#let mourning be black i need death itself to be white

[hildegardladyofbones]

Ok who decided that colour of death was black? Bc if Europeans were correct about one thing then it was that the colour of death is white

[thetormentita]

the woman in winter (se ābra isse sōnar) - chapter 2

one can believe in destiny or not, at the same way one can believe in the power of the old gods or not.

Pairing: Original female! Targaryen x Cregan Stark, Original female! Targaryen/Criston Cole (one-sided)

A/n: oh my, grandpa Viserys... what have you done...

Warnings: mentions of death, hints of Alicent x Criston

Rating: Mature (+16)

Tagging list: @novaursa @maegelletargaryen (send an ask if you wanna be tagged too!)

Black wings bring dark words. That is what he has always heard since he was a little lad.

With steady hands he takes the piece of parchment from the maester’s grip, his eyes upon the unbroken wax seal depicting a three-headed dragon, and carefully breaks it, his eyes, grey like a winter storm, roam along the message, his brow furrowed and his jaw clenched only for a moment.

“How long does it take to sail from King’s Landing to White Harbor?” he asks, his voice betraying no emotion but his mind racing with the implications of the contents.

“If the tides are favourable, I would say a fortnight, my lord.”

Through the window he can spot the courtyard, and Robert and Ursula training with their swords, almost trying to teach his son how to wield his own wooden sword, far too big for his size. A sting of pride mixed with concern washes over him as he watches the scene unfold, his mind far away from there.

“It would have been easier to take the Kingsroad instead” he mutters, biting his cheek.

“Then it would take them a moon or even more.”

He sighs, closing his eyes and flexing his sword hand, tense, almost feeling like being challenged by that man.

“My pup needs a mother” he mutters, more to himself than to the maester standing beside him, “, but I would not stand to face such trials from the gods again, maester.”

“One time does not mean always.”

“It is written, and you said it as well: her mother and her grandmother died in their birthbeds.”

The maester's eyes hold a glint of understanding, but also a firm resolve as he addresses the troubled man. "History need not dictate the future, my boy. Such tragedies are more common than we would wish for, but I also heard that she holds a strength unseen in many. She has a resilience that's rare.”

Both men cross their gazes, silent, the ghost of grief still lounging in the air.

At least they had let him mourn Arra in peace.

“I have a feel. I know it is nonsense, but I feel she will not find her place here, that the people will not accept her and her life will be miserable no matter how hard I try to make her feel important and cherished.”

“Your lord father loved your lady mother. Deeply. His love was in the protection he provided, in the way he made sure she had everything she needed. I may not have much idea about such matters, but I could see how her eyes shined whenever they spotted him. Here she may need a friend more than a husband, somebody to make her feel safe and loved. The rest comes by itself.”

“Can I trust you to see her future household is ready by the time we arrive from White Harbor? I want the best hands to tend her.”

When his eyes return to the courtyard outside, he can see the happy face of his boy, giggling, trying to imitate Ursula’s stance, making him look like a dwarf beside a giant. A soft smile curves his lips, reflecting the warmth swelling in his heart at the sight. The innocence and joy of youth, untainted by the complexities of the world, always had a way to remind him of one of his priorities: never let Rickon feel the somber rage that clinged upon his very soul when he was just a lad and his world twisted and turned into a nightmarish reality.

“Of course. By the time of your return she will have her chambers ready in the Guest Tower, after the wedding her belongings will be moved to the Great Keep.”

“Good” he takes a deep breath before his feet drive him to the door of the chamber, pausing momentarily as if the weight of his thoughts anchors him to the spot. “In a moon’s turn, there will be a new lady of Winterfell.”

…

She tilts her head at the great old oak tree, her eyes observing its gnarled branches that stretch towards the sky like ancient, weathered hands praying for solace. She feels a strange kinship with the tree, as if its roots are intertwined with her very essence.

She doesn’t notice the muffled sound of steps behind her until they are nearly upon her, the crunch of leaves underfoot breaking her reverie.

“I heard the closest sept is the one in White Harbor.”

Elia doesn’t even bother to turn to face the queen, her gaze lost in the vast expanse of the tree's embrace. "Aye," she replies, her voice as soft as the breeze that rustles through the leaves above. "It certainly is the least of my problems, Your Grace.”

Alicent pauses a moment, taking in Elia's form against the backdrop of the ancient weirwood, its leaves whispering secrets lost to most. “And may I ask what troubles you so deeply then?” Her tone carries a genuine concern, mixed with the regal poise she never quite sheds, even in the most private of conversations. “It is a shame that your grandsire has decided to go against any sensible thought and decided to send you with those… Brutes.”

Elia finally turns, her eyes carrying a hint of offense, almost like having received that insult herself.

“Those brutes are to be my people. I would ask the reason behind that comment but I know it will sour even more the little time I have here before my leaving, yet I clearly know that you always wanted me wrapped around your finger, Your Grace.”

Queen and princess hold gazes, the tension in the air almost tangible. The Queen's expression softens, a mixture of regret and resignation painting her regal features. "Elia, my dear, it is not a matter of wanting to control you. It is the harsh reality that as queen, I have responsibilities that sometimes force my hand to act in ways that seem unfair or even cruel. I was also a young woman, just like you, and I know somebody of your status may find more pleasure in a life around her kin, in a comfortable place.”

“Just say the name, please, so I can reject it.” Elia's tone is tinged with a defiant edge, her posture rigid. She meets the Queen's gaze with a steadfastness that belies her youth. She is the picture of royal defiance, yet there is a vulnerability in her eyes that speaks to the weight of her situation.

“My brother, Gwayne.”

A chuckle escapes the princess’ lips, bold and disrespectful. "Ser Gwayne? You think I would find solace in marrying your brother?" Elia's disbelief is palpable, her voice rising slightly, threading tension through the air of the ornate chamber. "With all due respect, Your Grace, Ser Gwayne is... not what I have in mind for a husband."

Elia feels tempted to say more, to throw the good man’s name over the ground before his sister’s eyes, but she prefers to keep it to herself, her attention returning to the godswood’s heart tree for a moment longer before turning to face the Red Keep.

“Lord Stark is a man of honour. A leader. A loyal man. Something neither you nor your kin can even approach. ‘Tis true His Grace’s decision took me by surprise, but I have gladly accepted my fate and I cannot wait to join my betrothed in the North.”

Alicent’s gaze hardens at Elia's words, a mixture of disbelief and begrudging respect flashing briefly in her eyes. The air between them thickens with unspoken tension, as if the very essence of their conflict could manifest physically, a tangible barrier that neither woman seems willing to break. The grounds of the Red Keep, usually so alive with the hustle and bustle of court life, seem to fall silent around them, as if the very stones and trees are holding their breath, awaiting the outcomes of this momentous confrontation.

Only a man is fool enough to put himself between them.

“Princess” he nods, acknowledging the first with a respectful dip of his head, his eyes then shifting to give the other woman an equal measure of recognition, though he carefully avoids using her title, aware of the delicate balance of power and respect that must be maintained in this charged atmosphere. “His Grace wishes to talk with you in his solar.” Ser Criston’s gaze lingers upon Elia, almost protective.

With a quick glance towards the queen, she nods to the Kingsguard, fighting back a smirk.

“Let’s not make His Grace wait.”

Her voice carries a subtle strength, a reminder of her own status within these walls, even when summoned by someone of higher authority. Ser Criston, recognizing the undercurrent of authority in her tone, bows slightly, an acknowledgment of her position and the respect he holds for her. He gestures for her to follow, leading her through the ornate corridors of the keep. The echoes of their footsteps mingle with the distant sounds of court life: the murmur of conversation, the rustle of silk gowns, and the occasional clatter of armor as guards pass by.

“The queen will be quite crossed with you, ser Criston.”

“The news of your betrothal have disturbed the Red Keep, princess. All in our own way will miss your presence here, but I believe everybody has to assume that things change, even the queen,” Ser Criston replies, his voice laced with a solemn respect.

“Apparently her youngest brother is a better match for a princess than the Warden of the North… I knew Hightowers were greedy, but not that much, I must say.”

Sometimes Elia tends to forget the bond between Criston and Alicent, him having become Lord Commander of the Kingsguard thanks to her influence over the king, and she kind of feels bad when he winces, only his face betraying him for a moment as if the mention of the Hightowers and their ambitions was a jagged shard of ice piercing his loyalty.

“The Reach is the birthplace of chivalry, Princess. Tyrells, Hightowers and Redwynes have mastered it to an art form," Criston replies with a solemn tone, masking his discomfort with the grace of a well-practiced courtier. "The North counts with good warriors, skilled and strong, but it is not the same, and I am sure Her Majesty meant no harm.”

“They are about to be my people. And she called them ‘brutes’.”

Silence lingers in the air like a heavy fog, dense and unyielding. Criston's gaze falls, understanding the weight of his queen's words and the hurt they have inadvertently caused . "I understand," he finally says, his voice low. "It was never her intention to belittle or offend, I am sure of it.”

She wants to retort a snarky comment, but she finally keeps it to herself, realizing that anger won't mend their situation. Instead, she takes a deep breath, letting the cool air fill her lungs, calming the storm that had begun to brew within her.

…

“You look good.”

She smiles at him, softly, her hands clasped at her front as she takes a sit next to him.

“You will make a fine bride, my dear. You will melt the ice in them.”

Her smile slowly fades as she tilts her face to the ground, feigning a modesty she knows she has not, but he thinks she wields it like a warrior does with a shield.

“You are most kind. I must say the idea is not that much disliked as I thought it would be” his violet gaze falls upon her, a hint of curiosity sparkling within it. “I will certainly miss the keep, and everybody, and Jace being close to me, but I can do this. Who knows, maybe I will get to love lord Stark.” She allows herself a small, hopeful smile, thinking about the unknown future that awaits her beyond the familiar walls of the Red Keep.

It had certainly been complicated since the last time he had been with Jace and her alone, when he had made public his change of mind and had decided to bind them into different families, to grow up more like strangers than cousins, but she had decided to adapt herself to the North, and she had reached the point of pestering Grand Maester Mellos, asking for information and any writings about her future lands.

“Those are certainly good words” Viserys seems to be pleased with her reaction, “It will not be easy to adapt to a colder place and a different culture, but your willingness to learn and adapt speaks volumes about your character. The North is a land of old traditions and strong values, where the bonds of family and loyalty are held above all else. The people there are as hardy and steadfast as the land itself; they respect strength and honor, and if you show them that you possess these qualities, they will respect and accept you as one of their own, I am sure of it.”

In a certain way, she can see herself reflected in her grandsire, who passed from being a mere prince of the crown to be the heir, the king to follow Jaehaerys the Conciliator, the one to keep with his legacy. Sometimes, more since the anmouncement of her betrothal to Cregan Stark, she has wondered how did it feel to be new to command a land, to be suddenly thrust into a position of such immense responsibility and power.

“Do you think they will try and compare me to the Good Queen?” the king raises an eyebrow, softly tilting his head as if he is inviting her to keep talking “I read queen Alysanne spent six moons on Winterfell.”

Alysanne Targaryen. The huge shadow looming over the house of dragons. The role model to the following generations.

“They would be fools to not do it” he chuckles, his eyes now upon the sky before them, the stars twinkling like countless eyes watching their exchange. “There were rumours. My own father told me about them, how the Good Queen had made it to put some light upon the lord of Winterfell.”

“And you believe them true?”

Viserys shrugs his shoulders, smiling slightly as if the secrets of the past amused him greatly. “What do you think of it?”

Elia frowns, thoughtful, wondering if he is testing her or just trying to show her some support by comparing her to his grandmother. It is certainly an unusual comparison, but not unwelcomed. The air between them was filled with the softness of an unsaid alliance, a bond formed in the quiet moments of shared history and the unspoken understanding of their positions within the grand tapestry of Westerosi politics.

“I am not really sure what to think about it right now, to be honest.”

Laughter.

She has grown up seeing that man exchanging polite smiles or courteous chuckles, only in just a few ocassions she had witnessed Viserys Targaryen properly laughing, far from the reach of decorum or what the court would say, and it caught her off guard every time, casting him in a light so human it almost seemed out of place, like in this precise moment. She smiles at his reaction, finding warmth in the sound that so rarely graces the halls of the Red Keep.

“Seven Hells, I am going to miss this…” he murmurs with a hint of melancholy in his voice, his gaze momentarily drifting away, lost in thoughts that seem to stretch beyond the confines of the gallery where they are. “The queen came to me before, you know how close are Hightowers to the Faith…”

Since the death of Aemma Arryn and the pushing of the council, led by the cunning Otto Hightower, and his own particular circumstances, Viserys had been pushed to get married again, and since then the constant presence of Alicent fluttering around him had become almost a fixture in his life.

“The North prays to the Old Gods” she says, her eyes roamimg over the garden before them, the great oak tree of the small godswood in a corner of the gardens almost watching over them. “I feel like I should do the same. I will ask lord Stark to teach me about their heart trees and their gods, and it will show him that I am not there to conquer, but to show support and shield him.”

His grandchild’s fascination with the customs and beliefs of the North strucks him as both genuine and politically astute. In the intricate dance of alliances and rivalries that defined the politics of the Seven Kingdoms, understanding and respecting the customs of one's allies was crucial. It was a way to bridge gaps between people from different lands, to weave a tapestry of loyalty and mutual respect that could withstand the tests of time and conflict.

“Wise words, my sweet” he mumbles, his gaze upon the heart tree as well. “She suggested that you could always make a sept be built in Winterfell for you to worship the Seven, with a septa to guide your future children and a septon to try and lure any Northerner to worship the gods with you…”

“And what did you tell her?”

His hand, slightly trembling, cups hers, and his thumb brushes her knuckles with tender.

“That if Aegon the Conqueror did not find it necessary to try and make the North turn to the Seven, then neither would any of us. The gods of the North have been worshipped there for thousands of years. They are rooted deep in the land, in the very heart of the people,” he sighs, clearly tired. “A marriage is a pact. Each one has to respect and tolerate things from the other, even if they don't fully understand or believe in them. I was happy by your grandmother’s side because each of us gave a part of our hearts to the other, and I truly hope you can live happy by your husband’s side, Elia.” she looks at him sideways as soon as he mentions his dead wife, the true love of his life, the shadow looming over him, and the soft smile on his face and the tender glint in his eyes break a little part of her heart. “We all deserve our little bliss, Elia.”

[flygefisk]

i will not ask you where you came from i will not ask and neither would you

syndor (he/they), who lives a humble life. he seems content, with his garden and his chickens, but there's something behind his eyes. maybe he's running from something.

howl (any pronouns), who has a second chance. it died with blood under its nails and came back different in some ways- but the wildness is still part of him.

(tw for blood, death mentions under the cut)

once, long ago, there was a god. it was a wild, ancient god, one of blood and lust and life. a forest god.

the god scented blood on the air, dragon blood. it cared little for the civilized folks, as most gods do. it cared little whether they lived or died. but it was a curious god, so it tracked the scent, bounding on deer's hooves to its source.

the god's paws left no tracks in the blood-soaked earth around the dragon's remains. the god considered the creature for a moment: the blade buried in its stomach, hands and coverings stained dark, its face contorted in rage. there was another scent here, under the obvious blood and rot, one even more familiar to the god.

a wild something, indescribable even to the god of such things, coiled around the body that was once its own. it stared up at the god, its teeth bared. the god raised its head and howled in its many voices, joined soon by the wolves and coyotes and hawks and hares of the forest, a mournful harmony of all wild things.

the something howled too, until its song became a scream, letting loose all the sorrow and love and rage of a life that would never have been enough.

the forest went silent. the god lowered its head and nuzzled the something, like a doe to her fawn, like a bear to her cub. wild things understand each other. they don't need words. the god heard the something's quiet plea:

another chance.

-----

once, not so long ago, there was a man. he walked through an overgrown forest, dirt on his hands and his shovel. he loved walking in the forest, listening to the sounds of nature. it was calming.

he paused near a burbling creek to wash the sweat from his face. he sighed in grim satisfaction- tired, sore, numb. but it was over, at last.

the man realized, after staring into the water for long minutes, that something was different. wrong. the forest was silent here. his eye was drawn to a large stone behind him- half his height or more, veined with black and glittering white patches. on its face, a hand print painted with something dark.

a strange impulse took over, something wild within him, and he began to dig.

-----

once, now. a scraping sound. crumbling earth. cracking twigs. then, light. sunlight. warm and bright and so welcome after so long in the dirt.

the creature reached out from its grave. its hands- long, clawed, discolored- shook as it pulled itself up. it blinked against the morning light, yawned as though waking from a long nap.

it almost didn't notice the man with the shovel. he stared at it, his expression unreadable. it ignored him, letting the world wash over it: a cool breeze on its face, the sound of the water, of birds and insects, of wind through the leaves, the cloying scent of dark earth giving way to flowers and trees.

finally, the man held out a hand- blistered, rough, covered in soil- and the creature let him pull it from the earth.

the man removed his cloak, wrapping it around the creature's broad shoulders. it rubbed the fabric between its clawed fingers- soft, warm, dark like good soil- and smiled. it should have been frightening, with its sharp claws and sharper teeth, but the man just smiled back.

wild things understand each other.

[darshanoftheories]

We got the trailer, a bit later than last time

So I gotta be quick with my theories

So I gotta preface this entire convo with my believe that the playable characters won’t die.

I don’t think hoyoverse would be brave enough to do that, especially cause, no matter how much people might want to play guizhong and such, more people would be freaked out with playing a corpse. I think the Fontaine banners would ultimately not do as well as they could’ve, if the characters were dead for real. I don’t think hoyoverse would want to jeopardise their chances at making money.

So, that said, the trailer does depict quite a few dark scenes, in fact, most everything hints at death and destruction. The prophecy is being fulfilled, the people of Fontaine are dissolving. And in the middle of it all, Furina and Neuvilette. At the trial of the hydro archon Focalor.

Now it should probably be said, that those two, plus Navia, who is falling into the water after we failed to grab her, are the only people we see in the trailer as far as I know. Navia might still die, but she just got her character card confirmed and she was already one of the main characters in the archon quest, so again from a marketing standpoint it would be idiotic not to let people pay money for her. So I’m placing my bet on her being saved last minute by another person.

What we also didn’t see is the ship, that Wriothesley was building. Which I also feel like it has gotta play a part in the quest, or else they wouldn’t have gone through the effort of designing that big of a thing and only show it for like two seconds.

When we talk about the ship, we have to talk about the water.

The primordial water seems to be even worse off than before. “Everyone on the street who happened to be close to the water didn’t have a chance to escape. As the water levels rose, they suddenly disappeared.” Everyone, implies that it truly is everyone. Fontanians and every person from another nation who happened to be there. That’s not the properties of the primordial water we know till now. Even the traveler got warned not to go near suspicious water. I am a bit stumped why Navia would feel the need to clarify that it’s the water that’s ominous though. I wonder what they were talking about before. Maybe other people? Maybe the oratrice?

And that is the second thing we have to talk about. The trial. The trial of the hydro archon Focalor. People seem to have very negative response to justice right now, so there has to be something that’s besides the norm.

