Harding rubbed her jaw and snapped, “Teach her a new lesson.”

The soldiers shoved her to the ground, ripping the back of her shirt open and began beating her with the butts of their rifles. The other Na’vi cried out, Nor screaming at them in native tongue, Ri’nela holding a sobbing Teylan, tears in her own eyes. She felt each hit, but refused to cry out, glowering at Harding, even when the blood began to seep through the fabric of her shirt and down onto the floor. At some point, it felt like knives were skinning her backside, but she refused to back down, refused to give in and let the devilish woman see her pain.

Her vision blurred, head slumping as the beating came to an end and two soldiers hauled her up by her shoulders. Harding bent down, getting eye level with her. “I think this is a lesson well learned about threatening your superiors.”

She lifted her head and spat the blood in her mouth. It splattered across Harding’s face, and she vowed, “I’ll rip your heart out one day.”

Harding wiped her face and snorted, before punching her square in the jaw. “Not likely.” She looked at the soldiers. “Take her to solitary. A few weeks there should kill that rebellious spirit.”

Her vision faded as the soldiers carried her away, the cries of her fellow clan members in her ears.

***

So’lek inhaled sharply as she disconnected their kurus, the memory dissipating. He saw the withering anger in her eyes, the way the muscle jumped in her jaw. He breathed deeply, feeling the water lap at his hips. “I…” he didn’t know what to say to her.

“I’ll kill her one day,” she seethed, with barely restrained hatred. “I made that vow. And I intend to keep it.”

He gazed at her and gently laid a hand on her shoulder. “Do not let it consume you, this rage. It will eat away until you have nothing left.”

“What do I even have left, So’lek?” she asked. “No clan. No family. No identity. I have nothing. I am nothing.” She looked at her hands. “All I have is rage.”

So’lek walked in front of her, taking her hands in his own, calloused fingers brushing over her soft ones. “You are more.” She looked up at him, and a familiar ache nestled in his chest as he saw the tears in her eyes; he knew those tears. The tears of a survivor trying to find whatever shred of hope they could and cling to it. He lifted a hand from hers and brushed a braid behind her ear. “You are more, ma yawntu.”

She leaned into his touch, closing her eyes, and she shifted forward, burying her face in his neck. So’lek wrapped around her, one arm firmly at her waist, the other brushing through her hair. He whispered comforting words in Na’vi as she shook in his arms.

***

So’lek laid her on one of the soft beddings in the back of the base, pulling a blanket over her body. He gazed down at her, gently wiping the tears under her eyes, and bent down, hesitating a moment before his lips brushed against her temple. He knelt back, watching her for a few moments before he flicked off the light and left her to rest.

[imjustatorturedpoet]

Meet me in the Hallway

Chapter one: Red Light, Green Light

Pairing: Hwang In-ho x Reader

Warnings: angst, past trauma, violence, mention of blood, stalking

let me know if i missed any for this chapter! this is also available on ao3!💘 chapter two is already out there, i’ll post it on tumblr in a few.

wordcount: 2,4k

A voice crackles over the loudspeaker.

“Red light.”

The ringing in your ears fades just enough for the world to come rushing back—panicked breathing, muffled sobs, the unmistakable scent of blood in the air.

You don’t move. You can’t. Your body is locked in place, but your mind is running, spiraling, replaying the moment before the first shot.

You turned your head. Not too much, but enough. You know you did.

So why isn’t there pain? Why isn’t there blood pooling beneath your feet?

"Green light."

Someone grabs your wrist and pulls you forward with them. The pain of falling hits you before you can register anything. Then—nothing. Everything slows. The world distorts, like you’re underwater. A deep, suffocating silence swallows you whole. The high-pitched ringing is relentless, drowning out everything else.

You blink. Once. Twice. The ground beneath you feels too solid, too real.

Someone grabs your arm. Their lips move, shaping words you can't hear. The world is muffled, warped, like a dream just out of reach. You look down. 456. The number stares back at you from the jacket of the man crouching in front of you. Your breath catches. The air is thick— wrong. Like you're choking on the aftermath of something you weren't meant to survive.

You know it. You moved. You felt it. The misstep, the shift of your head.

So why are you behind the finish line, safe as a kitten? You don't know. But he does. You were supposed to die. And didn’t let you.

--

The Frontman's private lounge area is bathed in the cold glow of the tv, the screen displaying the bloody field.

But his focus is locked onto one player only. Player 132. Your face seemed too familiar. Looking up your file on his screen, he read your name; (Y/N) (L/N). The name meant nothing. The face, however, that was something else. In-ho leaned forward, gloved fingers resting lightly against the control panel. The screen flickered, grainy and dim, but it was enough. You stood still, as if your mind hadn’t caught up to your body. Like you were still waiting for a bullet that never came.

His bullet. His decision.

He had seen thousands of faces pass through these games. This one shouldn’t stand out. And yet, it did.

It wasn’t immediate, not quite a memory, not yet a realization. Just a nagging sensation, crawling up his spine, whispering at the edges of his mind—familiar.

Somewhere in the past, you existed. Somewhere, you meant something. But where? The question sat heavy in his chest. Another screen. Another angle. Closer. Eyes dark and distant, fists clenched, breath uneven. Blood on your shoes. And face.

A feeling, sharp and sudden. He’s seen that look before. A gloved hand raises the walkie-talkie to his mask.

“No one harm Player 132.”, his voice is low, controlled, but absolute.

The walkie-talkie makes a soft clicking noise and he can hear static before a voice on the other side speaks through, "Understood, sir."

He lowers the device, watching as you begin to stir.

--

The ringing in your ears fades, not all at once, but in pieces—like shards of sound returning to a broken world. At first, there’s only breath. Your own, shallow and uneven. Someone else’s, steady but urgent.

“Hey. You need to get up.”

The voice is clearer now, cutting through the haze like a thread pulling you back to reality. 456. He’s still crouched in front of you, his brow furrowed in something between concern and desperation. His grip on your arm is firm but not rough.

“We need to go back.”, his voice is low, edged with urgency. “It’s over. You survived.”

Survived.

The word sits heavy in your chest. Like a lie.

Around you, bodies litter the field; some slumped mid-step, others sprawled with limbs twisted unnaturally. A woman who had stood beside you moments ago now lies motionless, eyes frozen open. You force yourself not to look, but the image burns behind your eyelids.

You should be there too. You should be. But you're not. And you don't know if that makes you lucky or something else entirely.

You don’t know how your legs are moving. The crowd of surviving players trudges forward in a silent, exhausted line, leaving the open field behind. The bloodstained grass, the bodies that would never move again—none of it feels real.

Survived.

You keep your gaze forward, but you feel it. The weight of someone watching. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up. The sensation is unmistakable. Up above, beyond the rows of masked guards, beyond the cameras you noticed right after waking up in this hell, beyond the chaos—someone is watching you.

You tell yourself it’s paranoia. A side effect of what just happened. But your instincts say otherwise. You don’t look up. You don’t search for the source of the feeling. You just keep walking. The line of survivors walks through the stair labyrinth, leaving the bloodstained field behind. No one speaks. The silence is suffocating.

Someone ahead of you stumbles, and another player catches them. A quiet mutter of "you okay?", but there’s no real answer. Just a nod, a deep breath.

Keep moving. Keep walking. Don’t look back.

You try not to think about how there were more of you before. Try not to remember the girl behind you who had been counting under her breath, timing the doll’s voice. She's gone. So is the man who had helped her, his voice calm and sure—right until it wasn’t.

You tell yourself they were strangers. That it shouldn't matter. But the truth clings to your skin like blood.

And high above, in the dim glow of the control room, the Frontman watches you disappear into the distance.

--

His grip tightens around the walkie-talkie, his heartbeat a slow, steady drum. Because he knows you from somewhere. Because he should have let you die. And yet—he didn’t.

Why? He doesn’t have the answer. Not yet. But he will. He looks at the tracksuit laying on the table in front of him. 001. This is it.

--

All of you who survived the first game were herded back into the dormitory like cattle, the air thick with exhaustion, fear, and the lingering scent of sweat and blood. No one spoke.

The silence was oppressive, heavier than the looming piggy bank above, which remained eerily empty despite the blood spilled on the field. Players clustered together in tight groups, some shaking, others still too dazed to react to the horrors of what they had just survived.

You found yourself sitting near Player 456 and Player 390. Your body seeking proximity to someone who seemed stable, someone who felt like the closest thing to safety in a place where safety didn’t exist. He did save you on that field, after all. If not for him, you would’ve bitten the dust.

"Gi-hun," Player 390 muttered, his voice barely above a whisper, like he was afraid that speaking too loudly would summon something from the darkness. His eyes darted around the dormitory, as if expecting the walls themselves to listen. "What the hell was that creepy doll? It shot people with its eyes." Player 456 didn’t answer right away. He didn’t even look at him. His face was pale, his jaw tight, his fingers gripping at the rough fabric of his jumpsuit—holding on like he was still in that field, still running. Running for his life.

Like you did. Your pulse quickened. Your breath hitched.

You moved, didn’t you? You knew you did.

You could still feel the phantom sensation of it—the slight shift of your head, the betrayal of your own body reacting a split second too late. So why were you still here?

Why weren’t you dead?

“It wasn’t the doll,” he murmured. “There were shooters.” The words settled into your skin like a slow chill. Your curiosity got the better of you.

“How do you know so much?”, you thought you already knew the answer, but you thought to yourself, if he had actually done what you thought, why come back?

Both men turned their heads toward you. Before either could answer, a sharp beeping cut through the tense air. The dormitory lit up, the overhead lights bright and clinical, illuminating every inch of the space. The double doors slid open. A line of guards in pink jumpsuits marched in, some with triangles on their mask and a few with squares, the rhythmic stomp of their boots sending an icy spike of fear through the room.

Panic rippled through the players. Some scrambled backward, others ducked behind bunks, hands clamping over their mouths to silence their scared whimpers. A few tried to vanish into the shadows, pressing themselves against the walls like they could disappear if they stayed still enough.

You didn’t dare move. Player 390 pressed behind you and Player 456, using you guys as a human shield.

The square-masked guard stepped forward. His voice rang out, loud and impersonal. “Congratulations on surviving the first game.” No one spoke. No one breathed. You could feel your heartbeat in your ears.

The TV screen above the double doors flickered to life. “Here are the results of the first game.”, a hush settled over the room as numbers flashed across the screen.

"Out of 456 players, 91 have been eliminated. 365 players remain."

A few quiet gasps. A shuddered breath. A faint sob. Could’ve been from you, you don’t know. It still feels like you’re standing outside of your body, looking down at yourself with disgust.

91 people. Gone. Just like that.

But it’s not the number itself that makes your stomach churn. It’s the finality. 91 people didn’t just lose. They didn’t get a second chance. They didn’t get to pick themselves up and try again.

Just… gone. Player 390 beside you exhales shakily, eyes locked on the glowing screen. His lips move, soundless. Maybe he’s praying. Maybe he’s counting, trying to make sense of it. But there’s no sense to be found. You swallow hard. The piggy bank above you remains empty, despite the bodies left behind. The weight of it presses into your chest. Was their death worth nothing?

A woman’s choked sob broke through the tension, “Sir! Please don’t kill us! I beg you!”. Your head snapped toward the sound with sadness. A mother—Player 149, you recognise her from earlier, where she had fought with her son—dragged him, Player 007, toward the center of the room. She collapsed onto her knees, “As for my son’s debt, I’ll do anything! I’ll pay it back, just please, I’m begging you! Please, let us go! Please!”

Her son stood stiffly beside her, his face a mask of humiliation and unease. But before he could speak, she yanked him down beside her. “Don’t just stand there, you fool! Beg for your life!”