I think that Focalor and Furina might not be the same person. That theory has been floating around for some time, but it feels even more solid when we know how hoyoverse likes to bring us onto the wrong path. Every time the specifics of the trial are mentioned only Focalor or the hydro archon are mentioned. I could see Furina in opposition with Focalor, battling for the title of the hydro archon. So that in the end of it all Furina is finally the proper hydro archon.

But then again, Focalor has a Death sentence.

The way Furina looks like, we already know her white outfit, she’s been wearing that all the time, but now she also has a black outfit, in which her hair is cut short, without those long strands anymore. It makes me think of that blade going down, cutting her hair off, symbolising a new beginning. And yet. Black is also for mourning. Focalor dies, so isn’t it fitting to wear black? What is Neuvilette’s part in all this? If this is a trial, then shouldn’t the oratrice be able to handle it? Ah but no, it makes me think of a theory I have had before. Would the oratrice be able to remain impartial in a trial against itself? Maybe Neuvilette’s job really is to make sure to judge impartially. Maybe Childe’s sentence really was unjust. Neuvilette said Furina wasn’t quite as superficial as she made herself out to be and I have to agree with that.

Now I am really bad at figuring out whose voice is whose, but I believe it is Furina’s voice actor who says “Farewell, Neuvilette. I hope you’ve enjoyed the part you played these five hundred years.” And while it is Furina’s voice, it doesn’t sound like her. She has more glamour in her voice, more energy. I think that might’ve been the voice of Focalor.

Childe is also in his foul legacy transformation again, and with Skirk and the whale being in the trailer, there’s certainly something interesting going on. I like the idea that Skirk is somewhat parallel to Arlecchino, with being called Papa, cause the voice in the end, she knows more about what’s going on. I can also see the “Everyone’s dead.” line being from the past, because again, I don’t think our playable characters are going to die. The whale as the final boss in Fontaine is gonna be exciting, especially cause it seems like the whale got through a portal into the courtroom. And Neuvilette and Childe are battling to defeat it.

A parting thought that there are more trees than ever, they just continue to pile up. There are two main new ones in this trailer. It’s part of the Tevat symbolism.

Anyway gonna wrap this up for now, 4.2 is upon us soon, so we’ll see how this chapter of the archon quest is gonna end. (Probably with the Fatui having one more gnosis)

[volterran-wine]

𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟑𝐫𝐝; 𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 || Felix

«The previous one only lasted three stories, hopefully you fare better.» The woman was ever as pleasant, looking to her visitors as if she would prefer them to be just about anyone else. With a sigh did she put down her coffee cup, the fifth one of the day and jet black as the darkness around them. On her desk sat three corked vials, one the colour of midnight, one as clear as water and the last one bubbling and threatening to break, cracks appearing along the glass. The woman paid the vials no mind as her attention was fixed in a specific direction, as if seeing through the stone itself and regarding something in the distance. A mournful cry could be heard from above, a sad song preformed in an ancient tongue long forgotten.

«They want us to know them as perfection incarnate you know?» Her smile could only be described as cruel, seemingly knowing a secret she had no intent of sharing. Absentmindedly she began toying with a letter opener, fashioned after an old gladiatorial sword ― specifically created to ensure an excruciating death. Expertly twisting it in her hand until it was directly pointed at herself, inches from her heart. «But you shall see they are just as capable of folly as us mortals.»  

!Warnings! Blood & Death

𝐄𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐲, 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲

Her neck had been perfect to bite into, supple flesh for him to cradle and taste the sweet forbidden nectar of his mate’s lifeblood. Their union had been heartwarming, overseen by his kings as he made his promises of eternity below the grand willow tree in the gardens. Now he felt her beneath him for the first time, whimpering as he feasted on the small amount he would allow himself to sample. And it was oh so sweet, she tasted of the finest spices and delicacies he could have been offered. Her hands grasped on to his shoulders, pushing and pulling as they made this final journey into the unknown together. As his beloveds breath hitched a spike of adrenaline made the taste of her even more irresistible, a sweet ambrosia he would feast upon. There had to be more! In a careless motion did he push her head upwards in order to expose the neck  further ― a loud crack sounded, and Felix stilled.

Hesitantly he leaned back, shaking as he no longer could hear the steady beating of her heart nor her lungs drawing breath.   

Blood, so much blood.

Once upon a time Felix had thought himself beyond feeling the temptations of blood, certainly not by simply looking at it. For millennia it had been nothing but a colour to him; his eyes, the lining of Caius’ favourite coat, the wine that Corin extracted and made drinkable ― and now his mate. Her hair had always reminded him of the darkest night sky, and now it lay sprawled out on his white sheets with a burgundy tint, stained. In his bloodlust he had crushed parts of her ribcage when he pressed down upon her, caved in and hollow when it should have contained a beating heart. Her neck ― destroyed.

Felix drew in a shaking breath, tasting her blood on his lips and unable to resist swallowing down another mouthful. What had he done? 

He lay with her for seven nights and seven days, her head resting on his chest as if she was only slumbering. One evening he had braided her hair, beautifully and intricate as he knew she loved it done. The next day he had dressed her as best as he could in the cloak the two of them had chosen, a pale grey that shimmered in the moonlight that crept into his chambers. When Caius entered his quarters on the eight day he found his most trusted guard in a heap on the floor besides the bed, his bride laid out on the sheets surrounded by wilting flowers. 

«We need to burn her, she is dead and rotting,―»  

«No,―»  

«Yes, she is. Let go of her and I will have Santiago handle the body.»  

«No!»  Caius had brought more than enough guards with him, Demetri were on him together with his general within a matter of seconds to keep him still. Felix screamed as he watched Santiago pick his mate up, the guard giving her a final kiss on the forehead before carrying her into the hallway, away from Felix and descending into what would be her final resting place.

From his own quarters he could still smell her, the intoxicating scent of oleander intermingling with the harsh acids they used to get rid of their prey. She was burning, a different kind than the one she had anticipated ― there would be nothing left of her, no beauty, no life, nothing. A mournful cry escaped him, prompting Caius and Demetri to hold on even tighter in order to keep him down. He must have cursed them in his delirious state, never had he seen the two of them so forlorn; nearing the breaking point themselves. There was no fight left in him the moment her scent disappeared completely, evaporating into the air. Whatever remained so seared it would never be her again; it was as if his mate had never lived in the first place.

Mourning turned to tears, venomous and a mockery of the real kind; but it was the only thing he had to offer her. Caius let go, letting him sink into Demetri’s embrace as he hid away from the world in the crook of his dearest friend's neck ― body shaking with sobs.

He was alone, and always would be.

Three days later an explosion would shake the ancient foundation of the palazzo, sending every vampire into a frenzy as they searched the halls. When they made their way to the chute, a great fire roared within it as acid and vampiric venom had intermingled in a fierce fire. Remains of bone, flesh and crystallized venom pouring out of the tall cylindrical structure from a deep gash due to the explosion. Two golden rings were found in the rubble glinting in the dark, with an inscription that had Heidi sobbing when she retrieved them. Later on she would bury them beneath the willow tree without much ceremony.

None of the guards would admit to assisting in the incident, and Aro refused to touch anyone's hand ― it was time to let Felix rest.

[sukirichi]

Hi BUB CONGRATS ON 500! 💗 it’s okay if you don’t accept but ingredient 55 reincarnation au + sugar 7 forbidden relationship (or unrequited love?) for Sukuna 🥺 I basically just want a part 2 of Home from War 😫 A snack (drabble) is fine I’ll pick up any crumbs you leave me 🤧 Maybe Sukuna’s thought process after he finds out reader was telling the truth but it was too late, or his thought process when he sees her for the first time and she’s getting closer with Megumi. Oooorrr what happens after the ending of Home from War. If you don’t do continuations that’s alright thank you!

CHOU BUB THANKS SO MUCH 🥺💗💗 and here it is, the ending of home from war, the part two people have been asking for! it’s pretty angsty tho and i may or may not have been hurt while writing this, but i hope you like it anyway!

home from war: the ending | part one

how do you comfort your lover when he cannot find his way home back from the war?

meal order: 55 (reincarnation au) + 7 (forbidden relationship) no longer included + unrequited love + home from war inspired read here: home from war: the ending

song i listened to while writing: lay me down by sam smith (yes i was looking for PAIN)

warnings: murder, character death, angst, regrets, overall a big sad, unedited as always

The sky mourned your death; dark clouds forming overhead as Sukuna watched his servants pile dirt over your body. Your lifeless eyes stared back into nothingness, the gaping hole in your chest prominent. As his last bit of respect for his fallen comrade, he’d ordered his servants to dress you in the finest white robes to replace your bloodstained clothes.

His lover stood beside him; small hands clutched around his bicep while she weeped.

He couldn’t understand why she cried, why she grieved your death. Did his lover not care that this female curse had tried to kill her and their baby just moments ago, cruel and heartless as she was?

Of course she didn’t. His lover was kind, and he didn’t stop her as the feeble human fell down to her knees, fists bundled up around her robes until your body was completely buried underneath the underneath.

They stayed there for what seemed like an eternity until his lover had grown completely tired, body dehydrated from all the crying. She couldn’t cry anymore and her clothes were stained with dirt. Sukuna sighed, his gaze pointed away from the single lily flower that laid above your corpse, reaching over to his lover to pull her arm.

“My love,” he called out, “Come on. Let’s go home. It’s getting dark.”

“No, you don’t get it,” his lover pushed him away, eyes blurred with tears and lips terribly chapped. “She was your friend, Sukuna, you couldn’t kill her just like that!”

“You’re the one who doesn’t get it. She tried to kill you and our baby!”

“Because the child is a monster!” his lover screamed back, pounding her small fists on his chest. It barely grazed him from his looming size, but something about the desperation in his lover’s voice had the words hitting straight through his heart, her gaze piercing. “Because it’s your child and you’re a monster – she was kind to you, she loved you and fought with you, you shouldn’t have killed—”

Sukuna’s arms withdrew his sword before he could realize what he was doing. The sounds of gurgling brought him back to reality, the curse stepping backward as his lover fell down on both knees, hands wrapped around her neck.

Blood dripped from the clean slice he’d made. She choked on her own blood, the liquid black and cursed – you were right. His lover did carry the curse of Death.

Sukuna stood frozen in his spot as his lover fell limp on the ground, the tips of her fingers pointed in your burial’s direction. The dark liquid oozed and poured out of her fragile body, the blood seeping into the ground until the lily turned black.

They all died. The Curse of Death had been exorcised before it fully formed, and he watched as the flower withered, crumpling down itself before the petals fell.

“Hey, Sukuna.”

“Hmm?” he looked up from cleaning his blade, scarlet eyes narrowed at the way you bounced from the corner. It was unusual for you to be this bubbly; not that he minded, though he’d never admit it out loud. Seeing you smile only happened once in a blue moon, thus catching the King of Curses off guard when your entire face lit up, eyes crinkled into half-moons at your enthusiasm.

Your laughter painted the walls of his dark, lonely temple a thousand colours. He barely got to move, much less respond, before you placed a flower crown on his head.

“Don’t you look charming.”

“Tch,” he held back a growl, the tips of his ears flushing red because how dare you defile him like this. The only reason he hadn’t killed you right there and then was because you were the so-called Queen of Curses, adorning your own handmade flower crown, only yours were a lot more colourful and his full of plain blue ones. It was his way of accepting you as his equal, though this didn’t dissipate the irritation that bloomed in his chest. “Get this vile thing off me.”

“It’s a crown I made for us, though,” you pouted, and you looked so terrifyingly adorable for a malicious and bloodthirsty Curse that even Sukuna was stunned. “See, we even match. It’s going to wither soon so let’s just enjoy it for now – while it’s still fresh and living.”

“Death means nothing to us,” he reminded you, “We don’t really die. We were never really living in the first place. Even if our bodies did decompose or wither, we’d still manifest into something else sooner or later.”

You smiled at his words, your cheek turned to him while you looked up at the bright sky. Just like your smiles and laughter, being able to see a clear sky with the blueness calming you both down was rare up far here from your temple. Due to both of your cursed presences looming over the mountain, the skies were always dark, terrifying, and cold.

But not today – not when you were basking in this thing you called “life” and Sukuna’s heart began to beat for the first time in a thousand years.

“I know it’s stupid of me to even think this is a life when I was never really alive in the first place,” you faced him again, the smile never leaving your lips. In that moment, the sun shone down on you, the colour of the flowers like a wonderful spectrum of nature’s wonder reflected back in your eyes. “But it changed when I met you. You’re right that we’re not really living, but you gave me a second chance at life, so I’ll be loyal to you. I’ll be by your side no matter what. Until I theoretically die, I choose to ‘live this life’ with you, Sukuna. I’ll always be here.”

Sukuna blinked back wordlessly, the grip on his sword faltering. He was at a loss of words, unable to process the meaning behind your words.

Understanding him better than anyone, sometimes even better than himself, you chuckled as you stood up, patting his shoulder in the process. “No need to say anything else, King. Those are just my thoughts. But I hope that if I don’t get to be with you in this life anymore, then let’s meet in the next.”

You sounded so sure back then that Sukuna had unknowingly kept your words in his heart as a vow, blindly searching for your soul – anything to have you back by his side again – because there were still some things he needed to say, some things he had to do, and all he ever wanted was to tell you that he understood your words now.

He too, found the meaning of life with you, although he realized it too late, and the realization drowned him when you were no longer there for him.

But he’ll find you – he’ll always find you.

After all, was it not your promise? Was it not your wish to meet him in the next life? When the war is over and the skies have cleared, when he could hear the steady stream of the river and the sounds of birds chirping along with your golden laughter that brightened up the darkness of his soul and his temple – would you still be able to comfort him once he’d come home from war?

[wandaromanova]

Left Behind

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Warnings: cussing, death

A/N: hi! this was a request! hope you guys like this one! y’all can blame @midgardianweasley for this one. happy reading <3

anon requested: Natasha x fem! reader. Reader and Natasha were in a building on fire trying to get citizens out and a wooden beam lands on reader. It’s too heavy for Natasha to lift it but won’t give up. Reader is screaming for Natasha to go! Giving her a smile that everything will be okay! A fireman then pulls Natasha out of the building against her will seeing the whole building collapse in reader.

Summary: Natasha and Y/N go on a mission, but don’t make it back together.

Word Count: 1.6K

| masterlist | request rules/guidelines | wips |

please do not repost or try and take ownership of my work. reblogs, likes, and comments are always welcome. <3

You were an Avenger just like your girlfriend; Natasha. You had met the redhead when you first joined the team.

You were one of the highest-ranked S.H.I.E.L.D agents and Fury had decided to recruit you into the team of heroes. You had heard many stories about the Black Widow and to say you were a fan was an understatement.

You had an immense amount of respect for Natasha. Her past wasn’t a great one, but she turned her life around and made it beautiful. She didn’t let her mistakes define who she was and you admired that.

The assassin had taken a liking to you. You guys immediately hit it off. About six months after your arrival, you began dating Natasha.

Natasha’s room became yours too. You’d spend your nights laid on top of the redhead as she stroked your hair gently. You’d close your eyes and ask her to say anything because the sound of her voice was your favorite.

She’d sing Russian lullabies to you. You were the only person she’d ever let hear her sing. She said she was a terrible singer and not letting anyone hear her was a gift, but she was actually amazing at it.

Her husky voice sent chills down your spine whenever she would speak. So when she sang to you in Russian? You were speechless.

You felt blessed to know that Natasha was truly herself in your presence. No one had ever seen her true colors, until you.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

You were the person that Natasha went to for everything.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Exhausted after a long mission? She’d run into your arms as soon as she’d land. Steve and Tony annoying the fuck out of her? She’d rant to you about how small their brains were.

Devastated after a mission had gone wrong? She’d find comfort in your presence and your words. You’d whisper soft reassurances against her ear as you’d rock your bodies side-to-side.

Receiving good news? You’d be the very first person she’d tell as the excitement took over her. You’d match her energy, feeling just as excited as her, if not more. Natasha would beam as you’d press a soft kiss to the crown of her head, mumbling an ‘i’m so proud of you’ against her scalp.

You were Natasha’s person and she was yours. You genuinely believed you were made for one another. From the way your hands fit like two pieces of a puzzle with one another, to the way your thoughts and ideas seemed to always align. You guys just got each other in a way no one else could.

So, naturally, you were always assigned partners on missions. You two had the best communication on the team which led to tons of successful missions. However, communication couldn’t prevent nor predict the surprises of enemies.

•❅──────────────── ‎⧗ ────────────────❅•

You and Natasha were sent undercover to a gala being held by one of the leaders of Hydra.

The goal was to capture him for questioning and keep him in custody. That should be easy, considering there was booze everywhere and everyone was either tipsy or black-out drunk.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Well yes, it would’ve been easy; if your cover hadn’t been blown.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

You were currently sat on the target’s lap as he not so subtly stared at your cleavage. You were with him in a private area further into the party, while Natasha remained in the public area.

The drunk man looked up at you and you smiled down at him; trying your best to hide your disgust. However, he didn’t smile back at you.

You were caught off guard when he abruptly shoved you off of his lap, your body colliding with the marble floor.

“You’re an Avenger. You bitch!” You quickly stood up at his words and attacked him. You spoke into your earpiece while fighting off the man.

“Nat, our cover has been blown. I need backup.” You said as the man landed a heavy punch onto your abdomen. You stumbled back and he took the opportunity to rush out of the room.

“взорвать это место, сейчас! (blow the place up, now!)”

Your eyes widened at his words. Before you could rush out of the room yourself, an explosion pushed you back. Your body collided with a wall and you let out a scream of agony as a beam from the ceiling landed on top of you.

•❅──────────────── ‎⧗ ────────────────❅•

The sounds of screams and the fire alarms accompanied the ringing in your ears. Your only thoughts being; your pain and Natasha.

She had been on her way over here before the bomb went off. Was she okay? Did she get hit by the force of the bomb? Was she gone?

You tried your best to lift the beam off of your body, but to no avail. You realized that a piece of metal that had been sticking out of the beam had lodged itself into your chest.

Your eyes tore away from the beam on top of you and landed on red locks. Natasha stumbled into the room; or at least, what was left of it anyway. She paused in her tracks at your state.

Tears threatened to fall from her eyes as her hands shot up to cover her mouth, a muffled gasp escaping her throat. She quickly got it together and rushed over to help you.

Nat got down on her knees, not caring about how harsh the rubble was against her bare skin. She moved to lift the beam, but you stopped her.

“Natty, no. If you lift it, I’ll bleed out.” You sent her a small smile before you began to cough. Natasha’s heart sunk to her stomach at the sight of blood pouring out of your mouth.

“I have to get you out of here, babe. We have a movie night planned, I have to make sure that still happens.” Nat tried to joke in an attempt to console you, but it was more to control her own fear than anything.

Your conversation was interrupted by the sound of another explosion. The building quaked as flames began to invade the room. She needed to go; now.

You shook your hand that was sticking out from the beam slightly. Nat got the message and held your hand with both of hers tightly.

“You need to leave, honey. This place is going to collapse any minute now.” You croaked out, ignoring the metallic taste in your mouth.

“I’ll be damned if I leave you behind. If you’re going down, I’m going down with you.” You couldn’t help but smile as you took in every inch of Nat’s face.

She was absolutely beautiful. Even with the dust and dirt littering her face and her worried expression; she was still the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen.

The flames began to rage. The smoke was beginning to cloud your vision of the woman in front of you. You rubbed one of her hands with the back of your thumb, not minding the pain that accompanied the action.

“Go. Now. It’s okay. I love you so much and you aren’t leaving me behind; you never would and I- I know that.”

You stuttered towards the end of the sentence as you were overcome by an intense chill. You were losing so much blood and it wasn’t going to be long now before you were gone.

Your eyes drifted towards a figure entering the room. A firefighter. His eyes widened as he noticed both of you. He rushed over to help you, but you stopped him.

“Hey buddy, I’m a goner regardless if you get this off of me or not. Get her out of here. You can’t save me, but you can save her.”

You managed to let out as another fit of coughs shook your body. More crimson liquid spilled out of your mouth and Natasha finally let her tears fall.

The man nodded solemnly before he grabbed Natasha by the waist. She struggled against his hold as she kicked and screamed; her arms reaching out for you.

“No! No! Please let me stay! I can’t leave you! You can’t leave me!” Natasha’s words paired with her tone of agony and desperation tore your heart apart.

All you could do was smile lovingly at her as you slowly felt the life leave your body. She was going to be okay eventually and that’s all you wanted for her.

“I love you, moya lyubov (my love). It’s okay. Take care of yourself.”

You spoke quietly, but it was loud enough for Natasha to hear. She watched as the bright light that once filled your irises turned to a blank stare.

Natasha fought even harder against the man’s firm grip as she sobbed out. He had finally managed to get the both of them out of the room and out of the building. This all happened in the span of a few minutes, but to Natasha, it felt like an eternity.

•❅──────────────── ‎⧗ ────────────────❅•

The firefighter placed Nat down once they were a good distance away from the building. As soon as her feet hit the floor, she ran towards the building, but before she could make it back in; the entire structure collapsed.

Natasha’s knees roughly hit the floor as she took in the sight. The building that you were in was nothing but broken concrete and rubble. You were buried beneath all of that carnage.

Natasha sobbed without care. She couldn’t give two fucks if people were staring at her with pity or sympathy. She had just lost the love of her life.

Natasha couldn’t help but blame herself. If she had gotten to the room sooner, she could’ve gotten the both of you out of there. You wouldn’t have been crushed by a beam.

She wouldn’t have had to watch as you bled out. She wouldn’t have had to witness firsthand; as the soul she had fallen in love with left the world.

Natasha cried out into the night. The chaos going on around her turned to white noise. Her surroundings were in slow motion as she mourned.

Each tear that fell from her eyes represented each obliterated possibility of a future with the woman she loved.

Each scream that left her mouth served as curses to every higher power there was, for so cruelly taking the love of her life; you.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

───────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────────

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[bangtangalicious]

death valley (m) | part 8

summary: welcome to death valley. once you’re in, there’s no telling whether you’ll make it out alive. a summer internship turns wild with blurry nights of dangerous men, dirty money, and extremely hot sex. you soon get caught in a savage game of greed, power and obsession, only to find out that you are the grand prize

pairing: ot7 x f.reader smut ft: jin x reader, jungkook x reader, taehyung x reader

genre: smut. yandere. mystery. thriller. gang!au rockstar!au fightclub!au

wordcount: 9.0k

warnings: reader discretion advised. rough sex, physical roughness, sadism kink, pain kink, breast play, fingering, elevator sex (semipublic), praise kink, dirty talk, unrealistic endurance (this is one day LMAO), attempted fire play, bondage, guns, attempted shootings, knife play if you squint, spanking, degradation (name calling, slut shaming, being really mean lolol thanks jin), crying kink? lot of crying, toxic and manipulative behaviors, jin steps on you so there’s that, character death, heavy drug use, paranoia/fear, voyeurism, sex while intoxicated, me trying to put some humor where i can, sweet dom!jungkook, wild dom!jin, and a sprinkle of dom!taehyung ;) ALSO eyebrowpiercing!jungkook. very important. 

a/n: s/o soowoozoo!bts for being my inspo. 

part 0 | part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11 | series navi | masterlist |

F L A S H F O R W A R D--

Goosebumps spread across your skin as the silence set in. The room was chilly, air conditioner buzzing in contrast to the slick humidity of the summer night waiting for you outside. The white light made your eyes ache, the walls were plain, dry, empty.

You stared blankly at the table in front of you. The sound of the pen scratching paper made you ache, remembering kinder days when you and Hobi would be goofing around and writing songs. How did you get here? How did you let this happen?

The previous night, you had dreamt of being at a concert, somewhere far from Death Valley. Losing yourself to music and molly, a soft pair of hands on your hips as you danced the night away, singing at the top of your lungs. Those same hands wrapping around your waist, nose tracing behind your ear to whisper to you how pretty you were. How hot you looked and how badly he wanted to tear your clothes off with his teeth. 

You allowing him to pick you up so easily, take you back to his car where you scrambled into the back seat. Like children. The first kiss was magic, you were glued to him and could barely move on. He wouldn’t leave you for a second, he wouldn’t let you breathe. Your lips were hot on each other, soft moans and giggles. Swallowed smiles as you drank one another in, bodies like waves crashing against each other.

Hands wandering until he had you where he wanted. Where you wanted. He loved you down so incredibly good. How he was able to tear you apart while still being so sweet, you could barely even fathom. His teeth dug into the flesh of your breasts, fingers hooking around your panties. 

His tongue ravished your figure. There was no part of you left untouched, no part of you that wasn’t completely ablaze with arousal. You would arch your neck back as he lapped away at the sweetness dripping between your legs, your hands combing through his wavy black hair.

His tongue knew where to go, he knew how you liked it, and your fist clenched as he fucked you with his mouth through and through. He always made sure you came first. Always. Every single time.

Whether you had mere minutes or long hours, he loved the way you tasted, making sure you knew that at every chance he got. Sloppy wet kisses traveled up your stomach to your chest, up your neck, hands caressing your ass, scratching your back, holding you close for a moment. 

You were whisked away into heaven, just briefly, as his thick cock would push into you. Your pussy pulling him in, wanting to feel the familiar but oh so incredible stretch that only he gave you. 

Taehyung. You sobbed as he fucked you, allowing him to kiss the glossy tears off of your cheeks as he rolled his hips, angling so perfectly to nudge deep within you. His sinister grin, his giggles, his chaos. You were in the hands of disaster but you never felt more safe. 

Why are you crying dumbass? He would find your state amusing, continuing to fuck you, thrusts long and smooth. Quick, but slow enough for you to savor each second. Your whining lost behind the wet sound of your bodies colliding.

Where are you? Are you watching this right now? You’re not really dead are you?

Stroking your cheek, he leaned down to whisper against your mouth. The words he would keep on saying, echoing back to you. Play along. I won’t hurt you.

What exactly you were playing, you were unsure. 

“Look at me” Your eyes darted up to meet Jin’s deceivingly innocent eyes. “I’m gonna ask you again, did you kill Kim Taehyung?” 

You gulped, sweat collecting onto the cold handcuffs around your wrists. Jin glanced at the mirrored wall, before letting out a heavy sigh. 

“It appears that Kim Taehyung was murdered about two hours before the party. We found your gun near the body.” Jin holds up the custom weapon Yoongi had given that was unmistakably yours. “Where were you at that time?” You felt your eyes getting heavy.

“I was” You lips were chapped, mouth clammy with a bitter taste. You looked him dead in the eye, stomach sickened by the amusement glistening within them as you struggled with your response. You knew he was getting a kick out of it. You wanted to spit on his face. You wanted to slap him, to scream, to flip the table and break out of the windowless room that caged you.

“I was with...y..” Jin smirked, leaning back. You cleared your throat, mind running a mile a minute.

“With who Y/n?”

You glared at him. He was treating this as some sort of role play. You felt queasy at the thought. Someone was dead. Dead. 

“You. I was with you”

F L A S H B A C K--

The morning rays slid through the expansive glass wall of the hotel room, causing Yoongi’s eyes to flinch, squinting as they opened and took in the day that presented itself. He sighed heavily, the weight of the previous night still on his mind. You were still asleep, but he could see through the chaffing beneath your wrists that you were not comfortable. He took the leash and fastened it to the headboard, ensuring you had no escape. 

Grabbing his keys, Yoongi quickly got dressed in a white hoodie and left the room. He needed to find out the truth for himself. He couldn’t afford to have you lying to him already. 

It was so frustrating to him that you couldn’t just be honest with him. He had been immensely open with you even if he was not proud of what he had to share. Why would you hide things? Hadn’t he proven himself to you? Hadn’t he done everything to win your heart?

Yoongi sighed. His anger issues were core to his being. It was part of his true self, but he had spent years trying to become someone you would fall in love with. All he wanted to do was make home in your heart, but no matter how many of your suitors he ended up threatening, beating to a pulp, and forcing them to bail on you, there was nothing in his power that could tear down that goddamn Park Jimin poster on your bedroom wall.

There was nothing he could do to stop you from writing small fantasies in your journal that you kept stashed in your bedside drawer. 

Yoongi would be lying if he said he didn’t come close to killing Jimin multiple times before. But he realized that would not have delivered him a solution. If Jimin died, you would mourn. You would still harbor that love for him and never have an opportunity to see what he really was. It was because of this Yoongi, with Taehyung’s helpful insight, had orchestrated a way to destroy Jimin in your eyes. 

Jimin was then introduced to Yoongi’s two weapons of destruction, Taehyung and cocaine. Yoongi worked hard to build himself up as a successful music producer. He had to be better than Jimin, had to make sure he could offer you everything Jimin could and more. 

To his surprise, you did move on from Jimin, at least the reality of him. But this fantasy of who he used to be remained pinned to your heart. After Jimin quit music, the mention of his name would still cause you to blush and smile. It made Yoongi want to throw up.

You had to see for yourself. Yoongi learned what it was that attracted you to Jimin and embodied just that. You liked that you had to chase him, you liked that he didn’t give a shit about you. You liked that he never noticed you and you had to pine for his attention. You liked that he was dedicated to his music, you liked the lifestyle he was associated with. You liked his lack of emotion and fantasized of him showing his true colors to you and only you, a sensitive, sweet, charming guy. Anger was not a part of this persona at all. 

When he felt like he had driven Jimin crazy enough with the drugs, he decided to plant rumors on stan twitter that Jimin would be signing with his label. Using his personal relationship with the singer, he was able to sign him on. He conveniently then offered you a summer internship, knowing full well you would be coming for one reason alone. Park Jimin.

Yoongi wanted you to fall straight into his arms. He rented out every available apartment for the months you were searching for a place to live, forcing you to reside in his building. He wanted to win you over naturally. He wanted you to work with Jimin, hook up with Jimin, and end up loathing him. Loving Yoongi instead. 

Jimin’s gang activity was getting on Yoongi’s nerves. Taehyung told him Jimin was in Death Valley, that you saw Jimin at Death Valley. When Yoongi heard from you, not Taehyung, that you had been kidnapped, along with Namjoon nonetheless, Yoongi had enough. He was used to giving Taehyung plenty of unsupervised jurisdiction, so Jimin’s accident was not a surprise to him. 

But you sympathized with Jimin, which was not what he wanted. He then decided to take things into his own hands, threatening Seokjin into throwing the fight to leech Jimin of every cent he had. He broke into your apartment, fucking everything up so that you had no choice but to come to him. To need him. 

And when Jin didn’t lose, he had no choice but to reveal to you who he was. Even after all his honestly, all his trust, you still lied to him. 

Yoongi was furious. He arrived at Death Valley, using the front entrance. Pulling a mask over his face, he barged in, surveying the silence as a sign that the bar was empty. Through the kitchen he arrive at the back storage room, accessible only by key, where all of the surveillance had been set up years ago. 

Monitors were spread across the wall, but Yoongi’s eyes narrowed in at one that was coming up with no feed. Your apartment. Someone had fucked with the cameras. Yoongi types away at the main monitor, enlarging your apartment footage and reeling back to find the moment the device was destroyed.

He sees Taehyung, whispering something to you. Next thing he knows the stream is blank. He grits his teeth, as all the pieces fall into place. He was a fool. How could he have been so blind? Taehyung must be in love with you. He must have, after watching you for so many years. Yoongi scowled at the thought of the ways Taehyung may have seen you, naked, vulnerable, ways that only he should. 

He had trusted Taehyung. Taehyung had only ever shown interest in money and Yoongi thought that was enough. Taehyung must have fucked you over and over again once the cameras were dead. What a whore. It made sense then that he had cut the line through his branding on you. He was the only one who could have. He had access to you and he was psychotic! He must have forced you to lie. You wouldn’t ever hide anything from Yoongi, no, Yoongi was the man of your dreams. You felt grateful that you had him, didn’t you?

He tilted his head, cracking his knuckles before he punched the glass screen, causing the feed to go haywire and sparks to erupt. Kim Taehyung. You are dead to me.

Yoongi growled lowly before picking up his phone. “It’s me. I need to see you. Now” 

-

Hobi kept his hand on the small of your back as he led you down to the hotel bar. The two of you nodded politely at the staff members who were busily preparing for the big event. The bar was empty aside for a few guests enjoying their brunch-time mimosas.

Hobi couldn’t really revel in the fact that the two of you were getting drinks together, almost like a date. His mind was too caught up in the initial shock he felt when he saw you tied up in his boss’ bedroom. He felt upset, but moreso he felt violated. He wondered if you were getting taken advantage of. Did he promise you a promotion? Was he manipulating you?

Punishing someone like that, Hobi was never one to kink shame, but it seemed a bit much. The name burned into your skin did nothing to ease his concern. Someone who was possessive, violent, impulsive. It reminded him of...

Hobi didn’t know. He didn’t know who gave him orders. He really didn’t care once the cash rolled in, but it began hitting too close to home. He wasn’t thrilled about hurting Namjoon, but two duffel bags of cash were enough for him to momentarily set aside his morals. 

“What should I get?” You surveyed the small menu of cocktails. “What’s gonna fuck me up the fastest?”

Hobi snorted, “Tequila” He twirled your hair as your gaze remained glued to the menu. The thought of you being in danger upset him greatly “Y/n...when did Yoongi brand you?" You called the bartender ordering a line of shots to which the they glanced at the clock before giving you a weird look.

“The night of the rematch” You told him, reacting before you realized what you had said. Your lip tucked between your teeth as you tried to conjure an excuse. A row of shot glasses was placed in front of you. You took one, gulping it down before letting out a heavy sigh. The bitterness burned down your throat. You basked as the liquid hit your mind, easing you slightly.

“Yoongi was at the fight?” Hobi recalled the wild night that the three of you had been at Death Valley. It was the first time he ever saw the man giving him orders. The man was tall, broad, had dark hair and wore dark clothes, face covered in a mask. Could it have been...Yoongi?

“Y/n!” The two of you turned to see Jungkook approaching the bar. He had changed his hair, the blue swapped for a short black cut, and you couldn’t help but double take at his new eyebrow piercing. 

You downed another shot, glancing at Hobi who had raised his eyebrows seeing the drug dealer. Jungkook gave you a light hug, waving timidly to Hobi. You smirked, another shot down the hatch. “Easyyyy Y/n” He placed a hand on your back as he slid into the seat next to you.

“The fuck are you doing here?” Hobi sneered. Jungkook rolled his eyes, used to the condescending treatment of gang members. "Didn’t you get stabbed or something?”

“I did!” Jungkook grinned, “In fact, that’s exactly why I’m here. I think I figured out who Mr. Bossman is, and I wanna fucking kill him”

Hobi rolled his eyes, “Oh really”

“Kim Seok-motherfucking-Jin baby. He stabbed me. He’s the one who showed up and threatened me to move out of Y/n’s apartment, so he’s probably also the one who called for the kidnapping. And he might have called for Jimin’s accident. It makes so much fucking sense”

Jin did what? There was not enough alcohol in your veins to act like you didn’t fully understand what he had just said. Jin had Jungkook move out? It wasn’t impossible. And that’s what scared you. You blinked at Jungkook incredulously, “But he’s literally a police officer”

Jungkook’s grin widened, “Exactly! It’s fucking brilliant. He’s a cop, he fights for the other side. He wins no matter what and can never get caught. No one would ever suspect him. Winning despite being threatened? Who threatened him huh? It’s a fucking ploy. You’re not dead and neither is he I bet. Kingpin. Boom”

You felt sick, knowing that Yoongi was not the only person you needed to be worried about. It was almost funny how blatantly misinformed Jungkook was. “Wow you guys are idiots.” You muttered under your breath, taking another shot before coughing roughly. Should I tell them? Why did Jin lie? Is this even the truth? Jin always tried to pin things on Jungkook, but you defended him. Hearing his words now made your head spin. He’s lying. Jungkook is lying. You wanted to scream, frustration flooding through your veins as you clenched your fists.

“I’m gonna tell Jimin and Taehyung what I know. They will give me so much money dude.” Jungkook chuckled, “And then they’d kill him, oh God finally”

Hobi pursed his lips, mouth feeling dry as he reflected on Jin’s eerie words before he shot him in the leg. He didn’t know where Jin was anymore, handing him off to be taken somewhere. It didn’t make sense. His orders were to seize Jin if Jin won the fight. Why place an order like that all? Why do any of this?

“Y/n, come with me.” Jungkook tugged at the sleeve of the oversized Nirvana shirt you had thrown on after your shower session with Hobi. You giggled, the thought of Taehyung coming into your slowed thoughts like a hurricane, tearing up any understanding you thought you had of the situation. There was only one thing you believed. Only one thing you knew with full certainty and it was all you could hold onto.

“Oh my goodness it’s Yoongi. It’s Yoongi. It’s always been Yoongi” The words spilled from your lips like the tequila that dripped down the side of your lips as you took yet another shot, giggling like a ditz. Jungkook and Hobi exchanged confused looks with each other, only making you laugh more. “I would fucking know okay!” Your laughs grew loud, “I was locked up in his fucking apartment and where the hell were all of you huh? Dumb fucking idiots!” You buckled over, laughing into Jungkook’s chest.

“Jungkook” Hobi sighed, “I gotta get back to work. Can you get her sober please?” Jungkook nodded. He held your waist tightly helping you stand, walking with you carefully to the hotel elevator.

The laughter wouldn’t stop. Passerbys shot the two of you dirty looks as Jungkook pulled you into the elevator easily. Through it’s glass walls you could see the midday skyline, where outside people hustled through life as if everything were normal. Must be fucking nice. “Y/n” Your laughs began to choke in your throat, turning instead to the sobs you tried to suppress with whatever will you had left. 

Jungkook placed his soft lips on your shoulder. Hands sliding onto your waist as he peered at you curiously, “Y/n, is everything okay?”

You shook your head, the elevator door closed as tears began forming in your eyes. Your voice croaked, “I’m dead. He’s gonna kill me. T..taehyung is gonna kill me. I...I know he will. He’s everywhere. Everywhere.” You looked around frantically, suddenly feeling hyperaware of the security cameras littered throughout the public space. “I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone...I” You hiccuped. Jungkook pulled you into a tight hug.