The boy hesitated, then bowed his head. More players followed. One by one, they fell to their knees, hands pressed together, their voices rising in a desperate pleading. Your chest tightened. Maybe… maybe this could work. Maybe if enough of you begged, they would let you all go. No-- that was the desperation in you talking, it's not realistic. They wouldn't just let you go because you got on your knees. They didn't care before, on the field, did they? Still, the thought of staying in this hell any longer was unbearable. However, if you got out, where would you go? Your brother is dead. Your father is gone. And your mother? You don’t know. All you have left is the feeling. The emptiness. The loneliness.

Endless nothingness.

Maybe staying wouldn’t be so bad after all. At least here, death would be quick. Same story, different place.

A voice—firm. Unshaken. Cutting through the chaos. You know it. 456? Yes.

“Clause Three of the consent form.” The room froze. You didn’t. You turned your head just as Gi-hun stood up from the floor. His expression was stone cold as he took a step forward, straight into the center of the room. “The games may be terminated upon a majority vote.” His voice carried over the players. “Correct?”

The square-masked guard nodded, “That is correct.”

“Then let’s vote. Right now.”

A wave of relief spread through the players. You could hear whispers of gratitude, murmurs of hope. You didn’t know what you were supposed to feel. Hope? For what?

“Before that,” the guard interjected, “let me announce the prize amount that has been accumulated.”

Something about the way he said it sent a chill through you. A button clicked. The lights dimmed and a jingle played.

Familiar. Haunting.

The sound of money. Your gaze snapped upward as the golden piggy bank above your heads glowed to life.

Stacks of cash began to fall inside, the sound of bills stacking on top of each other filling the air. The pile grew higher. And higher. And then it stopped.

At first, no one moved. Then curiosity won. The fear that had held players frozen cracked just slightly, replaced by something darker. Greed. One by one, players stepped out of their hiding places, drawn toward the golden glow. The light reflected in their eyes. In your eyes. It sparkled, or was that in your head?

The moment sank in.

“91 players eliminated. That means 9.1 billion won has been added to the total.”

A heavy silence.

“If you quit the games now, the 365 of you will split the money and leave with your share.”

“How much is that?”, the old man asked. A wave of anger and disgust washed through you as you looked at his face. He reminded you a bit of someone you knew.

“24,931,500 won per person.” Your stomach sank. That wasn’t enough to even cover a quarter of your debt. Around you, players whispered, shifting uncomfortably.

“That’s it?”

“I thought we were playing for 45.6 billion!”

"Are you joking? All this for that little?"

A guard clarified, tone neutral, “The total amount only accumulates as players are eliminated.”

The shift was immediate. Whispers turned into murmurs. Murmurs into debate. And then the questions began.

“So… if only one of us survives…?” Oh god. This was it. You were going to die. You felt it—deep in your bones, in the air pressing against your skin, in the certainty that came with finality. But maybe… maybe you’d see Jonah again. The thought wrapped around you like a fragile embrace, offering the smallest, fleeting comfort—even if only for a moment.

“They take home the entire 45.6 billion won.”

Gasps. Disbelief. Murmurs of awe. You did it too.

[aurorasgate]

please be okay

sephiroth (pre nibelheim) x reader with no pronouns used

angst with a happy ending, reader is mentioned being shorter than him

you felt the momentary shake under your feet before any news of what actually occurred had made its way around the facility. it was a tremor that maybe you shouldn’t have questioned when this deep in a shinra facility, let alone in the public security wing. it’s entirely possible 2nd and 3rd class soldiers are destroying a training room and some of those around you hadn’t even batted an eye but there’s a dreadful pit in your stomach telling you something was so terribly wrong and as quickly as it had come and gone, your walk back to the first class office turned into a full blown run.

“what the hell was that?” your words fill the room the second the doors are open enough and with each quick step you’re making your way to the desk lazard sits behind. as soon as the doors close behind you, the alarms outside begin to blare.

angeal is standing facing lazard, buster sword attached to his back and his arms folded. you can’t see either of their expressions but the seriousness of the situation is evident by how thick the air in the room feels, the tension it builds forcing you to slow your steps. you quickly glance around and note the lack of anyone else around. genesis left for a mission outside of midgar earlier today so that’s to be expected but you saw sephiroth this morning and no other classes of soldiers are around either. it’s only you three.

“a mako line in the building exploded,” lazard answers, his voice seemingly as calm as ever but his brows are drawn in tightly, giving a bit of his emotions away from behind his hands that are folded in front of his face.

your eyes widen. “it exploded?” you ask with emphasis, noting his choice of words. not a leak or even a burst but an explosion.

where is sephiroth? you want to ask immediately after, your stomach already tying in knots, keeping you from asking in fear of the answer but praying to whatever god will listen that either of the men next to you will tell you he’s not in the building for one reason or another.

lazard nods, unfolding his hands and turning his computer monitor to show you a green hued screen displaying the view of the security camera outside of the medical section of this wing. it’s on fire, getting hazy through the smoke clouding the lens but you can make out troopers and other staff struggling to leave for more reasons than just the flames, unable to breathe the little air there was with such high concentration of mako still flowing into it.

you can see the sparkling particles on the screen as it takes over every free bit of space, swirling with the fire like an ethereal flame, and it makes you swallow thickly the longer it unfolds before you but you’re not even breathing at all when angeal finally speaks.

“sephiroth went in to see if the shut off valve made it through the explosion.”

the world follows suit of your lungs and stops completely, only the heavy force of your painfully slow heartbeats giving you any kind of proof that you weren’t frozen in this horrific moment but rather actively living in it. 

when the air returns to your lungs, burning and aching, you don’t say anything to lazard or angeal before running at full speed out the door and into the chaos of public security. your hands are shaking as you reach for your phone in your pocket and dial sephiroths number, holding back the wet sting of your eyes. maybe it’s ridiculous to be nearly in tears worried over shinras strongest soldier and if you were thinking more logically, out of everyone a first class soldier would be the most likely to survive so much mako exposure and get past the flames quickly but it didn’t matter to you.

not when the force of the aching in your heart nearly rips it completely in two because it’s him, the man who has been burned into your very being from the first the moment he captured your heart without even knowing it. he still doesn’t know. would he accept it if he did? you push the thought away. it can’t be at the front of your mind when all this anxious worry uncontrollably swirls within you and is taking over your every thought.

pick up dammit.

the phone rings and rings and rings and you feel the bile in your stomach rolling but when you’re about to hang up, he finally picks up on the other line, calling your name in a way that almost convinces you that it’s okay. but its so very not okay.

“are you somewhere safe?” he asks and you can’t believe how worried about you he seems when he’s the one in danger. he’s not hiding it in his normally deep and collected tone either, you can hear it in his words.

“y-yes,” you try to will it not to but your voice still shakes. “but sephiroth-”

“good,” he interrupts you with relief and the echo of his quick steps fill the split moment of quiet between you. 

you’re trying to find the words to speak into the universe so he’ll make it out of this, make it back to you.  

“stay put,” he requests before hanging up, knowing you well enough by now that you already weren’t doing that but hoping maybe his words would convince you all the same.

your jaw clenches and you pick up the pace, holding your phone at your side as if it was his hand keeping him tethered to you, any part of your sanity echoing what you know to be true; how strong and resilient he is. he could make it through anything.. right? he has to.. 

there’s a barricade of troopers already beginning to form a good distance away from the explosion and you are no exception to their order to not let anyone through. not that it stopped you from trying but you weren’t even sure what your plan was if you did get past them. run into the mako riddled infirmary in search of him? possibly get in his way because there was no way you are as fast as he is? but fuck.. you just needed to be closer. closer to where he’d exit any minute now - because it had to be any minute now right? closer to him in case he called back and needed you, which was a silly thought in and of itself but even if your strength could not match his, you would do anything to help him right now.

“lazard tell them i can get through!” you’re losing it, absolutely helpless and it’s killing you. your tone says as much when your boss comes into view, having chased after you at angeals heels. 

he looks at you with pity or empathy in his eyes, you really can’t tell which it is in your state but it’s a flicker before his face falls back into a serious expression and he’s firm in his answer. “no.”

before you can protest, the bubbling lid barely held over your emotions ready to crash into the ground and spill over, another explosion shakes the floors and walls, harder than the last time now that you’re closer to the source. you easily keep your balance but you feel dizzy at how quickly you turn around to head straight from it and nauseous when you see more smoke billowing down the long hallway.

you don’t make it a single full step before angeals strong grasp is around your wrist, keeping you in place. there’s no hiding what’s within you when it’s so evident in your eyes, all full of anguish and desperation, and no words are shared between you when you look back at him, just a knowing look that tells you about duty and honor above all else. even above love.

biting your bottom lip, you tear your gaze and your hand away from him and use all the willpower you have to keep your feet grounded but every passing moment your muscles scream to move. 

two slow minutes pass by and the security officers blocking the way begin to urge you back more at the orders you hear their commanding officer give them but you don’t budge and leave no room for question with the biting glare you give them when they try to touch you to get you to move. 

another minute ticks by, your brain not keeping up with your racing heart, neither in sync with the other as you take in breath after breath and beg yourself not to cry. this is agony like you had never felt before. like you were losing a part of yourself you had never had a hold of to begin with but there’s no regret. not yet anyway. just painful impatience while you hold onto hope and everything you have ever felt for sephiroth like it's a lifeline, until it’s being crushed in your grasp.

“i’m going in there,” you hear angeal say from behind you.

you’re ready to turn on your heels and demand to go with him when your eyes catch the faintest movement in the smoke. on bated breath you watch a tall frame emerge from the smoke and use all of your strength to not collapse under the weight of your relief when you can see sephiroth clearly, making long strides right towards you. he’s marked in soot, his armor charred and he’s practically dripping in mako from head to toe. it clings to him, falling like snow behind him in his steps but he’s alive and hardly looks fazed or out of breath.

you cannot say the same for yourself. ignoring the yelling of the troopers who demand for you to stay back when your legs carry you as quickly as they can to him, you look the same as the mess you feel inside but you don’t care who's around to see or what they might think. all you can focus on are the cyan eyes of the man you love in front of you and the taut tether that’s pulling you right into his arms.

throwing your arms around his neck, your entire body crashes against his but in his infinite strength, he holds steady. you can feel his arms hesitate to wrap around you in return but when they do, he holds you with such tender strength that both soothes you and breaks down the last of your barely held together demeanor with one arm strong arm wrapped around your middle, his other hand cradling the back of your skull.

“you’re okay,” you choke out like you had to hear it spoken out loud to believe it, feeling a few of your held back tears fall and melt against his cheek pressed against yours. a heartbeat echoes between you and you aren’t sure if it’s yours or his but underneath the smoke you can faintly smell his familiar leather and floral scent. he’s warm, so warm, his hair soft, his breaths steady against your own that try to match his. “you’re okay.”

his hold on you tightens and he shifts to stand nearly at his full height, lifting you onto the very tips of your toes, your bodies now completely flush, but you don’t struggle to hold onto him and he doesn’t let you go a bit. the large hand on the back of your head tangles into your hair and quietly, like the words were only meant for you, he whispers, “i’m okay.”

comments & reblogs would be so greatly appreciated!<3 thank you for reading ♡

[seramilla]

part 2 of operation swimsuit? pretty please mom

Odette, Clara, and Emily quietly make their way toward the Carmine's room on the fourth floor. All three brace themselves as Odette inserts and removes her card key from the door, wincing as the beep! rings out and the little green light pops up, signifying it's unlocked.

Odette barely, barely inches the door open, moving her head at different angles to peer through the crack, looking for her mother throughout the room. The bathroom, the bed, the area in front of the TV, all are devoid of Carmilla Carmine.

But when she angles her head just so, towards the desk...yes! Carmilla is sitting in the office chair, still in her bathing suit, Airpods in place. She's typing furiously at her laptop, no doubt trying to shoot off a quick email to her assistant about some emergency or other.

Normally, Odette would get onto her mother for being unable to go without working for 5 minutes. But in this instance, her instinct about Carmilla is correct, and she thanks her lucky stars. She and Clara silently slip through the door, unseen and unheard, while Emily keeps watch outside.