“It’s okay ssh” He stroked his thumbs them across your cheeks, cupping your face affectionately. “I’m here aren’t I?” You sniffled, nodding lightly. “I got you okay. No one is gonna hurt you”

You stared into his kind brown eyes. You did not trust him, your entire body was screaming at you not to trust him. His fingers danced down your figure, freely gliding over your heaving chest, desperately trying to breathe with the fear that choked you from within.

You blinked at him, eyes glancing down at his pouty lips before finding his eyes again. “Y/n” Jungkook whispered, barely inches from your lips. “I won’t let anyone hurt you okay. I promise”

Fat tears rolled down your face at his words. Jungkook clicked his tongue, cooing at you as he continued to wipe away your hears. “Oh you poor thing” He held you to his chest, kissing the top of your head, before tilting your face up to his. 

He leaned in, eyes fluttering shut as his lips landed on yours, swallowing you into him. The taste of tequila was evident on your lips as he kissed you softly, and you allowed yourself to surrender to his warm touch.

You felt heat pooling in your chest as his fingers trailed up your legs. He traced circles into the inside of your thighs, letting his fingers tease the edge of your shorts. 

“Jungkook” You inhaled sharply, his hot breath tickling your neck as you tilted your head back. He licked his lips before sloppily latching onto your collarbone, sucking down to litter your skin with wet kisses as his fingers slid down your shorts, just barely so that he could roll his hips into you.

He pushed you back against the glass, fingers trailing across your bare thighs before sliding beneath your panties. Jungkook ran a finger over your clothed folds, making you clench down. 

“Y/n” His voice sounded equally as desperate as yours, barely audible over the sound of his heavy breathing. “Fuck I missed you” You gasped as his fingers slid under the fabric. He pushed a finger in, allowing your tight cunt to accustom to it before adding another finger not long after. 

His other hand slid beneath your shirt, pushing your bra up so he could run his thumb over your nipples, his touch featherlight, leaving you breathless. You rolled your eyes back in pleasure, bucking your hips up as he slowly pumped you with his fingers.

“That’s it baby, just like that” He whispered, lips pressing into your neck. You let out a shaky moan as his fingers quickened, pumping in and out of you as you latched onto his shoulders. “Look at me. Look right at me baby”

He brought his lips over yours, just brushing them across your skin so he could gaze deep into your eyes as you fucked yourself onto his fingers. You cried out his name as the friction began to overwhelm you. His fingers easing you right where you needed them, pleasure searing through you as he watched your every move.

"So good for me” He pulled his fingers out, doused in your sticky arousal before he placed them into his own mouth. Your eyes widen as he licked of every last bit of you and smiles. “You taste so fucking good baby”

He kisses you again, harsher this time as his hips roll against you. Your fingers grip his hair as he pulls down his sweats, allowing his cock to spring out. 

“You want my cock?” He ran his tongue over your lips, tugging at them slightly as he stroked his cock. You could feel his hand moving between your legs. “You want my big cock in your little pussy?”

You gulped, nodding as Jungkook looked down, lining his tip against your folds, pushing in only slightly before meeting your eyes again. “So warm and wet for me, fuck” He pushed in further, groaning as you spread your thighs wider, allowing him to thrust as deep as he could. He stilled briefly, kissing you again “You take me so well baby fuck. So fucking tight for me. My pretty baby” He stroked your face, thumb pushing into your mouth slightly.

“Does it feel good?” He mumbled, pulling out just slightly before rolling his hips back into you. He picked up a rhythm, fucking you deep and slow, hands clawing at your breasts.

“Yeah...feels really good” Your eyes fell shut, enjoying the fulfilling pleasure of his movements. He pulled your shirt up, burying his face between your breasts as he continued to fuck up into you. 

“Mmm yeah I bet” He pushed your bra up, allowing his fingers to pinch you nipples. He took one into his mouth, wrapping his tongue around the small bud as he began to suckle you, looking up to your face and enjoying your reactions. “You’re so fucking pretty you know that right?” He sucked on your breast harshly before leaving it with a soft kiss and moving onto the other. “So perfect for me”

His thrusts quickened, driving you up the wall as his hands fell to your hips. You burying your face in the crook of his neck as you felt your high approaching. “Jungkook...I’m...”

“Yeah?” Jungkook’s voice was raspy with lust, “You wanna cum baby? Cum for me baby, cum all over my cock, wanna hear you make those pretty little moans when you cum”

You cried out with every thrust as he pushed you over the edge, and you felt your pussy burst with pleasure as you came, the sloppy sounds of your arousal echoing through the small space. Jungkook groaned as the hot liquid covered his cock, allowing him to slide in and out of you with ease. 

“There you go. Good girl. Good fucking girl, just like that” He gasped, feeling his cock twitch slightly, buried deep in your cunt, “Want me to cum inside you baby?” You nodded, whining slightly, “Yeah? You want it baby? Huh?” Jungkook’s hips thrust furiously at you, and he cupped your face, bringing his forehead against yours so he could look into your eyes as he came. “Want my cum? Want me to fill you up baby?”

“Yeah. I want it. Jungkook please,” Your whiny voice was enough to have him spurting through you.

“Holy fuck” Jungkook buckled over, holding you tight as cum shot out of him, filling you up and leaking out onto the floor.

He pulled out of you quickly, pulling up his sweats while you fixed your own clothes. Sweat painted his forehead as he looked at you, panting with a big smile on his cute face.

“I missed that” He confessed, pulling you back into him by the waist. He knelt down and pressed his lips on yours, letting his hands slide to your ass and squeeze them softly. 

You heard a familiar ring as the elevator door reached it’s destination. You jumped away from Jungkook, unable to get far as the strong boy’s hold on you remained steady. 

"I see stabbing you once didn’t really drive home the message huh Mr. Jeon Jungkook” 

You felt goosebumps spread as you heard the sinister tone of Jin’s voice. He stood leaning against the elevator as if he had been waiting for you, twirling his knife around aimlessly between his fingers. “Too bad, I unfortunately can’t kill you yet” He turned to you and winked, “Both of you come with me”

-

Sweat trickled down from Namjoon’s neck, his eyes glued to the tattered punching bag in front of him. His muscles were still sore, bruises still spattered across his bare chest. He didn’t care. He was sick of feeling helpless. Under the dim lights of the boxing gym, he pushed himself, another hit, more force, ignoring the pain shooting through his limbs with every strike.

“Don’t overdo it” Namjoon rolled his eyes at the sound of the familiar voice. “Last thing you want is to get injured again” He turned to the sound of loafers echoing across the concrete floor.

“What do you want Yoongi?” Namjoon sneered. The producer smirked slightly, patting the punching bag playfully before pacing around Namjoon.

“I’m gonna kill Taehyung, and I know Jimin is gonna break hell. I need you to protect Y/n for me. Can I trust you, Namjoon?” His voice was stern.

“Man, fuck you Yoongi” Namjoon groaned, “I put my life on the line for you constantly and you still have to fucking ask? Promise me. I want out after this. Promise me a record deal”

Yoongi shrugged, “Okay fine. I’ll sign you. Don’t let her out of your sight.” Yoongi inhaled sharply, “And I swear to God Namjoon if you even think about touching her, you’re dead to me. And I will know if you do.”

Namjoon rolled his eyes, lips parted, desperately trying to catch his breath. “Yeah okay. Just get me my fucking record deal”

Yoongi pursed his lips, pulling out his phone and handing it to Namjoon. “Paperwork is ready. You have one job. Don’t fuck up again” Namjoon clenched his fist as Yoongi chuckled in amusement. “I have some business I need to deal with personally. Keep her safe Namjoon, please”

-

You gagged, a puke-ish feeling clogging your throat as you coughed out. Your head was throbbing with pain as you squinted against the gleaming lights from the chandelier above your head. Glancing around, you realized you were back at Jungkook’s place, large dark wooden floors adding to the ambiance that just screamed rich in your face. The plushness of his large bed evident beneath you. 

You get up slightly, peering across the room where you see Jin handing a large duffel bag to Jungkook, whispering something into his ear. Jungkook nods eagerly, shaking Jin’s hand before exiting. He turns back to you, smiling as he realizes you are awake.

“Hey party girl. Recovered from our little day drinking session have we?” Jin chuckled. You scowl, searching around you as your throat desperately demanded water. Jin handed you a glass. “I just got Jungkook caught up, but you and I need to have a little talk” 

You exhaled before emptying the entire glass down your throat. “I know everything” You scoffed in spite, “I know everything you did, you fucking maniac”

Jin smiled wide at the term, “I know. Jungkook told me you think I was behind all of the stuff that’s been going on, stabbing him and kidnapping you. I mean,” Jin laughed, a tinge of condescendence in his voice, “You don’t actually believe that do you? Like, seriously how dumb are these guys. At least you’re smart”

You frowned at his tone, unsure of how to respond. Jin raised his eyebrows at your silence before continuing, “Oh come on Y/n. Use that little brain of yours hm? What the hell would I be gaining from all this? It was Taehyung.”

He extended you a hand, helping you out of the bed and pulling you up to stand before him, “What did he tell you huh? That he’s Yoongi’s friend or some shit? Taehyung doesn’t give a fuck about Yoongi. And I know you know about him screwing over Jimin. He’s trying to take over both gangs, not just Jimin’s, and he’s been lying to you this whole time.”

The bargaining chip. “What do you mean?” You followed the flat echoes of his footsteps down the hallway into the same office that you had Jimin tied up only a few days ago. You suppressed a smile as you noticed the curtains were still torn.

“He’s distracting Jimin and Yoongi with you. He wants them to get up against each other so that he can sway the gang loyalties towards him by showing that their leaders priorities are off. Look here” Jin motioned towards a laptop on the large desk, playing security footage of what appeared to be Death Valley’s parking lot, where people were loading bags of cash into what could have been Taehyung’s car. “He’s robbing them. And you know what else Y/n? When he’s done with all of this, he’s gonna kill them both.” 

No. No way. Betrayal stung you as you process Jin’s words, “You’re just a pawn in his game. You were bait. He just needed to you get Jimin and Yoongi to fight amongst each other. And you let him, didn’t you?” Jin chuckled, patting your cheek. “I know he kept telling you that you could trust him. That he wouldn’t hurt you. It was bullshit Y/n. This man only cares about one thing. Himself”

You thought back to the first night you laid your eyes on him, back when his hair was a faded green, his sweaty tan skin contrasting his dark leather jacket. The look of familiarity in his eyes and the gleam from his diamond studded watch. You were a fool. He strung you along.

“Where is he?” You growled, “I wanna hear it from him. I wanna ask him myself”

“Absolutely. In fact, if you’re up for it, I was wondering if you would be down to do another little mission for me” Jin winked at you. You scowled, folding your arms over your chest, “If we don’t kill him first, he’s planning on killing Yoongi tonight before the party. I know because I got him to let me in on his little coup” Your heart dropped, “You don’t want that do you?”

"No” You blurted. 

“So let’s kill him first. Come on, let’s go get you dolled up for this party”

As you left the office, you couldn’t help but notice a familiar figure standing at the other end of the hallway.

Namjoon? Your eyes locked with his. He pressed a finger to his lips before pointing at Jin and shaking his head. What is he trying to say. Namjoon seemed to have a warning look in his eyes. You simply shrugged at him, before running down the hall to catch up with Jin.

Namjoon exhaled, watching from a window as Jin and you drove off, likely heading to the hotel. Looking at his palm he saw the way his nails left imprints in his skin from how hard he was clenching his fists. Namjoon wasn’t necessarily a fan of Taehyung, but he knew a thing or two about him from Yoongi. Taehyung would never kill people. He was averse to it for some reason, Namjoon always thought it was ironic for him to be a gangster given that quality. Taehyung could torture anyone, threaten anyone, but he didn’t have it in him to take a life. 

Which meant that Jin was lying to you. Namjoon never liked Jin. Even aside from all the hits he had taken from the strong man, he always felt something was off about the guy. He feels uneasy about what he had just seen transpire, and decided to go find Yoongi. 

-

“Do you want some coke?” You were in the middle of washing your face when Jin walked in with a bag of powder. “I could use a hit, I don’t know about you”

“Oh hell yes. Thank you” He poured out a line on the bathroom counter using a quarter, watching with a small chuckle as you inhaled the drug, nose pressed against the cool marble. You sighed, wiping your nose and flashing a big grin in the mirror “Damn. I needed that. I didn’t know that you use”

Jin bit back a smirk, “I do.” He poured another line on the same place, this time taking a hit himself. “A lot”

“Oh. Officer Jin is a druggie like the rest of us huh” You teased. Jin poured himself a gin martini, taking a sip, eyes alight with amusement. “Does that turn you on ever? Do you ever have a hottie cuffed up and they’re like please Officer does that..you know..turn you on?”

Jin’s eyes widened at you “Not any hottie, no. Now if I had you cuffed up saying that” He chuckled, pulling you to him by the waist “That’s a whole other story” You pushed him away playfully.

“What?” Jin said mockingly, “Don’t remember that night where I gave you the best orgasm of your life?” His traced his lips up your jaw, and you could feel his smile against you.

“Wow. Cocky are we?” You raised your eyebrows. “I’ve had some pretty good sex in my life. Hard to say if that was the best”

Suddenly, Jin pulled his knife from his back pocket, glancing in the mirror as he traced the blade across your neck just enough for you to feel the sharp cold metal glide on your skin, pinching without actually making you bleed. “Don’t even lie. You loved fucking me. Don’t you remember? How fucking wet you were?” His breath was hot against your lips, but it was the look in his eyes that had you weak in the knees. 

Taking his knife, he slit clean down your shirt, tearing it off of you to reveal your bare chest. “On the floor slut” His whispered, flirty demeanor now shifted into something dark. Something feral.

You gulped, taking care to slide your bottoms off, not wanting him to slice them up before lowering yourself down onto the tiled bathroom floor. 

Jin set the knife aside, pulling out his lighter and setting in on the counter before shedding his own clothes, even he kicking off his shoes. He lifted his foot, and you watched with a curious gaze as he placed his foot on your chest. He kept the weight off of you, much to your relief, and you couldn’t help but feel absolutely filthy as he rolled your breasts under the sole of his foot. You had never done anything like this. It seemed so dirty, but felt so good. 

“Oh my god Jin” You gasped as he switched onto his other leg, taking his foot and shoving it into your mouth, watching in amusement as you gagged over his toes.

“Look at you. On the fucking floor. Naked little whore. Letting me do whatever I fucking want.” He removed his foot from your mouth, letting you catch your breath before you looked up at him with quivering eyes.

He felt blood rush to his cock at your expression. Licking his lips, knelt down, climbing over you to gently trail his fingers where his foot had been moments ago.

“And you love it” He sneered, letting his nails dig into your breast, “You love the pain don’t you you fucking slut?” When you didn’t answer he grabbed your jaw, pushing his fingers into the edge of your mouth. “I asked you a fucking question”

“Y...yes” You exhaled. You felt his fingers tease your clit, teeth tugging on your lobe as he laughed darkly.

Jin reached for the martini glass “Turn over” He growled. You found yourself with your breasts pressed flat against the floor, Jin’s cock pressing into your ass. You gasped as he poured the drink onto your back. “This is gonna burn. And you’re gonna take it like a good girl. I know you are, you let Yoongi do it so I can too”

“Wait what” Jin pressed your face down with one hand while the other grabbed his lighter, “Jin. Hold on.” Your voice rose in fear, which only turned Jin on more. He watched as you writhed under him, trying desperately to get away. “Jin seriously. That’s not funny”

“Shhh. You can take it” He cooed, flicking the flame on he slowly lowered it to your skin, bringing it nearer and nearer to the doused skin. You yelped as you began to feel the concentrated heat. Your entire body was petrified. “Enjoy it baby. You like it. You love it. You let Yoongi do it so why can’t I?”

“Jin. It’s not you, I'm just not ready for something like this please” Jin cocked his head aside in irritation, stopping the lighter before it actually touched you and tossing it aside. “I didn’t let Yoongi brand me he just did.”

Jin stilled momentarily. “And you still love him? Even though he did that?”

You didn’t answer. That alone was enough for Jin to rage. He slammed your face back down, the blow giving you a dizzying sensation that hat you getting wetter by the second. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” He growled, “How can you love someone like that?” He pulled your face up, bending you back until you were flush against his chest. “I don’t want any of them touching you again. You understand me?” He let go, giving you whiplash as you fell back to the floor. “Ass up. Now” He spanked your ass hard, causing you to yelp. The stinging pain vibrated to your core. You couldn’t help but love every second of it. 

Jin knew that you were scared of him, he could feel it. He could also see the way your thighs would clench whenever he did anything to you. You were his favorite drug. He was going to ruin you.

He grabbed his belt from the pile of clothes on the side, “Hands under” He demanded, rolling his lip through his teeth as you obeyed him right away. He took the belt tying your wrists to your knees under you.

He took a moment to admire his work, your shivering body all his for the taking. You had no where to run. He had you now. “Who gives it to you the best him?” Pulling you towards him by your thighs, he didn’t care that your knees would burn against the smooth tile as he lined his cock up with your folds. He spat down, a glob of saliva landing on your ass before he used his cock head to rub it all over you. He could hear your shaky breath, your whiny moans that made him want to fuck you even more. 

He slapped his palm  onto the curve of your ass, bending over your to growl into your ear “Filthy whore. You disgust me. You let them all just do whatever they want to you, don’t you have any fucking self respect?” He could see his words were hitting close to home. You pursed your trembling lips as Jin smacked you again in the same place. 

“When will you fucking learn huh? This pussy” He reached his hand to harshly cup your cunt, shoving two fingers inside you without warning. “This pussy belongs to me. You’re mine. My cockslut whore” Taking his fingers out, he shoved them into your mouth “You taste that? That how desperate your needy little cunt is for me”

Your legs were strung together, making it all the more painful when he finally began to push his cock inside you, using his fingers to scissor you open so that he could get deep inside you. His length pushed against your tight walls, your cries and curses only motivating Jin to push further. 

“Who owns this cunt huh?” Jin pulled your hips back, burning your knees each time as he pulled you on and off his cock. Your ass slammed into him with each blow. 

“You do. Holy fuck, you do” You gasped, practically screaming as your whole body ached with pain and pleasure. 

“That’s right baby” He pinched your clit, making you yelp as he flicked at it, pounding into your relentlessly. 

“J..Jin” You mumbled, lips still half pressed on the floor, “Jin please. Feels good” Jin scoffed, “Gonna cum...gonna cum” You inhaled loudly as you felt your high approaching. Your eyes clenched shut as he edged you closer and closer, fingers furiously attacking your clit until he stopped.

You let out a loud sob as Jin yanked you up by your neck “You really thought I would let you cum whore?” His grip tightened, cock twitching at the way your voice sounded choking, the water streaming from your eyes and the drool at the edge of your lips. He kissed you, licking it all up in the process.  

“Look in the mirror. Look at how pathetic you are. I want you to remember the only person who’s ever gonna let you feel this good” You looked at your reflection, seeing only your faces and the way Jin’s nails dug into your neck. He pushed you forward so that your chin was on the countertop. You coughed out, watching as he resumed his thrusts, punishing your clit with the jarring movements of his fingers. 

You screamed, pleasure crashing over you in a wave of tantalizing heat. You gushed onto his cock, tears falling from your eyes due to how overwhelming the sensation was. Jin continued to whisper filth right into your ears but you could no longer hear anything. Your vision became hazy, not minding the blow when Jin shoved you back onto the floor and pounded you to his own release.

On the other side of the wall, Namjoon leaned his head back and sighed, glancing down to see his cock in his hands, now completely covered in cum.

-

Taehyung chewed on his gum nonchalantly as he paced around the luxurious hotel, checking out all the fun features. The pool deck was nice, the lobby exquisite, and his favorite part, the cafe, smelt delicious. 

Yoongi had asked to meet him in his suite. On his way there he ran into you, and you knocked his breath away. He always thought you were beautiful, but tonight you looked elegant. It was such a surprising contrast to your usual getup, but you looked amazing. He was about to tell you just that when he finally registered the hurt look in your eyes.

“You liar” You slapped him with everything you had. Taehyung backed away in surprise. “How could you use me like that? Over and over again. I trusted you. You were really the only one I thought had my back. Without a fucking doubt” You lunged towards him for another hit but Taehyung held your wrist firmly.

“What are you talking about? When did I use you?” Taehyung looked around frantically, “Calm down okay, let’s go somewhere and talk this through.” Your eyes flared in anger. 

“Don’t fucking tell me to calm down! You’re gonna kill them!” You screamed. Taehyung squinted, noticing the slight redness in your eyes. He sighed in understanding, pulling you by the wrist into a corridor. 

“Y/n. Breathe. Tell me what’s going on” Taehyung attempted to calm you down but you were enraged. “And what the fuck are you on?”

Admittedly, you and Jin had ended up doing many more lines of coke, perhaps even molly, you were no longer sure, but you washed it down with the bottle of gin, finding it unprecedentedly hilarious that Jin liked to drink gin martinis. 

“You used me! To fuck with Jimin! And Yoongi! You lied to me! Everything you said was a fucking lie, everything you did, every stupid word that came out of your stupid mouth was a lie! You just want power. You’re selfish, and...and...you’re gonna KILL them” A dramatic gasp left your lips, Taehyung almost laughed, “You’re gonna kill Yoongi. I...I can’t let you do that”

You pulled out your gun, cocking it and pressing it against Taehyung’s chest. He instantly put his hands up. “Y/n. Y/n stop. That’s not true okay you’re not thinking straight. Don’t do something you’ll regret”

Your hands trembled around the gun “You’ll kill them. You’ll kill them both...I can’t let you do that”

“Hold on!”

Too late. You pulled the trigger.

-

Hobi wandered through the parking lot looking for his car. His eyes narrowed on a familiar vehicle, thinking back to when he had loaded the drug money from the last fight. 

So. Is that guy Yoongi then? The one I kept seeing? Hobi wandered over to the car. Peering inside the passenger window, his eyes locked on a small item on the floor of the car. He squinted to read it, it appeared to be some sort of credit card.

He stepped back, realizing what the name on the card was. He glanced around before taking the end of his gun and ramming it into the door handle. The door creaked open, allowing Hobi to swipe the card up. He slid it into his pocket, before hurriedly returning to the hotel. 

-

Namjoon’s eyes widened as he watched you pull a gun out on Taehyung. He had been thoroughly entertained as you yelled and slapped him, knowing full well that you were high out of your mind. 

Namjoon couldn’t understand Jin’s plan at all. He had eavesdropped on everything so far, as per Yoongi’s orders. Why would Jin ask you to kill Taehyung, why wouldn’t he just do it himself? He knew you would hate yourself if you actually killed him. 

He had also been thoroughly disappointed at how easily Jungkook had bought into Jin’s agenda as well. The things people do for money. Namjoon sighed, realizing that he was pretty much acting on similar motivations. 

You were ready to pull the trigger, and Namjoon was almost certain you wouldn’t do it, until he saw your finger begin to curl. He ran towards the corridor as fast as he could.

“Hold on!” He yelled, but it was too late. Taehyung’s eyes flew shut.

Namjoon blinked, not hearing the familiar gunshot sound. You looked equally confused, glancing down the barrel of your gun. Taehyung let out a shaky sigh of relief, sliding down the wall.

“It...was a blank” You mumbled. Namjoon rushed to your side, pulling you away from Taehyung. “What the...what was I just about to do?” His heart clenched as your lips parted in shock.

“Taehyung are you okay?” Namjoon asked. Taehyung nodded, clearly shaken up but managing to get a hold of himself. 

“What the fuck is going on?” He growled, “Who gave her a gun? And who gave her drugs while she had a gun? Fucking hell”

Namjoon stroked your back as you let the gun drop to the floor, the weight of your actions finally hitting you. 

“I’m so sorry. Taehyung I...” You looked into his eyes. Those eyes that always left you questioning what was really going on in that pretty head of his. 

“Yeah. Jin fucking fed her some interesting stories about how you’re using her. At least I hope they’re just stories” Namjoon peered at him. “I’m Namjoon by the way, we haven’t officially met”

Taehyung shook his hand “Hi Namjoon. I heard you make pretty decent music” He chuckled ironically, “Y/n, I need you to tell me everything Jin said. There’s been some sort of misunderstanding, I promise you I wasn’t taking advantage of you.”

Namjoon made a face, exchanging a glance with you as you nodded slowly. Namjoon was not entirely sure he should believe Taehyung. He supposed it wouldn’t matter, when he knew that Yoongi was planning to kill Taehyung anyways. The more information he had, the better he could at least keep you out of trouble. 

P R E S E N T  D A Y--

Security escorted you and Jimin out immediately as the media broke into a frenzy trying to figure out what had happened. You had hoped your acting skills had convinced him. 

After Taehyung sobered you up slightly, the three of you had sat and schemed. Using everything the three of you knew, you were able to figure out that it really was Jin behind Jimin’s accident, your and Namjoon’s kidnapping, as well as Jungkook’s attempted murder. He was able to do all of this using Hobi’s help, but Hobi seemed not to know that he was receiving orders from Jin.

The question remained how and why. 

“I know you’re not going to believe me. So I have proof” Taehyung pulled his phone out, pulling up a recording of Jin tied up somewhere.

All I ask, is that when the dust settles, Y/n is mine. And I get to kill them. My way

You felt queasy seeing his earnest expression through the film. Namjoon’s jaw clenched, recognizing crazy when he saw it, wishing he could have knocked the guy’s brains out beforehand.

“Listen to me. This guy is dangerous. I don’t really understand why he’s doing all of this. He said he wanted to help me, but clearly there’s some other motive here. Otherwise he wouldn’t go behind my back.” Taehyung muttered.

“The only way to know what he wants is to see what he does next” Namjoon pitched in. 

You glanced between the two men, feeling weirdly relieved that you finally had some solid answers. Having Namjoon by your side after so long was the best thing you could ask for at the moment, and you clung to him, hands wrapped around his arm tightly. He thought it was cute.

“Let me fake my death. Let’s see what he does.”

The drivers took you and Jimin to the precinct. You looked around for Namjoon but he was nowhere to be seen. Your eyes met Jin’s briefly as he signed some paperwork. He winked at you.

“Can I have the body taken to get an autopsy report please?” You weren’t phased by this. Taehyung had said he had enough contacts to make it truly believable that he had died. Jimin’s face was void of emotion as he watched the stretcher go past with the body on it.

You left the hold on his hand, your blood running cold as the body nears you. It was loosely covered with a white sheet, but the arm hung out limply from the sight.

That watch. That’s his watch.

Jimin pressed his lips to the top of your head, sliding his arm around your shoulders to pull you closer to him “You okay babe?” 

“I...no yeah, I’m just shocked” You stammered. You looked up at him, allowing him to place a loving kiss on your lips.

Jimin felt for you, he really did. He himself was generally an emotional person, it was not something he ever tried to hide. But he always felt like his emotional energy was valuable. He didn’t feel the need to cry. Not for Taehyung.

Jimin stroked your back softly, “It’s scary, I know. I know baby, but don’t worry” He licked his lips, eyes briefly meeting Hobi’s from across the room. Hobi gave him a knowing look.

“Don’t worry. It’ll all be over soon”

ᐊ——[ previous ] series navi | masterlist | [ next ]——ᐅ

a/n: WOOHOOO. the fun is really gonna start now. did you miss yoongi? don’t worry, he’ll be back. drop your theories in my asks! who killed taehyung? what’s jin’s deal? 

smut pairs are up for next week! poor oc, she really needs to eat some food. yikes.

see you then & thanks for reading <3 happy juneteenth! 

taglist: @imluckybitches @gee-nee @missseoulite @hcneybees @kooookie​ @queenmasterxx @crustycaitlin @virgo-and-libra @un2-verse @winter-melontea @equivocacies​ @infernal-alpaca @shrimpmsg @meowmeowyoongles @rjsmochii @liltangerined @littlrmills14-blog @issysor @arandomblackgirl @adoringinsanity @giadalin @jeontier @kaithezaftig @jinssexytoe @nonnis97@minyoongiboongi @happygirl62304 @just-me-and-myselfs @purplepebbles @channiespup @lilacdreams-00 @kianam @thmrdrs @kpoppin-mel @namjooningelsewhere @lolzerss @planetsope @ohmykim @xyahrinx @bangtan-army @you-are-my-wind

[starshipsofstarlord]

Sheer | Kai Parker

Warnings; SMUT, ANGST, and FLUFF, mentions of death, mourning, loss, mentions of murder, trauma, swearing, unprotected sex,

A/N; sorta made up a whole storyline for this imagine, may be a teeny bit different and may have gotten a little carried away, please enjoy loves

It would not uphold, the weather held a grudge against you as you trudged through the pouring rain, cursing you for thinking that you would be safe on your lonesome.

Instead of a monster, the world wished for you to drown in its falling rivers, making you shiver down to the bone. It was too cold, but you had to go there, it was a ritual.

Since the death of your boyfriend, Aaron, who was killed by Damon, someone you thought to be a friend, you felt broken.

You had tried everything to bring him back, but without the power of a witch, it was deemed impossible, and Bonnie refused to help you, claiming that it was necromancy, and far from her beliefs.

It angered you, how everybody would dismiss the lost lives that Damon took. He got a free pass, he didn’t even regret his own invalid actions.

He was a monster, and you hated him. If you couldn’t bring Aaron back, then you would instead kill his murderer. That would not only give you a sense of revenge, but also make the world a safer place. There would be one less vampire making people’s lives a misery.

“Hi there.” You stopped in your tracks, the voice sending shivers down your spine. Whilst it sounded like a man, in reality it could be anything.

The skin of a human was a disguise the majority of the time, a bloodsucker or a wolf coping inside the exterior, thirsting to break free from the walls of bones and flesh.

“Kai.” He was not exactly human, he was a witch, the one thing that you needed. You had met him through Elena, who was luckily also angered by Damon’s actions, Aaron had been her friend.

And just like that, he had died. But she hid her feelings well, pretending all was fine because she was in love with the gruelling monster that you wished to execute.

However, even though you wanted to bring back your lost beloved, the time that had passed made your mind being up the idea of moving on.

The first person that sprung into your imagination was Kai Parker, the new sociopath in town. He was new, unaware of the traumatising past experience that lingered in your heart, and not to mention, his specimen was one of beauty.

Those grey eyes, ever so curious could bore straight into your soul, and you’d gladly let him mangle it, you no longer had a use for it anyway.

“Why are you out here y/n/n?” He asked with a tilt of his head that had your heart beating profusely.

Everyone knew of his effect on you, but they told you to dismiss it. It was cruel, that they’d rather have you mourning the loss of your partner than to move on with another.

To you, it didn’t matter if he were supposed to be the enemy, you no longer wanted to fight their battles. All you desired was to be in love, with somebody that felt the same.

And whilst you doubted that Kai knew how to feel such a strong emotion, some attention wasn’t the worst thing in the world. As a matter of fact, it worked well as a distraction, it made you almost forget the grudge that you held against the eldest Salvatore.

Almost.

“It’s nothing.” You whisked the direction of the conversation away from your deceased boyfriend, not wanting to talk about him to anyone, let alone Malachai Parker.

Even thinking of Aaron caused a void to open in the middle of your chest, it was unbelievably painful. You thought some people, such as Bonnie would understand, rather than think the loss as a regular occurrence.

To put it simply, the entire ordeal was completely fucked up, and you felt much more guilty for biting your lip at the expression that Kai pulled; his eyebrows raised, and his fingers carefully running down the side of his own jaw.

Oh god, his fingers. There were so many things that you could imagine him doing with those, and from the way he waved them on a greeting, he knew that he teased the thought too.

“Basically...” he began, rolling his grey eyes with what he liked to call modesty, and you classified as boredom, “you’re stuck out in the rain, and if I’m not mistaken, you live halfway across town.”

“Stalker much?” You sneered, crossing your arms across your chest, which only made his gaze wander down, and hold their movements for a dragged out moment. “What are you looking at?” You exasperatedly sighed, only understanding when you followed his peering.

He was focused on your chest, that through your white shirt, appeared almost bare. The lace of your bra was giving him a clear frontal, and so you adjusted your arms, so that they covered more and whatever they had pushed up to peak his intrigue.

“Why am I not surprised?” Shaking your wet hair, which was pointless considering that it was still raining, you realised that you felt the creeping of the cold.

You had been oblivious to it, thinking that it was a side guest to your tears, almost a consequence. But you were no longer tearful, mostly angry at the killer that ruined your future and acted as though it were no big deal.

“I thought you were supposed to be at college.” Kai quirked his brow, proud of the fact that he knew that. However you shook your head, and watched as he removed his jacket, clasping it around your shoulders, shielding you somewhat from the weather.

It appeared as no big deal to him, but it was to you, sociopaths weren’t famous for being kind and charitable. They always had agendas, their agendas, well they were obviously sociopathic.

But from the glazing of the witch’s eyes, you only saw a lost man. He was misinterpreted by all that he knew, they treated him like an outsider, alienated him as though he were a monster, and validly that was why he was seen as one.

“No.” You whispered, confused as to why you were so complied to correct the man. “My boyfriend was killed, I don’t want to go back there, it’s clear why.”

You attempted to give him a small smile, but it came out as a pained grimace. Just the thought had your mood drained, even more so since there was no route to resurrect him.

“Oh yeah, I heard about that.” He didn’t shiver in the rain, instead he seemed comfortable simply standing there, conversing with you in the rainfall. “Damon did it, right?”

Licking your lips, you hesitantly nodded, ashamed of the fact that you had once called the vampire a friend. From the start, you were always wary of him, but eventually you managed to become close to him. And then he ruined your chance of happiness, literally sucking the life out of it.

“What a dick.” Kai was blunt with his annotation, but you couldn’t deny that he was right about them. “Sorry for your loss and all that blah blah. We should get somewhere warm though, you can tell me more.”

It was a strange feeling, you felt pulled to the male, it was as though he was one side of a magnet, and you were another. And so you accepted his invitation, and followed him, breathing in the scent of his black coat. It was much sweeter than you had expected.

🏹

His so called home was an apartment, that you no doubt expected he had convinced someone with his magic to give him rent free. Or he killed them, either or you guessed.

But the thought of death itself was one that you weren’t too keen on thinking about, not now. Instead, you’d rather enjoy the company of someone that didn’t shame you for hating and desiring to kill the one and only Damon Salvatore.

Most of your friends didn’t take you seriously, they just barked laughter, not believing, nor willing to think that you could ever commit such a sentence. But they didn’t share your pain, if they did, you were sure that they’d understand.

Matt got it, he resented the vampire and a lot of the other blood suckers too. And your certainly couldn’t blame him, he had lost his sister, and there was no reason behind her change. It had all just been a game, a gruesome one at that.

Kai lightly removed his jacket from your shoulders, hanging it on a hook to dry. He almost appeared embarrassed, having you in such a private space.

But you didn’t want him to endure such a mindset as that. Instead you smiled, brushing your damp hair out of your face, grasping his hands. They were cold, and that made you frown. No one ever cared what he had gone through, instead they just wanted to rid the world of him.

Even his family had dismissed him, all because he had been different, and treating him as such had definitely had a mind mingling affect on him. It repented an unstoppable rage inside of him, one that ended in dead children and imprisonment.

“Thankyou.” The small example of affection had Kai tilt his head awkwardly and pull his hands away from your own. He wasn’t used to people even being polite towards him, let alone openly sharing contact with him.

You should have been scared of him. Or at least somewhat repulsed, but you weren’t, and it was a first for him. Most around him taunted him with blame, or pointed out his obvious flaws.

And so he ducked his chin downwards into his chest, taking a couple of steps back, mumbling something about retrieving you a dry shirt.

As you waited for him, you peeled off the sheer layer, dropping the ball of wet material upon the ground. Your bra had soaked into your skin, but you left that on out of modesty.

When Kai returned, his mouth gaped open, eyes widening at the half undressed sight of you. But he tried to avert your gaze, blushing at your lack of attire.

“It’s okay.” You jested to him , reaching out for the clean shirt that he had brought for you. “You can look, it’s not like I’m naked.”

“Yet.” He smirked as he allowed his stare to freely roam. His voice had been small, but you had heard it as clear as day. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be thinking like that, you’re in mourning and I get that you wouldn’t want to, yknow.”

His hand gestured between the pair of you , prompting what he was talking about. But maybe he was wrong, after all, it had been a while since you had any physical intimacy, and you’d be a fool to deny that there was chemistry between you and a particular witch.

“Don’t be sorry.” You put the dry shirt aside, walking closer to the brunette. “I am in mourning, but I’m going to get my revenge, and a distraction sure wouldn’t hurt.”

“And here I thought that you were just a pretty face.” Kai’s hand drifted to the side of your face, pulling you closer so that your lips were almost brushing. His breath ghosted over your own intermingling the fumes of lust and intrigue. “But it seems that there is a darkness in that mind of yours, I’m impressed with your plans to say the least.”

“I haven’t even told you any of them yet.” Your hand drifted under the band of his jeans, plucking teasingly at the denim, licking your teeth as you made strong eye contact with him.

“Tell me after.” He ordered, grasping your hips, and clashing your bodies together. Your lips worked hungrily against each other, both pairs of your hands grabbing all that they could, you and him both desperate to hold onto anything.

Kai shoved you backward into a table, trapping you against it as his lips fell downwards, and began to suck at your neck.

But at that contact, you pushed Kai away, freezing for a moment. Damon’s teeth had been on Aaron’s neck, sinking in and draining all that be worth.

“See Elena thinks I’m a monster, and she’s right.” You were unable to move as Aaron stood against the vampire, you had been compelled, and you wanted nothing more than to scream out for Damon to stop, but there was no audio in your throat.

There was no scream as Damon bared his fangs , nor when he sunk them into your boyfriend’s neck, instead you were holding back your tears, as you had been commanded to.

He held him to his mouth for a moment before dropping his body lifeless upon the ground. And you couldn’t help but stare at the sight.

Enzo wore a content smirk, and it sickened you to your stomach. Damon turned, his thirsty eyes boring into your form, that wanted nothing more than to crumble into a million people.

“You may now speak.” His pupils found yours, engaging with your soul, that felt broken and completely shattered.