Carmilla is thankfully faced away from them, so it's all too easy for Clara to crawl on hands and feet, moving awkwardly across the floor toward the nightstand by the beds. Clara jumps, almost blowing her cover when Carmilla starts talking harshly. She must be on a call.

"Did I ask for your opinion, Thomas?" Carmilla quips, voice stern and obviously unamused at someone on the other line. "I left Maria in charge, not you. So why are you calling me about your missed orders? Do you not trust that she can take care of it?"

Clara hastens her movements, as if her body is on fast-forward. She reaches up to the nightstand, hand fumbling for the spare key cards stored in the decorative bowl there. She blindly finds two thin, plastic rectangles, and grins. Grabbing them, she scoots back over to the door, where Odette is waiting, frantically waving her sister over with her hand.

Both girls jump again when Carmilla raises her voice, bringing both hands down heavily on the desk.

"I don't have time for this. Frankly, Thomas, she got the promotion over you because of moments like this. If you want me to believe you can handle more assignments, then prove you can do your job without having to call me every time you make a mistake."

Odette and Clara scramble through the door just before Carmilla stands up, saying, "Ask Maria. She clearly knows more about this client than you do," before ending the call, throwing the phone down on the bed and making a frustrated "RRNNHHGG" sound into her hands.

Poor Mama, Odette thinks, with a sly grin. Don't worry. Very soon a certain someone will help you relax.

Emily is literally bouncing up and down by the time Odette and Clara get back into the hall. Sera's younger sister has moved further down the corridor, away from their room, so Carmilla won't hear them speak. Her face looks panicked, like she's about to hop out of her skin and wave it around like a mercy flag.

"Guys!" Emily screeches. "Guys! Get over here! Pleeaaasseee!"

"What?!" Clara asks when they reach her. Emily is holding her phone, waving it around, like it's a matter of life or death that they see what's on her screen. Then Emily shoves it in Clara's face so hard it smacks her in the forehead.

"Ow! Hey!" Clara shouts.

"Sorry! Sorry! It's an emergency! I was crafting that text to Sera while you were in there, saying you told me Carmilla is locked out of her room and needs another key card, but I can't get one because I'm on break with you, but my finger slipped, and I sent it already, and--and--shit! She's coming! Sera's already on her way up here--what do we--?!"

"Slow down," Clara says, putting both hands on Emily's shoulders, urging her to breathe. The younger hotelier literally hadn't taken a single inhale during all that rambling. Her face is red, bordering on purple, but after a few seconds, she catches her second wind.

"I fucked up!" Emily screeches, sound squeaking out of her like a deflating balloon. "I FUCKED UP!"

"It's okay," Clara tells her. "We'll figure this out."

Turning to the older Carmine sibling, Clara sees Odette is wearing that face that screams business, which so closely resembles their mother's. Calm and collected, she refuses to panic. It helps ground Clara when she's too nervous to function.

"Okay," Clara states. "We're speed running this. Odette, send Mama the text now."

Odette nods, shooting off a short but succinct text to Carmilla in two seconds flat. One that the matriarch cannot possibly ignore.

"Mother. Come downstairs now. We need you."

The use of "Mother" to instill a sense of urgency, a name Odette never uses for Carmilla unless it's serious. "Come downstairs now," a clear and concise directive to give her a location to direct the fear and/or worry response she knows the text will invoke. "We need you," a direct appeal to her motherly instincts, but vague enough to have plausible deniability in case this experiment gives Carmilla a heart attack.

It's good they had already moved down the hall and out of sight of the door, because not 3 seconds after the text status changes to "Read", a loud BOOM can be heard in the direction of their room. The sound ricochets off the walls like a thunderclap, and Emily winces at the thought of a fresh hole in the wall where that door has undoubtely hit it.

Feet approach them. Loudly, quickly, at a much-too-rapid pace. They jerk down a side hallway, stumbling over themselves to get out of sight. Thankfully, they can see the elevators, and are no longer directly in Carmilla Carmine's warpath.

Unfortunately, they are now blocked from the elevators, where Carmilla will be momentarily zipping right past to get to the stairwell.

Carmilla's not an idiot. In an emergency, the stairs are faster. Odette knows she would jump from the top of each landing and skip the stairs entirely if she had to. She's seen her do it before. The chances of them not getting caught are slim to nonexistent, if they don't beat Carmilla down there before she starts looking for them.

Maybe Emily knows a shortcut. Maybe there's an employee-only route. Some way to get back to the restaurant before she finds them gone. Maybe--

The girls' heads swivel as one of the elevator doors suddenly DINGs. Everything at that point moves in slow motion. Emily reaches out her hand, as if she can do something. Odette and Clara open their mouths, ready to shout, about to warn whoever is about to step onto their floor that their life is in mortal peril.

They try to speak, but their voices are captured in their throats in abject terror. Carmilla will be furious. If they're discovered, it's curtains for them both. They want to say, Stop! Stay back! Run for your life! But they can't.

Instead, both Carmine sisters and Emily watch as Sera steps calmly out of the elevator, face at first frowning in worry, and then increasingly concerned, eyes blowing wide as Carmilla Carmine comes barreling down the hall and very nearly knocks her over like a bowling pin. The only things saving Sera are Carmilla's dancer reflexes, and her legendary balance stopping her in her tracks.

The older woman screeches to a halt, bare feet squeaking on the fancy hotel flooring, stopping herself right in front of her host.

Sera is not so lucky. She cries out, arms pinwheeling, and may have fallen backward in surprise, if Carmilla hadn't reached out to grab her arm, righting the taller woman on her feet again like it's nothing.

"Carmilla!" Sera exclaims, wondering what in the world has the matriarch in such a frenzy. "Is something wrong? What's going on? Emily texted me to bring you--"

Sera had been about to tell Carmilla that she'd brought her a new key card, but quickly gets distracted at the realization that Carmilla is still holding onto her, and is very close to her, close enough to touch. The woman is also clearly, undeniably half naked; she hadn't even bothered to change out of her bathing suit before practically turning Sera into a pancake in the hallway of her own hotel.

Those muscles, flexing under toned and absolutely perfect skin. The ones she'd been ogling from afar until now, only allowing herself small snatches and quick glances, in case Carmilla had caught her staring...

Those abs. Those thighs. Those shoulders. Every part of Carmilla is front and center now. Sera can't help the way her jaw hangs open mid-sentence, not when that hand, attached to that arm, attached to that bicep, which glints with sweat and exertion whenever Carmilla is playing volleyball, is currently touching her. With nothing in the way. Skin on skin.

Carmilla has yet to let go. Why hasn't Carmlla let go? Does Sera even care if she does? When Carmilla looks so...perfect and delectable like this? Her eyes move up, to meet Carmilla's, and she shrieks. Carmilla is staring directly into hers.

The logic center of Sera's brain decides to come back online just then, and the taller woman at least has enough shame to be embarrassed. She has been caught staring now, by the woman she'd been so desperately trying to hide it from. She turns her head away quickly, face burning like the surface of the sun, apologizing profusely.

"Sorry! I'm so sorry!" Sera squeaks. "I wasn't--! I didn't mean--! Emily said you were locked out of your room, so I brought you another key card!"

Sera shoves the key card into Carmilla's face, still not looking at her, unable to look at the other woman. Carmilla has calmed down a bit by now, more concerned at the moment that she didn't hurt Sera, before she remembers why she'd been rushing in the first place.

"Umm...I wasn't locked out. Odette and Clara told me to come downstairs. That they needed me."

"Wait...for what?"

Sera's embarrassment abates enough that she realizes something isn't adding up. Emily said she and her friends were already at the arcade. They wouldn't be downstairs. They'd be across the street at that nice gentleman Husker's establishment by now. He would have called her if there was an emergency.

Wouldn't he?

Sera is now worried enough that she can look at Carmilla again. She's still feeling...well, sheepish. There's still a light blush to her face, and she can't quite hold Carmilla's gaze for very long, but it's not enough to keep her from reaching for her phone with a plan.

"Emily said they were at the arcarde. Husker, the owner, is a good friend of mine. He also runs the casino. He would have notified me of any problems, or handled it himself. He can be rather intimidating. Let me call Emily and clear this up. Then we can go over there together."

Carmilla, thankfully, at least appears marginally calmer at this news than she had been a moment prior. She's still sporting the mama bear look, every muscle taught, her body still extremely on edge. In hindsight, she realizes she may have reacted a bit too brashly. Someone could have been hurt. She's infinitely glad it wasn't the woman who had invited her on a date.

It would be really difficult to do that if she'd put Sera in the hospital.

Their date will have to wait, regardless. Once they get the situation with the girls figured out, Carmilla can treat her beautiful host to a drink and an appetizer for her trouble. Lord knows they both deserve it.

Carmilla is about to apologize for her behavior, tell Sera in no uncertain terms that this is very unlike her, that she usually has a much better emergency response than this, until the shrill ringing of a cell phone blares incessantly at them.

Sera jumps. She had just dialed up Emily and put her own cell to her ear. It's not the stock sound of a phone ringing. It's a very specific ring tone. A pop song Sera doesn't know the name of, but one in which she is intimately familiar, because she hears it almost every day.

It's Emily's.

Without even thinking, Sera makes a bee-line toward the sound, with Carmilla hot on her heels. The girls don't have a chance to escape as they round the corner. There are no exits, and the only other doors in this area are to occupied rooms. When Carmilla and Sera finally greet them, they stare at the trio in dismay, absolutely dumbfounded.

"Emily?!" Sera gasps.

"Girls?!" Carmilla shouts. "I thought you were--!"

"Heeeeeeyyy," Emily says sheepishly, rubbing the back of her neck with her phone. Odette and Clara look at their new friend, speechless. Clara angrily mouths at her WHY DIDN'T YOU PUT IT ON SILENT?!

Carmilla sees the motion. And unfortunately for Clara, she does NOT appear to be in the mood for these types of childish games.

Odette groans, burying her face in both hands. "Why did I let you guys talk me into this? I knew we wouldn't get away with it."

"Correct," Carmilla states, a degree of terrifying calmness evident in her voice. "You girls rarely do. Now if you would be so kind, what exactly is going on here?"

[afyrian]

☆ chapter four - budding words m.list

    staring up a light pole, you hold up the last poster you're carrying. pressing it against the rough wooden texture, you spread out your palm, flattening it as best you can. grabbing a stapler from your bag, you press down each corner. a soft click noise releases as you push the stapler down, properly holding it up in place. you stand back for a moment, looking it over.

  it's a simple poster, outlining your curiosity, your want to know who this mysterious individual may be. behind every short message, you find yourself yearning for the love that hides in every descriptive line. with sage green hearts lining the corners, you hope that the person behind those words will finally reveal themselves. give you a chance to become more than just admirer and muse.

  however, for at least your walk home, you'll have to grow content with the idea that he may never reveal himself. your mind wandering to something much more real, kuroo tetsuro. looking towards the snow gathered along the sidewalks, it glistens under the bright midday sun. parts melting under the weather growing warmer for a few days. stopping in front of your shop's doors, you see a few people standing inside from behind the glass.

  pursing your lips, you walk inside, a little bell going off as the door pulls open. the people standing there look from yachi to you. they all immediately start speaking over each other, words muddling together. "i'm so sorry, what's going on?" you question, eyebrows furrowing downward.

  "i'm your secret admirer," all three men say at the same time, voices overlapping into a harmonic voice. 

  you look towards yachi, eyes widening into lengths she's never seen before. looking back at the men, you nod slightly, telling out a deep sigh. "well, you can't all be the secret admirer... so, how do you all think that we should go about this? actually, yachi can correspond the notes with your answers and i have flowers to deliver," you give her a smile, turning towards the back of the shop.

  "excuse me-" she starts saying, following you to the back of the shop, lowering her voice to a whisper when you reach the bouquets, "you're not just dumping this all on me!"