“Are you going to kill me too?” A part of you was hopeful that he would, but as he came closer, you recognised the mischief in his stance.

He had plans for you, none of which you suspected to like. “Do it, show Elena how much of a monster you really are!”

If he killed you, you’d have liked to think that Elena would be furious , but it was expected that eventually she would forgive him when he put his humanity back on.

“Or instead...” you feared his humoured expression, eyes flickering between his feet that were walking closer to you and your dead partner that lay lifelessly a couple of meters away. “I could show her how much of a monster you are.”

He bit into his wrist, bringing it towards your mouth, and as much as you felt the urge to squirm, you could do nothing more but stand there and abide his compulsion.

“Are you okay?” Kai asked, brushing his nose against your own, wanting to know if you wanted to continue. He knew that you were a victim of trauma, and he understood it’s affects.

In regards to his past, his coping method had been inflicting it in return. But you had done no foul against him, and so he would not torture you or force you into something that you had no intention of continuing.

“Yeah.” You breathed, blinking to push the memory away, temporarily at least. “Bedroom.” You ushered, squealing distractedly as he hoisted you into his arms, wrapping your legs perfectly around his waist.

He dropped you upon the mattress, hovering over you, removing his shirt after you began to tug on the dark and rain pelted material.

Leaning your elbows, you unclipped the back of your bra, discarding it somewhere far from your memory, and Kai sunk down, his lips latching onto your nipple, playing with the other in his rough hands.

“Your fucking gorgeous.” He hummed around your breast, his fingers drifting down your stomach to the band of your leggings.

His compliment made you smile, and as he ripped off your pants, he slipped a hand inside of your panties, rubbing your sensitive flesh. But you groaned, frowning at his tantalising actions.

“Just need you inside of me.” You told him, and he was more than happy to comply, so he worked on his belt, as you slipped off your own underwear, and removed the torn fabric from around your legs.

When you looked up, you noticed that he was completely bare, and already had himself in hand. There was precum balancing on his tip and at the sight you licked your lips.

“You ready?” He asked bringing his head down to your chin, placing a delicate kiss upon the bump, and teasing his other tip against your opening, swiping through your wetness and using it to lube himself up.

“God yes.” You sighed, your hands finding refuge upon the back of his shoulders, your nails sinking into his firm skin.

And so, with consent, he pushed in, groaning at the initial tightness. “And I thought that it was wet outside.” He laughed, causing you to snort, he was funnier than you had expected him to be.

It almost made you swoon, but no, you couldn’t be interested in Kai, could you? Everyone thought you had been, even Bonnie had stated that you often undressed him with your eyes in the worst of situations, but it had never been a big deal to you.

And then it hit you like a ton of bricks, with a snap of Kai’s hips. All along you had denied any interest of another man, all because of the one that you had lost. And everyone already knew that there were sparks between you and the witch, before either of you had caught on.

“Shit.” He huffed, reaching down and biting your lips, causing your eyes to flutter sensuously, and dark veins to appear underneath.

At the feeling, you tried to bury your face sidewards into the pillow so that he couldn’t see, but he held you still as he gave shallow thrusts inside of you.

“Don’t look away, I think you’re beautiful.” Him saying that alone had you almost in tears. Despite trying to bring Aaron back you feared what he would think of you when he returned, or well, if he could.

Would he think you a monster, that stood idly by when he was killed? Because if so, you’re heart would literally break, and you wouldn’t be able to bare living any longer.

Living, funny. You hardly described what you were doing as such anyways. But currently, you did truly feel alive again, perhaps that was just the affect of having a dick inside of you.

But as Kai reached down and fiddled with your clit, you knew that you were done for. Your head fell back, eyes closed and mouth open, showcasing your fangs, your orgasm hitting you like a train.

He continued his movements until he felt he was nearing his point, and then he finished too, having no worry in impregnating you as you were well, to put it lightly , dead.

Both of you panted as he pulled out and fell beside you. Your eyes stared at the ceiling, your concentration eventually broken when Kai spoke.

“Damon did it, didn’t he? He turned you.” Your face had returned to its previous disguise, you looked human once more. But it was no secret that you were now a savage, a monster like Damon.

“Yeah.” You bit your lip, trying not to cry at the thought. It was the last thing in the world that you ever wanted, but Damon knew that too. And so he had cursed you, for all of eternity.

“Then he deserves to die.” Kai stated, he was already against the Salvatores, but his hatred for them had just increased.

[goldencorecrunches]

In the sixth month, Wen Ning changes out the straw. The look in his eyes is--tender, but pragmatic: he has laid out a basket to take the mulched stalks away beforehand, the same simple tight weave used by the mountain folk for generations, straw in straw in straw. The fluffy heap of fresh cuttings Wangji has provided are in a ceramic bowl. They seem absurd there, overhumble, and Wangji sets the bowl down beside Wen Ning with a prickle along his meridians that tastes of fierceness. He wants Wen Ning to have the bowl for this: so. Tending to others does not come naturally to him as it does to Xichen. He has comforted his brother, coddled Sizhui, milk-fed the small rabbit, born too soon, whose death made him bitterly weep. And xiongzhang now refuses visitors, and little A-Yuan has grown up, and Wei Ying-- Wangji was never very good at caring for him, hard and desperate as he tried.

(It should not hurt now that Wei Ying is back; he is not truly gone again. He is not here, but he is somewhere, and that is different.) (Why is Lan Wangji still mourning?) Yet Wen Ning has asked, and Wangji is not so distracted as to forget that asking for help was never a thing Wen Qionglin did easily, though he needed it. He thinks he understands. This stuffing was laid by Wei Ying's own hands, and to discard it in his absence is too close to sacrilege. Wangji was there when it was placed, quicksilver fingers and sunrise-toothed smile, Wen Ning's chest underneath cold and still as cut marble; He will be there when it is removed. 

The wood-grass smell, barn smell, autumn-night smell of the straw is sharp in the air between them, tiny particles rising and prompting Wangji to stifle a sneeze. Wen Ning's touch lags when it meets his own skin, tracing the seam where Wei Ying has fastened the edges. Wangji wants suddenly to do this for him, that he might lie back and forget all the things that his body is not. It is an impulse that discomfits him; he shifts on his knees, pretending to ease a cramp in his calf. Sizhui is in Jinlintai: Wen Ning had not wanted to follow. This, too, is...understandable. He scoops brown handfuls from his own stomach, damp from rain, their pointed edges softened almost like the fanned threads of tiny brushes. Perhaps brushes so small could draw the veins around that great hole: the color is ink dark enough to stain. Slowly the basket fills and the fresh-grass smell is smothered in mustiness, the kind that creeps under the eaves of farmers' houses when Wangji lies on the mats they offer him and tries not to be ungrateful that in that lone bed he is alone. Outside is daylight: warm, not hot. Wangji might have brought a fan. The new padding goes in less reverently than the old comes out, and again Wangji bites his tongue to stay kneeling. There are no trailing ends, at least: he wonders if they would get snagged. Wei Ying did a trick with his talismans to turn the thread black, but Wen Ning has none to try: the curved needle bites, and Wangji watches it bury its nose and find no speck of blood. When it is finished Wen Ning cuts the thread with a small blade and slips the needle back into its leather pouch. They stare at the line of stitches together, silver in white: Wangji wonders what they would feel like under the whorl of his thumbprint. "I guess that's that," Wen Ning says, on a sigh. There is a single stitch right at the center of his navel: surrounded by soft hair. Already it is folding back upon itself after being disturbed, a tiny thatching over organs that have crumbled. There is nothing to say; and if there was, Wangji would not be able to say it. He turns to give Wen Ning the privacy of dressing in peace and takes the woven basket out to set it by the door. Some hardy disciple will take it down before nightfall. "Thank you," Wen Ning says when he returns, his robes folded around him again, austere in their practicality. He goes to search for the table where he has placed the stick for his hair, and caught in that impulsive surge again Wangji shakes his head, captures it himself. Cherry wood: carved at the end in the pattern of dancing flames. Not something Wen Ning would have chosen for himself--unless he had, long ago, and has kept it since. "Let me," Wangji says. The ornament is smooth, warmed from being placed in view of the open window. "It will be easier for me to reach."

[loneberry]

they have escaped the weight of darkness

Lisitsa the little wolf dog with wise eyes is waiting by the door, at the bottom of the dimly lit staircase. She knows that the museum is about to close, that it is time for her walk. 

As I’m leaving the museum, I hear Valuska’s voice coming from the Borzoi Kabinet Theater, the sound of Vig Mihály’s beautiful piano music, from the opening scene of Béla Tarr’s Werkmeister Harmonies. I peak into the curtains. The music is playing over 3D footage of a plain in Wyoming, the place my father first landed when he immigrated from Taiwan to the United States. Could not place the music at first, that song I love so dearly, what song are you? But then Valuska’s soliloquy resumes, he is talking about the eclipse of the sun, how the people watched, wondering if the sky would fall in on them. 

unexpectedly … within a few minutes … the air about us cools … Can you feel it? … The sky darkens … and then … grows perfectly black! Guard dogs howl! The frightened rabbit flattens itself against the grass! Herds of deer are startled into a mad stampede! And in this terrible and incomprehensible twilight … even the birds (‘The birds!’ cried Valuska, in rapture, throwing his arms up to the sky, his ample postman’s cloak flapping open like bat’s wings) … ‘the very birds are confused and settle on their nests! And then … silence … And every living thing is still … and we too, for whole minutes, are incapable of speech … Are the hills on the march? Will heaven fall in on us? Will earth open under our feet and swallow us? We cannot tell. It is a total eclipse of the sun.

But then the sun returns—life is breathed back into the world.

But... but no need to fear. It's not over. For across the sun's glowing sphere, slowly, the Moon swims away. And the sun once again bursts forth, and to the Earth slowly there comes again light, and warmth again floods the Earth. Deep emotion pierces everyone. They have escaped the weight of darkness

Mr. Hagelmayer: That's enough! Out of here, you tubs of beer!

János Valuska: But Mr. Hagelmayer. It's still not over.

A line from Cixous echoes in my head: she sees, she is once again turned toward the inaccessible sun. 

I did not bring my notes about the museum to the cafe, knowing how easily I am led astray by wonder, so I must draw on my memories of the monastery reflected in the water, the rose engine, the white moths bursting out of the bottomless urn whose diminutive outer appearance conceals the impossible scale of its interior. Somewhere the night-flying white moths billow forth, they are the dead taking leave of this earth. Woolf: she is to finally let the last great moth in. Shall I consider you an entomologist of the spirit world? 

I remember my dream:

Would I die? Now in the church a sensitive pothead improvises a requiem. Thousands of murmuring moths fly in and die on the floor.

Do you hear me?

There’s the diorama of the living room with the mirror covered with the yellow sheet. In the miniature room of the dying, it is night. Outside a storm rages. Lightning outside makes the window flicker. 

WG Sebald: it was customary, in a home where there had been a death, to drape black mourning ribbons over all the mirrors and all canvasses depicting landscapes or people or the fruits of the field, so that the soul, as it left the body, would not be distracted on its final journey, either by a reflection of itself or by a last glimpse of the land now being lost forever

Sometimes when I hear a great roar, I feel the world careening toward disaster, something inside me is turning, as cold and constant as the orbit of celestial bodies, a mechanical model of the movement of the planets, observed beneath glass. I think about the ashes of my grandfather, sitting in my parents’ bathroom, which my father never brought to scatter in Taiwan, as my grandfather requested. My father never went back. This must be it, I won’t ever go back to mainland China, as I always thought I would. I feel the world careening, just as I felt it leading up to Russia’s invasion of Ukraine. My heart still breaks thinking about Ukraine. Did I, perhaps, take the equilibrium of weather and geopolitics for granted? The supply of semiconductors. Now I know: the world cannot be counted on to continue. 

That’s the world of the dead, isn’t it? Says the YouTube woman. Come rejoin the world of the living, she says. We’re not boring, I promise.

There are things I cannot mourn. But sometimes the clouds appear to me in the shape of the Garganta del Diablo, the Devil’s throat waterfall of Iguazú Falls, between Brazil and Argentina. The preoccupations of my imagination are reflected everywhere in the world: the shot of Katia touching the yellow sulfur in the film Fire of Love (on the same day I had typed the note: “Flowers of sulfur: It is known as flores sulphuris by apothecaries in older scientific works”), Maurice floating on a dinghy in a lake of sulfuric acid, the way you retreat into the mysteries of nature out of disillusionment with the world of the living. I bike along The Strand, between Venice and Santa Monica Pier, listening to Gillian Welch’s I Dream a Highway. The music algorithm must know something of my preoccupations, I think, with dreams, with sunflowers. There’s a peace that descends that feels like a premonition of death. I’m calmer now. Is it peace or resignation? I remember reading Alix Cléo Roubaud’s diary over a decade ago, remembered the equanimity of her last entries, right before her untimely death from a pulmonary embolism at the age of 31. There’s a peace that eases you into acceptance of your absence. Listening to the song, watching the sun set over the Pacific Ocean, I am drafting my will. Give all my assets to my little brother, etch my books onto stone and metal, deposit me in the sea. Sometimes when I hear a great roar, I see the hour of my death. Every sunset I have ever seen will flash in my head. Beams of light are coming through a v-shaped opening in the clouds. River of lava, the memory of every volcano I have ever seen: hiking Mount Pelée in Martinique with Joohyun and Doc. Did I see a second of footage in Fire of Love of the sparkling black volcanic ash beach of Grand'Rivière? I remember Vesuvius, how I went as a teen and saw the petrified people of Pompeii, how I returned a decade later with a lover and came home with a lava rock shaped like an egg. We hike to the summit for a view of the mouth.

This is where the mind goes. 

Who knows why some are comforted by a confrontation with nature’s magnificent forces, two lovers dying instantly in a 1800 degree cloud of roaring pyroclastic, holding each other, a watch eternally frozen at the moment of their obliteration. 

Why do I cry so easily now? Claustrophobia in the crowd of tourists on the pier, the water at night, the whirling lights on the Ferris wheel. Back on the bike trail, through my music I hear the screams of the people on the rollercoaster in the distance. There’s the leaden horizon, the black syrup of the night ocean. Aim the arrow of your focus, this being-toward-death. 

There are people for whom coincidence has a special status. Dreamers.

How strange, given her cleverness, that she mistakes the world seen through wound-colored glasses for meaning that is immanent in the world, as though she were the “receiver” of externally produced signs and not the producer of the “meaning” of indifferent bits of data. Perception is hallucinatory. The constellation is not a picture. 

There are people for whom coincidence has a special status.

[anyoneseenadam]

That fenrys fic was divine 😭🔥 can I request something for him having a nightmare for the first time since he found his mate and she comforts him and reassure him ?a tiny bit of angst maybe 💔🤧

pairing: Fenrys x reader (throne of glass)

warnings: blood, violence, nightmares, character death (kinda), mainly fluff with a lil bit of angst

a/n: I completely stole the first half of this from a short story I wrote about Achilles lmao, also THANK YOU FENRYS IS AN ICON AND DESERVES ALL THE LOVE WHICH I AM HAPPY TO GIVE, hope u enjoy <3

(I did not proof read this because I am tired :))

——————————————————————————

Fenrys hands shook as they refrained from touching her, from pulling her in and wrapping himself around her, drowning in her hair, her skin, her clothes, her laugh, eyes, smile. She turned with a smirk and a cheeky eyebrow raise, beckoning him in. He lunged, grabbing her, ready to make true on his wish, staring in wonder as her solid form turned to mist in his hands as she moved further away. Her laugh drawing him in. And of course, he followed like the lost puppy he was, begging, and whining to return to comfort, home, safety. She was his home, and he would follow her to the ends of the world if it meant she stayed that way.

 She had moved again, this time into a series of winding corridors, the maze he called his heart, a maze she owned. He chased after her, but she was quick, twisting and turning through corridors and secret doors, the map laid bare for her to see as he stumbled blinding, led only be the light she left in her path and her infectious laughter. Finally, she reached a dead end, casually bracing herself against the cold walls, releasing an exhale of laughter through her nose. He slowed his pace to a walk as she smiled up at him through curling lashes, nothing but the faint smudge of rouge high on her cheeks concealing her natural face to him, which he proceeded to wipe with his thumb when he reached her, his build towering over hers.

 “Finished running, are you?” he mused quietly,

 “I knew you wouldn’t let me get too far,” she whispered back, lips tracing his jaw.

 “That’s because you hold my leash,” he allowed himself to concede, “always have, always will my darling.”

 She let out a sigh of agreement, before leaning to his ear, their bodies pressed so tightly together he could feel her heart beating in his own chest, as if they had swapped hearts giving the other all they were, all they could be.

 “There is no me without you.” She uttered the vows they had made that beautiful day, where she dressed as the angel he was sure she was. He leaned down to express his love, but she did not allow him to rest in her arms for long, pulling away with a giggle.

 “What?” he asked with a smirk, but she was already gone giggling behind him, the chase beginning again.

 But as he turned, blessed by the smile she gave him, all pearly white teeth and rosy cheeks, the warning shout he cried was not quick enough as a wash of deep red replaced the once pure and untainted white of her smile. Her mouth filling with blood, the sword protruding from her stomach like a handle. She stared at him questions not asked soon enough as she splutters up blood onto her previously fresh clothes, eyes full of fear, splitting his heart in half, the ground crumbling beneath his feet.

 He tried to run to her, hands grasping at air as he fell through the cracks in his own heart, a scream tearing from his throat as she was pulled from him, skin draining of colour and eyes turning black, full of hatred and contempt as she stared him down.

 His own scream woke him up, sweat and tears blending on his face like paint on a pallet, as he gripped her pillow and sobbed on their bed. He herded himself into the far corner of the bed, afraid when he realised she was not lying next to him, comforting words, and gentle hands ready to lull him back to sleep. Fear and sadness battled in his heart, the heart he had given her during the war, the heart she had held safely as she cut her way through armies to reach him again. The heart she had put back together with soft kisses and words of undying love. The heart she had tied to her own the day they wed and had kept pressed safely in her chest since.

 He looked now, tears blurring the image he was presented with, bookshelves filled with stories you promised you would read eventually, tubes of lipstick on the floor next to the frame of their mirror, tea left to go cold in mugs dotted around the room, sketches left to be forgotten on desks and ribbons tied haphazardly around bed posts.

 He saw all these signs of you, the clues you left him as he navigated your shared life. His eyes darted around the room, breath picking up when he couldn’t see you, pressing a hand to your side of the bed and finding it warm, his breathing only slowing a little.

 He stood, pulling on a pair of boxers, and grabbing two daggers he kept next to the bed as his mind filled with the worst possible scenarios. He slowly padded out the room, moving silently through the house and thinking of a million different ways to torture whoever had dared to touch you. The tears on his face had dried uncomfortably but it was the least of his worries as he stalked through his own home, fear clouding his judgement that argued you were probably safe.

 He heard movement in the kitchen and walked that way, footsteps light as he rounded to corner to a beautiful sight. His arms dropped as he took in the sight of you in nothing but his shirt, sipping from a glass of water, illuminated by the moons glow. You turned when he walked in, smiling at his but furrowing your eyebrows when you saw his facial expression and the knives in his hands.

 “Fenrys, what happened?” you asked, moving over to him as he threw his daggers down, arms encircling your waist as he breathed in your scent. “Fenrys please, you’re scaring me.”

 He pulled away from you and you reached up, stroking a hand down his face and looking up at him with nothing but concern in your eyes, eyes that were searching his for any clues of why he was acting this way.

“I though you were- I thought someone had,” he struggled to get the words out, pulling you even closer, one hand tangling itself in your hair as you furrowed your eyebrows at him, kissing his sharp jaw.

 “Slow down love, tell me what happened,” your soothing voice calmed him, his breath coming easier as you moved a hand to his shoulder, your loving grip grounding him.

 “I had a dream, then I woke up and you weren’t hear and I- I thought someone had taken you,” he whispered, eyes filling with tears as he pictured your lifeless eyes and limp body.

 “Oh my love, I’m sorry,” you pulled away from him, clasping his large hand in your smaller one and pulling him to your shared bedroom, “But you know I’m not easy to kidnap, I make too much noise.”  You joked, holding his hand to your mouth, and kissing it lightly as you walked over to your bed.

 He sat down first, and you stood between his legs, his arms wrapping tightly around you again. “Don’t joke about that,” he muttered into your stomach, but he couldn’t resist the smile forming.

 You pushed his head back and climbed into his lap, arms resting on his shoulders. “I mean honestly, if I ever got taken hostage I’m pretty sure I’d annoy them into letting me go, I’d just start explaining my top three reasons why every Jane Austen novel contains gay subtext.”

 “Or you could explain to them the tier list you and Aelin made of all the men you know.” Fenrys laughed as your eyes lit up.

 “I forgot about that!” you exclaimed and Fenrys laughed, lying down, and pulling you with him as he tickled your sides, revelling in your squeals as you batted your hands at him.

 When you calmed down, breathing quickly you rolled off Fenrys as he nestled himself between your breasts, holding you close.

 “Please never leave me,” he whispered into your chest as he listened to the steady beat of your heart as it created a song just for him. The vulnerability in his voice broke you and you moved a hand to his head, stroking lightly.

“Never.” You spoke with such surety that Fenrys let out the exhale he had been holding in. “I am never going to leave you, I’m always going to be by your side.”

“I love you so much, so much when I thought you were gone, I felt sick. I can’t do this without you.” He whispered into your skin. “Sometimes I’m scared that one day I’ll wake up and all this will have been a dream. And I’ll have to lie with Maeve again and kill for her and watch her hurt Conall and it will be so much worse, because I’ll remember this softness, I’ll remember you and maybe one day I’d find you and you wouldn’t recognise me, and for the rest of my life I’d think of you, of the woman I never got to love.”

“This is real.” You whispered, kissing his head, and ignoring the tears welling in your eyes, “I’m real, you’re real. We’re real Fenrys.”

He didn’t reply, just buried his face deeper into your chest, addicted to the feel of your heartbeat. The constant reminder that you were here, you were alive. After he lost his brother you noticed Fenrys had become clingier, you initially presumed it was just because he was in mourning and needed comfort but one night he had drunkenly confessed his biggest fear to you. The nightmares he would have where you left him, told him you hated him, and the worst of all, the nightmares in which he watched your life be cruelly ripped from you. He could live with you hating him and leaving him, knowing that somewhere in the world you were safe and breathing, but everyday he feared your death.

The mornings he would wake up and find you wincing, a hot water bottle pressed into your lower stomach, the thought of you in any form of pain ripping into him, making his heartbeat faster and his palms sweat. The powerful warrior brought to his knees for you, but you were always quick to reassure him with kisses and promises of staying in bed all day.

As he breathed in your scent now and listened to your heartbeat, happily surrounded by you and only you, he allowed himself to relax under you soft touch, his own heart slowing to beat with yours as the fear slowly melted from him.

He needn’t fear your death, as he knew that he would never let you die. No, instead he would always fall before you, sacrifice his own life, any life if it meant you survived. You were a Goddess sent to bless him and he would fall to worship before you, always.

[ahkaraii]

"I'm sorry if it hurts Chi-Chi and Gohan, but please don't try and resurrect me. Besides, Gohan's a lot better person than I was..."

I think about this line a lot. It shows a lot of self awareness from Goku, y'know?

I have a lot of Goku feels, not all of them fandom-friendly. Twitter folks either bash him or defend him unto death, very black and white binary split-like, which makes it difficult to talk about in 140 characters or less. “Good” dad or “Bad” dad is subjective. But I think his actions -- and inactions -- had profound effects on his family and the world beyond, for good and for bad.

Lemme word vomit for a while and see if I can get something coherent out xD

I think he’s a fantastic shonen protagonist -- arguably the template!! -- and I love him as a character that steadfastly drives the story inexhaustibly forward, to stronger and stronger opponents, to ever more fantastic plotlines. But I personally Iike to take a magnifying glass to the small moments, the quiet moments; the breaths in between the panels. And in these moments, I think Goku is a fascinating chimera of a character: a patchwork man he stitched together through mimicry and good intentions and animal impulse.

He acts like a doofus and in many cases its genuine -- he practically self-raised himself in the wild after not just accidentally killing his grandpa, but also after suffering an actually plot-significant brain injury -- but he is no idiot. I think Goku knows he’s different and not just because he’s an alien with a regrowing tail.

Goku isn’t a normal human because he doesn’t connect like a normal human. He loves but it’s because he chooses to love. He’s loyal because he chooses to be loyal. It’s not sociopathy, but it is a kind of almost... autistic spectrum like inability? I hesitate to step on toes here, but I’m basically heavily projecting my own father -- who is himself a man with high functioning autism -- so that’s where I’m drawing my main inspiration.

Goku struggles immensely to understand people who are emotionally volatile. He defaults to humour and acting like he doesn’t get it just to defuse the situation, because otherwise it’s time to Fight and Goku never takes fights lightly, and that often doesn’t end well with squishy humans. He has a moral code but he doesn’t Regret like a normal person does upon causing injury, physical or emotional. He doesn’t empathize like an emotionally adept person can. He reads body language better than tone.

On the vein of being on the spectrum, or just surviving a brain injury, or just being a saiyan, or a combination of all three -- Goku’s special interest is Fighting. And that’s one of the sources of his family’s problems.

Before Raditz, Goku was content fighting in the World Tournament and marrying the world’s strongest woman, and raising a family with her. Farming to make money to support Chichi and Gohan was boring but it was a form of training if he squinted, and he was fine conforming to that. He looked forward to Gohan growing up enough to train him (remember him saying Chichi wouldn’t let him until Gohan got older), and there he’d have another sparing partner. How exciting! He can’t wait. Let’s go fishing, Gohan, I’ll show you how to use your tail just like I used to! Can you catch a bigger fish? I know you can! Isn’t this fun? Haha! I wonder if this is what Grandpa Gohan felt. I miss him. But Gohan’s here with me! Gosh, I can’t wait till I can teach him all I know!

But after Raditz, Goku was introduced to Strength Beyond Earth, and I believe that was the start of the death of Goku’s attachment to his humanity. Because humans had a limit, and the stars did not.

Goku’s not a bad person. He’s not a terrible father. But like a good shonen protagonist, he’s addicted to chasing strength, and the strength beyond even life itself ultimately called him to abandon his mortal coil (which we see culminate in GT’s ending).

It began by wanting to stay dead. He doesn’t want to hurt his family -- he genuinely doesn’t! -- so after surviving Namek’s destruction he preferred to keep them ignorant as he trained on Planet Yardrat, since what good would it do for them to know he lived if he didn’t plan on coming back yet? Then he mastered Instant Transmission!! How amazing! Now he can travel to and from any reaches of the vast universe; he can come home whenever he wants to. Now he doesn’t have to hurt his family AND he can fight whenever and wherever he wants! Wahoo!!

So he comes back to life. Aaaand life’s not the same. Chichi’s not the same -- she mourned his death and she’s still angry he lost her Gohan for a year, and then took him to space, and then he nearly died for it, too -- and Gohan’s not the same. He’s not four years old anymore. He’s not the wide-eyed kid who looked like his father had all the answers. Krillin’s gotten older.  Everyone has changed, even if just a little. Everyone but Goku.

(Except Goku HAS changed. There’s a whole universe to discover. There’s so much strength he can defeat, still. He looks up at the stars at night and feels for Yardrat’s ki. He feels so much ki everywhere up there. He wants to chase it all down. Is it because I’m a Saiyan? Or is it because I’m a bad person? Goku don’t know...but Goku longs for it. He longs for the peace he finds in letting go).

Future Trunk’s message that a heart illness will kill him politely confuses him. Goku doesn’t fear death -- he knows what’s beyond it, now. And there’s fighters there. Even if he dies, there will be people to fight. No worries. But he does worry about this nebulous future where all his loved ones are dead, too, all except Gohan. It sounds like his boy’s gonna have it rough if these android fellas win. Time to beat some androids! :D And hey, this is finally a good excuse to train with Gohan!! So he does that for a couple of years, teaming up with Piccolo. Gohan’s gotten so strong! How exciting!

Chichi’s slowly come ‘round to him again, so that’s nice, too. He doesn’t really get why she’s still so mad but he rolls with it. He responds to violence he can’t fight against with a smile. Her emotions are too hard to follow, and it can get a little tiresome. But he loves her -- he chose to love her, so he does, and he always will. In his own way.

Then the androids come, and then Cell comes, and Goku steals Gohan away for a day and a year inside the Chamber, and he finally, finally realizes -- gosh, Gohan’s not like him at all. Gohan’s what a Real Human should be. What a Real Hero should be. The hero the Earth needs. Because Goku can’t be that hero anymore -- he never could be. He’s not human.

And there’s so many people to fight beyond the stars....

So when Goku choses to die alongside Cell, it was a choice, too. Gohan’s a better person than him, anyway. He’ll make Chichi happy, and he’ll protect the earth, and maybe one day Goku’ll meet him again and they can spar to see their strengths :) He’s so proud of his boy....

So........ is Goku a good father? A bad father? A good person? A bad person?

I think Goku is Goku. So I’ll let you decide :)

(Here’s the canon Goku dialogue from the end of Cell saga: )

[cloudy-leonhart]

You Took My World Away.

Author Note: Am I starting off with an angst fic about Erwin? Yes. 

Summary: Erwin didn’t really focus on love, not until he met Reader. Although, nothing good really lasts for him, so losing his lover wasn’t that suprising, but his potential baby? it hurts. Really, really, bad.

Pairings: Erwin x Reader

Type: Feminine Reader

Theme: Angst

TW: Death, Swearing, Injuries, Miscarriage.

[gif belongs to the rightful owner]

He knew it’d happen eventually.

Your presence wasn’t there at HQ anymore, he knew that he’d never get to hold your hand one day, he wouldn’t hear and see you greet him a good morning by the kitchen when he walks by, he would never be able to catch you in his arms ever again when your ODM gear breaks down while you swing around during your off days.

He just never knew how soon it was, he realized how much he took you for granted, when they brought what was left of your body to him, he realized how stupid he was to not have been there by your side. How stupid could he have been, you must’ve been so lonely while you passed.

Nobody spoke when Erwin softly cried as he held your body, nobody tried to talk to him to let go of your corpse, not even Hanji or Levi. His friends surrounded him and you, he held you close to his chest as his friends tried to make him feel better, “Erwin? You should let go, alright?” Hanji gently clutched your limp arm as Erwin had quieted down. “No, I-” Erwin strained voice tried to speak.

“Erwin. Let her go.” Levi’s voice cut through, Erwin looked at him with pain and disbelief in his eyes, “You- Why aren’t any of you grieving?-” Mike’s hand placed itself on his shoulder. “We are, Erwin, but you have to let her go.” Erwin’s grip around your body had tightened. Levi held his wrist, as Hanji slowly pulled you out of his grip. Erwin tried to pull you back in his arms, Levi and Mike pulled him back, restricting him from taking your corpse away from the soldiers who were responsible of handling the corpses of other soldiers.

“You don’t understand, I need to-” Erwin tried to explain himself, as he looked at Mike and Levi frantically, as if to tell them to let him go. The two squad leaders struggled to hold him back. “Erwin, snap out of it! You knew this would happen!” Levi’s harsh voice tried to get through to Erwin, but his cerulean eyes were focused on his lover’s dead body as it slowly faded out of his view.

“You can’t take her away from me!” Erwin’s pained cries tried to convince Hanji to turn back, they could feel their tears run down their cheek, they could feel their grip on your body tighten slightly, as if they too, didn’t want to hand you over, with a heavy sigh, you were placed on the rickety wood of the carriage that carried also what remains of soldiers who fought bravely to their deaths.

———

“Oi, Erwin.” Levi leaned by the door frame, watching as the blonde sat in his chair, holding what seems to be a piece of jewelry, by the way the sun rays shone through the window, blanketing his restless figure and the item with different shades of the sun’s gold, the piece of jewelry produced a glare that seemed bright white to those who chose to stare at it head on.

“Levi?” Erwin looked up from his seemingly long gaze at your necklace, looking up to meet Levi’s industrial blue eyes, who seemed to glare at him from the door frame. “What- what are you doing here?” Erwin’s voice sounded rough and dry, as if he was dehydrated or had a sick throat.

“You haven’t left your quarters, not even for meals, besides, Hanji needs a break from being in charge in your place.” Levi looked away from Erwin’s full blue eyes, it has been fairly obvious that Erwin still hasn’t gotten over your demise.

“Oh yeah, uhm, I’ll be there.” Erwin looked over at Levi who seemed to be fishing something from his pockets. “You don’t have to start working soon, I’m just, here to deliver something honestly.” Erwin’s figure perked up as Levi’s footsteps came closer, placing two letters, one was a blood-stained letter, the second, a letter with the doctor’s wax seal was on it.

Of course, the doctor’s letter came first, probably news about you, his beloved, late wife. He grabbed his letter opener, prying gently at the black wax seal that kept it closed until it was delivered to him.

He slowly removed the parchment out of the envelope, placing it on the side as his eyes scanned the words on the parchment. His eyes scanned it over and over again before a heavy and broken sigh came out of his lips. Levi looked over to Erwin who seemed to be on the verge of crying once again.

Levi knew better than to poke through Erwin’s business so he left quietly, closing the door to give his commander some privacy.

Erwin’s hold on the letter tightened as it wrinkled the parchment. It read,

———

Trost District, Jan. 16th 851

Commander Erwin Smith.

Survey Corps.

Commander Smith, I am writing to you about your late wife, Mrs. Smith. I am saddened to share with you that your wife had carried while in battle, she was 4 weeks in her pregnancy, I am terribly sorry to be the one who had to inform you of your late child, I bring my condolences and hope that soon enough, you’ll be able to come from Trost to Wall Sina to collect your late wife’s corpse and give her a final resting place.

My Condolences

Dr. Edward Harley

———

Erwin felt himself freeze, he tried to take in deep breaths, doing anything to prevent him from spilling his tears, he knew if even one spilled from out his eyes, he’d never stop crying again.

The overwhelming guilt of not being able to be there by your side in the battlefield, to not be present during your passing, you must’ve cried for him, he shook his head, trying to rid himself of his thoughts of you and looked up to the dirty ceiling of his quarters as he tried to blink his tears away.

He continued on, he felt his hands weaken as he reached for the blood stained letter, he knew it was from you, the rich royal blue wax seal, a sign of extreme passion for the one who was to receive the letter. His letter opener pried at the wax seal, opening with a bit more force from the knife.

He pulled out the parchment the envelope dropping as soon as he let it go. He read this slowly and carefully, different from the doctor’s letter. His eyes ran over your written words carefully, making sure not to miss not even one letter on the parchment. He didn’t even notice his tears staining the parchment, the ink slowly spreading into the parchment, not being water-proof.

The letter was carelessly thrown onto his desk as he cried his heart out, the letter read,

———

Dearest, Erwin,

My beloved husband, I am currently writing this letter on the day of our wedding, I will carry this letter everyday with me, for in fear of my demise being uncertain whether it’d be today or years later.

It pains me, the thought of leaving such a remarkably amazing husband behind, I knew from the day we both met each other that our lives will be short, which is why we both married as soon as we were sure that we truly wanted to spend every second of our lives being in each other’s arms. I wanted to start a family with you, Erwin. I knew it will be hard to be able to start a family but I want to someday, I hope that both of us live long enough to atleast have a child together, I wish to wake up in your arms everyday, I wish to watch you and our child play around as they laughed cheerfully from enjoying their childhood.

I am sorry that it came to the time you’re reading this now, rather than a time where we lived happily, I was selfish enough to wish that you never had to read this and I was able to throw this letter away. I want you to know that my death will not keep us apart, this world was cruel enough to take me away from you.

I am strong enough to tell you that even if in this time I’m taken away, I will still find you in another life, I will wait a hundred years to be with you again, my beloved husband and hopefully, the future father of my children.

I promise that I will perish with you as my last thought and our wedding as my last memory, may we meet again.

Yours Truly, Y/N Smith.

———

He finally let his cries out, it wasn’t silent nor was it pretty, it was loud and painful, his eyes stung from the salty tears that left it, the painful and broken cries from his mouth went ignored by Erwin, the letter now laid on his desk as he had his head in his arms, his shoulders shook with every cry, his lungs begged to breath big breaths rather than staggered and short ones.

His hands clenched around his hair, it felt easy to pull out his hair, he could feel the cold ring on his finger, which used radiate so much warmth, even if it was the coldest night or the winter days. It was like the ring was powered by your presence. It felt warm rather than cold metal whenever you were with him. Now it feels cold forever, colder than any blizzard or colder than ice on his skin.

He cried out his guilt and his anger, he cried out the guilt of not being able to grant you the one wish you wanted, a family.

He felt horrible knowing that he could never hold you or his child ever again. He should’ve kept you here, he should’ve never let you went on that expedition. He should’ve been there. He wanted to turn back time, even just a few seconds from your death he could’ve at least done something, just something.

Erwin cried for what seemed like endlessly, hours it felt, on the other side of his closed door, was Levi and Hanji, who was stationed around his door, Hanji sat down on the ground, the tray of food originally brought warm enough so Erwin could atleast enjoy something while mourning, now laid beside them cold and tough.

They listened as Erwin let out staggered breaths and pained cries, they listened as their friend was miserable. Levi glared at the closed door of their friend’s quarters, as if it was to blame for the pain Erwin felt.

They sat and listened to Erwin’s cries over and over again, waiting for the right time to come in and comfort their blonde-headed friend.

“Levi..I can’t stand to listen to him anymore, I’m going in.” Hanji pulled themselves up, dusting their uniform before grabbing the door knob, a pale hand covered Hanji’s, they looked over to Levi’s face, emotionless eyes bore straight in Hanji’s pitiful ones.

“Let him cry and mourn, he won’t say anything if we go in there, you know he keeps to himself.” Levi suggested, Pulls back as Hanji let out a small sigh, stepping back from the door.

“I wish I could help him.” Hanji mumbled, sitting back down beside the closed door, trying their best to drown out Erwin’s muffled cries.

“Everyone loses something everyday, it just so happens to be the most important thing, Erwin lost these past few days.” Levi looked over to Hanji before glancing at Erwin’s door and walking away, leaving with slight sympathy in his heart.