  "but these deliveries... and i know kuroo is usually walking home around these times," you pick and prod at the flowers, looking up at yachi who has grown a wide smile on her face.

  she clasps her hands together, bringing them up to her face. yachi frees her hands and brings them, grabbing a hold of your shoulders, hoping to do some prodding of her own, "so you can 'bump' into each other again?? one of you has to formally ask out the other, unless you think he might soon."

  you shake your head slowly, biting your lip softly. "i don't know, but i do know i like to see him. so i should really get going-"

  "nope, you're gonna sit down with me and verify these guys. plus, who knows, maybe one of them will even become more important to you than kuroo," she reaches her hands lower, wrapping them around your bicep and pulling you back towards the front of the store.

  following her slowly, you start to yearn for the deliveries, something that's never been your favorite. you barely know kuroo, and yet every part of you wants to see him. his presence is calming and yet fiery at the same time. you can joke with him, knock him over, and catch him in the same sentence with a smile. but you're stuck sitting there, listening to the men introducing themselves.

  "so, oikawa. we received an order last night from the store's secret admirer. it started with 'these flowers, while not handed to you directly...'. could you please finish it?" you question, pushing the laptop's screen down so that he can't see what it says.

  yachi raises her eyebrows as soon as you say 'the store's secret admirer', knowing full well that it's for you. however, she doesn't say anything as oikawa leans back in his chair, arm resting over the back of it. "uh, are a show of my love?"

  pursing your lips, you shake your head. "nice to meet you... oikawa, but that isn't what it says. please find your way to the front door, or if you're still up for it, there's plenty of bouquets for purchase," you give him a curt smile, turning to the next two people alleging to be him. 

  much like oikawa's attempt, you never heard the words 'blossom between my fingers. they represent every swirl in my fingerprints writing out my love for you'. they feel like they slip off the tongue, beautiful and elegant. and none of the men who came into the shop carried that elegance. their voices didn't match the one that rang through your head every time you think of the writer.

  "i'm going now, please take care of the shop!" you rush towards the back of the shop, grabbing the few small bouquets still in need of delivering.

  yachi watches as you head for the front door, seeing such a wide smile grace your lips. it's beautiful to her, and seeing you with such a smile made her happy. you're finally finding someone for you that most can't find, especially when they're so indulged in their work. "you know i will. if you aren't back by closing, i'll lock it all up."

  "thank you! i'll probably be back in time, but if not, feel free to take a few flowers for yourself," you give her a wave, pushing through the front doors and onto the busy sidewalk. 

  your deliveries are the typical ones, shops around town for people who don't have time to pick them up. a couple being older individuals who you deliver to every other week. heading for the residential part of time, you pass your apartment building. the large structure holding a beautiful interior. however, you know you can't stop for a break.

  passing down a street, you look around at the sights. apartment building windows lit up with different colors. some bedrooms carrying a color through the darkness, bright purples and blues giving way for unique personalities. you've always loved people-watching, the inherent act of understanding you're not alone in the universe. 

  that people are there and trying their best. it gives you hope, hope for a better future. one that could possibly include kuroo. the idea of him walking up to you manifests in your mind, carrying that same briefcase. he smiles as soon as he sees you, feet carrying him quicker than he can even think. "l/n?" he questions and you immediately believe you'd tell him to call you y/n.

  the words leave your lips quicker than you would've cared for them to. however, as you're imaging it all, you know that the slight embarrassment wouldn't last. but much to your dismay, as the imagery leaves your mind, you still see him standing there. his same old smile still haunting his lips, "sure, i can call you y/n. if you call me tetsurō. it's only fair."

  your breath hitches, tongue pressing against the roof of your mouth. "okay- yeah," nothing coherent forms in your mind, leaving you speechless.

  "then that’s settled. it's interesting to see you here. you making deliveries?" he looks towards the flower bouquets, free hand stuffed in his pocket, the suit somehow always fitting him like a glove.

  "yeah. some home deliveries and then one of the local businesses has a book club tomorrow. so i'm just getting some in tonight. you heading home from work?" freeing a hand to reach up and scratch the back of your neck, feeling the metaphorical bugs covering you, the typical butterflies not in sight. 

  kuroo nods, looking out at the horizon and back to you, watching the sun descend in the sky. "how about we walk together? i can hold a couple of those for you," he nods, reaching his hand out to grab hold.

  not missing a beat, you grab a couple from the pile, handing it off to him. his gloved hands always make his touch feel so distant, like he's a thousand miles away. "thank you.. tetsurō. i will never stop appreciating running into you," you finally give him a warm smile, eyes still unable to stay trained on his.

  "well, every time we do, every swirl within my fingerprints will be at service to you," he whispers, something only you could hear amongst the sounds of light traffic.

  the two of you continue walking, but your eyebrows furrow, mind wandering. his words sound so familiar, so similar to that of your secret admirer. it felt memorable, beautiful within every word. "i think i can only say thank you enough," you knock your shoulder into his, heading towards an apartment building usually filled with older members.

  "okay, well, then it's my turn to say thank you if you’ll accept my company hiring you for their upcoming event,” he looks over at you, illuminated by the evening sun and streetlights turning on.

  “really? your boss is up for hiring me for the event?” you question, trying to hide the way your heart nearly skips a beat seeing him shine like that, “tetsurō, thank you!! you have no idea what this opportunity means to me.”

  he looks forward, shrugging his shoulders. “it was all your work, i merely showed it off, y/n. he loved your design and wants you to call tomorrow about some more. you should be really proud of yourself, i know i am,” kuroo follows you as you push the apartment lobby’s doors open.

  “not gonna say thank you, but i think you know how i feel.”

taglist (open): @maybespiderman @causenessus @applepi25 @softpia @bakery-anon

@nekozaki @nnnyxie @kameyyy @grassbutneo @asrichin

@boosyboo9206 @anqelkoz @rriwyu @ssabvln @thesleepingrose

@chososcamgirl @lale-txt @weezerbby @cupidsblonde

[thedepthsoffandomminds]

Behind the scenes - maze runner fic. PT 2

Part one

Masterlist

Being back on set for Scorch Trials was strange, it had been around a year since the hype had died down from the first movie and you hadn't seen most of the cast for some time as you'd been busy filming another show. At the table read you notice how Thomas and Dylan seemed distant to you. While the others still laughed and joked along with you they seemed to almost actively ignore your jokes. You aren't sure why but Kaya tells you to ignore them, the boys were always doing strange things. It wasn't until halfway through the table read when your phone dinged. It was your agent and they needed to speak to you immediately. There was an article released about your fellow actor on your TV show. They had been arrested and made implications against you. It took almost two weeks but your agents and lawyers were able to get your name removed from all the articles by which time you were starting filming.

You are all sat around the first set in the facility as your characters had just arrived. Kaya begins to speak but her lines get caught up and muddled. Thomas is sitting behind with you close in front and you both laugh. Wes calls to keep rolling but tells you to move back against Thomas. You look at him and slowly move back, till your back is against his chest; he puts his arm around your shoulder. It feels somewhat uncomfortable.

“You didn't think you'd be able to let…go…straight through…” Thomas caught his tongue between his teeth as everyone broke character and laughed at his mess up.

Standing close to Dylan by the now broken window you try to stay in character as he says,

“I wanna go to the zoo and see the Flamingos.” You all break out in laughter. Dylan pulls a silly face at you making you laugh more.

The group rushes up a sand dune and looks out over the land out of shot. You feel the sand move below your feet and then see Dylan falling, he reaches out for your arm and pulls you down with him. The others giggle and pretend to call out for your characters..

Everyone is running forward towards the mostly green screen building. You feel the tiger catching up with you. Her heavy body pushes into you, knocking you to the ground. Happily playing with you she rolls over you before jumping away. Her handler quickly rushes over to calm the animal as Thomas and Ki Hong hold out their hands to help you up.

“You okay?” Thomas asks, seeing you rub your elbow.

“Yeah, I'm good.” You reply before he swiftly turns away from you. Your eyes flick to Ki Hong who shrugs at you.

“Everybody get down, hide, hide!” Dylan shouts as his character. Everyone scatters to their places but Dylan spins a few times. “Where? Where?” He says making everyone laugh. You all reset and begin again. He tells you all to hide again and once more everyone is confused about where to go.

“What did we talk about?” He calls out before grabbing you and lifting you over his shoulder. When he puts you down again you stumble backwards into Thomas. The blonde Teen holds onto your shoulders a little longer than is necessary and you feel a fluttering in your stomach.

The set is darkened and the camera rolling, it's set on Thomas and Dexter with you in the background. The two are saying their lines and the scene is going well until you pull your shirt over your head and got stuck.

“I can't get it off.” You say sheepishly. You hear the boys snickering as one of the AD’s rushes over to you and helps to pull the shirt off your shoulders. The scene is reset and you start again. It happens again and the shirt gets stuck around your shoulders.

“Y/n! Come one!” Dexter shouted with a laugh. Later that day you are walking toward the food hall when Thomas comes up beside you.

“Get your shit together, you better not act like that this afternoon.’ He all but growled at you before he stormed away. Blowing out your cheeks you sighed. You grabbed a plate of food and ate in your trailer before heading back for the afternoon scenes. It was the scene with Thomas where Newt confesses his feelings for your character. You're more nervous than you had ever been for a scene.

“Of course I feel the same way.” you say as Thomas (as Newt) smiles, his hand coming up to cup your face. The warmth of his palm warms your cold skin and you feel those butterflies again. His dark eyes meet yours as you look at each other. Wes calls cut and heads over to you.

“That was great guys. Brilliant work today!”

Thomas looks at you once more and you see something flicker in his eyes but you can't decipher it. He clears his throat and walks away.

@fandomfan-102 @deanstolemydragon @afalls14universe

[belit0]

His Chain, My Blood

AO3 Chapter 2

The back of the school gym wasn’t a place people wandered into by accident. 

It was dead space, a patch of cracked pavement boxed in by chain-link fencing, cigarette butts scattered like dead teeth in the dirt. The walls were tagged with years of names no one cared to remember, old bloodstains that nobody talked about.

It was their place. No teachers. No cameras. No eyes.

Madara leaned against the wall, boot braced, smoke curling from the corner of his mouth. His phone buzzed in his palm, ignored. Indra sat low on the warped bench nearby, legs stretched, one arm slung over the backrest, a cigarette burning down between his fingers. 

Both of them were built from the kind of silence people didn’t interrupt.

Across the lot, movement.

Some kid, scrawny, hunched in a battered hoodie slipped through the side gap in the fence like he was hoping no one would see him. Indra’s eyes cut toward him without moving his head.

Behind the kid, a figure he recognized.

Light brown hair. Green eyes under smudged eyeliner. Same leather jacket from the party. Same careless grip on a cigarette, phone in her other hand like she hadn’t even looked up to check where she was walking.

Ivy.

She moved like she belonged there, even though she didn’t. 

Leaned against the fence, phone screen catching the last spit of sunlight while the kid nervously passed her a wad of bills. She barely glanced at him. Just flicked a ziplock his way like it meant nothing.

Madara pushed off the wall with a laugh, a line of smoke breaking from his lips.

-You seeing this shit?

Indra was already standing.

They didn’t speak after that. Didn’t need to. The kid bolted like a kicked dog the second they started moving, his footsteps a frantic echo in the dead lot. Neither of them chased. The prize wasn’t him.

Ivy’s head tipped up when the first crunch of gravel hit. She didn’t even try to run. Not her style. Not with people like them.

Madara was on her in two steps, shoving her back against the rough brick wall, his hand a fist in the front of her jacket.

-What the fuck you think you’re doing, princess?

Indra went through her pockets, slipping the ziplocks free like he was taking back something already his. It wasn’t much. Shitty street-grade stuff, but it was the principle.

He held one up between two fingers. -You getting cute? Trying to move on our turf?-

Madara shoved her again, harder, smoke and venom in his voice. -Got a death wish or you just fucking dumb?-

Her head cracked against the wall, but she didn’t flinch. A smear of blood bloomed at the corner of her mouth where she’d bit down too hard on the inside of her cheek, and instead of crying, or pleading, or even looking scared, she just wiped it away with her thumb and spat.