Hanji soon walked away with the cold tray in hand, unable to take the overwhelming aura of sadness and guilt radiating off Erwin’s quarters, Hanji walked away with sadness built up inside themselves and a determination to lead while Erwin grieves.

Hanji looked back one more time, seeing Levi retreating back to his office before mumbling something as they walked back to the mess hall, deep in thought.

“Captain Hanji?” Moblit’s voice broke through her train of thought, “Is something wrong?” The blonde spoke worriedly, Hanji looked up at Moblit before speaking softly.

“As much as I think what Levi said is right, I don’t think Erwin just lost something, I think he lost his whole world.”

[jabbagabba]

La La Land

Read Prologue

Warning ⚠️

Triggering subjects: disassociation, manipulation, mind control, grief. (READ AT OWN RISK)

Wandavision: spoilers (up to episode 6 - just to be safe), violence

———

Pools Of Despair

You weren’t sure how long it’d been, the drive feeling as though it had taken a lifetime. It might have been just down the road and you wouldn’t have been able to tell; time seemed to move torturously slow under Wanda’s control.

She tried to keep herself calm besides your frozen body, already thinking of a way out as she turned the steering wheel. But it was too late to go back.

‘No other way. No other way.’ The words replayed over and over in her head as she finally made it to the front of the building, and it was the first time she fully looked at you. Your face was stoic, the only sign of life being the soft breaths escaping your mouth. You couldn’t look at her - even if you wanted to - and as she reached a hand to your face, the feeling of complete numbness returned.

During the drive there had been small moments of clarity; moments where for the first time you felt in control. It was almost euphoric being able to push through the fog.

But then, as quickly as it had subsided, she would crawl her way back in.

Even now as she turned you toward her fully, you tried to swim through the heaviness, but the black swirls of grief and anguish just got tighter the harder you fought.

Wanda sighed in annoyance. “You can’t go in looking like that.” She pulled at a strand of her hair with a small huff. “Need glasses.”

You were sure if you had control of your body, the pain of your neck would be unbearable, the awkward angle surely making every muscle strain as you were forced to watch her pull apart the car.

This had to have been owned by the only man on the planet that didn’t carry sunglasses in their car. Wanda almost laughed, a punishment for stealing it? She couldn’t be sure.

“Well...” Wanda pulled the blue and white baseball cap by the brim from under her seat. “Better then nothing.” She gave a small smile as she adjusted it on your head, pulling back and grabbing your hand and letting it rest in her lap. “If there was any other way, I swear, I would let you go. But... I just... I can’t live without him.”

You said nothing as she cried.

———

“Head down, get Vision. Leave.” Her voice plagued your every step, each word carved into your brain as you finally reached the front desk.

‘Sword’ was a nice place - or at least had nice flooring - and from the bright light that filled each and every inch of the glossy tile, you knew there had to be a lot of glass. It was a government building after all.

“Can I help you?” Her voice is chirpy, a polite smile painted on her lips, you don’t need to see her eyes to know it wasn’t anything but genuine. She lets the wheels of her chair carry her forward, her computer forgotten besides her as you near the desk.

“Do you have... a meeting?” She smiles again, more forced and you’re able to see the golden pin on her chest that proudly says ‘Mary’ and try once more to float above the darkness.

“I -“ The word leaves your lips aprubtly and the fight drains from you just as fast. “I’m here to inquire about some of my father’s equipment. I’d like it back.” You let the darkness swallow you whole.

“And who are you again?” Mary is quick to pull her deskphone to her ear, hand hovering over the numbers.

———

The name that fell from her lips made Mary freeze. She looked up with wide eyes, both fearful and exited.

Starks were top priority at ‘SWORD’ - she was sure they were top priority everywhere - and as she desperately tried to recall if her boss mentioned anything about Stark equipment, the girl’s patients quickly wore thin.

“Can you please just tell me where to go? I have a long drive ahead of me.” Her voice was a sharp contrast from her apparance. The girl’s voice was stern and loud while her body was scrunched in on itself, eyes glued to the desk. Mary took a glance over the desk and saw the dark fabric of a dress, the hat didn’t even match the girl’s shoes.

“Right.” Mary said. “I’m sorry, just a little... starstruck.” She tried to keep her cool, turning again in her chair and started typing as fast as possible on her little keyboard. The atmosphere was thick with uncomfortable silence and Mary had to make sure not to shiver in the girl’s presence. She scrolled down the list of names and let out a small “ah” when she found your name. Just as quickly as she clicked on it, a pop up window filled the screen

STARK - Access Denined. Call Security

She felt sick; her nerves making her skin pucker as she tried to keep calm. When Mary finally found the courage to move, bile reached through her throat as she saw red eyes looking back.

“Ahh!” Mary was quick to jump out of her chair.

“Fine.” The girl sighed, hand flat on the counter as she took long strides around it. “If you won’t help me.” A red trail flowed through one of the doors; slithering like a snake as it wrapped around the shell shocked receptionist. “I’ll do it myself.”

———

Wanda’s mind had warped, grief and anger become one as she ripped through each and every room of the building. No one was safe from the witch’s wrath as she swung them through various glass panels and equipment. By the third turn she took, guards had given up, opting to instead try desperately to get out of her way.

She had left you at the desk, too transfixed to care and as she heard the various shouts of alarm from down the hallway, she was glad you weren’t in her way.

———

The group of four man were shocked; watching as the two guards dropped their guns and put their hands up for mercy.

“We’ll give you what you want. Please!” One of them - Felix - cried as the woman barreled through the double doors.

Wanda simply flicked her hand and he was sent flying to a wall, his partner following.

“Where is he?” Her accent was thick and the youngest tech almost asked her to repeat herself. “Where is Vision?” The stunned silence only fueled her anger. “You.” Red swirled under one of the men’s feet and lifted him from the ground. “Where?”

If the man could have, he’d be shivering in fear right about now. His life was in the hands of a deranged woman who with a simple flick of her wrist could send him plummeting down ten floors.

Wanda tightened her hold on him in warning and he knew he had to speak.

“Behind us.” He said. “There is a set of double doors, turn left and there’s an examination room.”

“He should be there!” A colleague on his left was shaking as she turn to face him. “He’s not lying.” Wanda let her power swim under him once more beofre gently letting him go.

“Thank you.” She gave a small smile. “Now, go.”

They didn’t have to be told twice.

———

Wanda felt as though she couldn’t breathe, the sight of her dead lover on the table was crippling. Vision was a dark grey; his eyes blank as they stared into her. If it wasn’t for the table itself she would have probably collapsed on to the floor as sobs took over her.

“I cant. I can’t. I -“ The words fell from her lips like a mystical chant. She couldn’t look at him anymore, his body was nothing but an empty shell of parts.

When her body turned to ash; Wanda was ready to die, her last shred of humanity died with Vision. The battlefield would be her final resting place. She chose to spend her last moments hoping that If there was a God that they’d be merciful, that she’d be allowed to spent her afterlife in blissful ignorance.

But instead she woke up.

Five years had passed and she was still there, only now she was alone. It was only after the death of Tony Stark that she let the floodgate of loss fill up her veins. While Thanos was alive, she had a mission; kill him and reverse the snap.

Wanda never imagined the pain that followed. She should have died that day, why couldn’t she have died that day?

Grief had a knack for turning the strongest people into helpless pools of despair.

Vision deserved better. That was what go her up, got her to calm her tears and push herself up. She wasn’t going to let them win. Vision was hers to mourn, to love, and hers to take care of.

She had a new mission, one that was stronger then her need to submit to pain.

But... she needed help carrying him.

———

Your body moved through the halls, following the tethered rope of energy that wrapped around your waist. If it wasn’t for your boots, your feet would have been covered in cuts from the sharp edges of the broken glass that filled the hallways.

The fog had cleared more then before and if you tried hard enough, you might’ve even been able to pull free completely. Wanda was exhausted and the fight had been ripped from you So you let her pull you, let the fog seep through every inch of you.

And as you entered the small room, you forgot you were suppose to care anymore.

“I need you to hold onto his legs.” She said softly, hand stroking his cheek. “Easier to carry both of you.” Your body moved again and you placed a gentle hand onto vision’s ankle.

Wanda wiped the last of her tears away, grabbed onto his arm, and all three of you were lifted off the ground.

———

Hot air blew through Wanda’s hair making her hands continuously push back strands from her face as she walked. The afternoon sun was unrelenting and she had to take several short breaks.

The car was too dangerous to return to - a swarm of agents was not something she wanted to deal with - and controlling someone for almost 24 hour straight took a lot out of her. Her hold on you was weak enough for you to sometimes fully take over, her control turning into a dull ache at the back of your brain.

As she walked in front of you thoughts of running flooded through your brain but the walking had tired your body out, and you were sure that if her little pushes weren’t there, you’d have already collapsed. Even if you had the strength to do it, the empty roads had long ago turned into tall trees and bush. You were in the middle of nowhere and getting loss in the woods with a heartbroken witch was not something you wanted to deal with. So, like a trained puppy, you followed silently behind Vision’s dragging body. It wasn’t hard to keep up, she was as slow as she could be while Vision’s body left a dirt trail.

“Break.” Wanda breathed. Who knew an empty little spot of grass would be so inviting? “Sit.” You felt a small push and follow it down to the ground. You let your fingers grip the direr under them, the cool breeze making you sigh.

“Where-“ The sound of your voice startled both of you but she stayed still. “Where are we going?”

She said nothing, choosing to instead turn on her knees and pull Vision forward by the arms.

“When I was little-“ Wanda smiled to herself as she stared down at Vision. “- I use to dream about this field. Me and Peitro went past it everyday during the summer. It had all these small flowers growing.” You listen intently as she giggles, eyes losing focus as she is hit with the memory. “I always tried to sneak past the fence... but, I was alway stopped by someone.” Her mouth twitches and you feel the pulsing return in your neck. “It’s probably nothing but dirt now, like everything.”

“Where are we going, Wanda?” You try to keep your voice soft, afraid of ruining the small moment as you reached out for her but she was quick to stop you, hand glowing red and inches away from your face.

“Don’t.” She warns. You nod in silent apology.

“We’re not far from a road.” Wanda let’s her hand fall back to her side. “I want you go and call whoever you need to.” You’re almost startled when her control leaves fully from your body, it almost feels empty. “Tell them what I did, or don’t, I don’t care. I have what I want.”

“Wanda -“

“Please.” The crack in her voice makes tears pool in your eyes. “Just go.”

You stand on shaking legs. The world was spinning and you felt as though you had just gotten off a rollercoaster but you tried to steady yourself. Unsure of where to go, you turn to her once more for guidance and she simply points behind you.

Your conscious wouldn’t let you leave. Wanda was tired and you were afraid of leaving her alone. Regardless of what she did; you knew you couldn’t blame her, she had lost everyone.

In a way, so did you.

“I’m sorry about Vision.” Wanda looked up again and gave you a small nod. “About Pietro, about everyone. I wish it was different.”

“Me too, Stark.” She let her fingers wrap around your hand and squeezed. The warmth from the dock returned and you couldn’t help but give her a small grin of gratitude. “I meant what I said at the funeral.”

Both of you were so wrapped up in your own little bubble, you didn’t even question why the birds stopped.

————

Tag list (open, just ask)

@white-wolf-buckaroo @y-napotat

All my stuff is open, and I’m always happy to hear from people so feel free to let me know what ya thought. I always get stuck halfway through writing but I hope it wasn’t too hard to read.

Next chapter will be fun.

[kikilefangirl]

Safety Net

Steve Rogers x Reader

(Word Count: 1.7k)

It was dark, but you knew movement on your property when you saw it.

Your grip on your gun tightened as you stared into the black abyss in front of you. The sound of footsteps crunching across your grass was off—different pairs of feet hitting the ground at different times. You counted more than three.

The gun wasn’t ideal. It was too much of a spectacle for the occasion. You pulled a knife out of its sheath, and sliced it through the air. You stuffed the gun into the waistband of your shorts, and crouched down. Thankfully, the intruders were too far to hear the slight groan of the floorboards under your bare feet. But they were too close for your liking.

In a strange stroke of fate, one of them moved recklessly, sprinting towards your front porch. You sprung into action, launching at them from the shadows.

You sliced a nice sized gash on the right leg. The pain caused an audible male groan, causing him to falter long enough to take advantage and place a knife to the man’s throat.

He stilled at the cold metal on his carotid.

“Y’all are either stupid, arrogant, or desperate to come here!” You called out. Your voice carried out into the darkness and the footsteps ceased. Your hostage didn’t dare struggle against you for fear of death, but how much his crew cared was unknown.

“Y/N, stand down.”

A red sphere of light formed, and none other than Steve Rogers stepped forward, bathed in its glow. You lowered the knife and your hostage bolted towards his companions.

Your focus never left Steve as you surveyed his group. The light came from the girl beside him, while none other than Bucky Barnes was on his other one.

“I have spare beds and medical supplies for your friends down in the bunker. Second door on the right.” You stated.

One by one you let Steve’s team pass you, with varying looks of venom and curiosity. When it came time to let the man himself inside, he spoke.

“Y/N, I know this—”

You cut him off with a hand in his chest.

“Not tonight, Rogers.”

You turned on your heel and left the large man standing in the doorway.

...

Strangely enough, you slept soundly for the rest of the night.

You woke up just before dawn and began cooking for your guests. If they were worth anything battle wise, Steve’s team would be up soon. You started on breakfast. Grits, sausage, the works. You imagined it had been some time since they had a proper meal. You felt eyes on your back, and chose to ignore them.

“We had nowhere else to go.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, you stiffened and stirred the grits harder. Although your back was to him, you heard the floor groan under his weight. He couldn’t have been much more than a few feet away.

“You gonna look at me?” Steve asked you. His tone was low and deep.

You clicked your tongue and turned the burner down. You still had on your short shorts, tank top, and no bra from the night before. Your headscarf was wrapped around your head, a weapon just in reaching distance. You came around slowly, schooling your features into a blank expression.

“Thank you, for letting us stay.” He said.

When you finally took him in, Steve was as captivating as he was when you saw him the first time. His hair was a shaggy mess on top of his head, though. And he’d grown a beard. His eyes however, were full of the same dutiful gaze you remembered.

“You came here for sanctuary, I’m giving it.”

Don’t ask me for more.

Steve frowned and put his hand on his hips.

“Y/N. What do you want me to say?” He pleaded. You ran your tongue across your front teeth. Before you could respond, the girl from the night before emerged from the bunker.

“I’m Wanda, thank you for your hospitality.” She said. You softened at her somewhat haggard appearance. Her clothes were ripped in places, and her hair wasn’t combed out. You’d come across her file before, but only in passing.

“I just washed some towels and I’ve got fresh clothes in my closet for you, if you want ‘em.” You knew what it was like to be a woman on the run, surrounded by nothing but men. Wanda lit up at your offer and thanked you, slipping into a language you didn’t speak. You nodded and she left.

As soon as the bathroom door clicked shut, you stalked over to Steve, whose eyes had never left you.

“Tell your friends breakfast is ready.” You ordered. Steve nodded.

His hand came up to your cheek, and you could feel the rough calluses against your skin. All you wanted to do was close your eyes and melt. To keep Steve Rogers to yourself and stay in your hideaway.

He was a soldier—dutifully watching over those who couldn’t defend themselves. You were entirely different. You had been fucked over by enough people, enough times to know better. Why Steve didn’t, you had no clue.

You stepped back and folded your arms together.

“We get to work on game plans after breakfast. I’ll cash in some favors and see how far that’ll get y’all.” You told him.

The rest of Steve’s team was beginning to file into the kitchen. Steve held your hand, and the sudden warmth in front of everyone caught you off guard. Instinctively, you bristled at the contact.

You pointed Sam to a plate you made him, as a sort of apology for your misunderstanding. He gave a half smile and nodded in thanks.

“Listen up. Y’all got a week to get the hell out my house and plan your next moves. Meet me downstairs when y’all are done.” You announced. Without sparing Steve a glance, you promptly exited.

...

“Your best bet is a big city. I can get you passage from here to Cape Town, but after that you’re on your own.” You explained.

A chorus of tentative approval came from Steve’s group, but he hadn’t said anything yet. His eyes were glued to the different screens and maps.

“What if we went the back way. Get in by land and make our way to the coast.” He offered. You squinted, following his logic and trying to find truth in it.

“Waterways are crawling with authorities, legal or not. Y’all want that heat without a solid exit?” You pondered out loud. Steve was staring at you in complete earnest and everybody knew it.

“Plenty of blinds spots if we get enough distractions in the meantime.” He countered.

“I’m not keeping you safe here just for you to take bigger risks.” You said firmly.

The two of you were battle hardened strategists with too much history and a lot of unfinished business. Sam groaned from the other side of the bunker, cutting through your standoff.

“I, uh, need help in the kitchen. Y’all come help.” He called out. One by one, Steve’s team excused themselves with varying levels of awkwardness. Then it was just you and Steve in the bunker.

“I think that was intentional.” You joked. Steve placed his hands on his hips and sighed.

“Probably because you haven’t looked me in the eyes since we got here.” He replied.

“I’m not the one trying to get myself killed, Steve. You are. So don’t blame me for not wanting to look at the dead man walking.”

Your words hung in the air and a long silence followed.

“Come with me.” He said at last.

You scoffed, knowing full well you were retired. You had absolutely no desire to get back out in the field out of sheer self preservation. Steve talked a big game about love and a future, but he was in no shape or form willing to hang up the shield for it.

The two of you were at an impasse. Then Steve did the unexpected: he punched the wall.

It was a relatively controlled impact, but your house wasn’t built to sustain a super soldier’s outburst. An outburst that was a rarity in itself. Steve chest heaved less from effort and more from frustration. His jaw kept clenching and unclenching as he tried to keep it together. Dust from the wall coated his fist, and a solid chunk of cement dropped to the floor.

“I can feel something coming. I don’t––I don’t know what it is yet, but I feel it.” He said at last.

You made no move to approach the blonde, just waiting for him to finish processing the wave of emotions on his face. That was what you liked most about Steve. He never hid when he was angry or sad or lonely; his openness was a welcome change for you.

And this time it was more serious than it had ever been. You swallowed hard and made a beeline for the console. Punching in the code, a small chamber on the far side of the wall appeared, revealing the one thing you never thought you’d ever need again.

“Nat got one suit, I got another,” you started, meeting Steve’s eyes for the first time. A haunting uncertainty stared back at you.

You clasped your hand in Steve’s, gripping tight enough to turn the tips of your fingers white.

“I trust you, Rogers.” You admitted. You looked straight ahead at the suit, but you weren’t really there. You imagined the action you would see in it, and how devastating this phantom battle would be. A growing pit in your stomach nagged at you, Steve’s foreboding presence had fully transferred to you.

Something wet hit your cheeks. Tears to brace yourself, tears to mourn the peace you had here, and warmth. Steve wiped them away as they came, cradling your face with his free hand.

You craved the closeness––it was a string of touch and breath and skin the both of you lost in isolation, but found in each other. A new day was coming and you needed to be by his side when it did.

“I like the beard look.” You whispered. Steve snorted, but promised to keep it just for you. And the calm you felt with him was enough and would always be enough.