-Give me a cut then.

The words hit the air like a slap. 

Rough, low, not a plea — a deal.

-Lemme work for you. You’re already moving shit. You get your piece, I don’t get fucked up by you two, and no one runs to your boss talking about how you’re moving weight through school kids.

Madara’s grin cracked sharp, all teeth. He raised a hand, about to backhand the audacity out of her mouth.

Indra caught his wrist mid-swing.

-Leave it.

His cousin shot him a glare. -You serious?-

Indra didn’t blink. Pulled a fresh zip from his own pocket, cleaner, stronger, and tossed it at Ivy’s chest. It hit her jacket, bounced, and she caught it one-handed.

-Seventy percent to us. You move where we tell you. You pay up when you’re told. Fuck around, you disappear.

Ivy looked at the bag, then back at him. -Deal.-

Madara laughed, rough and unkind. -You’re either real fucking brave or real fucking stupid, light hair.-

She didn’t answer. Just jammed the bag into her jacket and walked off like she hadn’t just made a deal with two wolves in a place no one was supposed to survive.

And for the first time in a long time, Indra felt interested.

It wasn't loud. It didn’t claw at him, didn’t burn like the kind of lust he crushed under his boot every other night, didn’t even curl his mouth into a smirk. It just settled there, low and cold, like a splinter under the skin, sharp every time he moved. Something about the way she walked away without looking back, blood still on her lip and zero fucking respect in her eyes.

Madara dragged hard on his cigarette. -The fuck kind of selling a little bitch like that one’s gonna do?- He spat the words out, watching Ivy’s figure disappear behind the fence, hair catching the last flash of sun before it dipped past the corner. -Barely got enough weight in that skinny-ass jacket to move shit. Think she’s gonna hustle some pimply kids for nickels and call it business?- He scoffed, grinding the butt of his cigarette against the wall.

Indra didn’t look at him. He kept his gaze where Ivy had gone. -Doesn’t matter if she can.-

-The fuck you mean it doesn’t? Tajima finds out we’re letting strays move for us, we’re both catching heat.-

Indra slid his hands into his pockets, tone low. -If she can’t, we’ve got something pretty to trade favors with. Easy sell. Some of the older guys’d cut their tongue out for five minutes with a girl like that. Either she works, or she pays a different way.-

He didn’t have to spell it out. Madara was grinning before he’d even finished. -You twisted fuck.- barked a laugh, shaking his head. -Izuna’s gonna love this shit. He’s got a thing for mouthy girls. Bet he’d pay just to knock her around for talking back.-

-Let’s see what she’s got first.

The sun was dead by then, the last smudge of orange bleeding out of the sky. Their turf was quiet, the air thick with heat and smoke and the static hum of bad things waiting to happen.

Madara checked his phone.

-Wanna hit the spot? Obito said he’s got a blunt the size of my dick, which means it’s fucking tiny, but it’ll burn.

Indra didn’t answer. He was already moving toward the lot’s edge, pulling his lighter from his pocket, another cigarette catching between his lips like muscle memory.

//

That one spot Obite liked wasn’t much. 

Just an old abandoned parking structure on the edge of town, half the roof caved in, broken glass glittering like ice in the corners. They’d claimed it years back, chased off the junkies, painted over the tags with their own, made it a place no one else stepped into after sundown. 

It stank of old weed, spilled booze, puke.

Madara was already lighting up when they stepped into the open space, the low hum of music vibrating through a speaker propped on a busted hood. Obito was there, slouched against the side of his car, blunt between his teeth, phone in one hand. Shisui straddled the edge of the roof, one leg dangling, a cigarette burning between his fingers, the glow catching the gleam of his grin.

-About time you dead fucks showed up,- Obito called out, exhaling a thick cloud.

Shisui leaned forward, flicking his ash into the air. -Damn, didn’t expect to see you degenerates walkin' free. Mada dodge another statutory charge or what?-

Madara laughed, a short, sharp sound, middle finger already raised. -Jealousy’s a disease, Shisui. You should get that shit looked at.-

Indra didn’t say a word. He just walked past them, grabbed a half-drunk bottle off the hood of Obito’s car, took a long pull without asking. 

That was how it worked. No one questioned him. No one told him no.

Shisui hopped down, loose-limbed and dangerous, like a knife with a crooked smile.

-So? You two look like you ran over a nun on the way here. Something good happen?

Madara grinned, slinging an arm around Indra’s shoulders even though the other boy barely tolerated it. -Found us a new stray. Little bitch from that party the other night. Selling on our turf. Indra made her an offer.-

Obito’s brow rose, interest flickering for a beat. -Yeah? Who?-

-Light hair, green eyes,- he offered, dragging out the description like he was savoring it. -Ivy. That girl Izuna’s hookup, Tati, dragged around like a fucking chaperone.-

Shisui laughed. -The fuck, her? The one with the mouth? Thought she was too good for the rest of us. Acted like her phone had more to say than we did.-

Obito flicked his lighter, took another long drag. -So what’s the play? She any good?-

Indra finally spoke, his voice low, deadpan. -Doesn’t matter. She moves what we give her. Seventy percent. She fucks up, we trade her around. Favor bait.-

A silence settled in, thick and heavy, and then Shisui broke it with a wolfish grin.

-Yeah. Izuna’s gonna love that. Pretty little punching bag with attitude. That’s his shit.- Shisui concluded.

Madara stole Obito’s beer. -Gotta see how long before she breaks. Where’s Izuna?-

Obito exhaled a rough chuckle. -Fucking that Tati bitch. Bet a blunt and a blowjob your new dealer folds in a week.-

Indra let the bottle tip against his mouth again, the burn of liquor sliding down his throat. -One way or another, she pays.-

And with that, the four of them settled in like they always did, a storm without a leash. 

Jokes turned cruel, stories turned darker, and bets were made with the kind of currency no one else in town dared to gamble with.

They passed the blunt, traded insults, kicked broken glass at each other’s feet, but beneath all of it, something else hung in the air. That raw, hungry thing that lived in the space between their jokes and violence. The pack. The sickness. The thing that made them infamous.

And somewhere, not too far from them, Ivy was walking home with a ziplock in her jacket and no idea how deep she’d already stepped into it.

[gaytwirights]

(Long Post!!!!!) So regarding this post,,,

One day, you'll hear what I'm saying

One day, you might understand

One day, but not today

For after all you're

Just a man

.

Alt Text:

1: "You're not looking for a mentor"

First Period Behemo is shown from the side, pointing at a large screen. her surroundings are dark, except for the harsh green light from the screen.

2: "I'm not looking for a friend"

on the large screen, Second Period Behemo is shown, crossing her arms and facing away. she looks frustrated

3: "I mistook you for a savior" (the original line is "I mistook you for a general")

First Period Behemo as she appears to Second Period Behemo. she is wearing a lab coat, and her hair is cut shorter. she is pointing at the viewer. her eyes are glowing gold, and behind her is a halo

4: "What a waste of effort spent..."

half faces of both Behemo's are put together to make a whole head.

the left side shows First Period Behemo. her hair is shorter and straighter, and is parted to the right. she smiles sadly as she speaks, and there are faint tear tracks from her eye. the light on her is green

the right side shows Second Period Behemo. her hair is longer and wavier, and is parted to the left. she is glaring. the light on her is gold

5: "At least I know what I'm fighting for"

Second Period Behemo appears to be yelling at a screen that is partially off screen. she has a hand on her chest, as if to emphasize get words

6: "While you're fighting to be known"

a shot from behind Second Period Behemo. she appears small, at the bottom of the image, while the screen in front of her shows only the eyes of her real world counterpart. in contrast with the gold light of the screen, First Period Behemo's eyes are purple, almost pink. there are large bags under her eyes

7: "Since you claim you're so much wiser"

a shot from partially behind First Period Behemo. she appears as a large, shadowy figure on the left of the image. on the right, the screen shows her avatar, who is so small that she's just a stick figure

8: "Why's your life spent all alone?"

half of the face of First Period Behemo can be seen, the rest is cut off by the right border of the image. she looks shocked, as of the words of her avatar cut deeper than she expected. the rest of the space is dark, except for a blue figure, a child in a dress, holding a doll

9: "You're alone"

on the left side of the image, First Period Behemo is in a chair, hunched over. behind her are various machines. the green light of the screen casts a large shadow behind her. on the right side of the image, Second Period Behemo is standing, looking upwards. a golden light seems to be radiating from her. both figures are too small and far away for their faces to be visible

Plain text:

One day, you'll hear what I'm saying

One day, you might understand

One day, but not today

For after all you're

Just a man

[kvntsugi]

invasion

Loud taps on the chalkboard as spurts of porous material cluttered up in the teachers hand when it filled his side of the podium. His large hand hitting on the green easel with a commanding tone filled the air.

"Alright, everyone. Class is dismissed. Those in student council - stay back. " His eyes gazed upon the classroom from one end to another before lips prying back open to speak out anymore. But it all came out as filler, the moment I was permitted to dip - I was already packing.

"I'm pissed off…" A nearby voice made my ears perk up to the sounds of her husky voice in front of my seat. Her dark locks and brunette highlights made her stick out like a sore thumb, my eyes darted up from the materials I was packing, and gazed at her with a confused expression.

"Yo, Oppa - my assignment for student council? Do mine as well." Fighting back the urge to bite down on my cheeks, giving out a stoic expression instead. Appalled at her request but not surprised, Suyun always seemed like the type to delay her assignments.

"I promised to go home with my boyfriend, and if I left without permission from the teacher he would end up yelling at me." She spoke while leaning back against the window, eyes looking down at her phone with fingers furiously typing away at the screen. My eyes naturally (male instinct, y'know…) went towards her legs. How voluptuously sculpted they were like a Greek goddess with her legs crossed one over the other. Just one chance -- I'm begging!!

"Hey." Her voice rang out again before I dawdled in my daydreams. Just picture-perfect thoughts of what could be done, if only I was a little better, just a little more handsome… "Do you really think I haven't noticed?" Her hand went towards my desk and mimicked the teacher and slammed it down - only loud only for me to hear and get slightly startled.

"Take off your pants." Her voice was more commanding than normal when I got put in a state of shock.

"Huh -- ?" Was all I could muster out, feeling the hairs on my forearm stick up and feeling a cool breeze in the air. Before realizing everyone in the classroom was gone. My savior the teacher was also nowhere in sight when I needed him most. Head darting from left to right to get a full view of the class, eyes leering everywhere from one corner to another before finding solace in nothing.

The sound of the chair scraping against the wooden floor creaked out loudly with her thick thighs now in full display, her phone and camera were aimed right at me like I was an animal on display at some zoo. Do I just give in? What could I possibly do? Was she going to scream out bloody murder or something even worse if I didn't comply?

I just whipped it out, slacks tugged and pulled to my ankles and slowly being whittled to the floor. My cock was out in full force. Gulping down a pool of saliva that formed in the back of my throat, slowly brought my head up towards the dark-haired girl to see a disturbance in her expression. Suyun, the no longer once confident girl had blush in her porcelain cheeks. Her fingers gripped the cellular device harder and her lips formed such a gaze as if she was either scared or amused.

"No way -- why are you hard? Why are you bigger than my boyfriend…? God, you're so disgusting." Her phone was swiftly brought away and her hands crossed on her chest, as if she were trying to claim dominance in the situation.

"I'm not hard…" My hand went towards my cock, the girl's stance changed and instinctively protecting the family jewels if my life were on the line. Not wanting to get injured myself but it just seemed like she just used that moment to yell at me more.

"Don't -- fucking lie to me!" She got closer, crouching down in position, and got incredibly close to me… and my cock. It must have been me, but it felt like her breathing became heavier. Not just mine. Feeling the air flow out her nostrils onto my own length had me grow, not by much but I felt something in my person.

She stepped back, standing back firmly and proudly with her hands tugged on the hem of her skirt. Lifting it above her hips and belly button to showcase her thong. "How about this…? Can you get hard for me?"

Sweat poured down my scalp and to nobody's amusement - yes. No words spoken out but my cock stood erect and upright. I felt her hands on my torso as she told me to get down on the classroom floor. My back laid on the cold surface, she was sitting on my stomach with her back facing my direction. Presumably, to not show off how sultry she was being, she was still this cocky, confident younger girl that ordered me around.

My cock grew more and more, getting so turned on just at the thought of fucking someone like Suyun. Where could it reach to, I wonder? Whenever watching those pornos - I felt average at best, below average most times due to the fact they all seemed so much… bigger?

"Don't get it wrong, you're just a dildo… Don't be so loud either. It's so disgusting." Her voice sounded like it was shaking, her faux-dominance was slowly wearing off as time passed by. I could see the tint blush on her cheeks when she looked back to speak to me in that demeaning tone.

Her hands plopped themselves onto me, using my body as support when she lifted herself up and angled her way in. "Say so when you're cumming, I'll kill you if you leave it inside." Second by second, her body slowly sank onto me. It was going inside. First the tip of my cock disappeared like magic, then the next few inches. A loud groan escaped my lips when I fought it to keep it in, but her insides were magical.

Her walls were getting split like two, the more she sank the more her voice started to come out as well. Suyun's insides were getting expanded. My cock should be at her womb now with how much she took in. A yelp of epic proportion filled the class with the girls head whipped back.

She stopped moving. Right then and there. Did she cum? Little spurts of murmurs and her walls sucking in on me like a leech. Her body gave out little twitches next. Hands drooped to the side before I spoke of her name.

"Sh-shut up!!' Her body slammed into mine with the sounds of what could only be described as animalistic came about. The girls hands went between my thighs and onto the floor. Her voice got louder with moans and the sloshing sound when she fucked me.

"Yes, yes yes!!" She kept it up, I was just a toy for her. I watched her asshole pucker with every movement she did, how her cheeks kept slamming into my hips and small groans came from myself.

Before I even knew it - before she even also knew it my body went upright. No longer was I sitting horizontally but my chest was practically back against hers. My hands had a mind of its own, reaching out towards her ample bosoms that always stood out. How her tight school uniform hugged them was so beautiful. Never before seen!

"H-hey…! Who said you could do that? Fuc--" Before she could finish my hands gripped onto her clothed bosoms like a handlebar. How delectable they felt as sooner or later I needed the real deal. No obstacles or distractions from what was to be of her perfect body. All the imaginationS I had in class finally coming to fruition. A sudden thrust upright came about, now I was slamming into her.

"I'll fucking -- " She was so weak. My hands went towards her hips and I went back towards teh original position as it became way more comfier to do what needed to be done. One after the other. Up and down. If I was a machine then I'll accept it, on my terms. The tip of my cock kept kissing the deepest depths of her insides. Her walls felt tight. Too tight with her lips gripping my cock and never wanting to leave. With more strength my hips found a way to thrust in more. A loud scream came from one of us, and it wasn't me. She must have just came. Did she even know she came?

Transparent white liquid squirted out onto the wooden floor. Her body collapsed in on itself with back lying down on my chest. Probably looking to get a breather the rough session she just had. There was no time to pause, time was of the essence before someone would have walked back in the room, but at this time of day… I wouldn't count on it.

I lifted the girl up. A squeal came from her mouth as she wasn't expected to be carried for a few seconds. Forcing her body and chest to go onto the closest desk as she now had to look up to me if she wanted to speak back. Whatever dominance she had on me was no more in this instance. Her dainty little hands held up her upper body, looking back to try to stop me as my cock was now aligned with her insides.

"O-oppa wait… I'm still cumm-…" Another drive going in. Another loud moan escaped hers. She held onto that desk for dear life with my feet planted firmly to give myself the best way to fuck her like no tomorrow. My husky voice mixed in with her whiny voice. My cock was twitching inside of her core and I felt myself leak as time passed on by. "Suyun - I'm gonna -" No care in the world for the consequences she spoke of earlier. I just had to fulfill my desires. Everything now coming to light.

"Don't screw with me -- Stop…! I told you --!" As much as I would have loved to spank her, my focus was entirely on thrusting my hard meat throughout her vaginal tunnel. Over and over, picking up speed and pumping my cock into her fine ass. Every second, it went further and harder. My thick balls slapped the undersides of her small figure. Her voice screamed with so much enthusiasm out to me. I grunted out and listened to her voice yelling out to him. She wanted this, he wasn't going to stop but eventually coming to a halt. I was already so close.

Thick white spurts of cum splashed all over her insides. Suyun remained still beneath me as I began to lazily move my hips. Her cheeks were glued to the desk and drool seeped out of her mouth. A cry of pure ecstasy continued to fill my ears until we were both all spent. Stream after stream of cum poured her pussy. My juices mixed with her own, creating a hot stream of liquid that made the movement only more pleasurable.

Her voice wasn't anything of despair or anguish. Quite the opposite. As I slowly pulled away, she laid there. Mummified. Both of our juices leaked out of her and dripped onto the floor. The smell of sex filled the classroom as she held herself up by standing on her toys. Tiny bits of noise escaped her lips as she had a crazy expression. Something I couldn't make out of. Something one could see in porn.

I came back to my reality. Realizing what I had done. Feeling utter shame and remorse. My hand raised up but I stopped myself for my own good - nothing positive would have come from this and I knew it. I reached for my slacks and pulled them up, escaping the classroom while buttoning myself to look like a student once more. Sweat pouring all over my face and leaving Suyun there.

[mjonthetrack]

ops

Chapter 41 – Burn the Chain

The screaming stopped hours ago.

Torque was still breathing, but barely—cuffed, slumped, and missing the bite in his voice. Wraith had a way of making silence hurt more than any blade. No one asked what she did down there. No one needed to.

Echo stood in the war room now, sweat on her brow, sleeves rolled up, and five cracked drives spread out in front of her like a broken altar. Ghost stood behind her, arms crossed, expression unreadable beneath the mask.

“He wasn’t the only one,” she muttered, almost to herself.

Ghost didn’t speak.

She clicked a few keys—each one another slice across some invisible line they hadn’t dared cross until now.

“Torque was a runner,” she continued. “Middle link in a chain. Not the one pulling strings—just passing the noose down.”

Ghost’s jaw tensed.

“Meaning?” he asked.

Echo exhaled. “There’s a handler. Buried deep—off books, but using active-duty tech. Military-grade clearance. Black budget ops. They’ve been watching us long before Phantom went down.”

A sharp silence.

Then: “You get a name?”

Echo nodded slowly, eyes still locked on the screen. “Wraith’s confirming it now.”

As if summoned, Wraith stepped in.

Her expression was different this time.

No mask of control.

Just one name on her tongue like poison.

“Colonel Adrien Voss.”

Ghost’s whole body went still.

“Voss?” Titan’s voice was a raw rasp from the hallway. She was leaning against the doorframe, wrapped in a rough blanket, one leg still stiff, blood crusted on her shoulder. But her eyes were sharp.

“You’re not supposed to be standing,” Pulse muttered behind her.

“Too bad,” she said.

Ghost turned toward her. “You know him?”

Titan’s lips pulled tight. “That son of a bitch ran our first black convoy when we were green. He’s the one who signed off on Phantom’s final run before he died.”

Wraith dropped a file on the table—printouts, redacted photos, surveillance of a man with a hawk’s posture and a face like stone.

Echo added, “He’s running a ghost unit. Real shadows. No insignia, no allegiances. Whatever he’s building, Torque was just feeding intel into the system. But we’re on their radar now.”

Ghost’s voice was cold steel.

“Then we pull Voss into the light.”

Titan stepped forward slowly, dragging her leg, jaw clenched. “We burn that entire fucking chain down.”

Echo’s screen blinked.

A location ping lit up.

“...I’ve got him,” she whispered.

Wraith cracked her neck. “How fast can we be airborne?”

Ghost looked at Titan—bloodshot, limping, barely standing. He didn’t tell her to sit down.

“Ten minutes.”

Titan grinned, just a little.

“Make it five.”

Chapter 42 – Nope, Buckle Up

The sky was still pitch when they rolled out. The night was silent—almost too quiet—as if even the wind knew what was coming.

Static and Pulse stood near the base’s cleared runway, eyes wide, pale as ghosts themselves. The aircraft in front of them was sleek, black, and way too large for a team without clearance.

Static blinked. “Where’s… where’s the pilot?”

Ghost walked right past them without answering.

Titan was already halfway up the ladder into the cockpit, wounded leg stiff but determined. She shoved a lollipop between her teeth like it was armor, headphones already hanging around her neck.

Static gawked. “Wait—she’s flying this thing?”

“Do you even know how to work this?” Static called up after her, voice climbing with panic.

Titan paused at the hatch, grinned back, and popped the candy from her mouth.

“Nope.”

She slammed the door shut with a metallic clang.

Echo smirked from the rear ramp. “I’m giving us about 30% odds this bird doesn’t explode on takeoff.”

Wraith climbed in, completely unfazed. “So higher than last time.”

Inside the cockpit, Titan clicked switches she hadn’t touched in years, her fingers moving from muscle memory and reckless confidence. Her eyes flicked across the panel like a fighter who hadn’t seen the ring in a decade—but never forgot how to punch.

Ghost stepped into the co-pilot seat, quiet, his voice low.

“Your old man used to do barrel rolls in planes half this size.”

Titan’s grin didn’t fade. “And Grandpa used to smoke Nazis out the sky in a Tuskegee Red Tail.”

Ghost smirked faintly beneath the mask. “So flying’s in the blood.”

“Damn right it is.”

The engines ignited with a roar that vibrated through the team’s bones. Static shrieked softly. “We’re gonna die.”

“Strap in,” Echo muttered with a shrug. “She only almost crashes when she’s not showing off.”

The plane hurtled down the strip, faster, faster—then it snapped upward with a vicious lift.

Titan whooped behind the controls, yanking hard left, the plane tipping just enough to make Pulse’s stomach revolt.

“Is this a maneuver or a panic attack?” he shouted.

Titan’s voice came through the comms, all laughter and chaos. “This, boys and girls, is called an introductory trust fall.”

Static was white-knuckled. “Why is the sky spinning?!”

Ghost barely flinched. “Because she’s in a good mood.”

They soared into the night, cutting low over empty desert, no transponder, no radar signature.

Titan steadied the controls finally, more composed, her eyes locked on the horizon. Then she flicked the comms to private and glanced sideways.

“Ghost,” she muttered, soft enough that no one else could hear, “if Voss knows we’re coming…”

Ghost turned his head slowly, eyes dark through the mask.

“He won’t.”

She nodded once, face hardening.

“Then we take everything from him.”

Chapter 43 – Hell from Above

They hit the ground just after midnight.

The ex-NATO blacksite was a concrete carcass nestled in the mountains—razor wire, blast walls, and enough motion sensors to make a SEAL team piss twice. Ghost led them in low through the access tunnels—old, decaying routes Torque had once claimed were abandoned.

They weren’t.

The first shot rang out before Echo could finish the sweep. Wraith dropped a guard with a silenced round, but it was already too late—the lights flared red, the air filled with mechanical whirs and automated voices.

“Perimeter breach detected. Engaging lockdown protocol.”

Steel slammed shut behind them. Dead ends. No way forward.

They were boxed in.

Ghost cursed under his breath, eyes scanning every corner.

Wraith gritted her teeth. “They knew.”

Echo whispered, “They’ve been watching us since we touched down.”

Static’s breath hitched, Pulse clutching his weapon with a white-knuckled grip.

“No exits,” Wraith said grimly.

“We fight,” Ghost replied. “We go out loud.”

They all looked at each other—every breath shared, every heartbeat counted. Death wasn’t a question anymore. It was here. And they were just choosing how to die.

Even Static nodded, lips trembling. “Then we go together.”

Silence.

And then—

BOOOOOOM.

The ground shook.

Walls trembled.

The ceiling above roared with fire and debris. And then—

BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.

Outside, hell unleashed itself.

Screams echoed. Enemy forces went running—running—out of the command halls, guns raised, eyes wide with something like terror.

Ghost was already moving, hauling the team toward the bay doors now broken open from the blast shock.

Wraith blinked. “What the hell—?”

Then they saw it.

Up in the sky.

Spinning like a demon off her leash.

Titan.

Her bird danced between flak bursts, fire streaking behind her as she tore across the base in insane aerial maneuvers. She dipped low and fired twin rockets that sent a weapons tower erupting into flames. Another pass took out two armored vehicles trying to deploy.

Echo’s mouth dropped open. “She’s… showing off.”

“Damn right she is,” Pulse muttered, a half-smile cracking through his disbelief.

Through the open comms, her voice chimed in, loud and cocky:

“Hope y’all weren’t thinking of dying without me.”

The skies lit up around her like a thunderstorm on judgment day.

She spun again—an impossible corkscrew twist that had to violate at least five laws of physics—before hammering down another line of artillery.

“GO!” Ghost barked. “She bought us an opening!”

The team sprinted through the chaos—gunfire singing around them, but the opposition was too scattered now, too panicked, trying to run from the ghost in the sky.

From her.

Titan’s laugh crackled over the comms, wild and ragged:

“If I’m going out—I’m going out legendary.”

Chapter 44 – Code Black

Inside the crumbling base, it was chaos incarnate.

The team moved fast—sweeping halls, clearing rooms, Echo diving into every access point she could reach. Pulse stayed low, covering their backs, Static sticking close despite trembling hands. Wraith’s rifle barked short, surgical shots as they cut through the last of the panicked guards.

But Ghost?

He was hunting.

Voss had slipped out minutes ago—slipping through the chaos like the snake he was. Echo had caught the tail end of his route on the surveillance feed, tagged him sprinting toward the western airfield.

“Ghost, he’s running,” she breathed into comms. “Black SUV, headed across the tarmac. Five minutes and he’s airborne.”

Ghost’s voice: cold, focused.

“Not if I get to him first.”

Outside, the airfield was a warzone.

Burning towers. Scattered bodies. Titan’s bird screeched through the sky again—her engines screaming defiance.

Inside the cockpit, sweat dripped down her brow. Her left hand gripped the stick, her right thumb hovered over the fire control toggles. Through the cracked window, she saw him—Voss—alone now, guards scattered, his escape SUV screeching to a stop as her shadow passed over him.

She grinned, breath ragged.

“Lights out, old man.”

BOOM.

Twin missiles slammed into the pavement—one left, one right—bracketing him in with force that shattered concrete. The SUV flipped, burning, but Voss had flung himself out, crawling to his knees just as she fired again.

BOOM BOOM.

More shells hit.

A perfect box of craters—fire-etched borders of a battlefield that only had one man left in it.

Voss froze—dust settling around him. He was standing alone on a broken island of cement. Fire surrounded him, the air thick with smoke and fury.

Titan’s voice came in cool, clear, and unmistakable through every comm on the field.

“Ghost. Code Black.”

Inside the base, Ghost stopped.

His eyes darkened behind the mask.

“Copy.”

He turned and ran—toward the airfield, toward the fire, toward the man who tore his team apart.

Chapter 46 – Smoke Settles, Hearts Don’t

Wraith stood over what was left of Voss, one boot casually resting against the still-smoking concrete as the others gathered close. Her sniper was slung lazily across her back, eyes scanning the ruins like she already knew there’d be no more shots.

“This op’s done,” she said flatly, voice low. Final. “Clean what you can. Burn what you can’t.”

Pulse finally exhaled, adrenaline catching up to him in the tremble of his hands. Static just sat on the edge of a scorched truck hood, staring into the smoke like she needed a full system reboot.

Echo had already plugged into a remaining terminal, fingers dancing. “I’ll scrub us off their systems, wipe every trace. Then we ghost.”

And then—the air changed.

That familiar thunderous roar of her engines cutting through sky and smoke like a war hymn.

Titan’s bird came in hot, kicking up a wall of dirt as it skidded over the wreckage. She didn’t wait for clearance. Didn’t wait for landing gear to fully settle. She was out before the aircraft even stopped moving—shoving the hatch open with a grunt, limping down the ramp with blood still dried down her arm and a limp that said she hadn’t stopped hurting since she got out of bed.

But the grin on her face?

Explosive.

She ripped her headphones off, flinging them across the dirt, and bolted—wounded leg and all—straight toward Ghost.

“THAT’S my motherfucking guy!” she shouted, eyes blazing. “Ol' Batman-built muhfucka!”

Ghost turned just in time to catch her—arms wide as she flung herself into him with a heavy thud, limbs wrapping around his shoulders, weight pressing against the unshakable wall that was him.

He grunted, catching her mid-limp-launch as she buried her head into his neck, half-laughing, half-cussing.

“You beautiful, rage-driven brick wall of a man,” she muttered into him, breathless. “I knew you’d finish that bastard.”

Ghost didn’t say anything at first. Just held her tight, forehead against hers, one arm around her waist, the other gripping the back of her neck like he wasn’t letting go this time.

Pulse looked away, quietly wiping his face. Static smiled faintly, tension leaking off her like steam.

Even Wraith—unshakeable Wraith—allowed herself the ghost of a smirk.

Echo kept typing, but whispered into comms, “You owe me 50 bucks. Told you she’d jump him.”

Titan finally pulled back, eyes glinting. “How’s that for a landing?”

Ghost finally spoke, voice gravel-thick. “I’ve seen cleaner.”

She laughed, full and loud, pain and pride tangled together. “Yeah, but none with a fuckin’ fireworks finale.”

Chapter 47 – Domestic Terrain

The FBI field office in Baton Rouge was a far cry from jungle bases and desert bunkers. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, coffee tasted like burnt chalk, and the stale quiet had the team more on edge than any battlefield.

A map of the southeastern United States covered one wall—dozens of red pins marking Black churches, Native community centers, and reservation clinics. Some had photos pinned beside them: scorched timber, collapsed roofs, blood-streaked pews.

The room smelled like sweat and stress.

A tall agent with silver at his temples—Special Agent Rawlins—stepped forward, flipping open a thick manila file.

“We’ve got a domestic terror ring,” he said, grim. “We’ve tagged them ‘Dustlight’—homegrown, militant, and strategic. They move like ghosts. No social media, no cells, no chatter. They’ve hit thirteen sites in the past four months, left barely a footprint.”

He glanced at Ghost, who stood tall at the back, arms crossed.

“We need your kind of quiet. The kind not in a badge or uniform.”

Another agent leaned forward, frowning as she counted heads. “Wait—I thought this was an eight-man unit.”

Before anyone could respond, the doors to the briefing room opened.

Titan walked in.

Sunglasses on, blood-stained shirt knotted over her tank top, one leg stiff but moving like she’d never been hurt a day in her life. Both bullet wounds were visible under fresh gauze beneath the tank, and she walked like the pain owed her rent.

One of the younger FBI agents—sharp buzz cut, probably ex-Army—let out a stunned laugh, stepping back.

“Damn, girl. You magnetic or something?” he blurted, eyes wide. “Fuck—ol’ GI Jane lady!”

Titan didn’t break stride.

Just walked up to the table, snatched the file out of Rawlins’ hands, flipped through it like she owned the place.

“You’re down to churches and clinics?” she said, voice smooth and unimpressed. “Cowards.”

Echo smirked behind her laptop.

Pulse muttered under his breath, “She took morphine like three days ago and still pulled aerial stunts. Let ‘em talk.”

Ghost stepped forward, finally speaking.

“You wanted something cleaner than local enforcement, deeper than the alphabet boys, and quieter than a sniper round at midnight,” he said. “You got us.”

Wraith nodded once, already scanning the maps. “We’ll work in pairs. Civvies. No heavy gear unless confirmed. We keep tight comms and tighter shadows.”

Static leaned in. “And when do we engage?”

Titan slid her glasses down her nose, gaze sharp as glass.

“When they light their next cross,” she said coolly, “we’re already behind them pulling the damn fuse.”

Chapter 48 – Bait in the Water

The rusted sign read “Welcome to Pine Hollow – A Good Town for God-Fearing Folks.”

It creaked in the wind like something out of a horror flick.

Ghost and Titan stood shoulder-to-shoulder just off the highway shoulder, civilian gear on point—she in high-waisted jeans, a worn denim vest over a ribbed tank, hair tied up and shades perched like a crown. Him in a plain white tee tight on his shoulders, cargo pants, dog tags tucked but still there. Just enough muscle, just enough calm.

Together? They looked like a damn anomaly.

Perfect.

From the back seat, Echo’s voice buzzed over comms. “Local radio’s full of coded sermons and ‘family values’ dog whistles. This place is ripe.”

Pulse, from a few towns out: “Y’all are walking neon signs out there. You sure you don’t wanna—”

“Relax,” Titan cut in, hand resting casually on Ghost’s belt as they took in the town. “We are the bait.”

Ghost didn’t blink. “Black woman and a big brown man?” he said low. “That’s not a disguise here. That’s a fuse.”

Titan grinned wide, that familiar fire behind her eyes. “Oh, we’re dangling like a catfish to a gator, baby.”

They moved like they'd always walked this town. Into the corner diner where conversations died mid-chew. Past the church bulletin boards lined with 'community watch' warnings and barely coded threats. Through the gas station where the attendant’s smile dropped just long enough to show his cards.

“They’re watching already,” Ghost murmured later as they checked into a run-down motel under the name Mr. and Mrs. Hale. “Eyes on us the moment we stepped in. Which means...”

Titan dropped her bag on the creaky bed, pulled a small mirror from her boot, and checked the window’s reflection. “Which means they’ll come sniffing soon. Hope they like surprises.”

[aidans13]

Bounty Hunter’s Love

Summary: Aidan Dubois, Bail Enforcement Agent for the NYPD, gets called in to help SVU track down a serial killer/rapist. He then proceeds to meet Captain Olivia Benson where his life goes into a spiral.

TW: Mentions of rape and murder. Drugs. Sex (Dom/Sub). Swearing (English/Arabic).

Pairing: Olivia Benson/Male OC

Notes: This will be a multi-chapter fic. It’s also my first fic so apologies if it’s not perfect.

Chapter 1

The elevator dings.

Aidan walks out of the elevator with Chief McGrath to the SVU squad room which is in chaos. People walking around with case files and paperwork. People answering tip lines and phone calls. Aidan takes a deep breath and goes further into the squad room. McGrath notices his hesitation. "Aidan you are the best Bail Enforcement Agent the NYPD has. You go in and do your job."

"I know Chief. Anxiety is just a bitch sometimes. I got this though." Aidan says confidently. They walk farther into the squad room. Chief looks over at Captain Benson and gets her attention. "Captain Benson. I brought you some help for catching Victor Marshall." Olivia looks up and notices McGarth standing with Aidan who has the brightest green eyes and covered in tattoos. She walks over taking her glasses off eyeing the man. "And who would it be?"

McGarth gestures to Aidan. "Captain Benson. This is Aidan Dubois. The best bounty hunter in the city."

"You're the one that caught The East Harlem Killer. Anderson?"

"Yea that was a long two weeks of constant stakeouts." Aidan chuckles softly noticing her squad staring.

"Well. Let's get started."

They both walk to her squad huddled in front a tv screen with a timeline board next to it. "Guys. This is Aidan. He's going to be helping with the case." "Aidan this is Sergeant Tutuola. Detectives Velasco and Bruno." They all nod to each other. Aidan breaks the silence.

"So. What do we have?"

Bruno speaks up. "Victor Marshall. Kidnapped and tortured two girls before murdering them. He was given an ankle monitor but unfortunately was able to cut it off."

Aidan glances at Olivia before turning back to Bruno. "Where does the GPS last show his location?"

"George Washington Bridge."

"In relatives in the city or in New Jersey?"

"Only his mom who swears she hasn't seen him."

"Did she post his bond?"

Finn hands Aidan a copy of the bond paper. Aidan looks at it noticing his mom cosigned the bond for $50,000. "Does she realize that he doesn't show up by the date on the bond that she goes to jail?"

Finn smirks. "I don't think anyone mentioned it."

Aidan smirks back at him. He turns to Olivia. "Might light a fire under her ass." Olivia sees a mischief glint in his eyes. She bites her bottom lip lightly hoping no one notices her staring. "Well Mr. Dubois. Want to come help enlighten her?"

"Lead the way Captain."

Olivia turns to grab her coat. Aidan turns to the squad. "Let's hope someone comes up." Velasco says.

Olivia comes back. "Finn see if anything is related between the victims. If any places are intertwine, maybe he has hideout that's correlated to them. Bruno. Velasco. Talk to the parents again. See if they can remember anything."

"On it." They all said unison. Olivia walks over to Aidan to is securing his badge on his belt.

"Ready Mr. Dubois?"

He looks up and smirks softly.

"Always."

[angel--ashes]

This is one of my few fantasy based stories, it isn't super in-depth but John is a power immortal warlock and Eric is an angel. It's a soul-mate story, the normal immortal x human but the humans keeps being reincarnated and their souls always connect again. However this story shows what happens at the end of the humans life. As always share your thoughts, my other socials where this is posted:,

A03&Wattpad:Angel__Ashes

⚠️Trigger warnings:Death, hospitals ⚠️

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A man stood still in a quite and still hospital room. Standing by the large window on one side of the room, looking down to the street below, all the lights Illuminati the wet pavement.

His green eyes gazed down at the street below. Watching all the people walk by, going to work or coming home, walking dogs or jogging.

"Funny thing-" he finally spoke, pausing as he pulled a pack of cigarettes from his left back pants pocket. Taking one out and lighting it before putting them back.

"I've done this so many times, and each time it doesn't get easier, but it also doesn't get harder" He continues to speak as he walks over and sits in a chair next to the window. Letting out a puff of smoke.

"It's a constant, heart breaking, sucking the air from my lungs pain-" he stopped and chuckled sadly, eyes getting tears in them.

"And yet, humans tell each other all the time, no matter what they're going through; kids, partners or even themselves dying-" he then threw up air quotes, "it gets easier" he put his hands down and took another drag of his cigarette.

"Bullshit, just a stupid ass beacon of hope mortals give to themselves. This pain-" he shook his head, "will never get better, you just live with it as it chews and sucks out everything, until you're a shell" he said, voice breaking at the end.

"John-" another man spoke, brown hair and soft blue eyes. Standing by the open door to the hospital room, adjacent to the man in the chair.

"You can't keep doing this" the blue eye man spoke very softly as he took a step forward but stopped in his tracks as the man from the chair or John stood up quickly, throwing his cigarette on the ground.

"OH me? I can't keep doing this! Tell that to the bitch upstairs who made up all this stupid shit, I didn't pick this" he raised his voice as he pointed up, referring to the man upstairs or whatever was up there.

"He didn't make this happen yo-" he was cut off as John spoke again and walked closer to the other.

"OH? Then who the fuck did?! Who do I need to go fucking talk to, to stop this bullshit because I can't Eric, I fu-" he had to stop as hie voice started to break even more this time, a lump in his throat forming.

"I fucking can't" John finished and cleared his throat.

Eric sighed and slowly walks over, cautiously resting a hand on John's shoulder and squeezing softly. "Un freeze it and let it happen" he whispers to him as he gave John a sorrow gaze.

Eric felt horrible for him, he couldn't even imagine the pain and suffering his friend was going through and had gone through many times before.

John shook his head and quickly backed up, slumping back into his chair and continued to shake his head. "No" he spoke firmly then laughed slightly, "fuck no, not this time" he said again as a firm statement.

John sat, wide eyed and bounced his left leg up and down frantically, his metal chain bracelets making sound as they moved from his arm resting on this leg.

Eric moved over, crouching down in front of John to be at eye level. "You can't do this, for yourself and him" he said and looked the other on the eyes. "You'll see him again" he reminded John and then stood up. "Now unfreeze it, you do this every time, it just prolongs it-" he trailed off, looking towards the middle of the room. "It just hurts" he whispers

In the middle of the room laid a hospital bed, the heart rate monitor showing a flat line screen.

A nurse on top of the bed doing chest compressions and another nurse putting medication into an I.V

A total of 7 people stood around the hospital bed, 4 nurses and 3 doctors all trying to save the life of the man laying in the hospital bed.

In the bed laid a man, seemingly only in his 50s, air tubing in his nose to help him breath and an cords attached to him to monitor his vital signs which all seemed to be going down hill. The man's face bruised, a busted lip and a forming black eye.

Everything stood still in the room however, no noise and no one moved. It was all frozen besides John and Eric as they both stared at the scene by the hospital bed.

"He didn't even make it to 60 this time" John whispers quietly as a single tear runs down his cheek, staring at his lover who laid dying less then 5 feet from him.

Eric looks back at John and sighed, "I keep telling you, stop finding him" he said as he stood up and walked over to the window, leaning back on it.

John laughed again in a sarcastic manner, "you don't think I haven't tried?" He asked and runs a hand down his face to wipe away the tear.

"In some cosmic fuck you way, he always finds me and can't leave me the fuck alone" John said and shrugs, "not his fault, he gets to be with him his whole life, but me? No, I get a front row seat to his life and his death, over and over and over" he said and leans back in the chair, tapping his cigarette ash on the ground before taking another drag.

"Fix it" John told Eric in a cold tone, not asking, telling.

"John" Eric said standing up right, "you damn well know I can't" he said firmly back

John looked at Eric, eyes flashing a purple color as he stood up and shook his head. "Oh no, don't give me that shit" he said and looked Eric straight in the eyes, "I know you can"

"Just because I can, doesn't mean I'm allowed" Eric reminds John. "Don't do this, don't start this again" he said staring back at John.

"You motherfuckers break the rules all the time, but when someone else is asking suddenly it's no?" John asked and shrugs, "sounds like shit to me" he said

Eric now sits down in a chair, opposite to the one John was in. "Humans, live and they die" he shrugs, "all there is"

John looks back at the man in the bed, tearing filling his eyes again, "please" he said in a whisper.

John walks over, keeling down next to the bed of his lover. Hand wrapping around the men's cold stiff ones. "I just need a little more time" his voice breaking as he spoke, gripping his lovers hand tigher.

Eric stood, walking over and rubbing John's back. "You know it won't matter if it's now or years from now, it'll hurt just as bad" he reminds him. "You do this every time"

This wasn't the first time and it wouldn't be the last. Every time he dies, John calls Eric to plead, beg and make deals. Anything to save him.

The first time it was in 1567 and John called him after he found his lover dead from an infection. John offered to trade places, offered his immortality, his powers, even asked for just another day and Eric had to softly explain he couldn't. The first time, it took 3 days to get John to unfreeze time and let it continue.

Eric has told John over and over again, to ignore the pull, ignore his lovers advances and just let it go. John tries, he tries to ignore it and to ignore him, but something always happens, either the pull is too strong or he can't say no. The first 30 years are normally always good, but at some point it isn't good. It gets painfully for one reason or another, he gets sick or just old and John knows. John always knows what's to come but every time, every time this happens. He calls, and pleads, begs and makes deals. Asking for any more time Eric can give him and swearing it'll make a world of difference when deep down, he knows it won't.

John sniffs and wipes the many tears that had streamed down his face as he thought about the many lives him and his lover had lived. He stands up and looks at Eric, then back at the hospital bed. He waves his hand and his eyes flash a purple color and suddenly the room comes alive again.

John walks out of the room, no one else besides Eric seemed to notice him, the same for Eric besides John.

Eric stayed in the room however and watched as they tried but 5 minties later, everyone stood back away from the bed and looked at the still limp body on it.

"Time of death, 10:37 pm" a doctor announced and then everyone clears out of the room as John's partner laid life less on the bed and was covered with a thin hospital sheet.

Across the street was a bench where John had been sitting, smoking and staring at the hospital.

Eric suddenly appeared next to him, "please John, don't do this again" he softly begs of the other man, he couldn't see his friend in pain like this again knowing he wasn't allowed to help.

John shook his head and stood up, running a hand through his hair before stopping and gripping the back as he spoke, "I'll lie and say I won't, but we both know 50, 100, 200 years from now you'll see me again" he said and throws his cigarette on the ground before he then walked off down the sidewalk, leaving Eric on that bench across from the hospital where John's partner, lover and soul mate had once again died and left John alone.

[nei-ning]

Now that dream post which I mentioned before (23.11.2024)

I was in tiny mall with my brother when he took me to this small room which had maybe 6 to 10 terrariums. In first big terrarium was brown snake which had soft shell turtle's face. He wanted me to hold it for a some reason even that I really didn't want to do it. Note: I'm NOT afraid of snakes and have hold them before in real life!

We came out of this tiny room on bigger opening and this older woman, who was the owner of the snakes, came to me. I said I would rather hold a boa if she had any. She smiled and told me to wait, leaving. Soon she came back, holding green snake who had yellow little stripes going around the body.

She gave the snake to me and this snake instantly turned to look up at me, my face, eye contact. It instantly had this super adorable, warm and soft energy / feeling to it. Like it wanted to be your best friend right away, loving you unconditionally already. She said to me:

"This is boa. His name is Suwabe."

I was instantly blown away but heck happy too! This snake, right away, was so full of calmness and warmth, very friendly too! I had a chair behind me so I decided to sit down while placing this snake in my lap. He was curled otherwise but spiritually he also (in my minds eyes) seemed to be sitting in a similar position to a cat. I don't know how that's possible but it was.

I kept petting his body, letting my hand run on his scales gently. Instantly when I started to do this, he started to PURR! I HEARD and FELT it! In shock I looked up at this woman, saying he's purring! She just smiled at me knowingly! As I kept petting him, he turned to look up at me once more, starting to push his head towards my face. He pressed his head against my face / right cheek as I pressed my head down, keeping our heads / faces gently pressed together. It was SO ADORABLE moment that I can't! <3

Now this woman handled me a book with information about boas, this specific one in fact. It looked like fur covered kids book with button line at the edge of the pages. If you pressed a button, you get a sound / video of the snake.

I opened the book and on the first page (right) is some info but what caught my attention is the backside of front cover (left). There's tiny screen and there's video playing. Blond woman is singing on stage while lights are flashing all around her. The screen is split in two and on the left side of the screen is Grimmjow! He stands there, not looking all that pleased, but then I started to think:

"This snake's name is Suwabe... And Suwabe Junichi voice acts Grimmjow... Does it mean this snake can actually speak?!"

Again I turn to look at this woman and before I can even open my mouth to ask anything, she's looking at me with knowing smile! She clearly knows A LOT more about this snake than she's telling me.

I then woke up on the sounds coming from neighbor's bathroom which is right behind the bedroom. But that snake was heck pretty! I had to google if there's green boas - and yes, there is! And the stripe one looks exactly like the one in my dream except the stripes were yellow, not white! It's called Emerald Tree Boa. Very common boa as a pet, actually.

But as a spiritual sign it's VERY good to see green snake! :D Green snake, overall, is:

Wisdom, Knowledge, Ability to Overcome Obstacles, Rebirth, Healing, New Beginnings, Opportunity to Growth, Grounding with Yourself, Harmony, Balance, Hope, Luck, Prosperity, New Life, Joy.

Then I got curious if name "Suwabe" means anything. It does, ahah!

Good Fortune, Must, Necessary, Required, Harmony, Peace, Concord, Section, Department, Category, Consultation, Discussion, Vicinity and so on! Tho, I think the meaning does change with the Kanji's but I'm not sure. I don't speak or read Japanese :'D

But I take this green boa with Suwabe's name as a VERY VERY GOOD sign <3 Plus GRIMMJOW being there too! Nothing can't go wrong :D